#i never ever want to express any ugly emotion or feeling or words or gesture to anyone ever thats like the worst thing to me

[rucow]

do any other venusians have this thing where u only want to be pleasant, only do pleasant things, and never do anything unpleasant ever, especially in public?

for example, swearing or saying any bad words or expressions. ive never sworn irl and im the type of person who gasps and gets shocked when i hear/see ppl swearing, even if it's only through text! it repulses and shocks me so bad, and it's the same with bad manners, like when ppl speak loudly and unpleasantly in public, or do other unmannered things such as not covering ur mouth when u yawn/sneeze/cough or... other unspeakable gestures and actions that i dont want to type out.

as for myself, i have a need to share only good things and have only good thoughts and feelings, it really messes with my emotional balance if my environment isn't harmonious, full of a pleasant aesthetic and atmosphere 🙈 never too loud, never any unattractive noises or gestures, always pretty and always pleasant... i see beauty in everything and it bothers me greatly when others turn a blind eye to it when they could all try a little harder to just. be more pleasant, at least in public 🙈

#txt #i never knew why i was like this until i found out im a sidereal libra moon and that i have a taurus mc and #nearly all my personal planets are in a taurus degree + i have a big ol' pisces stellium in sidereal...incredible rly #ppl always think the reason im so fussy about manners and pleasantries is bc of my tropical virgo rising #but i think its definitely more of a libra moon thing (also i have libra in my 3H in both tropical and sidereal)... #i just want to always be a pleasant interaction to ppl even if i dont rly like them! its about manners and having a pleasant public presence #i never ever want to express any ugly emotion or feeling or words or gesture to anyone ever thats like the worst thing to me

[kakushino]

Smokescreen

Rengoku Kyojuro x GN! Reader

Suppress, smile, survive.

Tags: hurt/comfort Word count: ~1k

Masterlist

AN: This was quite the emotional piece for me to write. I hope yall won't be destroyed by it. Written as a Christmas present to dear @heartbroken4ever ~

The water temperature was just right, the fog rising in the bathroom concealed him from prying eyes should there be any - a smoke screen of sorts - but the tears streaming down his face felt like branding iron, searing an unseen wound into his soul.

His throat was clogged with emotion, his body felt too hot and too cold at the same time, shame burned his cheeks bright red as he gasped for breath quietly. He was choking, drowning, suffocating on the aching mess built up in his core over the weeks, months, years. 

You’re a disgrace.

No, father, please!

Good for nothing.

I just want you to be proud of me!

Get out of my sight.

I just want you to look at me!

He had told Senjuro before that the fire in his heart couldn’t ever be extinguished, that he would never give in…

He wasn’t so sure now.

His heart shrieked in grief, a banshee mourning the loss of his father’s love yet again. He kept hoping and hoping, praying and praying; it was all for naught. Perhaps he was a disgrace, perhaps he was good for nothing, perhaps he should just-

No. He couldn’t give into that. He would fight until his final breath for humanity, though the thought still lingered on his mind.

The Flame Hashira never lashed out, never cried loudly, he never felt he deserved to carve out a place for his sorrow in others’ minds. However, his breath came out in a death rattle, as if his lungs were truly filling up with fluid-

He thought he was being quiet.

“My love?” 

Kyojuro stifled a curse, and forced down everything that had bubbled over from the tightly wound knot of his negative emotions; he put it all away with desperate swiftness belaying his misery.

He never wanted to weigh you down with his baggage after all.

He cleared his throat, and called out “Yes?” in what he hoped was his usual tone. He gathered all the loose strings and forced them back inside, splashing lukewarm water - when had it gotten so cool? - onto his face to wash away the tears.

The slight waver betrayed the state of your partner. “Are you okay? You have been there an hour…” you asked, still at the threshold of the room. It was foggy inside, but you could see your love’s silhouette moving a little. “I’m coming in.”

Kyojuro hoped beyond hope all signs of his distress were gone as he pulled his signature wide smile onto his face like a mask. You already had so much on your plate, how could he burden you with his insignificant worries?

“You are bold today, my love!” His smile stretched into a grin as you walked closer to him, glad to see you, though the ache inside only throbbed more prominently as he suppressed the emotional release he needed.

You, on the other hand, knew something was wrong, and you knew Kyojuro was loath to show any weakness even to you - his partner of over two years. You didn’t want to force him to show vulnerability to you, but you would be damned if he went through it all alone.

You stepped around him silently to hug him from the back as he leaned on the side of the bathtub. His skin was warm, overly so as always, but the water wasn’t, which was telling in a way.

“It’s okay to let go, dearest,” you murmured into his ear, your head nuzzling lightly against his in a cat-like affectionate gesture. Your hands splayed on his chest as you let him remain unseen yet offered him unconditional support. No amount of ‘dirty laundry’ he hid from you would make you leave your Kyojuro.

His face pulled into an ugly expression he was glad you couldn’t see as he tried to hold back his feelings. They pressed against his chest and made it hard to breathe again, his total concentration breathing broken for the second time today. His lungs physically hurt from the suppression.

“I’ve got you,” you said softly. 

Oh how he wished his father held him like you did, how he wished he could say your embrace was enough… It would have to be enough. 

The first choked sob that burst from his chest was loud and echoed in the bathroom. Your heart broke as you cradled him in all the comfort and warmth you could provide to him. More distressing noises left your lover and your arms tightened around him. It hurt to not be able to do anything other than stay as his pillar of support.

Kyojuro pressed his head against yours, cheek to cheek, his breathing ragged as tears fell. 

“Let it all out, love. I’m here,” you whispered reassuringly, caressing his chest briefly before his hands came up to intertwine with yours. He held onto you as if you were his lifeline, clung to you like a lost child in a dark forest. Water soaked your yukata sleeves, but you cared little as you started to rock him slowly. “You don’t have to smile when you don’t feel good… not with me.”

The bath was cold and goosebumps spread across your skin by the time Kyojuro fell into an exhausted silence. You stayed with him the entire time, despite the discomfort of the cold water, despite the awkward position; you stayed and you gave him the love he so desperately needed.

“Never hesitate to lean on me, my love. I’m here with you… I’m here for you. You’re so strong and brave. My warrior… Let it all out, never bottle it in, okay? Shhhh… I love you, Rengoku Kyojuro.”

How could he have thought you weren’t enough to help him through this… He was a fool.

You were his personal Deity of Salvation, and he would stay your reverent worshiper until the day he died. Until his soul crossed the Sanzu river, he would be yours.

dividers made by the awesome @benkeibear Network: @enchantedforest-network

#he needs a hug #and warm food #and the sloppiest bj of his life #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x y/n #kyojuro x you #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #rengoku x you #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kny fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #desi the blue eyed kakushi

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] Jealousy (Lucifer/MC)

Summary: Jealousy denotes vulnerability, unease, and insecurity-- nothing Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, is ever meant to be or wants to be associated with. But then again, he’s never really had something (or someone) he’s so afraid to lose.

Word Count: ~1k

Notes: gn!reader, Lucifer/Reader, sfw, pining, jealousy; focuses on Lucifer’s POV, more stream of consciousness than usual? I just like making him feel emotions and being like ???? what are these

.

.

Jealousy, Lucifer thinks, looks so much better on the screen. Living it, on the other hand, makes his food taste like bile, his temper flare up like the embers of hellfire, and every semblance of patience leaves him every time he sees you smile at anyone else. He wonders how anyone could ever find it appealing to feel the bubbling anger at the pit of his stomach, the vulnerability of it all knowing that it all stems from the thought that he wants your time to be his and only his. (And that he is helpless but to hope you turn your head to him rather than the other way around.)

He knows you have told him time and time again that you will always welcome an open dialogue. In fact, you encourage it with him and his other brothers, the latter who find it easier to seek your comfort and admit they miss you while the former finds it easier said than done. Behind the emotion that overshadows the logical side of him, Lucifer knows you cannot read minds. Considerate and observant as you may be, you are only a human (and Lucifer doubts being a demon would make that any easier). He knows full well you cannot always know how he is feeling unless he tells you.

But, ah, telling has always been the hard part for him, hasn’t it?

Instead, Lucifer showers you in gifts. It’s a show of possession, for whenever you walk around with his ring upon your finger or decorate your room with his black roses, it is a reminder that you are his. He prefers not to think of it otherwise, that it’s something to remind you of him whenever he is not with you, as if he’s afraid that you’ll forget about him the longer you go without him.

He’s a little more hostile, and loathes to admits it, but he’s jealous of his brothers who get to spend more time with you. Jealousy denotes vulnerability, unease, and insecurity-- nothing Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, is ever meant to be or wants to be associated with. But then again, he’s never really had something (or someone) he’s so afraid to lose. It creeps up from underneath him, an ugly thing that challenges his hard-won pride and asks him if his love is enough to keep you.

He would never have realized it had gotten out of hand until you take the box he’s presented to you (a beautiful haute couture attire of the finest design) and that mild look of confusion of ‘another?’ molds into a look of growing comprehension. Lucifer hears his name being called out as he turns his heel and leaves, feeling more embarrassed than he would have ever been to have you, of all people, find out that he’s jealous of all things.

Though he would have normally been resentful of the long meetings that keep him away from you, Lucifer is grateful for once that he is able to take a moment to recuperate before the inevitable confrontation. And that’s another thing he loves about you, the way you have never been afraid to speak up on things that are important to you. You’ve always been the braver one, haven’t you, without a sense of pride that filters your words of affection or expression of love.

Lucifer sighs, rubbing the arch of his nose. He supposes he owes you an explanation, but before he can text you, he gets a message from you instead.

Let me know when you get home! I’ll try staying awake for you so make sure you come back soon!!

Do you think of him as often as he does you? Are you hoping to spend more time with him as he's wanted to do? Pride be damned, he'll ask you-- if only to get to see the way your face warms from the admission of love and the way your smile grows with a fondness that makes his chest squeeze.

He wants to see you.

.

.

.

It is late when he comes back. You often stay awake waiting for him, but he thinks even this is a little too late for you-- when Levi’s room is void of any electronic noises and the cats outside Satan’s room have stopped mewling as well.

He doesn’t text you, but he finds himself at your door anyways. When he does eventually knock, softly, in a way that wouldn’t wake you up, he enters your room to see you fast asleep, your hand still holding onto your phone as if you were waiting with bated breath for his text.

Oh, it’s always been these simple gestures of love that staggers him: the way you fight against slumber to catch a glimpse of him before you sleep, the way you meet his eyes during a meeting to share an internal joke, the effort you put into making sure he feels invited and included because you want to share moments with him.

He is no one’s servant, but for you, he kneels at your side and feels his love for you flow freely as he gently tucks the phone away from your hand and pulls up the covers.

The last thing Lucifer expects is for you to open your eyes.

He hears you mumble his name-- or perhaps that was just a sleep-addled groan, Lucifer can no longer tell. He feels embarrassed despite himself for his behavior the better part of the last few days, and under your gaze (sleepy as it may be), he thinks he wants to-- make an excuse? Beg for you to hold him? Demand an apology for something neither of you had control over?

(And in the end, he's frustrated that he cannot control his feelings for you and the way it affects him, and he both loves and hates what that means-- how much control you have over him above all else.)

Then you sleepily reach for his hand and tug it forward, murmuring something about getting in. And Lucifer is helpless but to acquiesce and join you under the warmth of the covers, your languid arms coming over to wrap him in your embrace and your lone leg coming over to trap him instinctually. He feels more like a pillow than anything but he can’t help the relief that enters his body and leaves him realizing how tired he has been all this time.

Your arms are his sanctuary, and he has gone without asylum for what feels so, so long.

You're fast asleep before he can even think of saying anything (I love you, I missed you, I'm sorry) and he thinks he'll have time (he'll make time if he doesn't) to tell you everything he wants tomorrow.

#obey me lucifer #obey me mc #lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me fic #yo its been SUCH a long time since I've written #i feel like im dusting off the cobwebs lmao #hiiiiii lucifer

[astranva]

TikTok Series | Anyway, so.

Word Count: 1.2k

Category: Fluff

Warning: Idk, language? Idk anymore but no heavy stuff it’s literally just TikTok content

Request: for your tik tok series i can imagine y/n and harry trending and harry would be like “what did you post now?” and it would actually be the fans this time. the “i’ve never seen two pretty best friends” with videos of them being like they are both pretty so that’s a lie. loving that series

** THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE IT! i hope you like it, and let me know what you think 🤍

// masterlist //

..

The numbers only went up with your TikTok; the views, the likes, the comments, and the followers.

What started as just you having fun during quarantine, ended with a verified account and demanding fans of your boyfriend asking you to take part in many challenges and pranks.

“y/n’s tiktok is basically just her cooking or pranking harry or dueting stans’ videos with a hood on and i love every second of it”

“tiktokers: doing stupid shit to gain money

y/n: anyway dudes, here’s how to make grilled cheese with no cheese for if you’re too broke to get any”

“when y/n duets thirsty tiktoks I just can’t help but think of how much I want a partner this chill”

“can anyone start any new couple challenge already? I want new harry & y/n content k thanks”

Fans were vocal about how much fun they had with your TikTok, some adding sentiments that made you emotional like;

“never thought I’d feel connected to anyone who’s with harry but here’s y/n replying to tiktok comments like we’re all a bunch of friends”

“I kid you not, the reason why I’m excited to eat at school is because I’m always excited to try y/n’s easy recipes and I just love her so much”

“not me meeting y/n, harry styles’ gf, at the grocery store today and greeting her like we grew up together bc that’s how I feel about her”

Along with laughing together at videos, you and Harry also seemed to always have a new catchy song to sing around the house ever since you first installed the app, with how it has helped artists’ music go viral. Hell, even funny songs would get stuck in your brains.

On your phone was proof of that. Standing behind an oblivious Harry as he cooked one day, he was in shorts and a tight top, flipping toast on the stove as he sang, “Chicken wing, chicken wing, hot dog and bologna, chicken and macaroni, chillin’ with my homies,” wiggling his butt as he did.

You hadn’t posted since the “How well do our brains work together” TikTok you posted with Harry, so when you saw yours and Harry’s ship name trending with 84.7 million views to it, you were confused to say the least.

Sitting beside Harry as he was on his laptop, you moved closer to lean against his side, his arm reflexively wrapping around you.

“We’re trending on TikTok.”

“Aren’t we always?” He smugly asked, looking at you.

“No,” you laughed, “Usually after I post something, yeah, but I haven’t posted in two weeks.” You said as you clicked on the hashtag, seeing pictures of you and Harry in many videos along with different faces with titles.

Clicking on a video with 6.3 million views, you and Harry watched as a girl filmed herself with the background music sounding and someone speaking through it, “I ain’t never seen two pretty best friend. It’s always one of ‘em gotta be ugly.”

The music then stopped, Nicki Minaj’s voicing being heard, “Ummm...Chile. Anyway, so,” before Noahplause’s song, Runnin’, came, and with it came pictures of you and Harry.

A picture of the both of you from Dunkirk’s premiere; Harry in his suit with his arm around your waist as he looked down at you with a smile. You in a dress that matched the color of his suit, one hand on his chest and another on his shoulder, smiling to the cameras.

A picture of you lying on the sand at the beach in your swimsuit with your eyes closed, Harry’s head resting on your stomach as he looked up at the camera with a neutral face, it being a picture from when he was filming the Watermelon Sugar music video.

A candid picture taken by paps of Harry standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your head as you stood in a park with a couple of friends.

A selfie you had posted to your Instagram story of you lying your head on Harry’s shoulder, him looking to the side, making his sharp jawline perfectly appear.

A picture of you and Harry kissing from one New Year’s party you attended; your hands on his cheeks, his tangled in your hair. It was a low-quality picture, but it still showed clearly that it was the both of you.

You and Harry were watching with amused expressions, laughing in surprise at the trend his fans seemed to start.

“This is so cute, what!” You laughed at the video, “Let’s watch another one and duet it.”

“What does that mean? What do we do?” Harry asked, looking at you.

“It means, I’ll choose to duet so when I post it, the two videos will be aligned together and we’ll watch that video as we record.” You explained, scrolling before pausing the next video and tapping on ‘Duet.’

“So, it’s like a reaction?”

“Exactly,” you nodded, “Ready?”

“Yes.” Harry grinned, turning his body slightly.

Your phone showed yours and Harry’s faces, both of you with small smiles before you made sure that the mic was opened and began recording, the video you were reacting to beginning to play.

It started with a ceiling as the man spoke his line. When it came to the guy saying “two pretty best friends”, Harry had mouthed along, gesturing between the both of you making you laugh.

Nicki then spoke, and in came Runnin’ with pictures of you and Harry.

First one was of just you smiling to the camera.

At this, Harry’s smile widened.

Second one was Harry smirking at one of his shows from 2018.

You hummed, nodding slowly.

Third one was of you with makeup, an eyebrow raised and a hand to your temple, posing for the camera.

“Insanely good.” Harry said slowly with a shake of his head, eyes fixed on the phone. You cooed, pouting at his comment.

Fourth one was of Harry smirking in the tulle-detail, off-shoulder trench coat from his Vogue photoshoot.

“This one, yes!” You exclaimed, causing Harry to laugh.

Fifth one was the same picture of the both of you from when he was shooting his Watermelon Sugar music video.

“I love this one so much.” Harry said before giving a genuine closed-lipped smile as he remembered the exact moment the picture was taken.

“Right?” You smiled.

Sixth one was a video of the both of you dancing, your arms around his neck, his hands holding your waist, as it showed the both of you grooving with Harry singing to you with a smile on his face.

“Shut up, I didn’t know this existed.” You gasped, Harry chuckling.

Seventh one was a picture taken by a friend of yours; your eyes were closed in childlike happiness, Harry sitting beside you and looking down at you with a dopey smile as one of his hands squished your cheeks.

“Hey, that’s my lockscreen!” Harry beamed, instantly holding his phone to yours, showing that the last picture was, in fact, his lockscreen so excitedly before the video ended.

Posting the video, you added a caption to it:

“we have the biggest smiles on our faces. you’re all so adorable thank you😭 (also 10/10 for calling us best friends)”

“We are best friends,” Harry said, letting out a sigh before dramatically wrapping both arms around you, giving you a squeeze, “Best of!”

#harry styles imagine #tiktok series #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff one shot #fluff #ik i reposted this like 3 times but tumblr just wouldnt show the tags #harry styles fake social media #harry styles tiktok

[phoenixyfriend]

If you are doing them the soulmate fic starter 3 or 9 for rexwalker? I love all your star wars stuff so much

soulmate au prompts

3. the one where you and your soulmate have matching marks on your bodies. 9. the one where your soulmate’s last words to you are written on your body.

Featuring marginally-less-terrible Jango with more excuses than usual.

------

The Kaminoans hate soul marks.

Rex knows this from the day he knows to ask. The Nulls and Alphas don’t have any soul marks, just scars where there was once a promise. The eldest clones have records, at least, where the scientists had taken photos before beginning th surgeries, but the marks themselves are long gone.

Prime had found out about the removals and thrown a fit, raging so intensely that Nala Se had ended up intubated from the damage he’d dealt, and she hadn’t been the only one. Rex isn’t old enough to remember that, but Cody is, and he whispers the story in the dead of night more than once. Nobody likes Prime very much, except Boba, but that’s one of the few instances they can point to and say ‘he cares more than he likes to admit.’

It’s anathema on Mandalore, one brother claims, a light in his eyes that Rex hasn’t ever seen before. That’s what I heard him telling one of the aruetti trainers.

So is refusing your children so much as a name, another grouses, and the conversation dies an ugly little death. So is letting your children die just because you don’t think they’re good enough. So is turning your back from even letting them be part of your house, let alone part of your clan. Sounds like he cares more about our soul marks than he does for our lives.

Rex doesn’t know how to address that. He does get a personal visit from Prime, one day, gets asked to show his little marking to the man that is, in some ways, his father.

“Another one,” Jango Fett mutters to the trainer that came with him, the woman holding a datapad and ready to record whatever it is that they’re looking for. He passes a thumb over the marking, frowning. “A lightsaber, lit white, with pale blue halo, between a set of symbolic Jaig eyes. The eyes are dark blue, slightly desaturated. I think they’re meant to frame it like an exaggerated beskad crossguard.”

“Sir?” Rex asks.

“That makes six,” Jango says, still so quiet, and then shakes his head. “Thank you for showing me, 7567.”

“Rex,” he corrects, before he can second-guess himself. “I’m Rex.”

“Thank you, Rex.”

------

The rumors say that anyone with a lightsaber soul mark is going to have a jedi for a soulmate.

Rex isn’t sure how true that is, but he’s eager to find out.

Prime gets more erratic, more unpleasant at times and almost awkwardly nice at others. Rex meets the others who got Jedi soul marks. He’s the youngest, so far.

Jango tells them all to hide the markings, and to keep them secret. They’d already all known that much, that only batchmates should be told about soul marks. All the adults that should know already do, after all.

“Where’s your dad going?” Rex asks once, when Boba’s been handed over to Cody’s squad for looking after while Prime goes haring off on some trip that nobody gets to know about. Rex hangs out with Cody’s squad more than his own batch, it feels like, but that’s a whole thing that he’s not supposed to talk about since the late transfer to command track.

“Dunno,” Boba says, kicking his feet back and forth. “My soul mark came in. Something about it made him really angry, I think.”

Rex doesn’t ask to see it.

It’s not his place.

------

The Alpha batch is getting quieter, angrier, and end up in hushed conversations with Prime and some of the trainers so often that the rumors start up harder than before. Rex keeps his head down, because the Kaminoans get antsier when Jango does. Soul marks come up more often, and Rex gets called in to talk to the Alpha clones about his mark. He’s not supposed to, but Prime says it’s important, and Prime is in charge.

“Oh, is that all it took?” one of the Alphas sneers, and Prime shoots them a look that has Rex taking a few hasty steps back. The Alpha clone isn’t even fully grown yet, by natborn standards, but they don’t back down. “What, ready to stop being a dar’buir--”

“That’s enough,” Prime says, low and hard, and the Alpha clone rolls their eyes. “There’s a child here.”

