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maracujatangerine · 1 month

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82. Taking Note

CW: mental health issues, institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

The pale light of an overcast winter’s day flattened all the colours; the yellow curtains, the violet saintpaulia on the windowsill, the pet’s own blonde hair, everything taking on a washed-out tinge of grey. Coriander sat at the kitchen table, pen in hand, staring at a blue notebook. Miss Lydia had asked it to choose one of the notebooks at her bookshop yesterday.

“Perhaps you would like to try writing down your thoughts?” She had suggested, gently. “It is not for me to read. I promise that I won’t. Cross my heart, and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye!”

She laughed, but the look in her brown eyes was serious.

“You can write down anything you want, and it will be for your eyes only, okay?”

The pet had nodded and told her that it understood. Now, Miss Lydia was out. She had gone for coffee with Cecilia, and the pet had elected to stay at home.

The notebook it had chosen had a Japanese-style drawing of a cresting wave on the cover, the white tips of the wave rendered with splashes in glossy silver. The white pages were neatly lined in black.

The radio was on in the background, a piece by Händel tugging at some half-remembered string at the back of the pet’s mind. Cory knew that Miss Lydia had left Radio 3 on for the pet’s sake, but that she wouldn’t mind if it changed the station, just like she hadn’t minded that the pet had chosen to stay behind when she went out.

It used to agonise endlessly over such small decisions. Did Miss Lydia want it to say yes or no? Would this thing make it a better pet, or would that?

Nowadays, more and more, it felt like it could trust that its owner said what she meant. If she needed it to come, she would let it know. If she gave it a choice, she truly wanted it to make up its own mind.

That was an unprecedented freedom. Generosity beyond its wildest dreams. It knew it was extraordinarily lucky.

It should be happy, should it not?

And it was grateful, it was!

But happiness eluded it

In the beginning, everything had brought it joy. Or, well, at least relief.

Having its wounds treated, feeling its body healing, aches and pains receding to the back of its mind and gradually fading away.

Hunger, the dull gnawing of an empty stomach, the weakness and loss of focus that comes with days and days without enough food to eat. The terrible fear of feeling your own body consuming itself to stay alive. No more!

In its life with Miss Lydia, Coriander could still feel hungry, sometimes. At the end of a long day, before lunch at work, out on a hike in the woodlands. But it never felt truly hungry. That bottomless need for sustenance was a thing of the past.

These things brought relief. The joy came later.

Miss Lydia gently petting its hair, and Coriander genuinely wanting - and daring - to lean into her touch.

Playing the tin whistle for Miss Indira and the doctor responding with enthusiastic applause.

Laughing together with Miss Lydia without the pet having to carefully guard every word to avoid angering its owner.

Working at the shop and being given a nod of approval from Miss Carla at a job well done.

Sitting in the garden and watching flowers bloom from seeds they had sown together.

These were all things of joy, of beauty. Miss Lydia was consistently fair and kind. The pet felt healthy now, strong, even. Its damaged shoulder still impeded its daily life, its scars ached sometimes, and the nightmares refused to go away, but these were mere trifles in the grand scheme of things.

So, why wasn’t it happy?

It should be. It had been.

But now, lately, it was like some undefined malaise had taken hold of the pet. A depressing weight that suffused everything, that stole joy out of everything, just like the grey winter light leaked the colours away.

Looking down on the pages, the pet realised it had written the same sentence over and over.

Why did this happen to me?

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#pet whump #bbu #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #whump fic #pet whumpee #lydia and coriander #writeblr #original writing

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hypnoneghoul · 11 months

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In a World That's Caught In a Writer's Web, Humiliation Reigns

WC: 2,2k

Relationship: Dew/Rain, Rain/Mountain, Swiss/Dew, Swiss/Aether

Tags: Teasing, dirty talk, cumming on stage, anal, blow jobs

It was a conspiracy, that’s what it was. It had to be. If it wasn’t, why would everyone tease him so much? He was behaving, for once, the last few days, and yet Dew was on the verge of popping a boner even before the show. Long before it.

Read under the cut or on AO3.

It was a conspiracy, that’s what it was. It had to be.

If it wasn’t, why would everyone tease him so much? He was behaving, for once, the last few days, and yet Dew was on the verge of popping a boner even before the show. Long before it.

Swiss’ hand on his thigh, moving up and down, squeezing, during the ride to the venue. Mountain ‘accidentally’ crowding him against whatever surface was around like he didn’t know what his size alone did to Dew. Aether whispering compliments, praise, straight into his ear with an arm around his waist. Rain just looking at him, all the time, in a way that made Dew’s knees buckle on its own.

Everything was just so suggestive, and yet no one offered a hand or a mouth before the Ritual. At least the girls weren’t on it, if so, he definitely wouldn’t live long enough to go on stage.

But it didn’t end with the show beginning, the opposite, actually.

Dewdrop was in misery, he was half hard by the time the first three songs ended and painfully so before they reached half of the show. Everyone could smell it on him, and it seemed to fuel their teasing even more.

Aether was constantly bumping into Dew, rubbing against him, sneaking a hand to smack him or squeeze his ass, shoving it under his guitar to fully grab him or just seemingly innocently caressing his inner thigh.

Dewdrop thought he would be safe at least from Swiss, not getting close to his platform, but he couldn’t be more wrong. The multi ghoul decided to roam the stage free tonight, and there was no way for Dew to escape him. The first time Swiss jumped him, he plastered himself to Dew and grabbed him everywhere squeezing and kneading. The second time, he ran to give Dew a hit of his vape when he was messing with the whammy bar, Swiss shoved one of his fingers along the pen into the fire ghoul’s mouth. Not enough to make him gag or choke, but enough of a suggestion, especially considering the circumstances. Then he just, oh so innocently, ran away, back to his platform, leaving Dew even more of a mess than he was moments before.

Rain, as expected, was the worst. Dew was totally down for him all the time, but when the water ghoul had a specific goal? There was just no rescuing Dewdrop.

Rain was on Dew all the time, headbutting him, bending his knee just between Dew’s legs, ghosting soft touches all over him. But that’s not what made Rain’s torture so agonising.

It was his filthy mouth, words half spoken into his ear, half into his mind, to make sure they wouldn’t be left unheard because of the show’s loudness.

“You smell so pretty, I could just eat you up.”

“I wanna bend you over that amp right here and fuck you stupid, in front of everyone. Show them all what a whiny slut you really are.”

“You actually look like you have an ass in these pants, I can’t stop staring, wanna just shove my face into it.”

“I’ll have you sit on my cock later, will you be a good boy for me? Warm my dick up properly, wait patiently until I’ll get bored enough to fuck you into whatever will be around?”

“Or maybe you wanna choke on it? Want to get all wet and messy, want my cum to fill your belly like a slut you are?”

“We could invite the rest, stuff you full in every way, cock shoved down every hole, bet you’d like that. Being used like a cheap whore.”

“You’d love getting fucked here, wouldn’t you? Everyone would look at the big, mighty ghoul getting dicked down like a pathetic bitch in heat.”

“I wonder if your devoted fans will respect you the same after watching you moan and whimper like a whore with a real cock up your ass.”

Dewdrop just couldn’t take it. He was so hard, pathetically trying to hide his boner behind his Stratocaster and wishing he’d stay with Fantomen for its way bigger body. He was running away from Rain in a way that must’ve looked awkward, there was no way the fans didn’t notice, he was sure his humiliation would be up on Twitter or Tiktok by tomorrow morning. At least they couldn’t see his face, presumably flushed deep red, and not from the excretion a Ritual usually brought on.

Few more songs and Dew’d get backstage, maybe finally getting something other than teasing from one or more of his packmates. If not, pathetic blowing his load into the first toilet available would have to do. Either way, the fire ghoul had to make it to the end.

But then time for ‘Year Zero’ came.

Dewdrop decided to leave Rain alone this time, no touching, no choking, because it would mess Dew up, not him. People would probably be disappointed, but, oh well, it was better than him passing out from having no blood in his brain in favour of his cock.

Rain, on the other hand, did not want to miss their little stunt. But considering Dewdrop’s unwillingness, he had to take matters into his own hands, literally, just as he was doing all day. He creeped up behind Dew when Aether started his solo, the small ghoul absolutely not noticing him, standing with one leg propped on a step and his guitar conveniently resting against it.

The water ghoul stood just behind him, his arm reaching in front of Dew to splay across his chest and harshly bring his back flush with Rain, the water ghoul barely saving the arena from awful feedback from his bass. Rain trailed his hand upwards, making sure to catch on the nipple rings hidden behind Dewdrop’s uniform, stopping at the fire ghoul’s neck.