“So now you care about that?”

Rex is escorted back to his rooms.

------

Decommissioning finally stops, for all that it requires Jango almost decapitating a Kaminoan, and someone Rex hopes he never sees again shows up.

(His memory is blurred. He’s sure the man was human, and tall. Elderly enough to have white hair, probably? A... there was fabric that swished when he turned, something dramatic, but...)

(He is not the only one that cannot remember.)

It takes years for anything else to come of it all... at least where the clones can see.

------

Rex is fully grown, as far as clones go. His aging is supposed to slow down to ‘natborn normal’ now, because he’s reached his full height and most of his brainpower, and he’s officially old enough to fight on the field if the war starts tomorrow.

It might.

“Hey, look up.”

Rex listens, and looks, and sees a natborn with Nala Se, pale skinned and with reddish hair, soaked to the bone. They wear robes, brown and heavy-looking. Even as he watches, another natborn jogs up from behind, also sodden and pale, but with darker hair that sticks up despite the water. A third joins them, a tad slower and more controlled; this one wears all white, and they--maybe she?-- are slight and small and poised in a way that Rex thinks might be how a natborn leader carries themselves, if they aren’t a soldier.

They pass on through the walkway, showing emotions that the Kaminoans can’t read and the clones absolutely can. None of it is... good.

“Shit,” someone mutters. “That was a Jedi.”

“Venn--”

“What if they don’t want us?”

------

Rex is called to Prime’s rooms.

He tries not to look at the wide eyes of the brothers he’s been gossiping with, just stands and pulls on his full kit. He hesitates at his bucket, but then pops it on and marches to what might be his doom. It’s probably not.

He hopes it’s not.

He knocks, and is let in by Boba, and sits down on the couch when Prime tells him to. He removes his helmet when asked. Boba hops up onto the couch between Rex and his father, and leans in against Rex’s side.

There’s a list on the table, one he recognizes, quickly writing out all the paired elements on the Jedi-Clone soul marks. Nobody who isn’t already involved in the project would know it. He spots the ‘yellow tickets’ that Bly got tattooed on his face recently, the ones he won’t claim are or aren’t related to his mark. He spots his own listing of Jaig eyes.

“Prime?”

His... progenitor, maybe, in this situation, looks at him, and holds up a hand. “You saw the list. You can guess why Rex is here.”

Oh. Prime’s using his name without prompting. That’s nice.

“I can’t read it,” the younger Jedi says, with something that might be a pout. Rex wants  to roll his eyes, but his helmet is on the table. People would see.

“It’s in Mando’a,” the elder tells him, voice low, and then glances between Rex and the younger Jedi. “Fett, how did you know which one to call? I can guess some things, but--”

“I have a good eye. The hilts are all different. Only one matches.”

“I see.”

Rex fidgets, and tries not to wonder at... at... oh. The younger Jedi’s lightsaber hilt does match Rex’s soul mark.

Boba notices when Rex starts picking at his glove, pressing a finger right to the mark on his wrist, and frowns up at him. He grabs Rex’s hand to still it, and tries to ask a question with his eyebrows. He is mostly unsuccessful.

“Anakin,” the elder Jedi says. Rex still doesn’t know his name. “Your hand, please?”

“Why?”

“...you’ll understand in a minute,” the Jedi says, long-suffering in the way of the trainers who dealt with the youngest cadets. “Your hand. No, the other one.”

“Why do you need my hand?”

“Reasons, Anakin. You there, ah... Rex, was it?”

“Yessir.”

The Jedi flinches. “Right. I suppose I’ll have to get used to that... right, Rex, can you come here? I imagine you know what it is that I’m looking to compare.”

Rex has been taught to listen to Jedi, but he has no idea who he’s supposed to listen to here. The older Jedi is probably in charge, but Rex hasn’t been assigned to anyone yet, so isn’t Prime still technically the closest thing he has to a CO?

He glances at Prime, who just gestures for Rex to go ahead with it.

Rex pulls off a glove, pulls back his sleeve, and bares the symbol on his wrist for inspection.

The younger Jedi’s face morphs from confused irritation to surprise, and then... something Rex doesn’t want to analyze too closely. He’s not sure if it’s wonder or horror. He wasn’t aware the expressions could look so similar.

The Jedi--Anakin--pulls back his own sleeve, moves his wrist to Rex’s and watches as the marks glow faintly from the proximity.

“Looks like Fett was right,” the elder Jedi mutters. He doesn’t sound happy. He looks at the other natborn, the one Rex is pretty sure is a woman, and raises an eyebrow.

She shakes her head, eyes closed.

“You said there were others?” the elder Jedi prompts, and Prime nods. “We are no more open about our marks than most, but I can spot one, maybe two, that I can guess at. I’d need to see the actual markings to confirm, of course, and I imagine that wouldn’t be something anyone would be happy with.”

“The rest can happen naturally,” Prime dismisses. “This was just proof.”

“Not just proof, I hope,” the Jedi mutters. “I’m.. I have to call the Council.”

Rex sees the panic in Anakin’s face, and is seized by the urge to do something, anything, to fix it.

“Obi-Wan, you can’t let them--”

“Nobody’s going to separate you,” the elder Jedi says. Obi-Wan, apparently. “And there’s no ‘let,’ Anakin, they outrank me. Significantly. Right now, I’m concerned about the implications of this war, of multiple of these cloned soldiers that have been indoctrinated to fight for and serve the Jedi having soulmates among us, especially given that I have no idea how recently our wartime protocols on such things were updated. There is an entire army that is supposedly in our name, ordered by a man ten years dead.”

“Count Dooku is involved,” Prime says, dark and satisfied and petty. “Calling himself Darth Tyrannus. The Kaminoans mostly believe he is an isolated and reclusive Jedi Master that serves as their contact when Sifo-Dyas is unavailable.”

The Jedi named Obi-Wan closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and then stands. “Right. That’s... well, alright, I absolutely have to call the Council now.”

Prime smiles, pulling Boba into his side. Rex finds himself tugged down to sit where Obi-Wan had been a few moments earlier.

“Why are you telling us all this?” the natborn woman says. “This Count sounds like he hired you, did he not?”

“The project predated his involvement, but yes, he’s my supervisor, so to speak.” Prime smiles that same dark smile, runs a hand over Boba’s head and pointedly doesn’t look at Obi-Wan. That smile is... unpleasant. Rex doesn’t want to look at it, and so he looks down to the faint glow at his wrist instead. “Did you know, they told me the clones would be sub-sentient and halfway to droids? Not really people? That my DNA was for the bodies, but the minds would be little more than lines of code? Do you know how much they hated that I saw the evidence of their lies written into my children’s skin?”

Rex jolts, head whipping about and hand pulling away from his soulmate, staring at Prime, his mouth agape in a way a soldier’s shouldn’t but--but he’s--

Rex has never, ever heard the Prime refer to any of them except Boba as his child. His copies, his echoes, his clones, but not his children.

A hand curls into his, and he looks down to find Anakin’s lacing their fingers together. He looks up into a hopeful, unsure smile.

Anakin tilts his head and leans in, lips to Rex’s ear, and says, “When I told Obi-Wan he was like a father to me, he didn’t even know how to respond. Just made a bad joke about it and then pretended it didn’t happen. Is this the same?”

“...close enough,” Rex breathes out, because now isn’t the time to explain just how different a clone’s existence is from what they’ve seen in the holos meant to prepare them for interacting with civilians. That ‘family’ here has always been brothers, your squad and any brother that chooses to take you on, or a brother you choose to nurture, that the Alphas raise them more than Prime or the trainers do, that the older squads are who they turn to because the adults won’t help, that they don’t have parents, and they are discouraged from thinking of children in their futures.

(Protecting intellectual property, one of the scientists had mused. They’d made it very, very difficult for any of the clones to impregnate a partner. Not impossible, because to make it impossible was itself impossible, but... nearly so.)

“There’s millions of us,” Rex says instead. “He doesn’t... he doesn’t usually acknowledge most of us as his.”

Anakin’s face twists, already angry, and the glare he aims at Prime is ghastly. Rex might already be a little in love, just for that. The way Anakin’s fingers squeeze around his is nice, too.

Prime does not notice.

“Can I see the contract you say you signed?” the natborn woman says, and Prime eyes her. He nods, at length, weighing her worth and finding she measures up to whatever it is that he’s decided is necessary.

“Boba, go pack like we’re going on a hunt,” Prime says, pulling out a personal datapad and only dropping his gaze to find the right file. “We’ll probably be leaving tonight.”

“Okay, buir,” Boba says, sliding off the couch. “Am I telling the Alphas the thing you said?”

“No, I’ll handle that myself. You just pack.” He stands, nods to the natborn woman, and moves around the table. “Senator, I’ll sit with you, if you don’t mind. I imagine you and Knight Kenobi are the best suited to get this problem fixed.”

“And me?” Anakin demands.

“You,” Prime says, with a just a hint of condescending drawl. “have just met your soulmate. I assumed you’d want some privacy to get to know each other.”

Anakin flushes, a little angry and a lot embarrassed. It’s frighteningly cute. “I--I mean--I don’t--”

“The clones are mentally the ages they look, but do remember they’ve had practically no time to gain any sort of experience,” Prime says, already ignoring them in favor of pointing something out on the datapad to the senator. “Take advantage of any of my kids, and I’ll be the one hunting you down. I’m told I’m rather good at it.”

Anakin’s face does some acrobatics. Rex would pay more attention, but he can feel himself turning just as red.

“Rex, you know where the private meeting room is,” Prime says, and waves a hand in the direction of the tiny, tiny office that’s by the door. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Be nice,” the Senator hisses, smacking Prime’s arm.

“He’s ten.”

“...still.”

Rex just stands and pulls Anakin away to the little room before things can get worse.

They’re delayed when Obi-Wan asks what they’re doing from the kitchen he’s been using to get a spot of privacy, but then Anakin says “we’re just going to talk, Master,” and they get an aggrieved sigh and a response of “the clothes stay on, padawan, and you’ll need to finish up whatever conversation you have soon, there’s work to do and being a padawan only excuses you from so much.”

Rex backs into the meeting room, yanks Anakin in, and then decides to throw caution to the wind and just press their lips together.

Oh.

Okay.

He’s kissing back.

Lack of caution: good.

The mark at his wrist thrums, warm and comfortable, and Rex pulls away. He stifles the noise he wants to make, and when Anakin whines, small and soft but clearly disappointed, Rex offers him a small grin he knows would get him called ‘shy’ by his asshole older brothers.

“We probably should actually get to know each other,” Rex says. “I don’t even know your last name.”

“I... yeah, I don’t know yours either, unless it’s Fett.”

“It’s not. I don’t have one.”

Anakin’s face does another one of those ‘I’m angry for you’ twists that Rex is quickly coming to recognize, and then he sighs and falls into one of the chairs. “Okay. So. I don’t know much about the soldier life. Tell me about it.”

And he does.

#Rexwalker #Anakin Skywalker #Captain Rex #Jango Fett #Obi Wan Kenobi #Padme Amidala #Soulmate AU #Phoenix Posts #Phoenix Answers Memes #star wars

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Sometimes You Have No Option

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: scar mentions, mostly just vague nothing too graphic at all, very quick mention of the ‘heat death of the universe‘, it’s one throwaway line but just to be safe!

Summary: Virgil wonders what Roman gets up to on his adventures that leaves him battered and bruised. What he finds isn’t what he expected....

---------

There was always this unpleasant feeling that followed Virgil whenever Roman came back from traversing the mindscape on an ‘adventure’; sometimes he’d come back bruised and bashed, other times he’d sport a limp, but nearly every time, Roman would come home with new scars.

Virgil couldn’t understand the appeal of it, though far be it for him to say anything about it. Sure, maybe it did hurt a little seeing someone he cared about come back each time more banged up than before. 

But that's none of his business, right?

Virgil wondered just what Roman got up to each time he went out. He’d never seen the things Roman could conjure outside of the main mindscape; some called it the ‘imagination’ but they were already within the imagination technically. No, what Roman would conjure was more like a simulation within the mindscape, as far as Virgil understood it. Like adding an extension onto a home…. Only to tear it down once you were done with it in the end. 

Perhaps calling them ‘daydreams’ was a more accurate comparison.

There were many times Virgil would let his own imagination run wild with the kind of journeys Roman must have gone on. Forests and kingdoms, perhaps a seafaring adventure if Remus agreed to not set the kraken on him. Or maybe he branched out even more. Something like the spaceports of Treasure Planet, or something more akin to a spiritual journey you’d find in a Ghibli movie. Who knew what Roman was up to most days, honestly.

It was a lazy Saturday in the mindscape when Virgil finally decided to ask Roman about it.

He hadn’t necessarily planned to do so, but Logan and Patton were both busy elsewhere, and all Virgil had to do was watch TV and contemplate the inevitable heat death of the universe when Roman had returned. Mismatched eyes latched onto the creative side as the prince made his way to the kitchen. He winced as he watched Roman root around for frozen peas and press the bag to his left cheek.

The injury was just out of Virgil’s sight, but as Roman turned and made eye contact, he could see the beginnings of a bruise forming. Despite the way the sight made Virgil’s lips pinch into a frown, Roman met him with a smile that made his stomach do flips as he made his way over to the sofa,

“What’s that look for, Woe Troham?”

Virgil snorted, “Wow, we’re getting obscure with the nicknames now? You’re really earning that extra credit in Emo Studies, Princey.”

Roman rolled his eyes fondly and sat down next to Virgil, careful of the anxious side’s bunched up legs, “You do realise we ALL went through Thomas’ emo phase, right?”.

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Whatever...”, he was about to leave the conversation there when he remembered the matter at hand, “Hey, uh, Roman?”

“That’s what they call me, yes.”, the creative side smirked playfully, “Typically preceded by ‘Prince’ but I’ll cut you some slack this once.”. Virgil wanted to slap that smirk away. Or maybe smooch it. The jury was still out on that one.

He sighed in mock annoyance, “Can we cut out the nonsense for once, Romano?”

He bit his lip to stifle a chuckle at the insulted huff Roman let out. 

“Okay, seriously, I was gonna ask what happened,”, Virgil continued when Roman fixed him with a perplexed frown, “Y’know, to cause that.” .

He freed one hand from his hoodie paws to gesture to the bruise under the frozen peas in Roman’s hand. Said creative side shrugged, “It’s nothing to worry about, Virge. I’ve had far worse before.”.

Oh great, because that’s what Virgil was absolutely dying to hear. 

The words left his mouth before the anxious side could stop them, “.. Can I see?”

Okay, that had to have crossed a line, surely. Those scars were probably super traumatic or heavy with meaning, or perhaps they were-

“Okay.”, Roman shrugged. He was already hauling his shirt off by the time Virgil had registered how casual Roman was about this whole thing. He was about to voice his confusion when Roman’s shirt fluttered to the floor; leaving Virgil with a moment of gay crisis, but even more so a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach.

Roman’s entire torso was covered in scars. Some were fresh, likely only days old, while others were already paling with time. The anxious side had no idea where his hands obtained the audacity to trail themselves along Roman’s skin without permission, but the creative side seemed content to let him continue.

Surprisingly confident fingertips traced valleys and trenches of healed and healing skin, only ever stopping on each route if Roman protested. Virgil had no idea why Roman let him even do something that felt this intimate in the first place, but the question that bubbled out of his throat instead was, “What…. Happened to you?”

He expected Roman to turn away, to dramatically cover himself once more, perhaps muttering a barely audible “some things are left unsaid” or “it’s…. Personal”, and then he’d retire to his room while Virgil did the same and let his mind swim in it’s usual cloud of anxious self depreciation. 

What Virgil did not expect was for Roman to immediately start pointing them out and listing every single cause like it was his grocery list.

“Well!”, Roman began, pointing to a scar on his left hip, “This is one I got from accidentally laying down on a light bulb.”

The prince pointed to more scars as he went, all too oblivious of Virgil’s stunned silence, “This one here is from running through corn stalks with my shirt off, and that one was a mosquito bite I scratched, which yes I know you shouldn’t do that, but you know how dreadfully those itch.This one here is from the time I tried to fight a goose- Oh! And this one I procured from falling out of a window during an impromptu tickle fight with Remus-” 

“Why does anyone try to fight a goose?!”, Virgil blurted out. Of all the rapidfire information his brain just tried to absorb, he wasn’t sure why that was what his brain latched onto, but he couldn’t exactly take back the question now.

The anxious side watched Roman’s expression take on a distant, stoic edge, but having known him so well by now Virgil knew the prince’s fake dramatic long distance stare a mile away. “Sometimes,”, Roman began, and Virgil did his best not to give a fond huff of annoyed laughter at the creative side’s faux drama tone, “The goose leaves you no option-”

Virgil couldn’t stifle the peal of laughter that slipped through his teeth and betrayed his irritated facade. The whole conversation had been an emotional rollercoaster but Virgil was mostly just happy that even if Roman was constantly getting into scrapes, at least it was nothing overly serious. By the time Virgil had stopped laughing, he realised Roman had also fallen victim to the case of the giggles.

“You’re ridiculous, goddamit, Roman!”, Virgil snarked weakly, the gentle smile he wore betraying any attempt at true irritation. Roman simply continued to beam at Virgil, brilliant and bright, a beacon of pure adoration. 

“That’s a rather funny way to pronounce ‘handsome and dashing’, but I’ll take it!”

It’s unfair that Roman got to be so well put together while Virgil was just standing there, hands still resting on Roman’s bare chest, blushing up an absolute storm. Something about the way Roman smiled at him - so gentle and adoring - made Virgil want to do something crazy. 

Like kissing him.

Yeah.

He should kiss him.

No, wait, he absolutely should NOT do that.

In fact, Virgil caught himself just as he was leaning towards Roman, intending to turn away. However, Roman’s arms snaked their way smoothly around his waist, keeping him close but still remaining loose enough that Virgil could break away if he wanted. 

“.... Virgil, can I ask you something?”

Roman’s voice was hesitant, a little less sure of himself than his expression implied. To save himself from embarrassment by not subjecting Roman to any barely passable attempts at a verbal affirmation, Virgil nodded bashfully. 

Roman’s gaze landed on Virgil’s lips then settled back into half lidded eye contact, a small quirk of laughter dancing across the prince’s features.

“Am I the only one who’s been subtly flirting this entire time? Because if so, I am going to be utterly scandalized.”

Even Virgil was surprised by the relieved laughter he let out; it was the ugly kind that gave away just how smitten he was with Roman. He tapped his fingers against Roman’s chest, humming playfully.

“Hmmm, looks like you’ll just have to be scandalized, pretty boy.”, he teased.

Roman’s shocked expression was too cute, how could Virgil resist? The anxious side sighed out a low chuckle, rolled his eyes, and lent forward to reward him with a much earned kiss.

-----------

We love us a couple of pining dorks

Based on this post and so I tag @count-woe-laf as promised!

#my fics #prinxiety #roman #virgil #fanfic #fanfics #prinxiety fanfiction #this is basically a shitpost piece #but I'm working on other stuff and it's been so long #I wanted to give you all smth soft and fluffy to read

[melancholydreadfuldream]

no one rips it up like you

Fandom: Doctor Who

Summary: You are tired of being second best. Hell, you are not even second best. You don't know what number you are on in regard of the Doctor's priority.

 Warning: ooc, angst, plot holes as usual, attempted suicide, death, etc. You have been warned.

    You are tired of being second best. Hell, you are not even second best. You don't know what number you are on in regard of the Doctor's priority. The first place certainly belong to Amy and then River, if the rumour about River being the Doctor's wife is true. 

  You tried not to be jealous of Amy who have the most of the Doctor's attention. But it is hard. You were both his current companion and yet it feels like you are nothing to him. You were not as brave, smart or sassy, like Amy or River. Those are the sort of behaviour the Doctor encouraged in companion. He need that quality in his companion so that they can keep up with him.  

  You have no idea what the Doctor saw in you at the beginning when he invited you into his Tardis but it certainly an opportunity of lifetime and so you accepted his offer. The first time you did meet the Doctor, you did show that once-in-a-while bravery and maybe that is why the Doctor thought you deserved an invitation into his Tardis. Unfortunately, you don't always show that quality of yours during adventure. Honestly, you didn't even have to, what with Amy on the spot ready to speak out her mind, being sassy as hell, toward villains of the days, which always earned her the Doctor's proud smile. And on the occasion of adventures where you stumble with River and her awesomeness, the Doctor is quick to flirt with her.

  You didn't hate Amy or River; jealous, yes, as ugly as that emotion is, it is quite normal. But you found friendship with Amy and respect for River. Amy is kind and protective of you as you often unable to talk back when people are mean to you. River saved your life during the weeping angels fiasco and a few times after. For some reason, River seemed to have some soft spot for you. But then again, maybe she did that because you are the Doctor's companion. She showed concern for you the few times you met which is more that you can say about the Doctor.

 The thing is at first, it wasn't like that. The Doctor always gave both you and Amy the same amount of attention. Somehow along the way, that changed. If you have to point the change, it must be after you, River and the Ponds got invitation from the future Doctor at Lake Silencio. You noticed that the Doctor is always staring at Amy borderline obsessive, as if he is trying to record her every movement. He never has time for you anymore, always quick to be distracted by anything or by Amy.

  It hurts. It is so hurt. At first, you endured it but when time passes and he still ignored you, you have to wonder if he grew tired of you and if he is leaving hints that he want you to leave the Tardis. 

  No one noticed your pain. At least, you thought so, until Rory talked to you and asked if you are okay.

  "I'm always alright." You said with a forced smile. You were honestly surprised that he noticed. You always thought he only have eyes for Amy. But you should have known. Rory is soft and kind to everyone he met and that of course included you.

  "Then why do you look so sad? why do you look like you wanted to cry?" He asked in concern.