“My pretty bitch, I’ll get you stuck on my knot, stuff you full of my cum, make sure you catch,” Rain spoke just as he started squeezing. “I’ll watch you swell with my kits, no one will dare to touch you, everyone will know just who you belong to.”

Dew moaned so high and loud Rain could hear him over all the noise, feeling how whole body spasmed, his guitar making a barely noticeable pinch. The water ghoul smirked, backing away, but when the smell hit him, his mouth dropped open under the balaclava.

Dewdrop came.

Untouched, on stage.

Rain couldn’t be more proud of himself.

Dew regained his composure, partially at least, to survive the rest of the show, now not the hard on tormenting him, but the aftermath.

The shame, the stickiness, the hungry eyes of his packmates on his back, the thousands of eyes in front of him that could’ve noticed. What if someone noticed? What if someone recorded it? They must’ve, but is his literal orgasm noticeable?

He fucking cummed on stage.

The fire ghoul burned with embarrassment, Rain’s words still echoing in his brain, the mess in his pants making him the worst kind of uncomfortable both physically and mentally. The Ritual seemed to never end.

Until it did, but that was even worse, as Dew had to put his guitar, his only shield, away. He never prayed so loud in his life for dry pants, looking down after the Stratocaster was taken by his tech. He nearly cried in relief when his boxers turned out to have perfectly soaked his cum in, leaving his uniform pants looking normal.

Dewdrop was still very much on edge, throwing the picks and giving out the setlists, glancing down from time to time to make sure he was still relatively safe. That is until Swiss came up behind him, grabbing him by his crotch and bringing his small body against his, “Someone got wet, didn’t he? Smells delicious.”

Dew choked on his spit, managing only a pathetic whimper making Swiss laugh and leave him again. The fire ghoul was shaking by the time the bows ended and he stepped foot backstage.

He should trash around, scream at his packmates, especially Rain, for making him cum on stage, for doing it all to him, but he was just so tired and sticky he made a beeline for the venue showers, not saying a word to anyone.

Dew made the water extra hot, as if the scalding water could burn away his shame. He scrubbed at his skin, hissing at the sensitivity of his spent cock turning it into a growl loosely directed at his pack. He was wrapping himself up in a towel when he heard Swiss’ booming laugh and smelled him, Aether, Mountain and Rain. All horny, apparently, and, unfortunately, there was no way for Dew to avoid them now.

“Hi, Firefly,” Aether waved at him from across the shower room, the rest right behind him.

“Fuck off,” Dew grumbled, gathering his stage uniform from the bench, minus the boxers that stayed in a trash can, intending on storming out.

“Oh, come on,” Swiss cooed, “let us make up for it?”

“I did tell you what my plans were, baby,” Rain added.

Dewdrop weighed his options. He could go straight to the bus, sulk in his bunk curled around himself, or he could take on the offer and enjoy the ‘making up’ for the whole day of torture and the literal climax of it all.

He chose the second option, of course, he was a ghoul after all.

“Better treat me real good now,” he pouted, and before the last word left his mouth Rain was on him.

“Promise,” he whispered, attaching his lips to Dew’s neck. Swiss took the bundled up clothes from the fire ghoul, as Mountain came behind him and scooped him up, making Dew yelp.

“Won’t fuck here when we’ve got a dressing room for ourselves,” the earth ghoul announced, tilting his head down to place a soft kiss at Dew’s forehead.

They reached said dressing room soon enough, and just as Dew heard the click of a lock, he dropped his towel, his cock hard and leaking again. Rain didn’t wait for more of an invitation, stripping quickly, the others following, and beckoned Mountain to lay flat on the couch in the middle. He obeyed, cock heavy between his legs begging for attention. He received it soon enough, Rain crawling over him to sink on it in one smooth motion, having, obviously, prepared earlier. They groaned in unison, Dew making a noise of complaint where he was standing. It was supposed to be about him, after all, wasn’t it?

“Baby, come here, all fours,” Rain called for him as he laid back onto Mountain’s chest, cock in his ass. Dew obliged, how could he not, crawling over Rain in a way that made his dick hang just over his lips. “Good boy, yeah, feed it to me.”

Dewdrop felt Swiss’ warm hands at his butt just as Rain’s cool mouth closed around his tip, a quiet whimper leaving his mouth. He was way too far gone for words, already, even more when one of Swiss’ fingers plunged into his hole, thrusting and stretching, another joining soon.

Meanwhile behind him, Aether was doing the same to the multi ghoul, making him shudder from time to time when a thick finger dragged over his prostate.

On the bottom, Rain was doing a great job at picking Dew apart, being comfortably filled himself. As the little ghoul’s punched out moans were getting higher in pitch, Swiss straddled Rain’s middle and shoved his cock into Dew, nearly rocking him off of the couch.

Dewdrop was impossibly close already, few thrust from Swiss and he was screaming, spasming and cumming down Rain’s throat, this time finally getting some pleasure out of it. He was floating for a few more moments, until he felt cum filling his ass, then it dripping down his thighs as Swiss pulled out. Seems as he was as desperate as Dew earlier. After all, Dew’s scent was keying them all up all evening.

Aether pulled Dew, not unlike a ragdoll, off of Rain and Mountain, letting the earth ghoul finally thrust up into Rain, both moaning at getting real stimulation. The quintessence ghoul put Dew at the second couch that was in the room, sitting next to him with his legs spread, beckoning Swiss closer. He scrambled to straddle his leaking cock and sank down on it as Aether guided his hips.

Dew was far away, surrounded by filthy moans and obscene slick sounds, curled around himself. He wasn’t uncomfortable anymore, just spent and tired as he waited for his packmates to have their fun.

Dew didn’t realise when they all finished, cleaned up a bit and dressed in their casual clothes, only coming back to it when Rain’s cool hand cupped his cheek, “Hey, you okay?”

“W- what? Oh, yeah, ‘m just tired,” he yawned, as if to confirm his words, a few giggles sounding at that. He was incredibly cute, fucked out, and all.

“Let’s get you back to the bus, then,” Mountain picked him up after wrapping him in Rain’s blanket. “We have the big bed tonight, all for ourselves.”

“Mhm…” Dewdrop mumbled, nuzzling his face into Mountain’s neck.

He was asleep before they even reached the bus.

#hypnone writes #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #fanfiction #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #smut

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kiri-cuts · 1 year

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An adorable Nietzsche death star in “The Super Mario Bros. Movie”

For a few months back in the thick isolating tar of 2020, I sat in my damp one-bedroom flat and dramatically envisioned myself as Artex, the ethereal equine who sinks into the Swamp of Sadness in “The Neverending Story.” “Blub, blub,” I’d say to the quiet company of mold in the corners of the walls. “Down I go.”

I’d dream about my head sinking promptly into the muck, one feature at a time. My round chin and miserable little downturned mouth checking themselves in at the one-star beach resort of death called Depression, my flared nostrils padding themselves closed with soil, my eyes nestling into the sweet slumber of swampytime. My hair would be the last to go, submerging itself with all the joyful enthusiasm of a lump of sugar into a thick latte foam.

As it turns out, the Swamp of Sadness ain’t worth shit. Pull yourself into its deepest and most suffocating clot all you want, but you’ll still have to work, eat, do the dishes, wake up every day, etc. Artex never had that problem –- lucky bastard –- and the brochure for Depression certainly left those details out of its marketing spiel (no wonder it was only a one-star resort).

A few months earlier I’d bought a Nintendo Switch on an impulse purchase. It was an item I couldn’t particularly afford, but brains pushing for death don’t exactly fixate on such details. And so it was that I played “Mario Odyssey” in the midst of an agonising funk, and on a daily basis the aforementioned swamp would get temporarily hosed off. For much of the game, I was horrendous at preserving Mario’s life. The little jump-crazed dungaree enthusiast died a million deaths –- each one more punishing and avoidable than the last.

This was never intentional, I’m just terrible at games. But as it went on, and the game progressed, I realised that this was potentially the entire point of many Super Mario games and others of its ilk. As each level wore on, muscle memory kicked in and I fell into the various bouncy rhythms of survival that Mario has to offer.

In order to be victorious, Mario had to repeatedly eat shit. He had to fall off walls, ricochet off lava, get his arse chewed out by a mega-chain chomp, and drown. And then next time, maybe he wouldn’t. In fact, death helps to ease the navigation for the next attempt –- you know what not to do and where not to do it. As Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “Death is close enough at hand so we do not need to be afraid of life.” Amen, brother.

This mechanism is referenced within “The Super Mario Bros. Movie,” in which Mario –- in an attempt to simultaneously impress his bird and save his cowardly brother –- must complete a treacherous obstacle course. And of course, he absolutely eats shit in his first attempt –- but he gets better.

Perhaps the greatest reflection of this ideology, though, comes courtesy of a luminescent glow of nihilism called Lumalee –- a delightful prisoner caged up in Bowser’s dungeon who cheerfully proclaims an abundance of cynical statements in favor of death. “There is no escape. The only hope is the sweet relief of death,” they joyfully muse. Later, when the film’s finished, they gleefully tell the audience, “Everything’s over now and all that’s left is you and infinite void.” Our boy Nietzsche would be proud.

For those in the know (so, not me), Lumalee is based on a species of creatures called Luma from “Super Mario Galaxy.” At the end of that game, a whole adorable group of them happily kamikaze into death’s sweet embrace courtesy of a black hole fashioned by Bowser. Like Steve-O in a glass factory, these little cuties just absolutely love the chaos of life, the natural sting of pain, and the delicious thrall of extinction. It really puts things in perspective.

While I have no doubt there are some players who can walk through every level of any “Super Mario” game without a single misstep or death –- just as there are people in this world who have likely never had to face a single day of depression or anxiety –- the purpose is to repeatedly face death. To endure it, to return to it, to vanquish it. Live, die, repeat. Collect enough hearts in the game, and you’re more or less impervious to whatever spikes life –- or levels –- have in store for you. As Nietzsche once put it, “One has to pay dearly for immortality; one has to die several times while one is still alive.” And Mario does, good sir. Oh, how he does. And he absolutely motherfucking loves it, too.

And I can’t lie, after I’d gatecrashed Bowser’s wedding, smashed his bird, and drank the free bar of his castle dry to the point that I could reach the “Mario Odyssey” finale, I actually felt emotional. Me and this little Italian plumber had been through so many deaths together and come through it all smiling –- just a couple of big cocky lads kicking over the big boi’s nuptials bash. Somehow, I didn’t feel the sweet embrace of that swamp anymore. In fact, I momentarily forgot it existed. And yes, so I then got up everyday, and I ate shit everyday –- we all did, and we still do. But there are so many 1-Ups. And when all else fails, there’s always nihilism.

#the super mario brothers movie #super mario #mario odyssey #nihilsm #lumalee #nietzschequotes #friedrich nietzsche #nintendo #mental health

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babydook · 2 years

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If I may, would it be alright if I please request a Yandere Frank Morrison (From the Legion in Dead by Daylight)? I thoroughly enjoyed your Feng one and I would really enjoy seeing other characters from the same franchise!

Yandere Frank Morrison

Dead by Daylight

Yandere type: Possessive, Controlling, Obsessive

Headcannons

It just so happens that there's a newbie in town, fresh meat!

He starts off consciously making the effort to go after you in trials so he can subconsciously check you out.

You can get pretty tired of the same scenery afterall. So what if he finds himself searching specifically for you?

This curious "fascination" (though he'd be ashamed to call it that) with the newest survivor is quickly written off as nothing. You're only another player to hunt down, a new face to whittle away the boredom that repetitive trials bring. A bit of spice. So what?

Sometimes when he catches sight of you he hesitates. It's an involuntary response, something he's not proud of. It lasts slightly longer every time it happens, taking just a sliver of a moment more to "survey the surroundings" (you) before making his move.

It turns into tunnel vision pretty quickly. Your teammates have begun to make an effort of warning you ahead of time whenever they see you're in a match with him. He's relentless, it actually has you wondering what you did to the guy. What's his deal?

He does not want to take responsibility for what's happening to him.

What IS his deal?!? He has no idea what's going on.

Sacrificing you to the entity isn't working. It's not getting rid of this... this... whatever this is.

He blames you. It only happens with you afterall - therefore it can't be his fault. There's something wrong with you.

Chasing you isn't nearly enough anymore.

Maybe if he killed you by his own hand it'd relieve some tension?

He begins to mori you specifically. Pinning you down certainly makes his adrenaline spike alright! Watching you writhe under him, even in pain, is something he can't get enough of.

His heart rate is only going nuts because of the long chase! In fact, that's his terror radius.

He tries to ignore the fact he's changing.

He can feel it trickling into his system, obstructing his thought pattern, worming its way into his mind and oh it's the worst.

He confuses it for hatred, that shiver that runs down his spine when you make eye contact has to be disgust, right?

The unbearable heat bubbling up inside his chest when you're near HAS to be burning rage, right?

He basically short circuits and kickstarts into his default: anger.

You're cute, sickeningly so. It makes him cringe to the point that he revels in killing you during trials - seeing you defeated at the hands of him scratches an agonising itch he didn't know was festering deep within his bones.

There's almost satisfaction. Almost. And then it's deafeningly bleak afterwards. Your corpse doesn't do anything in particular for him. He's confused, to say the least.

These feelings are so backwards, frustratingly so. He feels weak, like his own body is holding him hostage. (God forbid the manly man isn't in control for once.) He's not used to being powerless to his own instinct.

You make him feel small, it's an agonising blow to both his mentality and ego.

Fuck it, he doesn't care. (he does) He can ignore it. (he can't)

Underneath everything, he's a scared boy. What the fuck is going on? How does he make it go away?

The loss of command is straight up frightening for him. He doesn't know how to deal with this, he doesn't think he's even capable of doing so.

The breaking point is when killing you no longer does anything for him. If anything it makes him worse. This makes NO sense!

He's tense, terribly so. The frustration is eating away at him, rotting his resolve.

The biggest hurdle for him is the acceptance. Even once he comes to terms with his emotions and really takes them in, he doesn't want to accept them.

Ultimately: killing you doesn't kill his feelings for you. It's only once he allows that fact to sink in that the ball really gets rolling. Honey, you've got a big storm coming.

If HE doesn't get the privilege of controlling himself, you sure as hell don't either. Get over here darling, be ready for the game of your life.

He's the leader of the legion, he's used to being in charge - and yet he's completely lost at the hands of a survivor no less. it's a real game changer for him.

He finds it impossible to think of anything else, it's become a real issue.

He performs poorly in trials, including those that don't even have you in them. Being unable to get a something as minimal as a 1k, the entity is almost as displeased as he is.

It mingles with his reputation. Both his own group and the survivors tease him, he's angry enough about this until he realises you could be joining in. The man sees red.

The legion has noticed his change in behaviour - it'd be impossible not to. Outside of the jokes they're concerned.

It doesn't take a genius to see that Franks withdrawn significantly. Julie is particularly uncomfortable with it.

Joey would be the first to ask what's up, this would almost earn him a punch in the teeth. Joey is no doubt confused at the withering glare he receives in response. He'd be worried to prod and make it any worse. "What's going on man?"

He can practically feel Franks teeth grinding into stumps when he clenches his jaw. Joey tries his best not to look hurt when he spits out a response. "Nothing."

Julie would be the first to experience his wrath firsthand; that's what you get for poking the bear too much and too often.

Making an offhand comment about him "maybe not being as good as he thinks he is." It's intended as flirty banter but Frank explodes, snapping at her so harsh and so fast it practically gives her whiplash.

The atmosphere of the legions hangout has significantly dampened. Everyone's just doing their best to stay out of his blast radius and not set him off. He's a ticking time bomb.

This has a domino effect on the rest of the legion. Think you're getting a breather because it's not Frank? Nope!

Julie uses the trials to vent her frustration, being far more snide and cruel to everyone. You've lost count of how many times she's closed a hatch in front of a survivors face. Love that for her <3

Joey is a lot less merciful to struggling survivors, he drags himself through the trials and he has a one track mind.

Poor Susie is skittish as ever due to the unrest at base. She flinches when generators blow up and becomes distracted while carrying survivors to hooks, causing a fair amount to wiggle free.

Frank has made his problem EVERYONE'S problem. His group is an inch away from staging an intervention.

Fortunately, they don't really have to. The Entity's got that covered.

Rather than punishing Frank again for getting consistently ass kill ratings, it decides to reward him for better work. Like a sticker chart with a 5 year old, kind of.

It sets a goal of sorts, somewhat similar to the rift. "if you hook 10 different survivors, I'll help you out." "if you kill 4 people this round, you'll be compensated."

And it works. Having such a cruel god shower him in praise and promise greatness does wonders for our burnt out boy. The "gift" being dangled like a carrot in front of him is an amazing source of motivation.

And what reward could be greater than you yourself?

He's never been more insecure, it's probably because you effortlessly manage to strip him down to what he really is at his core: an edgy, awkward teen who has no idea what the fuck he's doing.