  You didn't meant to but you started to cry in front of him. 

  Rory gave you a hug as he awkwardly patted your back in comforting gesture. He gave you tissue to wipe your tears and snots as you told him your insecurity and how lonely you felt most of the times. 

  "I know it was childish of me. Why do I want him to pay attention to me anyway?" You sniffed as fresh hot tears once more filled your eyes. "I am so stupid."

  Rory look pained when he heard your confession. He comforted you, saying the right words to make you feel better about yourself and your situation.

  "I'm sorry." You said after you calmed down some. "I didn't meant to cry on you."

  "It's okay. We are friends, aren't we? If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, feel free to ask me."

  You couldn't help but smile at that. "Aren't you afraid Amy will be jealous?"

  Rory snorted, not unkindly. "I don't think Amy is capable of being jealous."

  You chuckled as you agreed with his statement. Amy is so perfect and so lucky to have a loyal husband as Rory. You only wished you have half of her charm.

  7777

  You didn't know what you were thinking anyway when you saw right before your eyes of the two Doctors' presence in the St.John's Base. No, wait, of course, you do, you wish one of them can maybe pay attention to you now, that is how pathetic you are. Heck, you would settle for the ganger Doctor if only he will turn his eyes on you. But, of course, his eyes glued only on Amy, despite her treatment of his ganger status.

  You don't know what your stand is about the gangers but you know the Doctor will want peace between humans and gangers and so, naturally, you will stand by his firm belief. The Doctor is kind and strive to do the right thing and you can only wish and try to do the same thing as he did. You watched as Amy giggled as the Doctor talked to her and spun the chair she was in around. How come he never spend any time with you anymore? Was there something wrong with you? 

  You sighed as you tried to compose yourself as you instead try to approach the ganger Doctor but he barely able to keep his eyes off Amy, only give you a half-smile, before leaving you behind to go to Amy. Amy, always Amy! You hated yourself for resenting Amy, she is your friend. This feeling of yours is disgusting. No wonder the Doctor didn't pay attention to you. You are so ugly on the inside.

  It was at that moment that you realized you have to either confront the Doctor for the truth or just leave the Tardis forever before your ugly emotion took full control of you. But, you are a coward, you are afraid to confront the Doctor. What if he really ask you to leave? What if he thinks you are not good enough to be his companion? Because, the truth is, you don't want to leave the Doctor or the Tardis. So, what now? Do you just have to endure this pain and hope someday he will set his eyes on you again?

  "(name)? (name)!"

  You blinked your eyes through the tears.

  The Doctor is standing right in front of you with concern in his eyes.

  You wiped your tears. You gulped. "I think I got something in my eyes..." You said dumbly.

  The Doctor look pained at your words. "You can tell me anything that is bothering you."

  "Can I, really?" You didn't meant to say that but you sort of blurted it out.

  The Doctor look surprised that you even have to ask that. "Of course. You are my friend, (name), I care for you."

  You bit your lips. "I..." You can't tell him anything. What if he really ask you to leave later? But the dam is finally broken, despite your will, you ended up blurting it out. "Am I still good enough to be your friend?"

  The Doctor frowned at that.

  "Have you grow tired of me yet?" You asked again despite uttering those despairing questions brought more tears and heartache inside you.

  "What bring this on?" The Doctor asked in concern.

  You scoffed. "You have been ignoring me since forever. If you wanted me to leave, you should have say so." You wanted to hit yourself for saying that.

  "Have I? I didn't realize that I hurt you this badly." The Doctor whispered softly. "I'm so sorry, (name)."

  You wiped your tears again. You refused to look at the Doctor, ashamed and honestly unable to face him anymore.

  The Doctor put his hand over yours. He then pulled your chin up so that you look at him. He smiled kindly at you but his eyes bore sorrow. "You will always be my friend, (name), my precious, soft and kind, friend. I didn't meant to make you feel less about yourself. What I have been doing...I am not ignoring you, (name), I have my reasons and you will understand soon."  He said as he used his thumb to wipe your tears. "I promise."

  You stared at him hesitantly hopeful. Seeing the expression on his face makes you feel guilty for thinking the worst of him but also you feel the tension inside you slowly crumble away. "You better keep your promise..." You finally replied, forcing a smile on your face for his benefit.

  He grinned at you.

  You stood up, wanting to leave the room to wash your face when Amy entered the room in a hurry, quick to approach the Doctor. You bumped into the ganger Doctor. You apologized but he ignored you as he tried to reach out to Amy. Amy yelled at him to stay away. You were rooted to the spot as you watched the rest of the crew turned against the ganger Doctor despite the Doctor's protest. You left the room and goes to the bathroom, washing your face a few times, hoping to wash away the evidence of your breakdown.

  As you stared at the mirror at your reflection, you flinched suddenly at the sudden sharp headaches. You sighed as you pulled a medicine strip from your pocket. You have been having headaches every time after you have a crying fit so you took the medicines everywhere you goes. After you swallowed a pill, you took another look at your reflection, forcing yourself to smile cheerfully. You sighed and returned to face the music.

  The Doctor spoke really fast at everyone about his plan, sending you a smile once in a while. You smiled back at him.

  You really thought that everything will be fine now. But series of events revealed that the Doctor is actually a ganger and that he switched place with the original Doctor. You were confused then, was it all a lie then? If he was the ganger, does everything he says to you still true? You felt like the ground beneath you is about to crack under pressure.

  The ganger Doctor stared at you in sorrow after he said his goodbye with Amy. He suddenly pulled you into a hug as he whispered to you. "Everything I said to you is true, (name), so it is also true for him." 

  You stared at him after he pulled away. "I believe you when you said it but I don't think..." You turned to stare at the original Doctor who looked at your interaction with his ganger-self curiously.

  The ganger Doctor cupped your face. "Be more confident in yourself." He said and then he kissed your forehead. "Good bye, (name)." He pushes you toward the Doctor who is quick to pull you away and inside the Tardis. 

  You turned toward the ganger Doctor just as the door is closed and the last thing you saw is his kind eyes and sad smile and your heart broke for him.

  You fell down on the floor as the Doctor goes to the console to put coordinates to get the Tardis away.

  It was Rory who come to you and asked if you are okay as Amy went to apologizes to the Doctor.

  7777

  It was revealed that Amy is a ganger and that she has apparently been kidnapped for a long time. The Doctor finally revealed why he was obsessed with Amy. You felt like a fool once you learned the truth.

  The Doctor and Rory quickly prepared themselves to go to wars so to speak.

  You were tasked to get River on board the Tardis as you made your way to her prison room at Stormcage. River is dressed beautifully and is humming a song when you saw her. You explained what is going on to her.

  "Demons Run?" She asked you. She look stunned. "This is the day the Doctor found out who I really am." She turned to look at you suddenly and her eyes look sad. She walked toward you and pulled one of your hands. "I'm so sorry, (name), but you need to remember to hold on for the Doctor. He will need you."

  You blinked in confusion.

  River smiled before stepping away from you, not explaining what she meant.

  7777

  The Doctor was able to rescue Amy and baby Melody. You honestly didn't do anything worthy during the mission but you still feel victorious when you saw the Ponds reunited and crying over the baby. The Doctor walked into a room and put his arms on you as he watched the Ponds with a satisfied smile. He exchanged a look at you and grinned. You couldn't help but chuckles.

  You smiled as you also played with baby Melody. You were in awe of the newborn. Amy jokingly called you to be the god mother of her baby. You smiled widely at her as you declared yourself to be the best aunt ever. Deep inside you feel guilty for ever resenting Amy before.

  You thought that will be the happy ending they need to wrap it up. But the Doctor said they can't leave the base until they figure out why they want Amy's baby. The Doctor left to meet Madam Vastra in the control room.

  You smiled as you watched baby Melody inside the Doctor's crib as Rory and Amy playfully argued with each other. You left to follow the Doctor once Amy have baby Melody in her arms humming a lullaby. You walked on the long corridor into the console room where you saw Madam Vastra and Dorium who went back to where the others are.

  Your smartphone suddenly rang. The contact said 'Home'. You received the call just as you are about to enter the room but stopped short when you heard the Doctor yelled at the monitor.

  It was Madam Kovarian. For someone who already lost, she sounded so smug. 

  "Oh Doctor, fooling you once was a joy, but fooling you twice the same way? It's a privilege." Madam Kovarian grinned evilly at him. before the communication shut off by itself.

  The Doctor looked confused at first before his eyes widened in horror but just as he turned around to leave the room, he bumped into you. He was surprised to see you and more surprised when he suddenly feel a sudden sharp pain in his body. His eyes widened in disbelief as he took a look at you.

  You were staring at him with blank eyes. On your hand, a bloodied knife make its contact with the Doctor's flesh body. 

  "(name)?"

  You pulled the knife out and then twist it back inside a few more times, still with a blank expression on your face.

  The Doctor gripped his wounds with his hands. He reached out to you with one of his bloodied hand, smearing his blood on your face before falling to the floor.

  You blinked your eyes a few times as the haze inside your mind finally cleared. You glanced down and screamed at what you saw. You quickly bend your knees as you fussed over the Doctor. The Doctor is not responsive.

  You ran into the console in front of you trying to use speaker system to call out Rory for help but for the life of you, you couldn't figure all the buttons. You finally figures it out and you screamed for Rory, telling him the Doctor is hurt. You have no idea though if your voice come through.

  It was then you notice the blood on your hands and the bloodied knife in your grip. You dropped the knife in horror as your mind slowly supplied what it meant.

  You couldn't breathe. Your heart pounding hard. Your head is splitting with a sudden sharp headache. You fell on the floor. You stared at your hands as your body trembled from shock and fear. You screamed. You screamed and screamed. Distinctly you know you should warn everyone, should get the Doctor the help he needed, but for some reason, you couldn't stop screaming.

  Your vision suddenly started to grew blurry before black is all you can see. Distinctly you saw the Doctor's body started to glow yellow just before you lose consciousness.

  7777

  You woke up inside your room back in the Tardis.

  "You are awake."

  Your mind does not register the presence of a man in black suit. You blinked a few times until your vision cleared. 

  The man stared at you flatly.

  "W-who are you?" You asked nervously clutching on your blanket.

  "The Doctor."

  You blinked in confusion. "What about him?"

  He raised his attack eyebrows at you, not impressed that you still not getting it. "I am him."

  Your mind went blank at that. It was then you remembered, finding the Doctor's bloodied figure on the floor. You gasped. "The Doctor...is dead..."

  "I'm really not. I regenerated. Well, that part was very surprising considering I should no longer have any regeneration left." The Doctor said.

  "I...I killed him."

  The Doctor stared at you, not contradicting your claim. He sat there, observing you as you cried, full on sobbing. He made no move to comfort you. He looked cross. 

  You sobbed tearfully. "What have I done?"

  He sighed. "Don't cry. I am no good at crying human."

  You glanced at him. "Are you really him? Are you really the Doctor?"

  "I already said I am." He said a tad harsh, making you flinched. "Get some rest. We will talk again once you refresh." He left the room.

  You watched him go and wonder if he hates you now. Well he has every reason to hate you, after all, you did kill his previous self.

  7777

  Amy and Rory are wary around you and you can't blame them. But they did filled you in about what happened that day.

  You were saddened when you found out they lost their baby and surprised at the revelation that River is actually Melody.

  The Ponds also have hard time accepting the new Doctor. He is so different from his previous self. For once, he claimed he now ban hugging. 

  River visited the Tardis via vortex manipulator and went to talk to the Doctor, flashing you a kind smile as she saw you.

  You followed her and eavesdrop on her conversation with the Doctor something about your brainwave pattern.

  The Doctor suddenly opened the door and pulled you inside. You nearly stumbled if not for his firm grip.

  "Doctor." River warned. "Be gentle."

  They explained that someone hacked your brainwave pattern causing you to do thing you normally would not do. He wants to inject you with some chip so that he can always monitor your brainwave pattern at all times and isolates whatever cause you to turn against the Doctor.

  You agreed because you don't want to put anyone else in danger. But you got the sense that this Doctor doesn't take no for an answer from you right now.

  "I don't understand how can someone hack into my brain like that? I think I would know if someone did something to me."

  "Would you? Even Amy herself has no idea she was kidnapped for so long..." River said.

  "Are you telling me that I am a ganger too?" You asked.

  "I think someone did something to you sometimes after the Ponds' wedding."

  "I would know, wouldn't I?" You asked brokenly. "How can someone mess with my mind like this and I have no idea? How can they made me hurt the D...hurt you? How can they make me a killer without my knowledge?"

  River glanced at you sympathetically. She knew how it feels to have no control over mind and body.

  The Doctor exhaled. "I have no idea. But I will find out. And when I do, I will make them pay for whatever they did to you." He said as he glanced at you. "That is a promise."

  7777

  You weren't coping well with the fact that you have taken the Doctor's life despite him able to escape death by regenerating.

  Despite the Doctor's promise to find whoever did this to you, he is mostly busy hunting down Kovarian. You can hardly begrudging the fact once again you are not his first priority. Melody is still need rescuing after all. And you prayed that they will find her soon. Even if apparently Melody will turned out okay as she will become River.

  River had told the Doctor to be discreet so that Kovarian will never find out that he has regenerated already.

  Everyone is still talking about Lake Silencio and the fact the Doctor died there in his eleventh form. 

  River had the idea of using the Doctor's ganger from their time at St.John's Base to trick the silence.

  And that is how you found yourself face to face with a ghost.

  Amy is happy to reunite with the ganger Doctor especially since he has the face of the raggedy man she knew and loved.

  You were happy too but mostly you are afraid of his reaction upon finding out that you had killed the Doctor that has the same face as him. So, you mostly keep your distance.

  You were hiding from both Doctors somewhere in the Tardis but the ganger Doctor somehow able to find you.

  "So, this is where you have been hiding..." He murmured as he glanced down at you who were sitting on the floor with a book.

  You glanced up at him. "Yeah, well, I can't find a hole to bury myself under so..."

  He sighed as he took a seat on the floor beside you. "It wasn't your fault..."

  You didn't bother replying to that statement because you didn't believe it.

  The ganger Doctor sat beside you, no words are exchanged. He glanced at you with sorrow in his eyes, making you unable to ignore with him or focus on your own book.

  "What?"

  "(name), you are forgiven, always and completely." He said as he hold one of your hands.

  "I thought that you said it wasn't my fault."

  "It is not your fault. But it seemed to me that you need to have forgiveness. So, I'm telling you now..." 

  You felt your face gotten hot as tears threaten to fell on your cheeks. "I wish he said it. Because the one I did wrong to is him."

  "He probably think you know that it wasn't your fault and that there is nothing to forgive." 

  "How can you be sure? He is no longer the same as you. He has different opinions for everything now."

  "He is still me, still the Doctor, just slightly different." He said. "Though that rules of him, of no hugging is rubbish."

  You chuckled at that.

  He beamed, satisfied being able to make you laugh a little.

  7777

  The presence of the ganger Doctor lessen your guilt a bit. You could almost lied to yourself that he is the Doctor that you lost. 

  And then you learned of what the Doctor and River planned for the ganger Doctor. They wanted him to take the Doctor's place to die in Lake Silencio.

  "Will he survive it?" You asked. You don't want to lose him. The first time is hard enough, you don't think you can handle it.

  No one answered you.

  You shook your head. "You can't just sacrifice him."

  "We have no choice. If we didn't the paradox will destroy half of the world... It was a fixed point in time. The Doctor dies at Lake Silencio."

  You glared at the Doctor. "You said all life matters. Are you saying ganger don't matter now?"

  "(name)..." River spoke up.

  "It isn't fair!" You yelled at them.

  The twelfth Doctor scoffed at you. "Life is never fair. If it is not because of you, I would still be in my previous form and I would be the one who die on that lake. Instead I died in the hand of a so called friend. Stab multiply times actually."

  "Doctor!!" River warned him with a glare at his harshness.

  You felt like you were being slapped. You glanced at his face, trying to hold back your tears. You left the room without a word.

  The ganger Doctor glared at the Doctor. "I sometimes forgot how stupid I can be..." He said coldly at the original. He turned to look after you.

  7777

  In order to trick Kovarian and the silence, the ganger Doctor has to take the Doctor's place and continue his merry way having adventures with his companions.

  You and Amy honestly loves it, it was like having the real him back. It was apparent that you both has a hard time getting along with the new Doctor.

  You reluctantly said your goodbye once again with the ganger Doctor as the time come for him to go to the Lake Silencio. Was it always been the ganger Doctor then who died at the beginning?

  You never able to mend your relationship with the new Doctor. He is just too cold, too unapproachable. 

  You wanted to leave. What was the point of staying when he doesn't even want you around? But he won't let you leave until he solve your brainwave pattern.

  He noticed that your brain chemicals seemed unbalance, making you get stressed out. He prescribed you with drug to combat it.

  But honestly you felt toxic. You didn't think you could stay with him in his Tardis or having adventures. You simply no longer have the energy for it.  You were done with the Doctor.

  River had begged you to stay. "Remember what I said at Stormcage, to hold on the Doctor? I need you to do that right now."

  "He doesn't need me. He has you, Amy and Rory. Why would he want me around, his killer?"

  River revealed that she is also the Doctor's killer. She told you that she is the person behind the spacesuit at Lake Silencio. She told you how she was born and raised to kill the Doctor. She said she understood you for she too has no control over her body when she shot the Doctor back then. And yet the Doctor forgives her.

  You were surprised. If what she said is true, then it makes sense why she seemed to have soft spot for you. But that is also meant she always knew that you will ended up killing the Doctor and she didn't say anything or try to stop it. You were a bit upset at her for that.

  "I can't interfere. Like I said, your future is my past. I can't change anything." River said. "No matter how much I want to."

  7777

  The Doctor glanced at your brainwave pattern at the monitor in the console room. He exhaled. He still has no idea how to fix you. Deep inside he was enraged at whoever screw you up just to get to him.

  He suspected it was Kovarian's scheme too at first but if it was really her, she would know by now that the Doctor has regenerated. It seemed his lies back in Lake Silencio worked out. 

  But he does think about the prophecy Dorium talked, something regarding Trenzalore. Has that prophecy become invalid then? As it spoke of the fall of the Eleventh and he has actually regenerated into his Twelfth form.

  He recalled his conversation with his ganger version. He had warned him to get his bearing together or he will end up losing you and the Ponds.

  Sometimes the Doctor wonder if he is still the Doctor. He felt disconnected from his usual Doctor persona.

  7777

  Following the ganger Doctor and River's advice, you tried to talk to the Doctor but it just hard. He made it hard. He is so stern and cold unlike his past version.

  You talked to Amy and Rory about it and they both agreed to try to bond with the new Doctor as best as they can. After all the Doctor is a dear friend. They have to try to reconnect with him. He is worth the effort.

  It was Amy that is able to break through the ice around the Doctor. You frowned as you saw Amy hugged him despite his protests. They were arguing before but Amy is able to get through him.

  You were jealous. No matter which Doctor, they always prefer Amy over you.

  The Tardis currently landed in Cardiff for refuel. You got out of the Tardis in daze with tears in your eyes. You walked for how long until you found yourself seated on a bench. 

  You snapped out of your daze when your smartphone is ringing. The contact 'Home' displayed on the screen. You received the call and everything turned black.

  7777

  "You are awake." A computer-generated voice called out to you.

  You jerked awake in confusion as you took in your new surrounding. 

  There is a monitor on the wall with a screensaver of sort that spelled GI.

  "Petta, report on the Doctor." The voice said.

  You were confused. Who is Petta?

  The voice repeated the command.

  "It won't work." The Doctor replied suddenly.

  You turned toward the Doctor in confusion but he paid you no mind as he glanced at the monitor.

  "Intruder alert. Intruder alert." The voice sounded an alarm.

  The Doctor look bored. "Don't bother. My friends has this base of yours surrounded by now." He said. "GI...right? Great Intelligence? Not that smart eh? Why don't you scan her?"

  You were scared now. "Doctor, what is going on?"

  A ray of light suddenly scanned you and the voice replied in monotone voice, "Non-human detected. Analysis showed a flesh ganger."

  You felt like you are being slapped. You are a ganger? "Doctor!!" You yelled at him.

  He finally turned to you. He walked toward you and touched the side of your forehead and a flashback memory assaulted your sense.

  You were back at the Demons Run watching yourself just after you found the Doctor's bloodied form. You watched as the you of that time frantically trying to call for help and then noticing the bloody knife on your hands. You had screamed as the realization of what you have done come over you. You watched yourself sobbed in despair and then you stabbed yourself.

  You gasped and jerked away from the vision. You don't remember doing that last part.

  You heard the Doctor is explaining to the Great Intelligence how his plan to get you to kill him failed and what he did to save you.

  The Doctor has just regenerated and the first thing he saw was your dying self. Despite still out of sort, he knew what he has to do. He managed to save you and then he put you inside the flesh technology on the lab at Demons Run.

  Your flesh self actually is somewhat free from whatever virus infecting your original self. The Great Intelligence had apparenty brainwash your original self to kill the Doctor and then yourself. With how they messed with your brain chemical, it was easy to make yourself commit suicide afterward.

  But the GI didn't count on the Doctor regenerating and able to save you. The Doctor had made a flesh ganger of you and set you as a bait to trap the GI to show itself.  The chip inside you is also serve as a tracker. That is how the Doctor is able to get here as fast as he is.

  The Doctor demanded that the GI undo what it has done to your original self. 

  The GI had laughed in that grating computer voice of it. The monitor show the sims-like man cartoon of an old man with sinister face, mocking the Doctor for his inability to fully save you.

  "The reason you made a copy of flesh ganger is because you know Petta will obey me and when she woke up to find you alive, she will have no choice but to kill you again and then herself." The GI grinned. 

  The Doctor look very cross but didn't deny the GI's claim. He started threatening the GI in his fury of the oncoming storm.

  You froze, still stuck on the loop of what the GI had said about your original self.