He's never had to be the one afraid before.

Preying upon survivors the Entity flings at him had long ago become his only source of entertainment (there's really nothing else to do here) and he's gotten comfortable in the role he's been given. He DOESN'T appreciate curve balls being thrown at him. Who do you think you are? Scrambling his brain and crossing his wires in all of the right ways? Go fuck yourself.

The fact you're not even trying is yet again another devastating blow. What is it??? Why you??? He feels stupid. He feels scared. Hold him. What the fuck are you doing? Don't touch him.

The thought of caring for anyone makes him want to, quite simply: scream. He fucking hates it - he fucking hates you. Or at least he should.

For a long time you're walking on eggshells. Even looking at him in the wrong way (or whatever he perceives to be the wrong way) will set him off. Great, he's had another hissy fit and now his room's trashed again, you know, the place you're confined to 24/7? Hopefully he remembers to pick up that shattered glass later because next time he enters the room he's gonna stand on it and blow up again. Rinse and repeat.

One of the easiest ways to describe this messy situation: you're physically trapped and he's emotionally caged. Unfortunately, despite not asking for any of this baggage that's being dropped on you, you're the one that gonna have to deal with it - that is if you want your experience to be at least tolerable.

After the first few weeks though, it gets significantly... Softer.

Caution is still advised.

He's grossly insecure. With how he feels about you, he can't imagine how you feel about about him. It can't be anything other than negative, he's a killer who literally abducted you against your will. He's hanging onto the hope of Stockholm syndrome.

A big turning point is if you manage to catch him in a vulnerable moment.

He's miserable and exhausted - physically and emotionally. (He has been for a while now.) He drags himself into the room and crawls on top of you, almost in your arms with his head buried in your chest. It would be almost sweet if you weren't scared shitless. Don't make it too obvious you're uncomfortable, he already knows, just don't let it distract him from you.

He needs this. Any discomfort you show breaks the illusion that this is as perfect as he wants it to be. As he needs it to be.

Be warned: if you reciprocate in an attempt to save your own skin (i.e: laying your hand on top of his head or holding him back) he may cry. This in turn will skip a few weeks of the "warm up" faze. He's incredibly ashamed later on but right now it doesn't matter, what matters - all that matters in this moment is the warmth of your body, the smell of your hair, the sound of your heartbeat - don't let it run too fast, he'll pick up on your fear.

Let him enjoy this... whatever this is.

By the way, The Legion is not going to help you. They're just glad that they don't have to deal with so much of Franks shit anymore. Besides, the relief of him almost being back to normal can help them overlook the stranger that's tied up in their house. Well, everyone but Julie. She hates your guts.

A/N: Thank you for the kind words requester! Sorry for taking so long to get this one out, college has been hard <3

#yandere #yandere dbd #yandere dbd x reader #yandere dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #the legion x reader #frank morrison x reader #yandere frank dbd #yandere dbd killer #yandere legion #yandere frank morrison

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soranociel · 3 years

Text

I’m sorry, I love you.

Genre : angst

Pairing : gojo satoru x reader

Word count : 1.4k

Warning(s) : Jujutsu Kaisen manga spoiler, mention of blood and injury, graphic description of wound, a little sad I think, grammatical errors maybe hehe.

A/N : This is the first ever writing I post to the internet! Please take it easy on me, tumblr peeps.

"So you're going alone?" your voice filled in the dark hallway of Jujutsu High, breaking the long silence as you walk beside your comrade, Gojo. You were on your way to the yard to meet your team in order to watch over Shibuya. Layers of curtains had bestowed upon the place, and the whole facility had to hold a meeting to discuss how they would handle the situation.

"Yeah, as they wanted," Gojo replied with a smile on his face, you could feel that he was more tense and serious than usual. How could he not? The group that had invaded Shibuya wanted him all by himself.

"Be careful," you glanced at him with the corner of your eyes, worries filled up your mind with graphic images of how things could go wrong. It wasn't that you didn't trust him and his power, you were scared of losing him.

Gojo let out a chuckle, his head turned to you with a smile plastered on his face. "Don't worry, I am the strongest," there he went again, rambling about he's the strongest though he was right, it was a little annoying to hear him say that. Like come on, he didn't have to rub that to everyone at all times, you thought to yourself.

"Now if you'll excuse me,"

"Satoru, I-"

You both had reached the end of the hallway to meet the cold breeze the weather had to offer. You wanted say something ahead of his departure, but before you could finish what you had to say, Gojo had vanished into the night, leaving you alone to stare up into the starry sky, praying to whatever higher entity that the man you just talked to would be safe.

Now all you could see was the same sky, except that there was no stars splattered all over it because you were under the curtain inside of Shibuya. Your eyes were half open, you could feel a light breeze over the side of your body as you move forward. It was the only thing you felt other than the immense pain on your head and shoulder, it was so intense that you almost felt like you went numb.

You tried your best to recall what had happened, trying progress with the consciousness you had left in your body.

Then it hit you. A flashing imagine of the man with patches on his body, which you believed was called Mahito, touched the side of your head. You were running beforehand, pushing Nobara out of the way of his range. Then you realised Mahito ended up pushing his palm against you, even then you tried to dodge him. Yet to no avail, your shoulder had gotten the same impact he had left on your head.

You couldn't remember anything else, except seeing two Kyoto students behind Yuuji before you collapsed into the ground. It was the buff student who called Yuuji his brother who had participated in the sister school event, and the other you had never seen before. But if you're not hallucinating, you're in his arms right now as he ran, while you could hear Nobara yelled before your eyes gave up on trying to open themselves.

"Can you run faster?!" the red-haired girl exclaimed, looking to her side with her breath short after running from the scene of her teacher trying to protect– or sacrifice herself for her. "I'm trying!" the boy shouted back without looking at her, his eyes focused on the empty street as his feet kept a steady pace. Nobara on the other hand, grimaced at the sight of you. You looked so awful that she could only give one look at you before keeping her head up, biting the inside of her mouth to keep her tears from falling down her cheeks. There was a small hole on the side of your head where Mahito had touched you, it was so deep and anyone with eyes could see your brain through it. And the bone on your shoulder was showing, the blood of it touched the ground like a broken faucet that can't stop the fall of small water drops.

_______

You slowly opened your eyes to see to see an unfamiliar ceiling, trying to recall the past that felt like a minute ago, yet the only thing clouding your mind was Gojo and the fact that he was sealed. You should've thought about anything else, really, but you just couldn't. All you felt was the agonising pain that wouldn’t stop eating at your entire being, and thinking there was no possibility where you can see him again. You wanted to look at how bad your injury were, but you couldn't. The ache had spread all over your body and you could only move your eyes and your trembling mouth.

A familiar palm moved above your head, it was Ieiri's hand trying to heal the wound that's been inflicted upon you. You felt like your ripped shoulder were stitching its skin all by itself, yet it was still painful, and the sting that ruled over your body overpowered the mending she had been trying to do to you.

"Te... S.. Sato.. I lo hi,"

Tell Satoru I love him.

That was what you were trying to say, but you were sure it did not come out that way. It was difficult to speak with your parted mouth and your barely moving tongue, it took so much effort for you just to say a part of his name. Yet you believed that Ieiri understood you. She was your best friend, after all.

She remembered how you cried when you had heard the news that a jujutsu sorcerer assassin had killed Gojo. All because you just couldn't imagine a world– or to live in a world where he's not around. He was like a seeping marker, painting the whole world with his teasy remarks and his full of pride personality. To some people, what he does might be seen as annoying, but to you, everything would become dull and colorless without him. You hated silence because then your intrusive thoughts would always be loud enough to disturb you. It would feel like you were in the dark tunnel with no way out, a loophole. Yet his loud voice ringing in your ears with a wide grin on his face, and his blue eyes peering through his sunglasses made you forget all your worries. Your heart would beat faster whenever he's around to say or do whatever and it would feel like spring in you heart. Flowers bloom and the sun gently giving its light upon whatever is on earth, you felt like your soul was alive and bright. Yet you would never admit your feelings. As much as you loved his behaviour, letting him know you liked him would only boost his ego. So all you did was pretending to hate him and all his actions, which was the total opposite of how you really felt.

She remembered too, how you reacted when you saw Gojo came back to life because of his reverse technique. You wanted to run and hug him, but he was just your upperclassman. Instead, you wrapped your arms around Ieiri's body so tightly and hid your crying face against her shoulder. She knew you loved him. Yet you still wouldn't disclose it in front of his face, and continued your play-pretend of disliking him.

Throwing him 'shut up's every time he opened his mouth, which you knew that wouldn't stop him and he would only speak more and you never really mind it. Ignoring him and saying no, knowing he wouldn't stop talking and bothering you until he get what he wanted. Murmuring your little 'i hate you's to him because you knew he'd be whining and denying that you didn't actually hate him, and of course he was right. Having to suppress a smile everytime he made a silly joke because you knew he would tease you and said that you actually liked it, and of course, you did. Rolling your eyes at his teasings because you knew he would keep going and it actually made you happy. You did all that to avoid your feelings, and you knew it was a hypocrisy because you only found yourself falling deeper as the time passes.

"Tell him that yourself," she stuttered, eyes twitching and her lips curved as she focused, trying her best effort to make sure you live to see another day.

A tear ran down the side of your face, at that point, you didn't know if it was because of the ache that started to strangle your throat as you struggled to breath, or the fact that you likely won't be able to do what Ieiri had wished you to do. To tell Gojo Satoru, that you love him.

I'm sorry, I love you.

#gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader #hehe help

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all-about-seggs · 3 years

Text

Bedroom Heat -

Pairing : Husband!Gojo Satoru x Wife!Reader

Rating : ❌18+, Explicit❌

Word count : 1.2K

Warnings : Vaginal sex, Voyeurism, Masturbation, established relationship, reader is horny.

The scene you set up was nothing if not dramatic, an overly big white button down shirt over your otherwise naked body, the dimly lit bedroom where you layed, idly stroking your moist sex to prepare it for your husband to use as he pleased. Masturbation stopped being meaningful when the moment you first had a fill of Satoru, the sex life you two shared was fulfilling enough even after two years of your marriage. There was no need for you to wait up for him till midnight to come back home, he'd fuck you anytime you'd ask but the ache inside your empty cunt was not letting you sleep hence you ended up in your current state.

The wall clock on your right side was about to strike 12, it could be anytime now, working your fingers up and down your pussy you coverd it entirely in slick. Satoru would always let you know if he'd stay out later than midnight so you knew for sure that he'd be here shortly.

Closing your eyes you focused solely on the juices spewing out of your prepped up hole. You rubbed your clit until your knees trembled, thinking that using your fingers wouldn’t nearly give you enough of a stretch to feel good. This kept on for a while but as soon as you felt the space next to you sink, eyes shooting open you came face to face with an amused looking Satoru lying on his side with his face propped up and a shit eating grin on his face. It was no surprise though, you’d expect nothing less from a top class sorcerer, even after all these years he takes great pleasure in startling you. Noticing the abrupt pause he spoke,

“ Why’d you stop my sweet, you’re not embarrassed now right? I mean,” his sing song voice was light as he gently touch your folds to scoop a little bit of your slick on his sculpted fingers, “ you look waaay too eager for that”, punctuating his words by bringing his glistening digits near your face to show you your arousal. His grin widened noticing your lust blown eyes, parted lips that was begging to be kissed but no steamy session was complete without him teasing you to the brink of tears first.

He licked his moist fingers clean, knowing full well how his presence would make you self conscious he made himself comfortable in his spot,

“ Well y/n? Don’t hold yourself back on my account”, your core heated up a bit more when his fingers caressed your hand that was over your clit, using the two of your fingers he pried your folds wide open.

“Come on, Show me everything”, his whisper in your ear sent shivers all the way down to your pussy, ushering you to continue.

This was totally Satoru's kind of welcome back, his adorable horny wife splayed out on the bed, legs spread, and her dripping cunt aching to be filled. He could barely contain his member in his pants, hardening by the second as your light moans fill the room. Satoru’s uncovered ocean eyes roam freely over your body so as to not miss even a single movement made by it. Your faced twisting in a mix of shame and pleasure, his shirt on you clinging to your sweat slicked form and your parted lips. Everything looked so heavenly, tempting even and the taste would be too.

He brought his hardened cock near your throbbing pussy and pushed it in, revelling in the sensation of your walls clamping around it. The you took all him so easily was proof enough that the two of you went at it at every other opportunity. He wanted to pound you so bad, to take you from every way possible

His hands grabbed your hips, lifting them up all the way until only your shoulders rested on the mattress, the new position angled his already overwhelming length deeper into you.

“Ahh! It’s too deep”, you cried out, the tip of his cock threatening to push past your cervix, the mixture of pain added to the pleasure the stretch it provided. He immediately started moving, merciless in its pace as his each stroke made your breasts bounce to an agonising degree.

“That’s a good thing no? It needs to be like that to make a dirty girl like you cum.”, His steady voice matched his rhythmic thrusts as he went in and out of your cunt, the feeling of your combined juices dripping out all the way to your ass gave you goosebumps. The pace he set was painfully hard but you craved it, your abused pussy wanting each and every inch of his cock swallowed it eagerly.

In just a few minutes you could feel you orgasm approaching, intense as it started building up, it reached heights that you never could just by yourself. Your entire body stiffend as you shamelessly rolled your hips in sync to his heavy thrusts, crying out his name when the bolts of pleasure washed over you. Still coming back from your high you were too dazed to feel Satoru’s cock twitching inside you indicating his own release.

He pounded you more ferociously and with a couple of low grunts and praises, your husband shared the same sense of euphoria you did, his hot thick fluid filled your core to the brim. The intensity of the orgasm left him panting, making him put your limp body down on the bed and roll over to his side.

Basking in the afterglow had its own meaning for the both of you, lying side by side without exchanging words, or to be more precise, no words were needed when you connected in this way. His eyes, spent yet loving gazed into yours, unlike his everyday jovial nature, you could feel the sincerity exuding from them. This was the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with after all, no words were needed except for the most obvious ones that was a proof of your connection.

“Welcome back”.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #smut #gojou satoru #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #lemon #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x Reader #jjk x y/n

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kiyoominous · 3 years

Text

wishes (sakusa kiyoomi)

synopsis: sakusa doesn’t like making wishes, apparently they’re too childish. but he finds himself wishing that he never met you.

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi/reader

warnings: major character death, mention of hospitals

genre: angst, fluff if you squint, established relationship

a/n: i was listening to a lot of mitski when i wrote this :D click here for a youtube playlist to possibly listen to while you read!!!!! cross posted to ao3!

Sakusa wishes he never met you.

He’s never been one to invest in wishes. It makes sense with someone as no-nonsense, as practical, as logical as him. But life tends to push your boundaries and opinions and now he’s a believer, to his dismay.

He wishes he never said hello. He wishes his eyes never found yours. He wishes that he never sat next to you in high school and he definitely wishes he never asked to borrow a pencil.

“Of course!” you beamed brightly at him. Somehow, in amongst the sunny day, the smile on your face blinded him more than the light spilling into the classroom. But he didn’t mind.

Perhaps he got lost in the radiance of your face because he didn’t see the pastel pink mechanical pencil that was waving in front of him. He nervously snatched it from your hands and muttered a ‘thank you’ before quickly returning to his workbook.

He returned home that day, the gleaming image of you embossed in his mind. Reaching into his book bag, he found the mechanical pencil sitting right at the bottom of it. Oops.

The next day, he ran to your desk to dutifully hand your pencil back. It was slightly embarrassing to think that he was so consumed by your glow that he forgot to return what he borrowed. He had never felt himself stand more uprightly as he loomed over your seated form, graphite stick in hand.

“You can keep it, Sakusa. We’re friends now, right?”

Friends? The most he’d let himself call you was his classmate but sure, being friends sounded nice too.

He wishes he never let you speak to him, your intelligent words spilling like a fountain. He wishes he never heard you muse about language, culture, volleyball, anything really. He wishes he never heard the sound of your voice.

You were rambling on about something, Sakusa didn’t exactly remember what. Of course he was listening, it’d be rude of him not to. But he found himself tuning into the melodious noise of your voice rather than the words spill from your lips. He couldn’t help it, you had a way with his ears.

“Sakusa, are you listening to me?” you teased. The aforementioned boy nodded fervently but the sudden spring from his slouched form into a more poised position told you otherwise.

“You were talking about Latin or something.” he drawled lazily. You eyes widen in mock disbelief.

“Is that all you remember? Are you that bad of a listener?”

“Maybe you’re just boring.”

A moment of stunned silence and then a gasp.

“You are going to regret that, Mister Top Three in Japan.”

Sakusa felt a fist push into his arm. The sensation of the punch was so feather light so he thought that there was nothing to regret. Maybe he could get used to this. But not yet. It was too soon to think about a relationship. Or even holding hands.