  Despite his carefully constructed plan, the GI had managed to escape from the Doctor's grasp albeit wounded through the computer virus the Doctor uploaded.

  The Doctor has no idea what even the GI is but he will not rest until he recapture him. He turned to look at you.

  "Does everyone but me know that I am not real?" You asked.

  The Doctor didn't reply at first but he eventually nodded.

  "Did the ganger Doctor also know?"

  The Doctor nodded again.

  You snorted. "So, everyone know and lie to me about it all."

  The Doctor didn't say anything.

  "Where is my real body then? Inside the Tardis, yeah? Where?" You asked him.

  "Does it matter?"

  "Where is my true body, Doctor?!" You screamed at him.

  7777

  It makes sense now. Amy and Rory were not wary of you. That was pity for you, of being the one in the dark, out of the loop. Everyone kindness was just a lie.

  You glanced at your original self lying weakly on the bed. Your life is still on the line it seemed. You often spend your time staring at yourself which probably isn't healthy but who cares?

  You made your way to the machine that held a life support system and considering to terminate it. 

  "Step away from it, (name)." You heard the Doctor's demand.

  "Why? Do you think this is what we want? Do you think we could live with it after being a killer?"

  "I am here. You are not a killer. And I will fix you."

  "And then what? You will erased my memory of the truth?"

  The Doctor didn't reply but something on his expression convinced you that it was indeed his plan.

  You scoffed in disbelief.

  "Why does it matter? Didn't my ganger self had told you already that you are forgiven?"

  "Even if you could, do you really think I could forgive myself? I will always be a threat to you!"

  "I swear to you no matter how long, no matter what, I will find a way to fix you. You can live a normal life." The Doctor pleaded. "Just don't do this. Don't throw it all away."

  "I'm sorry, Doctor."

  "I'm sorry too, (name)." The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at you, much to your shock, and vaporizing you.

  The Doctor stepped toward the bed, staring at you with sorrow. "I will protect you, (name), even from yourself."

       A/N: As usual I ended up writing different from what I've planned and it probably not gonna making any sense again. Honestly, I always ended up not finishing my stories but not on purpose, mostly because i have no idea how to fill in the blank. i'm really bad at this. But writing when I have the boost for it is fun so I hope you have fun reading this too. Please leave comments if you like this. Take care of yourself, stay safe.

#doctor who x reader #11th doctor x reader #ganger!doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #shiefenwrites

[bokunosimpfiction]

Kidnapped Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt.5

Summary: You feel emotions other than rage and sarcasm oh my god 

A/N: The reason I took a break from this series was because I had no idea where to take it from that cliff hanger, and I felt that character development needed to be done before we dive head first into the plot. This is part of that, but keep in mind it’s not filler like Chapter 2 became. I think it’s funny that this was SUPPOSED TO BE A FUCKING ONE SHOT BUT APPARENTLY FUCKING NOT. I’ll be posting another chapter for this series soon. Also feel free to send me asks about this series. I’ve been getting comments on my ao3 that are a) genius b)hilarious and c)heartwarming. Talk to me. Please! Ask and anon should be open right now let me know if they aren’t!

Masterlist link for previous parts:

Link to this chapter on AO3:

Taglist: @localdepressedvampire​ and one person recieving updates via email

The fresh cold late-autumn air made your lungs sting. And the layers of clothes didn’t help fight the chill you didn’t know you were facing. Has it been that long since you’ve been outside, to see the sun? You stick your arms in your armpits under your outercoat. Well, Heisenberg’s spare trench coat. It was much too big, the cuffs of the sleeves going well past your fingertips and the bottom half an inch from the ground.

You were so used to the fluorescent lighting and the warm dry air of the factory, that your body went into some type of culture shock. It felt like an allergic reaction to the outside world itself. Adjusting to it once you escaped would be hard.

“You’ve clearly become less fit since you started living with me,” Karl says in a matter-of-fact tone. You’d be insulted if you didn’t hear him say weird stuff about the other lords or the occasional brain-washed villager who brought up offerings. One had sewed you a wool and fox-fur dress and brought it up in September, in preparation for the winter. He’d thought it dumb at the time, but it protected you from the November chill better than anything you’ve ever worn.

Did they think you were a woman? Whether they were right or wrong, it didn’t change the fact that it was comfortable, warm, and made you feel better than the clothes you’d been wearing before in the factory or even before. You felt safe.

“Of course, I have, I’ve been sitting on my ass,” you retort.

“Still see that sass is intact.”

“It’s something that’ll never leave me.”

“You’d make a terrible house-spouse.”

“That’s the point,” you sigh hard, and you can see the cold air in front of your face, “I had a whole ass college degree before I came here and got my ass kidnapped.”

Karl whips around and looks at you, tilting his head down to peer at you from above his glasses. “You have a college degree?”

“Why are you surprised? Did you think I was that stupid?” Even if the question is sarcastic and witty, you felt a pang of hurt reverberate in your heart. Did he really think you were that stupid? Apparently so.

“I have two masters. One in aerospace engineering and one in mechanical engineering. Double majored in those fields for my bachelors at Oxford on a full-ride scholarship of robotic engineering.”

His mouth drops open. “And I didn’t know about this because?”

“It never came up.”

He pinches his nose, “you could have been helping me this whole time in the shop, and I let you sit on your ass and play care-taker.”

“More like forced me.” At this point, you’ve stopped walking, and you’d be able to see the manor of Benviento if it weren’t for the fog.

“Besides the point.” He looks stressed. His eyebrows are furrowed, a deep frown is on his face and his whole disposition makes him look genuinely conflicted and upset. “Let’s just go.” He gestures for you to follow him and stomps up the path.

You follow him, trying not to slip in the mud. Converse doesn’t have great traction, you realized. Maybe you should have worn hiking boots. “Listen, dirty Dr. Doofenschmirtz-“

“I don’t want to listen to your dumb nick-names right now.”

You stop again, and your fists ball up at your side around the fabric of the sleeves of his coat. Your coat. The coat you’re wearing.

“Why the hell are you so mad at me!” It’s not a question. It’s an exclamation of emotion. For some reason, it hurts. Even if you despised him, hated him with all your being, having someone love you unconditionally felt nice. He was toxic at best, sociopathic at worst, and yet he loved you so strongly it tore the both of you so part. To feel that admiration has gone missing, even if for a second, sent you reeling. You can’t explain why you softened towards him.

“I’m not.” He keeps walking before he realized you stopped. He turned around to look at you. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just…” He looks for the words. He’d never been good at expressing himself, you realized. Better through actions than words. But you didn’t want him to act on whatever he was feeling.

You wait in silence, eye-watering, trying not to cry.

He sees and rushes over to you. His left arm wraps around you and his right hand gently grabs your chin, his index finger underneath to lift your chin up to look at him. “Don’t cry, you know I hate it when you cry.”

You struggle to take a deep breath, choke on it, and the world feels so much more dangerous. A million malicious eyes gazing into your soul, whispers of panic fill your brain, and flashing thoughts of running right now, of hurting him or you flash through like lightning in a foggy storm. Every damn thing feels hazy and thick and you’re choking on the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to. I don’t want you to be mad at me, I don’t want-“

“Take a deep goddamn breath.” You feel his tobacco-scented breath on your face. You can see panic flash through his eyes for a moment. You hate the smell, and it suffocates you even more. “You need to breath.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, and your breath shakes like a wasp nest about to fall from the highest branch. “Why are you mad at me?” This time you genuinely ask. You don’t want a reason, but rather a reassurance that he isn’t at all.

His lips form into a snarl that doesn’t come out before he presses them in a tight line. As he thinks. It makes you even more nervous. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the fact that I had an opportunity that went to waste.”

You look up at him. “Okay.”

He wraps his other arm around you and places his chin on your forehead. “Let me know when you’ve calmed down.”

You rest your forehead on his shoulder and breathe.

In. Out.

In.          Out.

In. OUT.

In… out

In.

Out.

 In.

 … out.

“Do you feel any better?”

You wait a moment. “Yeah, I think so.” You ponder for a moment. “I think I had a lot of pent-up anxiety from everything.”

He stays quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

He places a kiss on the crown of your head, his beard ruffling your hair. “Are you not going to forgive me?”

You take a deep breath. “I don’t know yet. It’s…” How do I phrase this? “I worked hard for this anger. This anger to love me, to know I didn’t deserve this, to be kidnapped, to have my head ready to be mounted on a stick.” You continue, “if I stop feeling angry, if I forgive you, I’m afraid I’m losing that. That’s why I tried to escape because I loved myself, I wanted better for myself.”

“Was I… Was I not providing enough for you?” His question strikes you like an arrow.

“I-“ You stumble on you’re thoughts for a moment. “It’s less of you not doing enough, but more of the rough foot we started on.” You sniffle. “When I gave up, I felt like I lost a part of myself, all that I worked for. That degree included. I felt all my efforts, all my struggles that I faced outside this goddamn village had gone to waste. That it wasn’t worth it. That I wasn’t worth it.”

You had promised yourself to keep him at arm’s length, to not give him clues to manipulate you. But you poured your heart out into his. You felt him shake and squeeze you tighter.

“Never. Ever. Feel like you aren’t worth it.” You feel something wet on your scalp. “You deserved better than each challenge that you faced, and each bit of hurt you felt along the way.” It’s his turn to choke on his words. He takes a shaky breath above you, and you can feel his heart pound faster. “You, darling, are worth everything.”

Something small inside you breaks. He’s just as human as you are, you realize. In this desperate attempt to escape, to fuel this hatred that’s worn you down, you’ve villainized a man that’s felt even more pain than you. A broken man, who thinks you’re the glue to put him back together. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to, but you do, because you’ve felt a fraction of the pain he’s felt, that he’s currently feeling, and it’s made your mind and bones ache far after the situation ended.

“And so are you, Karl.”

He unwraps his arms from around you. “Come one butter-cup, let’s go. Ugly-ass-psycho-doll is waiting for you. Says she wants you for a fitting and some tea party with her demented child, Angie.”

“Angie? Who’s she.”

“Well, you’re about to find out.”

#Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg #Yandere Heisenberg #Yandere #Yandere x Reader #Heisenberg x Reader #Yandere Heisenberg x Reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil 8 x reader #resident evil village x reader #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #re8

[obiwanobi]

I was asked to write angst with a happy ending for the Sith Senator Kenobi AU where Obi-Wan believes Anakin has been killed during a mission, so here’s 2.6k of sadness featuring Obi-Wan and Ahsoka before I finish the happy ending part: 

Ahsoka can only remember a few details from the funeral of her master.

In her mind, the memory has the fuzziness of an unpleasant dream, and not the sharpness of an event that happened only yesterday. 

Surprisingly, it was Master Windu who led the ceremony with a gentle voice.  Master Yoda gave a speech, but she can't recall a word of it.  She remembers Senator Amidala trying to blink away her tears.  She remembers Master Jinn's heavy hand on her shoulder when the heat of the flames started to warm her face. She remembers Rex, still as a statue from beginning to end. She remembers Senator Kenobi being the first to leave without a word. 

It took four hours for the pyre to burn to ashes. 

___________________________________

"Oh. Hello, young one." 

Senator Kenobi's tone is surprised, but his face is as impassive as ever.

It reminds her of that one time her master said that he would have made an excellent Jedi, and Kenobi immediately proved him wrong, dramatically grimacing at the thought and making Anakin burst into laughter. 

There's no grimace on Kenobi's face right now. His hair and beard are perfectly combed and trimmed, and there isn't one wrinkle on his pristine clothes.  

It makes the deep shadows under his eyes stand out even more. 

"Senator," Ahsoka greets him with a polite bow. "Would you mind if I come in?" 

Kenobi blinks twice before taking a step back. "Please."

She walks into his apartment a bit rigidly, hands clutched around the box she brought, and seats on the couch he points at her. 

If he knew she was here, Master Jinn would disapprove. Her grandmaster has never liked the senator, partially due to his charming public persona which only echoes in a bizarre void in the Force —"some plants are easier to detect that him", she once heard Master Jinn say,— and partially because of his close relationship with her master. 

Ahsoka herself has never known what to make of Senator Kenobi.

Stuck between pretending to ignore the looks he used to share with her master and making sarcastic remarks about it to fluster them both, it now leaves her in an awkward relationship she can't define without mourning for the missing link between them.

Anxiety starts nagging at her as she looks at the box in her hands. Maybe she should have waited. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

"Caf? Tea?" Kenobi asks from the kitchen. 

"Whatever you're having is fine, thanks." 

She hears the cabinet doors opening and closing, water boiling for a few seconds, and then the senator comes back with a teapot and cups on a tray. "I hope you like black tea, then. I never drink caf." 

Ahsoka isn't sure if she's more surprised by a senator not having any personal employee to assist him, or the fact that she can clearly see what looks like a very expansive caf machine on the kitchen counter. 

"How did you know where to find me?" 

"I commed your office first," she admits, refocusing her attention on him. "Your assistant said you were working from home lately, and gave me your address."

Kenobi raises his eyebrows. "She did? Well, that's a surprise. She usually bites people who try to see me without an appointment or a life-or-death crisis. Preferably one with multiple dead people already." 

"Hum, yes, she— She almost brushed me off, but then I told her that I needed to give you something. From my master." 

To his credit, Kenobi, teapot in hand, freezes for only half a second. Then, pointedly not looking at her, starts pouring tea again. 

On the comm, Kenobi's assistant also paused when Ahsoka told her that, before grumbling 'it can't make it worse anyway' and then giving strict instructions about when was the best time to come see him. 

"I see."

She puts the box next to her steaming cup, and stops her hand just before opening it. "There were some... important chips and datapads from previous and ongoing missions that he had in his room, and I was the one who looked for it. So I cleaned a few drawers."

Letting someone else disturbs Anakin's bedroom has felt wrong. Even if she knows that it was only selfishness that pushed her to volunteer to look through his room, she's still glad she did.

No one needs to know how long she spent seating in the middle of Anakin's bedroom, trying to wrap his lingering Force signature around her. Or that it took three hours before she could touch anything in it without feeling like she was breaking one last invisible connection to her master. 

"And I found this box." she taps on it lightly. "This is... I think— I think you should have it." 

"What’s in the box, Padawan Tano?" Kenobi asks behind his cup. 

The proof of my master's complete disregard for the Jedi Code, she wants to say. Ahsoka bites her lip.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter anymore. 

"Mostly datachips with holos on it, a few old tickets for a race, a password-protected datapad and some personal belongings."

"And what that has to do with me?" 

Ahsoka frowns. 

Kenobi doesn't sound like the conversation interests him. His hand moves, and for a second Ahsoka thinks he's going for the box, but instead, he takes the recipient filled with honey and put a small spoon of it in his cup before leaning back on the couch. 

His indifferent expression is starting to grate on her nerves. 

"I took a look at the holos. My master is on it, but you're also there. With him sometimes. Most of them are holoimages, but there are a few longer recordings with sound." Ahsoka has only watched one, but it's still hard to reconcile the man fondly rolling his eyes and telling Anakin behind the holocamera to please, dear, don't waste it on me, with the impassive man with the blank stare in front of her. "I didn't watch all of them, but I think it's safe to say that he wouldn't have wanted anyone else to find them."

"I see," Kenobi says distractingly, stirring his tea. 

Ahsoka's hand is starting to turn into a fist in her lap.

"Do you? Do you really? Do you know about the Jedi Code, Senator Kenobi?" She asks, suddenly opening the box herself and getting one of the datachips and a small holoprojector out.  

"I know enough." 

"Because this," she continues, pushing the chip in it and opening the first holos, "this isn't really approved by the Code. Do you know what the Code recommends, regarding attachment, Senator? To material things? To people?"

Did you love him? she wants to ask, as a holo of Anakin, dressed in light civilian clothes, smiles and makes a rapid 'come one' hand gesture to the person behind the camera. Did you love him as much as he did?  

She presses the next button rapidly, going through a few holos of sunbathed landscapes and olive trees, and then Anakin is holding a glass of wine in one, tasting it in a second, and making a ridiculous face in the third. There's a lot of Kenobi after that, also dressed in lighter clothes than usual, with shades on. Him trying to read a sign in a foreign language but clearly failing, him looking at some old and decrepit ruins in wonder, him with a face covered in sunscreen, sending an unamused look above his glasses at the camera.

Ahsoka's irritation makes her forget to be embarrassed when she goes through some of the holos where they're pressed against each other in such an intimate way that it feels like she's holding their honeymoon holoalbum, but it doesn't stop her from wanting to cry when she catches the tenderness in Anakin's eyes in every holo where he's looking at Kenobi.

It's only when she reaches the one taken at a weird angle where Anakin is lying in the shades of a tree, asleep, his face nuzzled against a red beard, that a hand stops her before she can keep pressing next.

She turns her head toward Kenobi, ready to push him again to get a reaction, but he’s not looking at her. His gaze is fixed on the holo and his face is making a bizarre expression she doesn't recognise. Then, he says, softly, "I told him not to keep any of it."

And then she gasps for air. 

The Force... the Force feels like a void.

Not a blank space, or the faint static she's used to next to Kenobi, but a true void. She chokes a bit on the emptiness of it all, almost sick to her stomach by the vertigo effect. It feels like she's standing near the edge of a hungry precipice, just like what she felt when Master Jinn told her that her master was dead, after she's stopped saying that it wasn't possible and he was wrong wrong wrong. She felt like falling then, endlessly falling and never hitting the ground, and she feels like falling now. Headfirst into the void. A long, endless fall through nothingness.

The void feels like it could swallow her whole and leaves nothing behind. No memory or emotion or connection. 

The void is lonely, and aching, and lonely.

And lonely.

And lonely. 

Then the sound of shattered porcelain resonates in a disturbing echo in her ears and everything stops. 

Ahsoka gasps again —did she stop breathing at one point?— and pants heavily, hands shaking on her thighs.

She violently throws herself against the couch, as if the void is still here at her feet, ready to devour her.  

"That's quite enough of that for now."

Disoriented, it takes a moment before she remembers where she is. Kenobi has already turned off the holoprojector and put it back in the box when she feels capable of forming coherent sentences again. A cup of tea is pushed under her nose, and she automatically takes it. It burns her tongue a bit. She's so glad to feel something so simple and physical that she keeps drinking it anyway. 

Kenobi is standing up now, napkins in hand but not moving. He's looking down at something, stuck still in an aborted move, and Ahsoka realises that there is an ugly stain on his tunic, right on his chest, and that fragments of porcelain are lying all over the floor around him.

She didn't see how Kenobi broke the teapot, but it must have been quite a fall to scatter all these hundreds of tiny little pieces around him. On the white rug at his feet, a large brown stain is expanding slowly but surely through the intricate design of the textile. 

He couldn't have made a bigger mess on purpose. 

"You shouldn't stay here," he tells her, but his eyes stay locked on the liquid still dripping from the edge of the table. "You could hurt yourself." 

"I— yes. Sorry." 

She doesn't know what she's apologising for. She's tense, unsettled, and doesn't dare reach through the Force to find any kind of balance. She doesn't understand what the kriff just happened, but she's not in the mood to look for answers right now.

She just wants to be home. She just wants her master. She just wants to sleep.  

Box under her arm, she takes a breath and stands up, careful not to walk on any fragments of broken porcelain.

"I should go anyway."

"Would you mind letting me see one last thing before you leave?" 

She blinks, surprised. "From... the box?" 

"Yes." 

She hesitates a second, still not sure if this was a mistake or not. But who else could she share it with?  

Kenobi seems like he's giving up on cleaning for now, and dries his hands with a napkin as he watches her put the box on the counter. He takes a moment to look inside this time, before grabbing the datapad and turning it on.

"It's password-protected," she says, just to break the tense silence. "I've tried a few things to bypass it but nothing works." 

"Why do you think it's about me, then?" 

"If you try enough wrong words, a message will pop up to give you a hint." Kenobi sends her a questioning look, but she just shrugs. "Try something. Anything."

"Oh," he says, voice suddenly soft, after putting Anakin's name and surname. "It says it's for my birthday." 

"Yep." 

"'Something that could make a politician cry'?", he reads out loud, intrigued. "What is he talking about? I told him enough times that politicians don't have souls, or—"

His mouth opens in a silent 'oh'. He turns to look at her pensively, and right when she's about to ask him if he's thinking of something, starts tapping on the keyboard. 

The pad beeps happily. 

"Of course," he whispers. "Of course." 

Ahsoka can see his fingers swiping on the pad a few times but she's not at the right angle to see what he's actually looking at.

It would have bothered earlier. Now, her head feels heavy and her mind clouded, and she just wants to go home. The only reason she's not leaving right now is the glint of something in Kenobi's eyes. 

Maybe it's just the reflection of the blue light on the screen. Maybe he's trying not to laugh in front of her at whatever her master had planned for his birthday. 

Maybe he's trying not to cry. 

He turns off the datapad suddenly, straightening up and offering a polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes. The glint is gone. 

"If this is alright with you, Padawan Tano, I would like to keep that box." 

You don’t deserve it, a voice in her mind says. 

But she knows that the box isn't for her. She's a Jedi, and these are just material possessions. Holoimages and a few useless trinkets.

Her master isn't in that box. Her master is in the Force, with her, always. 

She's not certain she should trust Kenobi, but her master did. So she chooses to believe. 

"Okay," she murmurs. "Just... just keep it safe." 

"I will." 

There is no way to know if he means it, but she's definitely not in the mood to reach through the Force and check right now.

"I should go." She turns towards the door, ready to go home and sleep for fourteen hours.  

"Ahsoka."

The surprise of hearing her name in his mouth for the first time stops her hand on the door handle. She's so tired that she barely turns her head sideways, waiting for whatever insipid parting words he will offer her.  

"Anakin was very proud of you. He couldn't stop talking about how great you were going to be as a knight."

Her heart misses a beat. Or three. 

Don't say his name, she wants to say, we managed to ignore it the entire time, why did you have to say his name? But her throat only seems to be able to produce an uncontrollable choked up sound. She can't blink fast enough to see through her tears.

After so long looking for a hint of human feelings in Kenobi, she almost wishes his voice wasn't so gentle right now.

"Please make sure to do all you can to make it true."

She only allows herself to cry once the door slams shut behind her. 

#feelings are hard for ssk okay #he has zero idea what to do with them #obikin #sith senator kenobi au #clem's aus #also kudos for you if you've read enough ssk posts to know what the password was! #fic i did write

[queenoftodd]

Dinner & Its Capitalist Agenda (Jason Todd x Female!Reader)

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Summary: Reader is dating Jason and accidentally wears vibrating panties to the first dinner with the Batfamily.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,278

Warning(s): Smut (fingering, penetration), Swearing.

Note: The idea for this was inspired by the film “The Ugly Truth”. If you want to be added to a taglist feel free to message me. 

This was not how this night was supposed to go. How would you ever overcome the undying humiliation of tonight? You had been so excited to try on the gift that Jason had gotten you, that you didn’t bother to ask why the new lingerie came with a remote, one that you tossed in your clutch to ask him about later. This was also partly due to you rushing out of the house to Jason’s car, because you were both very late. Add that to the list of poor first impressions that you would be making on his family. 

The two of you had been dating for almost six months now, and while you had met Dick and Jason’s best friend, Roy, you still hadn’t met the rest of his family. There really wasn’t any reasoning behind this, you both had very busy lives. Both of you set on making the world a better place by exposing Gotham’s corruption. You were an up and coming journalist for The Gotham Times, while Jason was a--well he told you he was a military contractor for Wayne Enterprises, but you always do your own background checks. You sort of stopped digging after the news headlines saying that he was dead, if he wanted to tell you then he would tell you. Besides, you were too in love with him to care. 

According to Dick and Roy, his family has been dying to meet you. You had to admit that you were nervous, but determined to make the best first impression that you could. You would be meeting Bruce fucking Wayne. Despite the assurances that Jason gave you that Bruce was a regular guy, you still could not contain your excitement. Both as a journalist, but also as a longtime resident of Gotham. Vicki Vale would have a field day with you. You had even begged Jason to help you pick out something to wear that would both suit his sexual fantasies, but be modest enough to meet his father, and Alfred Pennyworth. Caretaker and grandfather-adjacent. 

Of course you had decided on a crimson cocktail dress. Just enough opening in the chest to give Jason the perfect eye-view of your cleavage, but not enough to make you feel uncomfortable to meet his family. Jason didn’t want to bombard you with all of his family just yet, especially considering that you didn’t know about his vigilantism. So he strictly requested that the guest list at tonight’s family dinner only be anyone legally adopted by Bruce Wayne (and Damian of course). 

This came to the rundown of everyone that would be there tonight. That was expected to be there tonight, at least. Jason did warn you that their jobs tended to keep them very busy, and his family might be called away to handle their respective responsibilities. You understood this of course, you were very familiar with being on call. Especially in Gotham.

Dick Grayson was a former Detective in Bludhaven, and you had met him at least three times over the course of being with Jason. Tim Drake worked at Wayne Enterprises and did something corporate-wise that Jason didn’t care enough about to explain it to you. Damian Wayne was the only biological son of Bruce Wayne and was currently in his senior year of high school. Jason informed you that he could be a smart-ass and bluntly rude. The last one that would be attending was Cassandra Cain. Jason said that she didn’t talk very much as she was raised to be mute, and only spoke in small increments when comfortable. 

Your mouth gaped at the sight in front of you. The grandiose gate before you held all the secrets of wealth within the “W” centered in it. You could feel his blue eyes on you, your face was a mixture of emotions. Nervous, excited, and--did your underwear just vibrate? You shake the thought away, blaming it on your nerves as you turn towards your boyfriend.

“You ready?” He asks, waving up to the security camera outside the gate as it opened. He glanced back at your soft face, unable to contain the smile he got from looking at you so in awe. You did not grow up like this, in fact your family had never had a house of their own. Seeing the mansion that the man you called your boyfriend had spent several years of his life baffled you. Of course you had seen pictures of Wayne Manor, but never did you think that you would be a guest. You reached for his hand, giving him an assuring squeeze as he continued down the driveway towards the manor. 

When Jason pulled into the parking area in the front of the manor you could make out four shadowy figures standing by the curb. Your back instantly straightened when Jason came to a stop. “I told them to meet us inside.” He groaned, placing the car in park. You were thanking the heavens that the glass was tinted so that they couldn’t see into the car, because the butterflies were coming in swarms in the pit of your stomach now. Taking a deep breath, you turned towards Jason. A glare forming on your face when you notice his amused expression. 

“Y/N, you look amazing, how are you?” 

You opened your mouth to speak being interrupted by his lips on yours, silencing your thoughts. The feeling of his hand on your cheek as he pulled you closer. “Knock ‘em dead, beautiful.” His smirk sent a warm boost of motivation your way as he parted from you, and climbed out of the car.

After a few seconds of mental motivation, you followed suit, reaching for the car door handle when it opened for you. Jason standing at your door, outstretching his hand for you to take as you climbed out. You prayed that your smile wasn’t too awkward or seemed unhappy. Jason brought you over to meet the figures you noticed earlier. Dick was a familiar face, which eased you a bit as you pulled him into a small embrace. 

“I’m great, it’s good to see you.” You beamed. You could already feel the eyeroll from Jason behind you. What could you say? You enjoyed any time you got to spend with Jason’s older brother. Next was Tim, who held a more shocked expression as he looked at you. Jason had to be the one to introduce him, as he was shaking your hand, but his mouth was hung open. “It’s nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Y/N.”

“You’re with him?” A laugh didn’t fail to escape your red lips as you dropped your handshake from Tim to press Jason back with your right hand, sending him a warning look before showing a gracious smile to Tim. 

“For six months now, yes.” You giggle and immediately feel Jason soften at the sound of your laugh. Next their was Damian Wayne who glanced at you in a way that made you feel like you were under examination. “You must be Damian.”

One of his hands was cradling his chin as he took your hand, eyeing you quizzically before placing a kiss to your knuckles, your eyes widening. Now that was definitely unexpected. “Todd, I’m impressed. Now I’m done waiting here for you imbeciles, I’ll be inside. Y/N, pleasure.” 

And with that he walked straight into the mansion without another word. Your eyebrows knitted together as you turned towards Jason, his mouth hung agape, along with the rest of his brothers. A tug on your arm made you realize you had almost forgotten someone. Cassandra. She was smiling at you, it was small, and seemingly shy, but excited? You extend your hand to her with a small smile and she takes it, her smile brightening. 

“Hi Cassandra, my name is Y/N.” I gesture towards Jason. “I told Jay that you were the sibling I was most excited to meet.”

She shook her head pointing to herself and your eyebrows furrowed until she said. “Cass.” You nodded in understanding, repeating her nickname until she gestured to you. “Y/N. J-lover.”

You could see why everyone in this family was so charming and mannerful. The way he carried himself from the top of the stairs to meet you in the foyer echoed a confidence you could only dream of. You felt Jason’s hand squeeze yours and you mentally cursed at how clammy they had become. Bruce’s smile radiated the room, but you could tell by the way Jason tensed next to you that this was a rare occurrence. He had told you many stories of Bruce’s stoic--or in his terms, resting bitch face. 

“Well...she’s not wrong.” You heard Jason mutter behind you, you smiled as she released your hand following Tim inside. That was when you playfully whacked his arm, before taking his head and walking up the steps to the manor’s entrance with Dick leading you two in. Upon entering the house, you entered the grand foyer. Greeted by a man whose face has graced many Gotham media covers and stations.

Bruce fucking Wayne.

“Y/N L/N.” Bruce grinned, extended his hand to shake yours and you met it with a firm grip. Tucking your clutch underneath your armpit. You swallowed your saliva as you shook his hand. Giving what Jason considered to be your breathtaking smile, beaming at Gotham’s wealthiest bachelor. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard great things.”

“Mr. Wayne, it’s lovely to meet you as well.” 

A flex of your armpit sent a jolt up your cervix, catching you by surprise. This resulted in you jolting forward a bit, Bruce now shaking Jason’s hand, as they turned to you. You cleared your throat to throw attention off of the present fluctuation occurring by your pussy. What the literal fuck was going on? “Y/N/N, are you okay?” Jason asked and you nodded, already feeling your cheeks heat up. Running away to examine yourself before dinner was not a part of your goal to make a good first impression. 

Removing the clutch from your armpit provided a relief from the sensual feeling emerging below. Bruce had excused himself to head to the dining room, when Alfred came to meet you both in the foyer, briefly as he was finishing up in the kitchen. He was excited to meet you, but he had to tend to something in the oven. This gave you a moment to turn to Jason. 

“Are you feeling okay? You just jumped out of nowhere.” I nod assuring him, considering the feeling subsided, it shouldn’t be that big of deal to draw attention to. 

“I’m fine, I think it was just the nerves.” You lie, wanting to find a better time to excuse yourself to the bathroom to sort whatever was going on with you, out. Unfortunately he can read you like an open book, but for the sake of tonight, he just pushed it aside to discuss later. You followed him to the dining room where everyone was already seated and you had gotten a seat between Tim and Jason. Dick was across from Tim, Cass was across from Tim, and Damian was across from Jason. Bruce sat at the head of the table between Damian and Jason and once Alfred brought the courses in, he was to sit at the other end near Damian and Tim. 

“Oh Miss Y/N, let me grab your purse, I’ll put it by the coat rack for you.” You handed him the clutch with a small smile of gratitude as he left the room briefly before coming back to take his seat on the opposite end of Bruce. You thanked him as everyone was looking eagerly at Bruce. Judging by context clues, they were waiting for him to make the first move to eat. Once he began to cut into the steak dinner that Alfred had made, the knives and forks clattered around you to also begin their descent on their plates. You smiled lightly as you began to dig in yourself when a buzz whipped up your folds, making you tighten your grip on the fork and knife. 

A gasp passed your lips as a pulsating throb began in your pussy. You could feel Jason’s eyes on you, growing concerned as he noticed you weren’t looking anywhere but at your plate. “So, Y/N.” You’re eyes fluttered to Bruce, hoping your breathing was normal as you shifted in your seat. “How did you two meet?”

You cleared your throat, focusing on the sentence. “Jason l-loves to tell this story, right Jay?” You practically moan, shoving several pieces of steak in your mouth to avoid speaking. “This is oh...s-so good..” Your boyfriend’s eyes widened at the sound of your moan. For some reason his girlfriend of six months was getting turned on at the dinner table in front of his siblings and he didn’t know what to do. Jason had to distract them, mentally cursing himself as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“It’s not that exciting of a story. Dick, how’re things in Bludhaven?” This diverted the attention from you for a while while several whimpers fell from your lips as you squeezed your legs together. You couldn’t take this anymore. Jason placed his hand on your thigh leaning towards you. 

“Why are you moaning?” That’s when it hit you. The lingerie, Jason had gotten you vibrating panties. Your eyes widened, gripping his arm tight as you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning into his ear, your breathing heavy. 

“Fuck.” You moan holding tightly on his arm. His body shielding you from seeing Bruce or Damian. “Lingerie. I’m...s-so wet, Ja--ah!”

“What--you’re wearing them right now? Where’s the remote?” He whispered through gritted teeth. He was struggling to contain himself at the breathiness in your moans. Fuck, the remote, you gave your clutch to Alfred. 

“Clutch.” You managed to get out, focusing on containing your breaths, your body felt so hot. There was no doubt that you were so close to your climax. Jason grabbed your wrist pulling you from the table, surprising everyone at the sudden action. 

“We have to go. Thank you for dinner, Alfred.” He nodded towards the lovable butler. Then he nodded at everyone else, still shielding you from everyone. “Bruce, Dick, everyone, it’s good to see you.”

Without another explanation, despite numerous protests Jason rushed you to the exit near the coat rack where your clutch was, but it appeared to be open. Two feet away was Titus, Damian’s dog. He was chewing aggressively on the remote currently causing you to moan in pleasure. Your hand flying to your mouth as your knees grow weak. Jason steadied you by the door before wrestling the remote from Titus, who would’ve bit him if Jason didn’t move quickly. Jason shut the remote off, taking the batteries out for extra precaution as he handed you your clutch and rushed you out the door. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Jason put you in the car and he raced out of Wayne Manor, speeding down the street before pulling down a trail by the woods. Once he parked you turned to him in confusion before he pulled you into a kiss. It was heated and you could tell by his eagerness that he was just as horny. Considering that he cut your climax off before you could get there, so were you. You felt your dress skirt ride up as Jason pulled the troublesome panties down smirking against your lips at the feel of your soaked pussy. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he began to tease your clit, eliciting a louder moan. One you were grateful to let loose without worrying about his family. “Couldn’t let the panties have all the fun, now can we?” He huffed, moving his attention to your neck as he started on your neck. Sucking until his lips popped off your pulse, bound to leave a mark. He quickened his fingers pace, removing your panties completely as he inserted his ring and middle finger inside you. “Fuck me, Y/N/N. You’re so wet for me, huh?”

All you could do in response was whimper a small hum in agreement. Your vision was so blurred as his fingers fucked you deep in your soul. The car seat you were in flattened back, causing a laughter of surprise to fall from your lips as Jason climbed on top of you fully. You sat up to help unbuckle his suit. He had gotten all dressed up for you, a white button down tucked into some black dress pants and dress shoes that he had borrowed from Dick. His shirt was not buttoned all the way, exposing his chest. 

“Y/N, fuck--you have no idea what you do to me.” And with that final thrust you climaxed, your eyes fluttering open as your body convulsed, releasing a warm euphoric feeling all over his cock, and the passenger seat of his car. You didn’t have a chance to catch your breath as Jason’s grip on your hips tightened and he continued to ram into you with this newfound stamina. His breath quickening and his moans of your name growing louder. 

The belt was now somewhere else in his car, as he lowered his pants and boxers underneath you enough to ready himself at your entrance. You laid back down as he pumped himself, groaning as he was already so hard. It had taken you a few times to get used to Jason’s size, but now your pussy called itself the expert. You gasped, as he rubbed his cock up against your pussy, he smiled at the effect he had on you. How easy you unfolded beneath him.

You jolted back when Jason slammed into you, thrusting deep inside you. It didn’t take him long to find the right spot and stick to it. His grunts and moans harmonizing with your screams and gasps. “Fuck, Jay, oh--” Your vision began to blur as he picked up his speed, moving his hands down to your clit to rub it agonizingly slow. Thus increasing your pleasure. 

You caressed his arm, looking up at him as you moaned breathily, “Come for me, Jason.” A look of relief flashes across his face as his own euphoria engulfs him. He pulls out of you, climbing over to the driver’s side partly to take a breath. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, Y/N L/N.” He chuckled. “I can’t believe you wore those tonight.” You weakly smacked him on the arm as you pulled the car seat back into place. 

“You bought me lingerie, you rarely buy me clothes--I got excited.” Your y/e/c eyes widened, looking at him, running your hands down your face. “Oh no! I totally ruined it tonight.”

He could tell you were upset, especially knowing how badly you wanted to make a good first impression. “No one noticed, I got you out before they did.”

“Are you sure?”

“I love you too, beautiful.”

“I’ll just tell them you were nauseous.” He shrugged, buttoning up his pants, gesturing for you to put your seatbelt on. “If they ask what happened.”

“I love you.” You say before leaning over the console to kiss him as he started the car again. 

And Jason would tell you any lie you needed to hear in order to be able to meet face to face with his family again. Even if it meant making his siblings take a blood oath not to mention it. If they didn’t, there were always second impressions...right?

#jason todd x reader #queenoftodd #oneshot #smut #one-shot #oneshots #oneshot x reader #batboys x reader #dick grayson x reader #batboys #imagines #jason todd imagines #tim drake x reader #damian wayne #older!damian wayne x reader #dc #dc comics #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood imagines #red hood one shots #red hood oneshots #nightwing x reader #red robin x reader #robin x reader #batman x reader #batboy imagines #batboy smut

[slasherhaven]

Hi there, I’ve spent all day reading your fics and I’m in love with them 💕 I was wondering if it’s not too much trouble could you please write for Jason, Thomas and Vincent, about the first time they remove their masks for their S/O? I’m in need for some fluff and insecure slashers lol thanks so much!

Thank you! I sure can, here you go!

Thomas, Jason and Vincent removing their masks for their S/O:

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas took to hiding his face not only because of his own insecurities but also because of the bullying he received because of it.

So, it made sense that he was so hesitant to show himself to you. He doesn’t even take his mask off around the family anymore, he only does so in private and then he won’t even look in the mirror.

You’ve had both Thomas and Luda May explain this to you in various ways and you were truly understanding.

You had told Thomas that you didn’t care what he looked like, you would still think he was handsome and love him with everything you had. No matter what.

He wanted to believe you, he really did. And he knew that you wouldn’t lie to him, that he could trust you. But there was another part of him that just couldn’t believe you. 

How could you ever find him attractive once you’ve seen the worst of him?

The thought of you seeing his face is enough to nearly send him into a panic attack. So he pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

When you bring it up again, just wanting to reassure him that you would accept him exactly as he was, it gave him a lot to think about.

Could he really expect you to stay with him if he couldn’t even show you his face? That didn’t seem right. If he wanted to marry you one day you had a right to know what he actually looked like...

Maybe you really meant it, maybe you really would love him and accept him for exactly who he was. You had already done so and maybe his appearance really wouldn’t be a deal breaker for you.

When he finally agrees to remove the mask, it’s a quiet night were you are both just sitting in his bedroom together.

“You know I wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want too, Tommy, because I know you wouldn’t make me do something like that either. It just breaks my heart that you think I’d ever stop loving you over something as vain as your appearance. I just want you to know that I love you, and I’ll keep loving whether you choose to show me your face or not...I just want to be able to see all of you”

Thomas had already been considering letting you see his face and your sweet little speech you just gave him while cuddling up to his chest was the push he needed.

He held you gently by the waist as guided you away from his chest, but not removing you from his lap.

The action made you look up at him, knowing that there was intention behind it.

He unwrapped his arms from you and reached up towards his mask, making your eyes widen slightly.

You knew he would get there eventually but you didn’t expect him to do it right now.

But you calmed yourself, not wanting to show too much of a reaction and let Thomas talk himself out of this.

He undid the fastens on the mask, holding it over his face but not pulling it away.

He just needed some more reassurance.

Gently, you placed your hands over his and just rested them there as he lowered the mask, slowly revealing his face to you.

The mask was placed down on the bed beside you both. 

You pulled your hands away from his and brought them up to cup his face, stroking your thumbs over his scarred cheeks.

Thomas was amazed. In awe.

You were looking at him just like you always did, with love in your eyes and a soft smile on your lips.

You touched the scarring on his face without hesitation, since he had told you in the past that it didn’t hurt, like it didn’t repulse you.

“You’re so handsome, Tommy. I really wish you would let me properly see you more often. Let me love you like I want too” 

Thomas nodded at your words, letting you guide him into a gentle kiss. It felt good to both of you, finally being able to do that without the mask in the way.

He could just cry from how loved he felt in that moment. 

Unconditional love...something he didn’t think he deserved but you gave him anyway. He loved you so much.

The mask wouldn’t come off for good. It was still on around the family and even around you. But of a night, he’ll occasionally slip it off.

The longer you are both together, the more love you give him, the more the mask will be off around you.

Jason Voorhees

One of the things that encourages Jason to remove his mask is that he thinks it’s only fair. You’ve already given up so much normalcy for him, you at least deserve to know what he actually looks like.

Of course, the main thing that encourages him to remove the mask if simply your love and support.

You never pressured him into taking off the mask but you had expressed your desire for him to do so, promising him that you would love him no matter what but also that he didn’t need to do anything that he didn’t feel comfortable with.

Your patience amazes him. Never once did you get frustrated with him.

You would just tell him that you loved him, that you would love him with or without the mask, and left it there. He really appreciated that.

And when he decides to show you his face, it’s by himself without any recent encouragement.

It’s been quiet lately, he’s had more time with you, and you’ve reminded him how accepting of him you truly are.

So he decides that today is the day.

He sits you down and explains that he wants to show you something, which excites you a little, surprise clear on your face when he gestures towards his mask.

But you’re encouraging.

He warns you first. Signing a few buzzwords. Ugly. Scary.

You frown and take his hands in yours, stopping him from signing those awful words.

“I could never think you are ugly or scary. Never. I promise” you sounded so sincere that Jason might just start crying right there and then.

Part of him is even more sure that he wants to do this. Another part of him is even more afraid that you’re going to be proven wrong.

But he slowly pulls his hands away from yours and you allow him to.

He removes the mask and places it down on the table beside you both.

And he looks at you, tears already brimming in his eyes.

Jason never failed to amaze you. He was so big and strong, he scared so many people, hurt so many people, but here he was...nearly crying at the thought of you finding him unattractive and leaving him. Which you could never do!

It reminded you of just how human he actually was. 

“There’s my handsome man” you smiled affectionately as you cradled his face in your hands.

Jason let out a sigh of relief when you didn’t run away or ridicule him for his appearance.

Now he was nearly crying about how you stayed and accepted him. He hadn’t felt this emotional in a long time.

Cover his face in kisses!

Show him just how much you love him, how much you love his face.

He’ll melt under your touch.

And finally, show him a real kiss. He could just burst when you gently pressed your lips to his, nothing forceful or even expectant, just a sweet gesture to show him how much you love him.

You really were a blessing to him, a blessing that he didn’t think he deserved. But the more you showed him love, the more he thought that maybe even he deserved this love from you.

The mask comes off a lot more! Whenever he’s home alone with you, the mask is off because he knows that you love him and he loves how you smile when he reveals his face to you.

Vincent Sinclair

It takes a long time and he genuinely feels bad about it. He wants to be open and honest with you. He wants the two of you to be able to share everything and trust each other.

And he does trust you, more than anyone, and he loves you. And he feels bad that he can’t even show you his face.