He wishes he never looped his arms around your waist. He wishes he never soaked in the warmth of your embrace. He wishes he’d never been so close to you that the smell of your laundry detergent lingered in his nose.

First dates were nerve wracking. Sakusa thought it was ridiculous to feel so high-strung about dating, to feel nervous and shy and anxious. It’s just an outing, how bad could it really be? It’s a shame that he started to understand now instead of before all of this.

His hands were sweaty, his chest was pounding and his knees were wobbling. Really, his damn knees? All of this because the thought of having to touch you once in his life was sprinting through the back of his mind.

He knew you weren’t expecting him to kiss you at the end of the date. You were aware — and respectful — of his boundaries. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t feeling peer pressured by every romcom he had reluctantly watched with Komori to let his fingers brush against yours while you walked side by side.

It didn’t help that he wanted to do that either.

A gentle tap on his shoulder and you were staring up at him with puppy eyes he couldn’t resist. He hesitated before daintily wrapped his fingers around yours, pulling your intertwined hands into his pocket. It felt warm. You were warm. And now his body was warm. But it wasn’t warm enough, he wanted to hug you.

Wait, what? Pardon?!

With that, Sakusa felt his hand slip out of yours in favour of wrapping his strong arms around your figure, engulfing himself in your heat. Even with the biting cold, he thought that he didn’t need the jacket over his shoulders to keep him cozy. You were enough to set his heart ablaze, to let that fire warm up his entire body.

“Sakusa…” you gasped. Guess you were both just as surprised. He muttered something under his breath and you begged to hear it again.

“Call me Kiyoomi, please.” he repeated.

He inhaled the winter air and felt the bitter cold fly into his nose. He also noted the scent of fresh laundry detergent wafting amongst the chilly wind. Was he really letting himself be this close to you, so close that he knew the brand of detergent your mother used?

His agenda against physical contact nagged him but he didn’t care. Your touch was something he’d sacrifice his comfort for.

He wishes you never occupied his mind, he wishes you never meant so much to him, he wishes that he never loved you. He wishes that he never loved you because loving you brought him here, in his bed alone.

You were supposed to be there with him.

It was a shame that he loved loving you. He loved everything that you brought into his life. Your laugh, your smile, your terrible jokes. But he wishes he never let himself feel so comfortable with you that you knew him like the back on your hand. If he had just kept his damn mouth shut, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much when you weren’t around anymore.

It hurt so much to see you writhing in pain when he got home from practice. The second he saw you collapsed on the floor, his mind hyper focused on you and you alone. His usual shower session was ignored in favour of you.

It hurt so much to drive you to the hospital, to even think about your body lying on a stretcher or in an operating room. Sakusa ran through one too many red lights but he didn’t notice. He didn’t care. All that was running through his head was to step on the pedal, steer the wheel and make sure you came out of there alive.

Five torturous hours later and he learnt that you weren’t going to be breathing he saw you next.

It hurt so much to lower your casket into the ground, you face to never see the world again. His family, your family and all of your friends passed by, long hugs and pitiful apologies in tow. Everyone thinks that performative sympathy is going to help with the grief. It doesn’t.

Now you aren’t around to massage his back after a long day of practice, to listen to him whine about his teammates, to be the shoulder he leans on when he cries. Now Sakusa lies in bed alone, the bed you used to share with him, tightly grasping onto a pillow that he wishes could be you instead. He misses you.

He misses you.

The first few months were agonising. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Not even cleaning the house or playing volleyball or eating his comfort foods. You brightened even the dullest tasks in the world and now everything felt so bleak. It still does. The world around Sakusa felt so boring that he swore his vision lost its colour.

It took a miracle and the combined efforts of Komori and the Black Jackals to even get him out of his room.

He got better. After six months of a depressive episode, he pulled himself back into volleyball again. He had to, it was at least one thing he could do in your memory. Days and weeks and months passed and Sakusa saw his beloved sport as a distraction, as a safe haven from the absence of you. If he could, he’d distract himself with the real you instead.

The eventual push back into society didn’t mean that Sakusa was okay by any means. Some nights were easier, practice would tire him out so much that he’d be knocked out the second his body hit the mattress. Some nights proved to be not-as-easy, the sting of your passing pressed down on him like a weighted blanket. An unwanted weighted blanket.

Tonight is not one of those easier nights.

There’s an ache in his chest that he can’t shake off and there’s a rock in his heart that’s sinking it to the floor and there’s just so much pain coursing though his body. He’s never felt so sore before.

He hates feeling this sore.

A tingle rises in his chest and eyes and he knows he wants to cry but the water doesn’t fall. All he can do is heave heavy breaths and weep. Why does he have to live without you? Why? Breaking up with you would’ve been a breeze compared to your death, he thinks.

It’s been a year since his loss. He knows that he’s allowed to grieve for however long he needs but some voice in his brain whispers that he should be over it by now. Sakusa wishes that he’s not in so much pain, that his suffering wasn’t there to begin with, that you weren’t in his life to make him feel this tortured. But perhaps instead of wishing to rewrite the past, he should wish to be okay. He should wish that the memory of you doesn’t pain him anymore. He should wish that he can power through this without you because that’s what you’d want.

And so he does. He sits upright in his bed, closing his eyes in meditative thought.

I wish that this’ll be over soon.

I wish that I can return back to my life.

I wish that I’ll be okay.

So there’s not much of a likelihood that his wishes will be granted. So what? At the very least, he can finally feel the ache in his limbs and the tension in his shoulders and the tug of his heart slowly beginning to vanish.

He’s going to be okay.

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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

Text

Sweets (Soft Yandere! Jungkook)

You keep being visited by the most peculiar thief…

➵ in which jungkook steals your lip balm and perfume instead of talking to you, you leave a post-it note with your number on it for the strange thief who only seems to take the most inexplicable items and has a strange sense of responsibility for your wellbeing, and the cute boy in your photography class with the fluffy hair and the oversized sweater keeps getting more and more endearing…

➵ Warnings: Soft Yandere Jungkook, Breaking & Entering but without the Breaking, Reader is a bit of a ditz (lol sorry guys)

➵ Word Count: 4.2K

➵ Masterlist

“Hello, uh, I’d like to… report a crime?”

Your statement, which had always sounded suitably firm and assertive when you practised it in front of the bathroom mirror, ended with an unplanned upturn, making it sound more like a question than you would like.

“Please state your name and address, ma’am.”

You did so, listening anxiously to the tap of a keyboard as your information was filed away. The undoubtedly over-worked police officer on the other end of the line sounded like he was two seconds from falling asleep, and you questioned yourself for the millionth time over whether you really needed to report this or not.

“What is the nature of the crime you are reporting, ma’am?”

“Um… well…”

You twisted your hand into the fabric of your shirt self-consciously, trying to decide the best way to explain the strange little occurrences that had been surrounding your apartment over the last few months. You had not yet found a way to put it without sounding ridiculous, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.

“I, uh, I think someone’s breaking into my apartment and stealing things.”

“You have an intruder?”

“Uh huh,”

“…Are they currently in your residence?”

“No, I think… they come and take things when I’m not here and then they’re gone by the time I get back.”

“What items have been stolen?”

You bit your lip.

“I know it sounds silly, but…”

“No crime is too small to report, ma’am. We are committed to making the lives of everyday citizens safer.”

“Well… they’ve stolen my lip balm like… several times. I keep buying new ones and they keep being stolen after a week or so. And my perfume. And my hairbrush one time, and-”

“Ma’am,” The officer cut you off with the impatience you had been both anticipating and dreading ever since you decided to call the police, “Listen, we don’t have the capacity to deal with prank callers-”

“It’s not a prank call!” You blurted, a momentary burst of desperation overtaking you, “I- um, sorry for interrupting, officer, but this isn’t a prank call. Things have been going missing. I can’t afford to keep replacing my lip balm.”

A sigh crackled across the line, and you pictured the officer maybe taking off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose like those people in movies always seemed to do when they got frustrated. Personally, you had never found that it helped.

“Are you sure you aren’t just… misplacing them?”

You gasped, offended that even a stranger could think you so stupid. “No! I remember exactly where I leave things and then they just vanish! I swear!”

“Has anything of value ever been taken from your apartment?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, excited to be able to prove the officer wrong, “My bunny plushy! Mr Snuggles is extremely valuable to me!”

“…Monetary value, I meant. Has anything expensive ever been taken from your apartment?”

There was an embarrassing silence. The officer sighed again, with a little more exasperation colouring his tone.

“If anything significant is stolen, call us back. For now, just… be a bit more careful with your possessions.”

He hung up. You pressed your forehead against the wall and wished your strange thief had taken your phone in one of his little visits. Maybe then you would’ve avoided making that agonising call.