But you’re always so understanding and patient, giving him as much time and space as he needs.

Vincent honest hates his face, he always has. To him, it’s ugly and scary and nobody would be able to look past it.

And he really doesn’t want to scare you away, he doesn’t want to disgust you, he doesn’t want to lose you.

He actually tenses every time you reach up just to cup his face in your hands or to caress his cheek, thinking you were trying to remove the mask. It breaks your heart to see him panic at the thought, but you would never do that do him.

You understand that it is something that he has to do in his own time.

Patience really is key here.

Whenever he gets close to building the confidence to show you his face, he talks himself out of it.

Bo has even commented on it, something along the lines of “you expect them to stay with you when you can’t even show them your face, get a move on Vincent”...at least he wasn’t berating his appearance? Bo in an asshole and you all know it.

It should have pressured Vincent to remove the mask but he only pushed him further away from that goal.

He was just so sure that you would leave him, that you wouldn’t love him anymore. And the thought of losing you terrified him, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

It was actually Lester who gave him a better pep talk. Bo thought he was helping, but he wasn’t.

In the end, the only opinion he cares about is yours, and you had told him many times that you would love him no matter what. So that’s what he focused on, that’s what encouraged him and gave him the confidence to do what he was about to do.

He waited until late, when Lester had gone home and Bo wouldn’t be disturbing either of you.

He took your hand in his and guided you up to his room, making sure to lock the door just in case Bo barged in.

Of course his brothers had seen his face before but this wasn’t about that, this was a private moment for the two of you and that was important to him.

You were confused as he sat you down on the bed, shifting nervously before sitting down with you.

The two of you turning to face each other, sitting cross legged.

Of course you questioned him, asking if he was alright, but he just nodded before reaching up for the mask.

You couldn’t help the butterflies you felt in your stomach, whether it was nerves or excitement you weren’t sure.

He took his time, holding the mask in place and taking a breath before lowering it. But you waited, letting him take as much time as he needed. You knew this wasn’t easy for him.

But he eventually had the mask off and placed on the bed beside him.

The only thing was that he was still hiding his face. Hanging his head and letting his hair shield him from your sight.

“Vincent” you spoke softly as you brought your hand up, gently brushing his hair back and making him lift his head. “You’re okay” you promised him as he still turned his head away from him. 

You wouldn’t force him to look at you so your touch was still faint, but you felt your fingertips brush against the scarring on his cheek.

Finally, he looked at you properly, giving you a proper view of his face.

“There isn’t a single thing for me to not like. I love every single part of you, Vinny. I still do” you promised him, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the scarred side of his face. A sweet gesture that made his eye tear up.

Before you knew it, you were being pulled into a tight embrace as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

Just hold him for a while, stroking his hair, he’ll be okay.

The mask still doesn’t come off a lot, more from his own insecurities than fearing your reaction.

But he’s much more comfortable with taking it off when you go to bed before you go to sleep, normally he would wait until you were sleeping before removing it, then laying facing away from you. Now he can hold you properly, not needing to hide from you anymore.

#thomas hewitt x reader #jason voorhees x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #thomas hewitt #jason voorhees #vincent sinclair #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

[yandere-daydreams]

Hello! It would be so lovely if you could write something where Beelzebub manipulates the reader into letting him feed on her. So often times he begs for just a little taste of her blood because human blood is like a junk food feast for him. And gradually his ‘little tastes’ get worse over time and maybe the brothers start to notice all the bite marks on her. That would be so lovely! Tysm for your writing it’s so good 🥺💗

You say ‘manipulating’, but he’s so sweet, he probably would even notice he’s doing it. Beelzebub is one of the few Yanderes I can see never really aiming to hurt his Darling, out of the Obey Me cast, at least… that’s not to say he doesn’t, though.

Title: Bittersweet.

TW: Bruises, Blood, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, and Emotional Manipulation.

~

Satan once told you that demons used to draw strength from human blood.

Used to, he’d said, they used to. It was a warning by way of explanation, a word of caution that came in the form of an impromptu history lesson. Lucifer had used it as a threat, when you’d first arrived, saying he’d throw you to a flock of desperate, lesser creatures if you proved to be less valuable than he’d hoped, and once or twice, you’d heard Leviathan mumble something similar under his breath when you were close to beating him at one of his games, Asmodeus muttering how you should be glad he hadn’t drained you dry yet, when you accidentally spilled his favorite vile of nail polish. It was clearly an outdated practice, if it’d ever really a practice at all, but it served its purpose, intentional or not, and you were able to make it into a piece of reasoning you could use, one you could cut and mold and shape until it fit into the slot you needed it to. Until you could use it to explain why other demons were so quick to bear their claws when you tried to speak to them, until you could shrug off Mammon’s protectiveness and Belphegor’s poorly concealed bloodlust.

Until you could explain why Beelzebub was like that, when he was alone with you.

Instinct, you told yourself, a reflex he just happened to hold on to. He didn’t want to hurt you, he’d never want to hurt you, but if you let yourself, you’d start to believe that he might. In his lap, like this, with his hands on your hips and your form nearly eclipsed by his, you were able to see how a bystander might make that mistake, might assume he was aiming to rip your throat out when his teeth got so close to your jugular vein when he was so careless with where he bit down. It wasn’t his fault the rest of the house was empty, that he’d just so happened to come to your room when the two of you wouldn’t be interrupted, and you couldn’t blame him for how violent the results of his minor lapses in judgment looked, to anyone who only saw the blood and the indents rather than the love behind them. They looked worse than they felt, or, you assumed they looked worse than they felt. They hurt, sure, but they couldn’t have hurt as much as they were supposed to.

Nothing could hurt that much, you were sure.

Besides, even if did, you didn’t know if you’d have the heart to tell him. He’d always been the nicest one, out of the brothers, and it was apparent in everything he did. Even in the quiet anxiety of an empty home, it’d only taken you a few minutes to relax against him, to rest your head and listen to a heartbeat slower than any human being’s should ever be. He wasn’t human, though, and it was easy to let him wrap you in his arms and pull you closer, closer, and as close as you could be, until your posture was a little too straight and there was a little too much pressure on your spine and there was no doubt in your mind that you’d be sore, when he let you go. “You smell really good,” He muttered, absentmindedly, his voice low, but not aggressive. Gruff, but lacking the edge that would’ve made it hostile. “You always do, when the others are away.”

“You’re the only one who can tell the difference.” The words were instilled with a playful jeer, but you didn’t move to push him away, nor did you try to pull back as he tugged you against him, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “It’s only because you’re so clingy.”

“It’s only because you’re so sweet, when they’re not around.” Another retort with an unnecessary addition, but one so tender, you could hardly bring yourself to think of him as jealous, or possessive, or anything but too honest for his own good. You only hummed as his lips brushed over your collarbone, his teeth barely dancing around the idea of biting down. “I like it, I really like it. It makes me hungry.”

You were a little slower to respond, this time, if only by the fraction of a second. If Beelzebub noticed, you couldn’t tell, the only signs of his impatience coming in the form of a prick, a flash of pain, the sensation of hot breath on your skin. “Everything makes you hungry.”

“This is different.” It must’ve been the hundredth time you heard him say that, and yet, it didn’t feel different from his usual state of near-starvation, his usual unignorable, insurmountable cravings. It was something that nagged at you, a mild dread that formed a tight ball in the back of your throat as his hands drifted, one soon splayed over your lower back and the other trailing upward, nimble fingers entangling themselves in your hair, urging you to lean against him. A prick turned into a pinch, a flash to a small spark, and this time, the pain lingered, seeped in, rooted itself into your flesh and refused to lessen, even after Beelzebub had moved on. You didn’t have to look to know there would be a bruise, something blackened and ugly to remind you where he’d been, but he didn’t seem to mind the pitchy noise of discomfort that slipped past your pursed lips. If anything, it only spurred him on, as he found his next target just above the rise of your chest. “I’ve never wanted something, like this, like I want you. I’ve never been this hungry before.” The thought was interrupted by an airy laugh, a fleeting kiss to your cheek as he straightened his back. “I’ve never felt like I could let everyone else starve, if it just means I get to eat.”

His grip tightened, growing oppressive as he dragged himself to his full height, tilting your head to the side and nipping at the space underneath your ear. It was uncomfortable, it was awkward, rigid knots of tension forming the longer he kept you in such a stilted position. It was more of an impulse than anything, the abrupt awareness that he could snap your neck with a flick of his wrist, but before you could stop yourself, you were scrambling to push at his chest, to put just enough space between you and him to get Beelzebub’s attention, to force him to loosen his hold on your hair and let you shy away, even if he was quick to take you by the arm, instead, catching you before you could get too far. Before you could run, like any scared rabbit so close to the jaws of a wolf should. “Please,” You gasped, suddenly overwhelmed, suddenly panicked, suddenly terrified. “Please, I just--- I don’t know if--”

“Take your time,” He encouraged, all the careless fondness drained from his expression, replaced with something concerned, something so, so close to sympathetic. “Breath, (Y/n). You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You could’ve. You might’ve, if his hold on your wrist wasn’t starting to get so crushing. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” You managed, your tone frantic, the sentiment bordering on incoherent. “I’m sorry, Beel, but… it hurts. Your brothers are worried, and the marks are always visible, and I’m not sure if I can handle it anymore. I don’t want to turn you down, but--”

“But, you don’t like me anymore.”

Instantly, you deflated, and Beelzebub wasn’t much better. You could feel his stare burning into you, cold and prying, glazed over with some dark mixture of offence and hurt and pain. The effect was immediate, it was excruciating, like a dagger to your heart that just wouldn’t stop twisting. You moved to soothe him, but Beelzebub was already forcing a smile, jagged and wavering and tortuous. So much worse than anything he could ever do to you. “It’s fine, I promise. I know I can get ahead of myself, Lucifer always says that I can be... that I can be self-centered, when I’m not paying attention.” Another laugh, this one anything but careless. Something fractured and broke inside your rib cage, and you wondered if you’d ever forgive yourself. “I'm almost as bad as Mammon, sometimes.”

“Beel, please.” It was still a plea, still an act of fear, but now, you just wanted him to stop. To stop talking, to stop making you feel so awful. To stop making you feel like you’re at fault, when he’s always the one that goes a little too far. “I’m sorry, I just---”

“No, it’s alright. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.” He paused, kissing your temple, but gesture was barely half-hearted. Really, it made you feel more pitied than comforted. “You probably got tired of me months ago, I was just too selfish to--”

This time, you were the one to interrupt him, to throw yourself against his chest with so much determination, you could hear his back collide with the headboard as he wrapped his arms around your torso, the embrace nearly seccond-nature. You didn’t have to say anything, not when you were holding onto him so tightly, when you were the one who wouldn’t to let go, this time. He didn’t have to speak, either. His grin was genuine, now, overjoyed and so, so forgiving as it pressed against the side of your neck. It eas enough to make you forget your guilt, it was enough to make you not care about the bitemarks or the blood or any of it, not if it made Beelzebub happy.

And for a second, it was enough to block out the pain, as he finally bit down.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #obey me #obey me imagines #obey me: one master to rule them all #yandere obey me #yandere beelzebub #shall we date beelzebub #obey me beelzebub #yandere beel #obey me beel x reader #beel x reader #beelzebub x reader #yandere fantasy #yanderecore #yancore #yandere scenario #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere fanfiction

[danicarosaline]

Scheming

𝙹𝙹 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: JJ brings home girls who have the same qualities as you to hide his true feelings and everyone is sick of it. The pogues come up with a plan to lock you both in a room to figure shit out.

Warning: swear words!

A/N: thankyou anon for the request!! hope it was what you wanted💛 (sorry for the shit summary hahah)

Requested?: yes/no

This saturday was just as hot as any other day out here in the Outer Banks, the afternoon sky was cocktail-blue as big white clouds were completely spread out, looking like the perfect serene painting hung up in a museum. The sound of laughter filled the air whilst you laid comfortably still in the hammock at the Routledge residence. A picnic rug arranged on the ground, Kiara, Pope and Sarah were situated on it. John B sat on a folding chair. The get together was an ordinary thing between you pogues (& kook)

An almost every weekend thing when there wasn’t a kegger planned later on in the night and this was what y’all got up to on those kegger-free nights. The only person missing was JJ and it seems that the boy has been gone for the entirety of the morning.

The last time you have seen JJ was when he visited your work the other day because he was bored. You asked JB about his best friend's whereabouts but all he gave you was a shrug of his shoulders and a shook of his head.

The gang laughed at a joke John B said and was about to share another one when he was suddenly interrupted by an engine of a motorcycle stopping in its tracks, near the chateau porch.

“Oh for the love of god” You tilt your head to look at Pope, hearing his low grumble. The sight of JJ’s tall figure and a pretty girl hooked on his arm caught your eye and caused the smile on your face to drop instantly. Your emotions churned as you viewed the pretty grin on his face as he looked at her. You scrunch your nose up in annoyance.

“Here we go again..” Kie sighs, rolling her eyes when the girl lets out a loud giggle at whatever JJ just said. The two stop in front of the group, both smiling and waiting patiently for a response from either one of you. Your brows furrow at the two morons standing before you and Sarah’s arms raise a little in the air, silently asking ‘so who the fuck is this then?’

“Right! so uhh.. this is Portia” JJ says, pointing to the pretty girl beside him. You scoff silently, looking off to the side and crossing your arms against your chest.

Pope scoots a little closer to Sarah to make room for JJ and Portia. The two sit down awfully close and you feel that all too familiar feeling resurface whenever JJ brought a girl along to the pogue hangouts. JJ had been bringing home one too many girls to the chateau lately and it’s not only gotten on your nerves but the pogues as well.

You were always the first one to leave whenever JJ brought a pretty girl over and the half-assed excuses were ‘I suddenly don’t feel well’ ‘I’m so tired guys, i might hit the hay’ ‘oh shit dad called, gotta bounce’ and the pogues quickly picked up on your sudden eagerness to leave. The jealousy radiating off of you was clear as day. But today it seemed that you were too lazy to move so you sat back, and pretended to care about Portable or whatever her name was.

You were also the last one to leave because JJ practically forced you to stay longer and the group never thought much about it. Everyone on this damn island knew that you and the Maybank boy were glued at the hip, and you even once told him that you were his Elle and he was your Lee. He found the kissing booth reference cringey as hell, it always ticked him off and you never knew why.

Unbeknownst to you, the pogues came to a conclusion that you were in love with JJ and vice versa. It was like something clicked in their brains as they gathered together and connected the dots.

The lingering touches and the way JJ looked at you wasn’t hard to miss. You both barely did anything to hide your feelings for each other and the only ones who were oblivious to it were you and JJ and the blond’s recent hookups was just the icing on the cake.

Kiara was the first one to notice that the past two girls JJ invited to the chateau looked similar to you. It was the identical hairstyle and colour, the same skin tone and the height of those girls that got Kie raising her brows at JJ in suspicion.

The second person who noticed that one of those girls looked similar to you was Sarah, when one of them fell flat on her face and Sarah came running towards her, screeching your name in worry and the expression on Sarah’s face when she realized it wasn’t you was the funniest thing Kie has ever seen.

The third was John B and Pope, when John B flung himself at a sleeping girl and she jolted up awake, screaming in John B’s face in fright. That was when Pope came rushing into the guest room. At first Pope thought it was you beating up John B, and the boy doubled over in laughter but when he came face to face with the stranger his mouth fell slack.

Now Portia wasn’t any different, the pogues took notice. Portia had your hair length but the colour was just a tad bit lighter than yours and with the same facial structure, smile and eyes and the only difference was that she might be two or three inches taller, she also dressed differently. The similarities of you and the girls JJ has been macking on were uncanny to say the least. It was a big eye roll for everybody but you, who was utterly blind to it all.

“So Portia, are you on vacation here?” Pope asked. The pretty girl glanced at Pope and nodded her head nonchalantly, resuming her attention back to JJ who was making conversation with John B. Pope turned his head to look at Sarah and Kie, hoping they caught how disinterested the girl was.

Kie groans with the click of her tongue and gestures her head towards her phone, creating a secret group chat with Pope and Sarah but not before twisting her neck to look at you so you won’t see that they are planning on scheming.

Thankfully your attention was settled on John B, squinty eyes darting to Portia whenever her manicured fingers brushed JJ’s or when she played with his hair.

Kie: i have a plan

Sarah: 👀 just us 3?

Pope: what plan? as long as it won’t send any of us to jail

Kie: y’all just listen okay? we’ll fill in JB later.

☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎

It had to be about 7:30 pm by now, Portia long gone and half of you still sat outside around the hammock. John B, Pope and Sarah remained in the chateau doing god knows what.

You were in the middle of a little wrestling match with JJ, him pinning you to the picnic rug with his arms and Kie laughing along with JJ as you tried to break free from his grasp. “C’mon L/n, yield!” JJ hollers and you smack his head repeatedly with an empty coke bottle.

“Never! You fucking dweeb”

“You’re weak Y/n, weak!“

“I swear J, once you let go I’m gonna-“

“Yo JJ! Y/n! can you guys come check this out real quick?” John B calls from the front porch, distracting JJ and loosening his hold on you. You saw this as an opportunity to break free and push him off of you whilst still hitting the blond repeatedly on the head. “What was that John B? Wait- hey!” JJ grabs your wrist to stop your movements.

“Get your asses inside, i need your help!”

JJ let out a dramatic sigh and slapped both your thighs before pushing himself up onto his feet to head towards the chateau. He laughs when he hears you whine behind him, punching his back gently and throwing fake insults about how ugly he was. John B beckons the both of you to follow him into his guest room.

“Okay well there's something wrong with the closet, can you guys suss it out?” John B points to the old wooden thing. You raise a cautious brow at the brunet leaning against the wall, he’s gaze focused on JJ who began to inspect the closet, opening and closing it. You watch the blond for a minute before turning back towards John B who wasn’t in the room anymore.

“Um hey JB? what exactly am i-“ the door slammed shut, cutting you off and making you jump at the loud sound. JJ and you were quick to move towards the door, your hands banging on it whilst JJ continuously turns the door knob. “Its fucking locked!” JJ declares.

“Yo what the fuck, open this shit!”

“John B this isn’t funny what the hell!”

Various giggles were heard on the other side of the door, no doubt it being all your friends. You glance at JJ to see his eyes already on you, his face contorts into a baffled expression as if silently asking if you had anything to do with this. “Guys what the hell is going on!?”

“We are tired of you denying your feelings for each other, so we locked you both in there” Kiara speaks.

“Also tired of JJ bringing home these random girls who freaking look like you too! Seriously dude it’s not healthy and kinda creepy honestly” Pope then adds.

“Wha- look like me?! Pope, open the door now!” You twist the doorknob harshly in hopes it’ll open the door somehow but to no avail.

You crane your neck to where JJ’s figure is standing in front of the window, trying to yank the window open but it was tightly sealed shut.

“Oh and we also sealed the windows! Don’t you even try to break it JJ!” John B shouts, the gang howled aplenty of goodbyes all before proceeding to head out of the chateau, the floors creaking as they left.

Your hand comes up to pinch the bridge of your nose as your head hangs low whilst the other hand rests on your hip. An audible sigh escapes JJ and you turn around to see him sprawled out on the bed, hands behind his head with his eyes closed.

You slowly walk over to the blond and sit on the edge of the bed, facing him and poking his side.

JJ sighs and sits up, eyes connecting with yours for a moment before looking off to the side to stare out the window where he can clearly see the others, dancing away as if they didn’t just cage two of their friends in a room to talk about their ‘feelings’. JJ cringed at the thought of confessing this way but what other choice does he have? It’s not like he planned to do it anytime soon. “So uhh..” you started off.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“The elephant in the room?”

JJ scrunches up his face in confusion, still looking off to the side and fiddling with his rings. “What elephant?”

“Jesus christ JJ” you run a hand through your messy hair, pulling on it rather harshly to feel something other than the pang in your heart.

He’s always been dismissive about confessing his true feelings to you, whether that be about his father having to do with the bruises on his face or the fact that you’ve had moments with him where you almost kissed. It’s a continuous ‘deny, deny, deny’ with the boy and you're starting to get real sick with this attitude.

“What Y/n, what do you want me to say?” His hands are in the air and his facial expression is resolved into a deep frown, his pupils dilated as he stares at you densely.

With a roll of your eyes you push yourself off the bed and pace aimlessly around the room. “Why is it so hard for you to admit it?” You croak.

JJ is standing with you now, breathing intensifying when he inspects the tears welling up in your eyes. His stomach twists because he knows he’s the reasoning behind your aching heart. He wants to pull you into his arms and hold you, to stop those up-coming tears from trailing down your face but it’s like he’s glued onto the floor. He can't move, or maybe he just refuses to.

“JJ i love you..”

Everything seemed to move in slow motion and the air filled with heavy, uncomfortable silence. The sound of the others' laughter from outside felt distant, even if they weren’t that far from the chateau. When your eyes landed on JJ you thought your heart stopped beating for a second.

His eyes are trained on the floor but you can clearly see it glistening with tears as his lip wobbled. A tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip, bringing it between his teeth to chew on it to stop the quivering.

JJ felt so fucking weak. The only woman he’s ever cried over was his mother, when she left him. Her last words being the exact same ones that just passed your lips and he couldn’t help but let out a quiet sob. All JJ ever wanted was to be loved by someone he truly cares about and that someone was you.

You were there for him the day his mother left, comforted him until he stopped crying in your chest and it was also the day he felt a spark ignited in him. Though, he never knew what it was at first, until a few years later that he realized that he only felt that spark with you around.

JJ fell in love with his best friend and it terrified him greatly, because he felt like it was too good to be true. To have someone as gorgeous and terrifyingly smart to reciprocate the feelings that he did. But here you are, standing in front of him and telling him that you love him.

“JJ i have always loved you..” you knew your best friend well enough to know that hearing the word ‘love’ scared him, so you were patient. You were gentle with him as you said it. You studied him for a second. Your footsteps quick and light as you move closer to the blond.