The next morning as you were leaving to go to class, you noticed a pile of discarded post-it notes on your desk — the remnants of a redbull-fuelled late night study session. Your newly purchased lip balm lay next to it. Impulsively, you grabbed a pen and scrawled a message on one of the post-its, sticking it horizontally to the curved surface of the lip balm tube.

it reads:

pls don’t take this i just bought it and this brand is actually v expensive and i am only a struggling college student with loans and chapped lips (。•́︿•̀。)

It might have been a little too polite considering it’s intended recipient was someone who had stolen multiple items from your apartment, but you figured there was no point in being rude. They probably wouldn’t even read it anyway.

You strolled out of your apartment, planning to pick up a smoothie on the way to your lecture, and promptly forgot all about it.

When you returned home to find a pile of newly bought lip balms on your desk — all embossed with the logo of your favourite brand — you were slightly puzzled. But, once you remembered the note you had left- well, the confusion didn’t exactly vanish, but at least you were given some context.

The note had disappeared, along with the lip balm you had used a scant few times. But, you didn’t understand what the thief’s aim was. Why on earth would they steal small things like lip balm and perfume? And why would they buy you new copies of the product? Wasn’t that counterproductive?

you’re very bad at your job

Your next note read, stuck to your fridge as you left to grab coffee with your study group. It remained there for a few days, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart sank a little each time you saw it hadn’t been taken.

After six days, when it finally vanished, you felt an odd sense of happiness bubble up within you. Yes, there was someone routinely breaking into your apartment, but at least now you had an open channel of communication with them. They had left a brand new bottle of your preferred perfume — which had been stolen at least twice before you stopped bothering to buy it because perfume is pricy — resting on your kitchen counter, beside a box of your favourite chocolates.

As you dug into the box later, snuggled in a blanket and having a Studio Ghibli film marathon, you didn’t even consider the fact that the sweets might be tampered with. If they wanted to kill me, they would’ve killed me already, you reasoned to yourself, sucking the icing sugar off your fingers. Nor did you question how they knew your favourite chocolate. If they broke into your apartment as much as you assumed they did, they probably knew you better than your own parents by now.

You were the very definition of a broke college student. As far as you were concerned, if this random stranger wanted to buy you things and sometimes clean up your apartment — you had definitely come back to a home tidier than you had left it more than once — then you certainly weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it was a little naïve of you, but… you had already called the police, and they hadn’t cared.

thank you for the perfume and chocolate <3

You wrote next morning, hesitating slightly before putting the heart. Before you could convince yourself not to, you scribbled another line underneath.

i wish you’d write back someday…

As you walked to class, you scolded yourself for the butterflies swooping in your stomach. They’re literally a criminal, you told yourself, Stop getting crushes on anyone who shows you the slightest bit of attention. You don’t even know their name.

Despite the small amount of common sense that you did have mocking you all day, you sat in classes and daydreamed about your mystery home intruder. Would they read the note? Would they be happy about your appreciation? Would they — you bit your lip — would they write back?

You felt like a dumb schoolgirl, excited by the prospect of a badly written love note shoved in her locker. And, like a school girl, you trudged back home with your arms weighed down by class work, a billion essays and quizzes that had to be completed overnight. Did your professors not realise you had a life outside of college? Not that you did, of course, but like… in principle.

You were so preoccupied with the coursework that you didn’t even notice the note stuck to your bedroom door. After an hour of studying, you rose wearily to start fixing yourself something to eat, and your eyes snagged on a flash of yellow.

You squeaked, almost falling over yourself in your rush to get to the door and read the note.

i’m glad you liked them. i’m sorry i took your things, that was mean of me. i tried to only take things you wouldn’t miss, but i guess that backfired… i just wanted to feel close to you. and these notes… are the closest i’ve ever been. i know that must sound weird, but… well. i’m a weird guy, i guess. i just liked hearing from you. that’s all.

~ koo <3

You didn’t stop freaking out for a full five minutes. After that, you poured over every detail of the letter, eager to extricate any fragment of knowledge possible. You ended up with a list which you scribbled down in your diary, above which you pasted the note.

The list went as follows:

They want to feel close to you

They have not talked to you before, since the notes are the closest they’ve ever been, but they must have seen you in person at least once

They are a he

(you adamantly did not get flustered about that)

and

4. He calls himself Koo

When you left your apartment the next morning, you placed your note on the exact same spot he had left his. An indirect touch.

hi koo !!!!!!!!

i was so excited to see you had written something!! you know, if you want to talk to me more often, there is an easier way…

Underneath you had scrawled your phone number, hastily and not allowing for regret before you flounced out of the apartment. The reason why you were in such a rush was because you were about to go to your favourite class: Photography 101.

You had taken it as an extra credit, something that interested you but not enough that you wanted to pursue it as a career. You had expected it to be fun, something artistic to break up the monotony of classes. What you had not expected was the dreamy boy who sat in the first row and had full possession of your heart.

You didn’t even know his name, but you were pretty sure you were half in love with him. With fluffy brown hair that fell over his forehead whenever he leaned over to scribble down notes, and cute bunny teeth that stuck out in a flustered smile whenever the professor praised his work in class, he was perhaps the cutest boy you had ever seen.

Though you were sure he had many girls sighing after him, he seemed to be really shy, only ever speaking in class when called on, and even then it was in a quiet, soft voice. He was kind of like you in that respect. But that was where your similarities ended.

Yes, you thought, sighing as you watched him pay avid attention to the professor’s lecture on the composition of frames, his cute doe eyes wide and twinkling like stars were embedded in the pupils, He is way out of my league.

It took three days for you to lose hope. You hadn’t received a text, nor had you found any notes left for you. You tried not to be disappointed, even as your traitorous sub-conscience mocked you for being able to scare away the one person who arguably paid you the most attention.

You didn’t really have many friends, and the ones you did have preferred each other over you, and often left you out of activities because of your shy nature. You guessed this whole thing had just been a way to feel like you actually mattered to someone, like, for once, someone cared about you, but-

You were pulled out of your musings as your phone chimed.

From: Unknown Number

[6:48 PM]

this is koo

The two of you texted every day, and soon enough you were hiding your phone underneath your desk in order to chat to him, keeping your phone on your person at all times in case koo wanted to talk. Of course, the only class you didn’t do this in was Photography, so you could spend a blissful forty-five minutes staring at the boy who played the role of your husband in all of your favourite daydreams.

Koo still broke into your house occasionally, and he still left you sweet, considerate gifts. Often, you would receive texts like this:

From: koo ✨

[3:24 PM]

sweets i’ve been checking your groceries and your vegetables are not being eaten as often as they should be

i know you have a sweet tooth and that’s cute but please try to stay healthy

To: koo ✨

[3:25 PM]

but i can’t cook all i know how to make is microwaveable mac n cheese :///////

You came back home that day to discover a bunch of Tupperwares full of pre-made healthy meals and a note stuck to the top of them.

try microwaving these :)

To: koo ✨

[3:01 AM]

koo are you awake?

From: koo ✨

[3:01 AM]

i am now

what’s wrong?

To: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

i can’t sleep :////////

From: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

sweets you need to go to bed

you have an early morning class

To: koo ✨

[3:02 AM]

i knowwwwww

i just… i can’t sleep without mr snuggles :((

From: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

Mr Snuggles??

???

To: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

my cuddly bunny :((((

i think you took him a while ago

could i maybe have him back…?

From: koo ✨

[3:03 AM]

Shit

i didn’t know you couldn’t sleep without him

[3:04 AM]

sweets im so sorry

To: koo ✨

[3:04 AM]

its okay koo

From: koo ✨

[3:04 AM]

no it isn’t

you’re loosing sleep because of me

fuck

i could… bring him to you?

To: koo ✨

[3:05 AM]

you’d do that?

…i could see you?

From: koo ✨

[3:05 AM]

no i’d leave him outside

you’d have to promise not to come out until i text you saying i’ve left

To: koo ✨

[3:06 AM]

but kooooo :(((((

From: koo ✨

[3:07 AM]

sweets

To: koo ✨

[3:07 AM]

okay :((((((((((

but i expect you to leave a big box of chocolates on my pillow for me to come home to tomorrow evening!!

From: koo ✨

[3:08 AM]

of course sweets <3

im gonna get going now

don’t look outside your apartment

To: koo ✨

[3:08 AM]

okay

From: koo ✨

[3:34 AM]

im gone and mr snuggles is waiting outside for you

he might have a little gift with him

You trudged outside your apartment, rubbing your eyes blearily, and looked down to see your beloved plushie clutching a single rose in its paws. You gasped, leaning down to pick up the flower gently, and you noticed all the thorns had been taken off. Koo must’ve removed them so that you didn’t accidentally hurt yourself.