You cup his face and bring it closer, so his forehead rests on yours.”I know how hard it is to believe that you are loved but trust me when I say that you are.You are loved by me and all of your friends Jay.. You’re perfect in every way possible and I am so in love with my best friend.”

You feel his hands land on your hips and it stays there for a second until he’s pulling you flush against his chest. Strong arms securing themselves onto your waist and his face hides in your neck, body shaking as he cries silently. “I don’t expect you to say you love me back anytime soon okay? No pressure at all baby” you murmur in his ear.

JJ sniffles a little, squeezing you in his embrace and bringing his head up to look at you. The bright lightbulb from above reflects on his structural features, making the boy look heavenly, with his red tinted cheeks and crying face.

His eyes look different, more soft than you knew eyes could be. The mesmerising blues made your stomach flutter with those damn butterflies, and all of a sudden you felt shy under his gaze. JJ lifts your chin up so your lips are only inches away from brushing across each other. He wipes a few tears that flowed down your cheeks with his thumb and rubs his nose with yours. Every little touch sends a chill down your spine.

“Those girls meant nothing to me. I hope you know that” he affirms.

“I told myself that i don’t deserve you. You deserve someone who can give you everything you wanted, someone who’s more emotionally stable and actually good enough to be seen around you..” he whispers and before you could reply he pecks your lips in a quick kiss to silent you, pulling away to continue to speak.

“That's why i brought those chicks around, because if i can’t have you then I’ll just get with girls who have the same qualities as you, which now i know sounds really fucking stupid when its said out loud.”

You snort at his speech and grab the back back of his head, attaching your lips on his in a much longer and desperate kiss, breaths mingling together passionately but before things could get heated, you push the blond backwards until the back of his knees meet the bed and he’s sitting, you throw your legs over his lap in a straddling position and cup his face in your hands once again.

“You are everything I have ever wanted JJ and you are more than good enough to be seen around me. The only person I deserve is you and I wouldn’t ask for anyone else to make me happy. I love you more than you know.” You say and place your lips on his quickly, not letting him get in a word when it seemed like he was about to say something. Probably something dumb to be quite honest.

You feel him smile through the kiss and the little sigh that escaped his lips when he pulled away shortly to lay you down on the bed, hovering above you slightly while his long blond tresses tickled your forehead.

“Thank you..”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj outer banks #fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj x you #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagines #fluff #rudy pankow x reader #outer banks #obx #john b outer banks #kiara outer banks #pope hayward outer banks #sarah cameron outer banks #obx imagines

[lyallblacklupin]

Now that all is over.

TW: Implied Sexual Assault/Nightmares.

Voldemort is killed with all aspects which is how the Second Wizarding War has ended. Fortunately, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin have survived. They have a godson to look forward to make up for the lost times, the world is serene and ill-free, and especially, they have each other. Life cannot have been any sweeter.  However, one miserable night, Sirius jerks out of the worst nightmare he has ever seen in his life. He is screaming and looking anywhere for help but Remus Lupin, who has been sleeping beside him. Will Remus be able to calm him down without having to touch him, or even come close to him?

There are a lot of things Remus Lupin should be thinking right now, which included his indecisiveness for accepting the job Dumbledore has offered him again, now that the story of Voldemort had ended once and for all. Also, the fact that he needs to move out from Grimmauld Place for the sake of his-boyfriend? Fiancé? Lover? He doesn’t understands what they are, but he knows that they are certainly not teenagers anymore. They had endured wars, losses and especially, ducked down from their own deaths, together. They finally have another chance to live, and this time it is without the fear. The fear that had been looming like their shadows since they can remember. This was THE chance.

However, as Remus exchanges the bill with the cash the red-headed girl is giving him for the Oscar Wilde’s poetry—which becomes a good distraction because the girl looks timid and strongly reminds him of Lily Evans picking up poetry from the Hogwarts for him, then she would smile at him with a teasing glint in her emerald eyes when it was Wilde’s queer poetry—he is stuck with his brain flickering the image of what happened today morning at half past five when Sirius jolted out of his sleep, running away from nothing but Remus.

“Sirius, honey—“

“NOOOOO!” Sirius’ eyes were screwed shut and he was pulling his hair like a madman, squirming in the most corner of their bedroom, with his knees glued to his chest as he quivered violently. Remus didn’t know what to do because this was something that he had never experienced in their togetherness. Sirius did have the tendency of having frequent nightmares even in Hogwarts, but never once he had pulled Remus away when he had reached and took his trembling body to tuck it against his own. He didn’t even need to ask his permission which was evidently clear that Sirius could recognize his presence without even looking him. However, this time Sirius’ wide eyes were staring him and yet he was shrieking when Remus inched forward to touch him. All of this was giving Remus only one answer: The nightmare was about Remus.

“Okay, Sirius, I’m not touching you, I’m not coming to you, see…” He steps back and sits on his bed across the very scared looking Sirius sitting on the floor. He pretended that didn’t have assume the reason behind Sirius’ behavior, looking very calm, “Did you have a nightmare, love? You can tell me, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise you, Sirius—“

His words died in his throat and suddenly something very heavy settled on his chest because Sirius is shaking his head.

“Don’t lie.” Sirius whispered and Remus thought that all of his surrounding was turning upside down. He hadn’t felt so helpless before. It had never been like this. Sirius had always been too tactile with him, no matter what. He couldn’t do anything, he was running out of ideas and strategies to deal with the situation. His mind was ringing and he started feeling nauseous as if some vial is refluxing from his stomach. His fisted the bedsheet and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to call out Sirius but he could hardly hear his own voice when a certain ringing sound is somewhere around him. He could tell nothing except the regrets and the what-ifs that were screaming in his head: What is happening to us? Are we falling again when the chance is finally here? Why now? What if Sirius had dreamt that the wolf has killed him? What if Sirius has now realized that he was bound with a monster? What if Sirius has believed that nightmare? He shouldn’t have been with me! He deserves more! Someone who is hundred times better than me! What will I do without him? And again? Weren’t those twelve years enough for us? Why isn’t the universe a little merciful on us?

And then what came out from his mouth was a sob. His body was shaking as it  racked through him. He manages to breathe as he lifted up his head and there was Sirius looking at him with his tear-stained face, inching forward towards Remus’ legs by the bed. Remus wanted to throw caution to the wind and embrace him with all his strength and love, but he had to be very gentle to not make him flinch. He carefully raised his hand, not breaking his eye contact with him. Sirius nods hesitantly. It broke Remus’ heart to see the doubtful face of his lover. His fingers touched the skin of his arm, and fortunately there was no hint of discomfort in his face.

“What’s happened, Sirius? What did you see?”

Remus deliberately jerks himself out of the flashback because what Sirius explained him after that, was not failing him to shudder every time he plays that memory in his head. He realizes that he has to go to the therapist he has been seeing since a month. He likes Dr. Holly Meyer, and she knows about his relationship with Sirius. He thinks that she was the right person to talk.

His shift at the bookstore ends at quarter past two as he hurries for his appointment.

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

“Does Sirius have any past trauma related to rape or any sexual assault he has experience from his loved one?”

“Umm, no, he never mentioned.” Remus replies to Holly’s question. But he highly doubts that Sirius was never sexually molested by his family because one of the days at Hogwarts, when they were dating, he saw an angry looking bruise on Sirius’ hip which jolted him to his cores. However, Sirius never talked about it and neither Remus had the audacity to ask him who did that to him.

“Remus, have you ever done something which has terrified him? Any physical gesture or…I hope you know what I am talking about. Something that might have prompted that memory out of him, which also might have influenced him through this nightmare?”

Remus felt sudden surge of heat beneath his cheeks, and he doesn’t know how to answer. They haven’t physically interacted with each other in a while. The last time he can remember is when Sirius gained health after being in comma for five weeks when Bellatrix had hit him with a very complex curse at the Department of Mysteries. They were reunited in Grimmauld Place after the healers discharged him, both of them brimming up with emotions as they tried to express their undying love for each other. After that blissful moment, they got too busy with the approaching war, that they could only spare time for quick snogging and whispering ‘I love you’s incase if they never see each other.

“No, we haven’t…I mean didn’t-we didn’t…” He was not looking at the doctor because Remus could feel her smiling at him. “But why me? Why was it me in the dream doing those horrible things to him?

“Remus, dreams can be quite deceptive, and not to mention our mind has the power to take shapes of our fears the most terrifyingly in our dreams.”

Remus is speechless, and he is feeling something ugly erupting in his chest. He is quite precise about it. It is guilt. For not taking care of Sirius’ mental health.

“Remus?” Holly calls out very softly. Remus looks up sheepishly, despite the burning sensation creeping his neck and cheeks. “The case is quite clear here. Sirius has something in his hearts of hearts that he isn’t telling you. Something that hasn’t just left him ashamed or traumatized but also he is quite uncertain if this is something he should talk about. I assume that he is not giving it the importance to discuss this with you. And at the same time, you are not giving him the attention he wants from you. You two have been through misfortunes that has left you both listless and empty. You need to fill each other with love and happiness. Any love gestures will do. Let the other know that you are here for them in every possible way.”

Remus feels like his legs are giving out, even though he is sitting on a very comfortable armchair.

“Go, get your man. He needs you. He just doesn’t have the heart to bear loneliness. He is suppressing himself for you because he think this is what you want.”

No, this is not what I want! He makes a mental note to himself. And how could I not want Sirius? Remus knows that he is lying to himself about the war being the only reason for their lack of physical contact. He knows that there has been lack of communication which has followed the current problem, landing them here.

“I shouldn’t have left him alone in that house.” Remus mumbles.

“No, Remus, you did the right thing.” Holly retorts gently, “This is what he needed. To think straight with himself and be sane. You being there would have been too suffocating for him. Clearly, you needed someone to put sense in you. Your welcome.”

She is smiling amusingly, and Remus can’t help but agree. He is leaving when Dr. Holly calls him out and he turns to her.

“Say, Remus, what flowers does your better half loves the most?”

Roses. It is an automatic reply like he doesn’t need to think for even a second. Red Roses. Very cliché Sirius Black. Remus bites back a chuckle and tells her.

“Oh boy, Remus, you have a hopeless romantic in that house sulking alone, and what you are doing to him is brutal.” She is grinning at him, and he is quite grateful of her for not scolding him because he suddenly feels that he deserves it. He was too distant while being next to Sirius. He would much rather prefer to take responsibility for all of this, and make things right between them.

He apparates in front of Grimmauld Place 12, clutching a bouquet of fresh red roses. He grimaces when the scent fills his nostrils, and the idea of being above forty and doing such gesture is making him nervous. He enters the house, and suddenly stops in his track to find that the hallway is not dark anymore, it is kindled up by so many candles and enchanted stardust floating in mid-air, taking various beautiful colors. For a second, he thinks he is somewhere else. Maybe 11 or 13 Grimmauld Place? But then Sirius emerges with a pop, wearing an apron, his hair is neatly tied in a bun. He is also wearing black robes, and he has shaved but there are dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey!” Sirius walks towards him and he is saying a lot of things with the weak smile on his face, but Remus is staring him with utter fascination. He is suddenly feeling very young to realize that Sirius can still make him fluster with nothing but looking like that. Remus cannot let out a word from his mouth, but then he is broken out of his trance of swooning when he registers those silver orbs are widening, and then glistening. Remus feels an unexpected panic rising in his stomach because now tears are streaming down Sirius’ cheeks. And before he knows it, Sirius has crashed his lips on his. Remus cannot help but kiss him back. His damp is skin rubbing his, and they both rests their forehead against each other.

“Thank you.” Sirius whispers, pressing a kiss on his nose. Remus has forgotten that he have brought roses for the love of his life until Sirius is taking them, which is when he realizes the reason for why Sirius started crying suddenly. A weak grin appears on his lips, and Remus realize that he has never felt so happy in a longest while. “You remembered that I like roses.”

“Of course, darling.” Remus says teasingly, reaching forward to capture Sirius’ lips again, but then Sirius is laughing merrily which instantly warms Remus’ heart. Even so, he leans further and kisses him a little more earnestly. Sirius laces his arms around him, and Remus takes their height difference as a benefit to scoop him up in his arms.

“Moony…”

“Yes, love?” Remus nuzzles his nose against Sirius’ cheeks, as they stumbles in the nearby drawing room.

“I’m sorry about today.”

Suddenly, the awkwardness returns.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Remus says, “It was a bad dream, Sirius. I know that you love me, and I love you. It’s enough and we should be forever together and we should probably get married and have a new life and live in a country or something far away from everything and all and—“

Sirius is gawking at him, dumbfounded, and Remus realizes that he is rambling. He wants to slap himself right now. He might have ruined the night he is intending to make the most opportune.

“I mean…I—Sirius…” He knows that he is still scared. No matter how much the therapist has tried convincing him, he knows that no one can convince him completely, but Sirius Black. He wants to walk past the layer of no communication, and he does.

“Sirius…I can never hurt you. I can never even imagine of hurting you that way. I certainly have hurt you emotionally in the past, and maybe I still am, and if you feel like it then please talk to me, tell me if I have hurt you. But I have never hurt you physically, Sirius. I have never. It is worrying me. Have I done anything? Don’t fear, Sirius, I promise you that I am not walking unless you order me away.”

Sirius slightly shakes his head at the end of Remus’ statement. He cups his face and places a lingering and soft kiss on his forehead.

“It is you. The real you.” He whispers against his skin, and it confuses Remus. “Remus…It was not you in the dream. It was you in front of me but this…” Sirius ran his hands on the latter body, squeezing his arms with fondness swimming in his eyes, “this feeling of you, your arms, these hands and…just you... were not  in the dream. It was him. The same feeling.”

“Him?” Remus knows where this is going. He already has his suspicions.

“My father.” Sirius’ reply doesn’t fail to make his eyes instinctively wide. The thought makes him shudder and Sirius slips away from his embrace, looking miserably lost.

There is one question that is still not planning on leaving his mind and he feels he needs to ask this from Sirius, no matter what the answer, and he does.

“Why still me?”

Remus expects that he will receive a very disgusting reply from Sirius, or a glare, or maybe he has completely ruin their night and Sirius will be shutting him out for good. But—

“I came face to face with my boggart the other day in the ministry.” Sirius replies, looking straight in his eyes. Remus can recall that Sirius’ boggart was his mother when they discovered in their third year’s Defense against the Dark Arts class. However, Sirius must have read his mind when he continues, “It is not my mother anymore.”

There is a brief, tensed silence between them.

“It was you.”  Remus’ heart suddenly stops. He fights to keep a poker face. “You were there looking at me with disgust and…” He can see that Sirius is struggling through his words as if they are causing him physical pain. “…you were looking at me with such hate and you said you were leaving me because you were tired of me. You…you have never looked at me like that…”

Tears are spilling from his grey eyes.

“You have always looked at me with warmth and humbleness, but that image of you is not leaving my mind. It is there and it is making me believe that it is true, Remus, because I don’t deserve you. You are so worthy of love, I am not. I was never worthy of love. I drove you mad in our relationship. I betrayed you once, and then made you believe that I can betray you twice. But you…you never did anything like that. You compromised yourself for me, in every way. You dealt with me for a very long time, and I won’t blame you if you don’t want to deal with me anymore. It would hurt. So much, because for me, it’s hard to imagine my life without you after everything we’ve been through, together.”

Remus is numbly standing, just looking at Sirius’ face flooding with tears. He feels like his heart is breaking and mending, breaking and then again mending, back and forth. He wishes internally that Sirius’ words may leave his heart mended, because he knows he cannot deal with another heartbreak, another loss, or another tragedy.

“Know this,” Sirius comes close and touches his wet cheeks, which is when he realize that the tears are also silently rolling down his own face. “…that I love you, Remus. I know you can’t hurt me. You’ve never because you have a pure heart, Moony.”

This is when Remus doesn’t take anymore. He shoves Sirius in his arms and sobs in his shoulder. He feels Sirius relaxing into his embrace because he is placing feather-light kisses on Remus’ exposed neck.

“I’m so sorry. I am so sorry, Sirius.” He doesn’t know for what he is exactly asking his forgiveness, but he knows deep down inside his heart that it is for everything that has happened in their lives.

“But no,” He pulls out to face Sirius, desperately reaches his hands to intertwine with his, “I am not leaving you, not because I can’t but because I don’t want to be away from you. I can never be tired of you, Padfoot! And I can’t be surer about that. You think I compromised my comfort for you? That was not a compromise. That was my love for you. And it still is, here. I never regretted our relationship because of you. I did once because of myself because you had to deal with me, my cursed and poverty-stricken life. I am nothing compared to you, and yet you want me. How can I not love you? How can I disgust you? Or hate you? It’s something that can never exist when it comes to you. I don’t think I loved anyone like that except for you. I still want you, only you. I love you, a little too much, please believe me.”

Sirius has his forehead pressed with his, as he murmurs against his cheek, “I believe you, Remus.”

They kiss and they kiss for Merlin knows how long. Remus is suddenly yanked back into one of his favorite memories with Sirius, when they were at Hogwarts and it was their seventh year. He remembers that those days were Christmas holidays because they were fooling around in their dorm very peacefully, with no fear of James or Peter interrupting them. The both lovebirds were the only ones who didn’t leave for their homes. The erratic breathing, the electric excitement in their bodies, the eagerness to explore each other’s mouth is something Remus can distinctly recall from that day, at this very moment because it feels just the same as if they are seventeen again.

He reaches for Sirius’ robes to unbutton them when Sirius pulls back gently.

“Wait,” For a second, Remus thinks that this is not what Sirius wants before he smiles romantically, “I hope you have guessed why I am wearing an apron?”

“You cooked?” Remus gapes at him that makes the other laugh gleefully. That laugh makes his heart flutter again like happiness was bubbling out of him. Sirius nods at him.

“I thought I should make up for disrupting your morning, and I know you must have taken a lot of stress at work because of me. So I made your favorites.”

“You didn’t have to do this, love, I know cooking is not something you like to do.”

“Wrong!” Sirius gasped dramatically, “I love to cook for you! And besides, you bought these roses for me…” He picks out the bouquet, sniffing its scent, admiring the handiwork, and smiling the entire time as he brushes his fingers around the rims of each petals of the roses. Remus just stares at him like that. He could see the pink flush appearing on Sirius’ cheeks, and he thinks to himself that this is the most scenic view to look at. He suddenly recognizes that all of his exhaustion has dissipated from his body, and he is very much looking forward to the rest of their night.

“Come on, first dinner, and then we’ll see.” Sirius winks, taking him to kitchen when Remus stops him gradually.

“Tell me you are not frightened of me, are you? Be honest with me, Sirius.”

“I was never, Remus. I was frightened of being alone. My own mind was playing tricks on me. But not you, never you.”

Remus sees his eyes are promising.

“Promise me that you will talk to me, about anything like we used to. Just like the old times.” 

“Just like the old times. I promise, Moony.”

Sirius’ eyes returns the glimmer, and they are shinning like they used to before war, or Azkaban. Remus feels the contentment spreading in his heart and comes to a realization that it is all he have been yearning for.

#wolfstar #Wolfstar fanfiction #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #wolfstar angst #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #remus x sirius #Sirius x Remus #post wizarding war #lovelycouple #mental health #boggart

[star-lemonade]

Country Side Vacation (2/2)

Rating: R (AO3: E)

A.C.E Junhee x Reader x A.C.E Donghun

Word count: 3.3k

Genre: smut, romance

CW: smut, mentions of overstimulation, threesome, friends with benefits, a bit of unnamed ex bashing xD

Request: Ok so this is random and it just came to me and I just thought I need it from you bc you’re the only one I know who wrote Poly- So basically can I request something where it’s like you and all of ace are friends and there’s a water fight or whatever that you walk in on and coincidentally you’re wearing a white shirt and it becomes see through but you don’t realise and join the water fight and then ace get flustered and it’s just a nerve war and teasing back and forth and some spice and ty ❤️

Splash. The cold water brought you forcefully back to the present, to Junhee’s parent’s yard and the water gun fight that had escalated while you had been daydreaming.

There was a sudden silence as the five guys looked at you in shock. Sehyoon had not moved from the spot where he had swung the contents of the bucket at you. Chan who had been the intended recipient apologized.

“Oh no! I’m sorry!”

Junhee ran up to you but tripped and stumbled on the way.

“I guess Sehyoon thought you needed a shower.”

Donghun’s eyes sparkled mischievously.

“Oh, ha. Ha.”

You felt annoyed because of his taunt. It should not aggravate you as much as it did. Yes this was why you had never made a move on him. He had a cruel streak to him. An ability to put the finger where it hurt most.

“I will get you a change of clothes. Come!”

Junhee had composed himself, buttoned up his shirt halfway, which made it look even more inviting to take it off and gestured towards the house.

Inside it was cooler and you shivered. Junhee led you up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms. There were not a lot of personal items here so you guessed this was a guest room. He opened the closet door and rummaged for something you could wear.

“Here.”

In his outstretched hand were a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Both look too big for you. Were you imagining it or was he a bit nervous?

Something soft and heavy landed on your head. You flinched.

“You will need one of these.”

Donghun’s hands rubbed the towel over your wet hair as Junhee watched, biting his lip.

“You really need to get out that shirt.”

The low whisper made a shiver run down your spine. He wants me to take off my clothes? An arm wrapped around your middle and you suppressed a gasp.

“It’s almost transparent after all. Now what do we do when the others see you.”

You were stunned. All thoughts had vacated your mind. There was only the heat of Donghun’s hand on you and the soft towel on your head. Was that his breath on your neck?

“Hyung.”

Junhee was still there. How you could have forgotten he was in the room was beyond you. The buttons on his shirt were not properly buttoned and your fingers itched to align them as intended. Junhee and Donghun looked at each other.

“I will leave you two alone.”

Donghun’s hand disappeared and he left through the open door. You were sure your face looked like a tomato and you felt a bit bad that Junhee had witnessed it. Even though you were not exclusive by any means, or even a couple, it felt like something you should be sorry about.

Trying to pretend like nothing happened, you took off your shirt. Getting naked in front of Junhee seemed normal at this point. He had seen you clothless many times, there was no point in getting nervous now.

You loved the fabric of the shirt. It was faded blue and very soft from frequent washing.

“So what do you think?”

The clothes were not very stylish or sexy but you could not have guessed by Junhee’s expression. A blush had crept onto his face and he swallowed audibly before answering.

“It suits you.”

An old pair of shorts and a wash out tee suits me? What an odd thing to say. He looked away trying to find anything else to focus on.

“Let’s go down stairs before they break anything.”

Downstairs you found Donghun and Yuchan sitting in the shade under a tree in the garden.

“Where are the other two?”

“Getting some food. For lunch.”

For the evening Junhee’s parents had left a feast to be prepared on the grill. They had marinated meat and filled the fridge with side dishes. You were sure that you were going to explode from the amount of food you would eat later.

A huff came from Junhee.

“More like they wanna have some alone time.”

“Oh Junhee, leave them be. At least that way they don’t sneak around here.”

Donghun did not give any indication that the situation upstairs had happened. Why had he done that?

Indeed Byeongkwan and Sehyoon returned an hour later with food from the convenient store that was 5 minutes away. Judging from the faraway look on Sehyoon’s face, Junhee had probably been right about their alone time.

By the time you had eaten, it was time to start preparing dinner.

“That’s how it’s supposed to be on holiday. You just eat and sleep.”

Chan grinned and sat the bag of coals next to the grill.

“Can you do this?”

Junhee asked and gestured at the bag. He did not trust any of the guys to do it and not burn down his parents house.

“Sure.”

Coal was not your favorite but you started the fire and watched the black glaze over white. Chan sat the container with the meat down next to the grill.

“You look like a miner.”

Donghun rubbed something off your face with a disapproving frown. You had smeared coal dust all over.

“Don’t.”

You swatted his hand away. _I know I’m dirty. No need to feel superior. _

“That looks perfect.”

Junhee beamed at you after looking at the white coals in the grill. That smile could melt ice and stop wars.

“I knew I could trust you with this.”

He handed you a can of beer.

The food was delicious and you ate too much. The sun was beginning to set and it was cooler now. The leftovers compelled you to take another bit and you gave in.

You picked up a spoonful of rice and sauce. Unfortunately halfway to your mouth you got distracted and felt the impact on your shirt. You looked down and saw a chili red stain on your chest.

“Look at you, so clumsy.”

Donghun whispered next to you. Your lips trembled. Why is he picking on me so much? You shot up and stormed into the house.

_I know I’m ugly and clumsy. No need to point it out every second. _

Junhee caught your arm on the stairs. You had not even heard him calling out your name.

“Hey. Is everything alright?”

HIs brows were furrowed and his hand had tightly onto your arm as if you were at flight risk.

“I just…Donghun…”

He took two steps up which put you on the same step.

“Let’s go to my room.”

His room turned out to be the one you had been in earlier and where you had gotten the clothes.

“What is with Donghun?”

You sighed.

“He is always saying these hurtful things to me…”

Junhee studied your face and you looked away. The double bed was made which seemed surprising to you. On the other hand you had never been to Junhee’s apartment and night had he ever spent the night at your place. He had always left.

“You think his comments are hurtful?”

What a weird question. He is always making fun of me. Does Junhee not see it the same way. He stepped a bit closer and his hands came up to your shoulders.

“Is it possible that you are a bit sensitive?”

Your first instinct was to deny that you were being “sensitive” but Junhee did not seem to agree with your point of view.

“Do you… maybe… like Donghun?”

The question came seemingly out of the blue, but it made you feel even more defensive.

“No.”

It had come out too fast to be convincing and sounded more like the opposite. Which, of course, was the case. Donghun had his good moments when he was not being a brutally honest sadistic jerk. Junhee for his part was pretty naive but even he could tell you were lying. You sighed.

“I like him, okay? It’s just…. He is so… he can be… ehmm… too much. He can be kinda brutal in what he says.”

“Because you care what he thinks of you and it hurts when he is making fun of you.”

Sometimes you forgot the Junhee was good at picking up social things. He could read your mind. Or so it seemed at times.

“Yes.”

You felt like a puncture balloon, slowly deflating. It had been on your mind for such a long time that it felt odd to have said it to someone. The fact that someone else knew made your feelings more real.

“Maybe you should do something about that.”

His thumbs drew slow circles on your shoulders. Junhee was so supportive it made you emotional. Such a good soul. Never leave me.

“Junhee…”

Arms wrapped around you and next thing you knew your nose was buried in the nape of his neck. He held you tight.

“You can do it.”

His smell was familiar and immediately, unconsciously relaxed you. It was the smell of cuddling, movie nights and good times.

“I believe in you.”

Don’t make me cry, Junhee. You hugged him tighter. He kissed on top of your head and rocked you from side to side.

“Let’s go back. You can get him alone later.”

You nodded. Even though you wanted to stay in his arms you let go.

When you left the room, your heart jumped while Junhee literally jumped. There was a figure standing in the hallway next to the door.

“Hyung! You scared the living shit out of me!”

Junhee whined at Donghun. You on the other hand were more concerned with how long he had been there and, more importantly, how much he had heard.

“I’m sorry.”

“You better be.”

Junhee pouted but Donghun was not looking at him.

“I’m sorry my teasing hurt you.”

He looked down and wrung his hands.

“I actually like you a lot.”

This was not how you expected this evening to go. You were speechless.

“Donghun…”

“Sorry for eavesdropping, too”

So he had heard. Oh this is not good. What do I do?

“Can I make it up to you somehow?”

He met your eyes and smiled sweetly. It seemed like he was sincere in feeling sorry about hurting you and your heart felt warm. A warm fuzzy feeling radiated from it through your body.

“Maybe you can make her feel good?”

Junhee suggested suggestively. You turned around to look at him in shock. If someone had asked you before, if Junhee would ever suggest to someone else to fuck you, you would have said no. He had always seemed attached to you and you always thought he wanted you to himself.

“Would you… like that?”

Donghun got your attention back with his question. Would I?

“…yes.”

Your answer was quiet and breathless. Donghun looked stunning, you noted. The sleeveless shirt showed off his arms and his long hair was untied now.

“Good. Have fun.”

Junhee passed you and was almost to the stair when Donghun said: “Wait.”

Junhee stopped with his hand on the railing.

“Do you want to stay?”

He looked very confused at this question. Donghun studied your face and added:

“I think she would like that, am I right?”

It was true. Junhee felt safe and if there was a way for him to stay, you would love that. You nodded.

“If that’s okay with you, both of you, then yes I would love that.”

Your face was on fire but you had gotten that out surprisingly confidently. Junhee thought for a moment while you tried hard not to let your nervousness show.

“Okay.”

He came back and three of you entered the room you had left before. Donghun closed the door and pushed you and Junhee against it. Junhee’s back was pressed to the door, you to his chest and Donghun was behind you. You could feel his breath on your neck, hot against your cool skin, and then his lips made contact. They moved down to the nape of your neck and you gasped. Junhee, who had been taken aback, started to move too. He cupped your face and brought your lips together. It felt like coming home after a hard day. Your hands dug into the fabric of his shirt. It was thin, too thin to keep the heat of his body from escaping. Junhee was an amazing kisser, but the way his thumb brushed over your face made your heart flutter even harder. It was so tender.

When Donghun switched to the other side of your neck you sighed into the kiss, starting to feel wound up. Being sandwiched between these two guys was hot, figuratively and literally. Donghun pulled away and you seized the opportunity to get some air. Junhee’s lips were redder than before, slightly swollen. It suited him well.

You turned around and grabbed Donghun’s shirt. He let himself be pulled in, as you leaned back so Junhee was still pressed against the door. Donghun’s lips were full and warm. The kiss started a bit more tentative but he got bolder fast. You revelled in the feeling of Donghun’s tongue in your mouth and the little gasps Junhee made, when you ground your ass against his hips. It was always lovely to hear him, to the point where you suspected a little kink coming in.

Donghun pulled away when it started to get interesting.

“I think Junhee really wants to take your clothes off.”

A wicked smile appeared on Donghun’s face. You looked over your shoulder at a very flushed Junhee.

“Now that you mention it, he has been very weird since it put them on…”

He bit his lip and avoided your eyes. His shirt was asking to be unbuttoned. You ran your hands up, over his chest to his shoulders.

“Tell me.”

“You’re wearing my clothes. It’s so hot.”

There was fire burning in his eyes as he said that. You had never worn his clothes before and the thought had never crossed your mind either. Now however you felt your face burn. You agreed, it was hot.

Junhee’s hands flew to your hips and began moving up. The palms of his hands ran over your sides as he pushed the shirt up and over your head. A kiss followed, but he cut it short and spun you around.

“Take his shirt off.”

You huffed but did as he wished. Donghun was slightly more built than Junhee and your hands flew to his chest as if it was magnetic. He watched your face as you ran your hands off his hot skin. Being shirtless was the optimal way to get as much of your skin against his. You wrapped your arms around his middle and kissed his neck. He even let his head sink to the other side to give you better access. Donghun was undeniably worked up as evident by how hard he was against you.

“Tell me, how do you want to go about this?”

They had both lost their clothes and you did not know where to look. Junhee was the most gorgeous person in every room he had ever entered and Donghun with his longer hair and piercings was positively breathtaking.

“I mean don’t think we have time for …ehm I don’t know if you like it..”

“In the butt?”

You offered flatly. Poor Junhee it’s not easy for him too, today.

“Maybe Donghun can fuck me and I will take you to my mouth?”

It sounded obscene to say out loud and your face had not stopped burning since this started.

“Fine with me. Junhee?”

He only nodded with a tense face. You got on the bed deciding doggy style was the way to go today.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Yes.”

Junhee opened his suitcase and rummaged inside. Donghun used the time to run his hand down your back to your ass and give it a squeeze. His fingers came down to your clit and he circled it. A sigh escaped you and you let your head sink to the mattress as he continued to rub it. One finger entered you, curled up inside and left too soon.

“Here.”

Junhee sat on the bed by your head. He patted your hair and you came back up to your hands.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, start already,” you whined.

He did not waste any more time and pushed in. You moaned at the wonderful feeling of being filled. This whole day had put you on edge and now it was finally paying off.

“You feel so good Hunnie. Don’t stop.”

His rhythm faltered when you said that. I hit a nerve, haven’t I?

“Fuck me harder, Hunnie.”

He grunted disapprovingly but his thrusts came harder now. You did not know if it was the nickname or something else that he liked. Junhee sat on the bed watching with an uncomfortable looking erection. It was hard to hold yourself up on one hand, so you got down on your elbow and used your other hand to stroke Junhee. He closed his eyes and bit his lips, so he did not see it coming when you took him into your mouth. His hips jerked and it took everything from him not to thrust up.

Donghun had slipped out when you had moved forward without warning. He ran his tip down to your swollen clit and back up, circling your entrance just to make you go insane.

Unfortunately you could not say anything about that because you were busy with Junhee. When he finally pushed back in, it was with a pace that was neither fast nor slow, but made up for it with force. You moaned and had to get your mouth off Junhee who was breathing very controlled. That, you had seen before. He was closed but did not want to come yet.

“Junhee, let me hear you, please.”

The control he had on his breathing broke and he moaned as stroked him. You clenched around Donghun at the sound, breathy and beautiful.

“Oh, Junhee, so good, so gorgeous, don’t stop.”

He shuddered at the praise and moaned again, louder this time. The sound almost pushed you over the edge. Almost.

You rested your head on his thigh and watched as he calmed down.

Donghun leaned forward and his breath tickled your neck.

“Do you want to turn around?”

“Sounds good.”

While the doggy style had been enjoyable, it was also unlikely for you to come in it. Donghun’s face was tense and his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, when he entered you again. This time you were on your back and wrapped your legs around his hips. He let you control the pace and settled for kissing your chest. His tongue ran over your nipple and you flexed your inner muscles for more friction. You were so close now, your fingers tangled in his hair and legs guiding him into the perfect pace. His moan came so unexpectedly. He had been very quiet before but now his wonderful voice came out. You came to his moan in your ear.

A few erratic thrusts later he collapsed on top of you.

Epilogue

Chan had his arms crossed and glared as you exited the house into the garden. A sour expression on his face. He sat completely alone in front of a dwindling camp fire.

“Seriously?”

He pouted but instead of funny it looked hurt.

“Everyone is off, having sex and I’m here alone.”

“Chanie..”

He looked away sulkily as Donghun tried to contain the damage.

“Maybe.”

You sat down on his lap which caught him by surprise.

“Maybe next time you say something beforehand.”

His hair was beautifully soft and twisted a finger in it. Mouth wide open he could not say a word.

A/N: I hope you liked it anon :))

#ksmutclub #a.c.e smut #A.C.E donghun smut #Donghun x reader #Jun x reader #star writing #request #kpop smut #a.c.e fanfic #A.C.E x reader #A.C.E jun smut #queue

[silvanable]

Idk if hcs are open and ignore me if it isnt!! Can i request an angsty ikevamp prompt? How would suitors react to an MC he likes who likes another suitor? Both suitor and MC's love can be unrequited, and MC could come to suitor to talk about her unrequited love. If you want to make it super angsty, MC could be suitor's first actual romantic interest in a very long time. Plz feel free to choose any suitor, but my favs are leo/comte. I love your writings :) thanks so much!

i know you said headcanons but i saw this as a perfect opportunity to slap down an angst filled fic because i’m not doing so hot and i can’t process emotions unless it’s written format. anyways, i hope you don’t mind!

i figured it was about time i got back to my roots, bringing the unholy angst back that started this blog— 

SO HAPPY THANKSGIVING AND WHY NOT WRECK CELEBRATE THE HOLIDAYS WITH A LITTLE ANGST, EH?

and everyone can cry with me because we all abso—fucking—lutely know that comte would sideline himself and his feelings for the better of others.

↪  GUIDELINES

✒ tags : unrequited love, comte x mc, mentioned mc x leonardo, angsty af, gn!reader mostly but love languages don’t have fucking gn terms

✒ warnings : n/a

✒ word count : 1740

It seemed this was some sort of punishment. It had to be, perhaps to make up for all the things he had done in his youth. Fitting, he would agree, but it did not lessen the pain.

Here you are, sitting in the garden with him.

A wistful sigh falls from your lips.

The things he would do to comfort you. To assure you that you were deserving of all admiration and love.

He would steal your breath with amorous kisses, only daring to relent when neither of you could last a moment longer without air. He would whisper every loving and reassuring word he could muster from his tongue. He would hold you close and keep you in his embrace until you understood how much he adored you.

He would do all these things because he loved you like any other before. You were intoxicating. The way you smiled brought warmth to his chest. The sound of your laughter was a melody he could never tire of. The scent of you was more intoxicating than any vintage wine that ever grazed his lips.

Without you, he was empty and hollow. You had brought the light back into his life. You had offered a hand to him and showed him a gentleness he believed he was undeserving of.

And perhaps he still was because your heart belonged to another.

Comte forced a small smile.

“Ma cherie,” He called your attention. Those beautiful eyes flickered away from the cup of tea in your hands and up to him. His heart still had not gotten used to such a sweet gaze upon him, yet now it was broken with sorrow.

“You said you wanted my advice on something?”

You pursed your lips in response. It seemed you were second-guessing yourself on the need to talk. Comte knew the expression you made all too well and offered a small, encouraging nod.

Another sigh escaped you, far heavier than the one before. “There’s… Someone I like and the problem is, well, they don’t seem to feel the same way.”

What a bitter irony of life.

“See,” You shifted, sitting up and twisted your hands in the hem of your sleeves, “It’s been a long time since I felt something for someone and… I don’t know— maybe I’m just over-analyzing it because they were nice.”

He understood, Comte understood entirely what you meant. After all, he was looking at the very person who had set a spark to his heart’s fire and he would never say a thing.

“Are you sure this mysterious suitor is just unaware of your affections?” He took a sip from the teacup in his hands. He tried to play it off calmly, to hold himself together.

Nothing was allowed to slip through his carefully crafted facade. It took decades to build such a gentlemanly persona and he would not allow himself to fall in shambles, back onto his old ways. No, he had to be a better man.

No matter how much this drove a knife into his chest.

You shrugged, defeated with a gesture of your hand. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because we’re just too different—personal—and don’t even get me started on time-traveling culturally!” An exasperated huff left you, somewhere between a broken laugh and squashed sob.

Comte said your name softly, “Surely there are things you have similar, things that drew you to this person,” He set the tea aside on the table between you both, “Have you confronted them about your feelings?”

As if he was one to talk about such a thing, with you just across from him, yet he hid a secret from you.

A growl of frustration erupted from your throat. “That’s the thing! I’ve tried so many times to find a good moment but any time I start, he somehow always manages to run away!” By now you were on your feet, angrily pacing through the gazebo.

“I mean, did I do something wrong? Is it because he’s a vampire and I’m not?” You vented, too caught in the whirlwind of your growing anger to notice the softness the pureblood gazed at you with.

He understood the fear of that commitment. You were mortal after all, he was not. No doubt the resident—who Comte had a growing suspicion of who, yet would not dare entertain the thought, not yet—feared their long life and falling for someone who would, eventually, pass away and leave them a broken heart.

He would love you nonetheless. If you were his, he would dare to turn you if you let him, so that he could have you to himself longer.

Selfish, yes, but if he had been fortunate enough to have your heart he would never want to let it go.

“Or is it because of the door? I don’t have to go back—hell! I’ve thought more than once these past few weeks about not going back!” You glared heatedly at the mansion. A gaze that was so fierce that the flames of it practically glowed in your eyes.

“But when I mention I might suddenly Leonardo—” Comte visibly flinched, you did not notice, “—is insisting that I go the moment I’m able when all I’ve been trying to tell him is I want to stay for him!”

How could you be so cruel and yet so gentle at the same time?

Comte had only wished you had never said his name, his closest friend. He could feel his heart twist, the ugly head of jealousy reared like a viper, but he forced it down.

He was a gentleman, one of the utmost kind.

Comte’s smile strained but to you, it was sympathetic. “You must understand, ma cherie, as pureblood vampires things are different for us.”

“Yes and?” You turned to Comte, expression twisted and asking to explain how any of that mattered. How did being different like that matter so much when you were so enamored with him that you were willing to give up everything you knew just to be with him.

“Does he not want me and just doesn’t want to tell me?” Your voice welled with emotion suddenly, “Does he think it’s sparing my feelings instead of telling me straight?” Tears gathered in your eyes.

It was painful to see you becoming so unraveled. At that moment, it took all his strength to remain poised and still, to not reach over and take you into his arms and kiss away all of your tears. But he could not be the jealous man, it was not his place, because he was not your lover. He was nothing but your host and he had to remain the courteous host for you. 

 And now of all times, he damned himself for taking that position, because it meant he would never have you.

“Perhaps he believes that not telling you will spare you of forcing your decision, of stealing the life you have ahead of you.” And to protect you from the heartache I feel now.

You sank back into your seat. A disheartened sigh fell from your lips as you put your head in your hands. “What should I do?” You lifted your head to look at Comte.

He could not resist your gaze, the way your beautiful eyes plead with him. He wanted to see that stunning smile of yours again, the one that brightened his days, the one he cherished in his dreams.

It was decided at that moment, he would see your smile again. Even if it meant he had to break his heart to have you happy. To see you happy was all he wanted.

“Let me speak with Leonardo,” He prayed you had not heard the jealousy hidden in his chest in his voice, “I’m sure I can find what is troubling my friend and spare you from any further pain.” He leaned forward, taking your hand in his.

If he could freeze time he would have, to engrave this moment in space and never let it pass. The warmth of your hand in his. How the light returned to your face with newfound hope. The sparkle in your eyes. Everything, he wanted to remember everything about you at this moment forever and preserve it.

Alas, time was fleeting, and moved on despite his desperate wishes. So he had to keep the memory, tucked away somewhere close to his heart, never to leave him even with the wear of time.

“You would?” The eager hopefulness in your voice was heart-wrenching.

“Of course, ma cherie,” He patted your hand before he reluctantly withdrew his touch, “This is an issue you have with one of my residents and I would not be a decent host to let these problems fester when they affect you so.”

You were absolutely beaming, a bright smile that could rival the sun’s own warmth and light. It was something he wished he could have basked in for eternity.

“Thank you so much, Comte,” You jumped from your seat, throwing your arms around him.

The action was so sudden it had taken him by surprise and yet before he could process and return the gesture, you drew away again.

“Thank you!” You repeated, gathering up the dishes from your tea chat, “I should go help Sebastian with dinner.” Your tone was practically ecstatic as you moved back towards the path to the mansion.

All the while Comte only smiled at you. Yet as your figure grew further and further away, fading into the gardens lush greenery, his smile began to gradually fall.

That facade of a caring, gentlemanly host shattered the moment you were gone. Emotions erupted from the tight fist that had held them at bay. Comte pressed a hand to his mouth, restraining the sounds of sorrow that threatened to burst from him. Amber eyes welled with unshed tears.

Emotions rushed over him like a tidal wave. There was no moment to breathe, not a chance to catch himself. No, these feelings grabbed hold of him and dragged him under. He would drown in them and nothing could save him now.

Comte swallowed hard and his eyes fluttered close.

The sky grew darker as time passed him by in silence.

He took a shaky breath and steadied himself, dropping his hand into his lap, as he regained his composure.

“For you,” His voice betrayed the emotions under the calm face, “For you, ma cherie, and your smile.”

#i'm here to bring the hurt #HAPPY HOLIDAYS HERE'S THE ANGST #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire leo #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo #comte de saint germain #leonardo da vinci #ikemen vampire x reader #comte x reader #x reader #ikevamp angst #ikevamp fic #unrequited love #hurt fic #all aboard the angst train #angst fic