You felt warmth flood you, drowning the butterflies in your stomach and replacing them with something much less fleeting, much less shallow.

It sunk into your bones, into your heart, into your breath as you sighed, squeezing your long-lost Mr Snuggles close to your face. He carried the familiar scent of nostalgia, but also something different, something sharper. You realised with a jolt that you were smelling Koo’s cologne.

You went back to bed, nuzzled your face into the plushy’s furry belly, and dreamed of fluffy brown hair and bunny smiles.

Though with Mr Snuggles’ help you were able to sleep wonderfully, you were only able to do so for four hours before your alarm jolted you back into early reality. Honestly, you were sorely tempted to just ditch class, but it was Photography, and if you missed your regular dose of the cute boy in the front row then you thought you might just crumble into dust.

You dragged yourself out of bed, pulling on your softest oversized hoodie — a gift from Koo which, now that you thought about it, smelled like the same cologne that Mr Snuggles did. You flushed at the thought of him giving you one of his hoodies to wear, though you couldn’t say exactly why that image charmed you.

You stumbled into the lecture, arms full of textbooks because you knew you wouldn’t have the energy to return back to your apartment to retrieve the relevant materials for your next class later in the day. Your excellent plan was to crash in the library directly after this, have a two hour power-nap, and then make yourself get up in time for Calculus.

You barely had the energy to listen to the professor droning on and on about… the perfect lense, or whatever. You allowed yourself the indulgence of tuning out, resting your chin on your palm and gazing dreamily at the boy in the front row. He was taking notes, as per usual. What a good student! You praised him in your head. I bet he has the best handwriting.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep within ten minutes. You were woken as the class concluded by the clamour of students grabbing their materials and the scrape of chairs as your classmates stood up, leaving you behind — the only one half-splayed across the desk in front of you.

You jerked upright, grabbing your stuff in one hand as you tried to tug on your bag, eventually succeeding with much struggle, only to drop it all again as soon as you stood up. You whimpered, watching helplessly as your textbooks fanned across the floor. You saw one of them split along the spine as it landed on an open page.

That cost me two hundred dollars, you thought absently, and I just chucked it down like a bouncy ball.

Suddenly, you glimpsed someone crouching down and gathering them all up into a sturdy pile. As he stood up, your vision was full of fluffy brown hair, errant strands falling into star-filled doe eyes.

Oh. Oh no.

“H-Here you are,” He murmured, passing you the pile gently, making sure you were able to take the weight before leaving them in your arms. When he leaned close to you, you breathed in a scent that was oddly familiar, and yet new at the same time. As his hands receded, his skin brushed against yours for a second and you swear your vision blanked out.

“Thanks,” You whispered, your gaze so firmly focused on the floor that you didn’t notice his flushed cheeks.

As soon as you got to the library, you whipped out your phone, all tiredness banished from your system by that momentous experience. You had talked to him.

To: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

koo i think im in love

From: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

what

with who

To: koo ✨

[8:47 AM]

this boy in my photography class

he’s just so-

[8:48 AM]

i can’t even explain it

i dropped my textbooks and he picked them up for me and i stg i almost cried

From: koo ✨

[8:48 AM]

wait

seriously??

To: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

yeah i cry at like the drop of a hat

From: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

no-

cute

but i mean

that’s who you’re in love with?

To: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

yeah?

From: koo ✨

[8:49 AM]

gray sweater

[8:50 AM]

big eyes

tall-ish

that’s him???

To: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

OMG YOU’RE IN MY PHOTOGRAPHY CLASS AREN’T YOU

From: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

WHAT

IM NOT

To: koo ✨

[8:50 AM]

OMGGGGGGG

YOU SAW HIM HELP ME SO YOU MUST BE IN MY CLASSSS

[8:51]

okay!

are you the frat guy who always comes in hungover???

no judgement

From: koo ✨

[8:51 AM]

To: koo ✨

[8:52 AM]

are you the guy who only ever wears knitwear???

From: koo ✨

[8:52 AM]

To: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

…are you the professor?

From: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

NO!!!!!

oh my god lets just meet up or something before i explode

To: koo ✨

[8:53 AM]

WAIT

ARE YOU SERIOUS????

From: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

…you’re that excited to meet me?

To: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

OF COURSE I AM

OH MY GODDDD

WHEN?

From: koo ✨

[8:54 AM]

now?

i can meet you at the campus coffee shop in like five minutes?

To: koo ✨

[8:55 AM]

five minutes???

that’s not enough time koo i have to go home and pick out something pretty to wear !!

From: koo ✨

[8:55 AM]

it doesn’t matter what you wear, you’re always beautiful to me

To: koo ✨

[8:56 AM]

you

you think im

b-beautiful

: ’ ))))))))))

From: koo ✨

[8:57 AM]

…

haha see you there!!

To: koo ✨

[8:57 AM]

GET BACK HERE WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT THIS-

You sat on an empty table, fiddling with the tea bag tag which hung over the side of your mug. You had bought Green Tea as an effort to calm yourself down so you weren’t too anxious to meet Koo, but it hadn’t worked because you were impatient and sipped it too soon so now you were sat there nursing a burnt tongue like an idiot.

You knew it was irrational to be self-conscious. He already knew who you were, and seemed to like you, it was just you that was in the dark. You went over the possible people Koo could be, mentally cycling through the boys in your photography class. It was an annoyingly large class, which meant he would be anyone from the guy who smelled like Funyuns to-

Fluffy-haired boy strolled into the coffee shop and you let out an involuntary sigh. He seemed to be cheerful, a smile exposing his bunny teeth and making his cheeks bunch up adorably, with like, five different sets of dimples poked into them. You had never agreed more with the saying that dimples were caused by an angel’s kiss.

Well, at least I’ll have something nice to look at while I wait, you thought, just before all your thoughts suddenly tipped out of your head when you realised he was walking towards your table.

“Is this seat taken?” He grinned, before sliding into the seat across from you.

You whimpered, and his smile grew devastatingly wider.

“Hi,” He breathed, before his gaze flickered down to your mug of tea, clutched so tightly in your hands that you worried the ceramic might shatter. “You didn’t get hot chocolate? I thought you had a sweet tooth?”

“Uhm-” You choked, before forcing yourself to get a grip. How would Koo feel if he walked in here and saw you sitting with another guy? “I’m actually- I’m waiting for someone. Sorry.”

If it was possible — and it certainly seemed to be — the boy’s grin broadened even more, his eyes crinkling into adorable half-moons.

“Is that so? Is he your boyfriend?”

“No!” You blurted, before flushing profusely. The boy across from you seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the display. “I mean- uhm, I don’t know. Maybe? This is our- this is our first actual meeting.”

“Oh?” The boy tilted his head, “Really? How exciting.”

You hummed in agreement, eyes fixed on your slowly cooling beverage. You raised it to your mouth to take a hesitant sip and- nope, still too hot. You whined quietly, rubbing your sore tongue against the inside of your cheek to try and soothe it.

“Oh, sweets,” The boy murmured across from you, and you were too distracted to notice the nickname. He plucked the mug out of your hands and placed it on the other side of the table, as if he was trying to make sure it couldn’t hurt you anymore. “Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the campus infirmary?”

“Wha- no, it’s okay,” You mumbled, lisping slightly on your burnt tongue and blushing when he cooed over you, “It’s- I’m waiting here for someone, and- I mean, I don’t even know your name-”

“It’s Jungkook,” He interrupted cheekily, deliberately ignoring the rest of your statement, “Some people call me Kookie, and really special people call me… Koo.”

Oh. Oh.

Fuck.

“Really special people?” You asked, your voice small, and not because of the burn.

“Well, people…” Jungkook- Koo paraphrased, tilting his head slightly, “I guess it would be more accurate to say… one really special person.”

“Really?” You breathed, and Jungkook leaned over the table, close enough that you could smell his cologne, the same scent embedded in the fabric of your hoodie- his hoodie.

“The most special person.” He murmured, the fervent emotion packed in each word speaking louder than any increase of volume could.

You had never been anyone’s most special person before, but, as you looked into Jungkook’s chocolate eyes, you started to believe you could almost taste it, sticky sweet on your lips. And when Jungkook eventually, finally coaxed your lips in a gentle kiss, you let him in, and found out that happiness tastes reassuringly honey-sweet.

#bts fanfiction #Yandere bts #soft yandere bts #yandere jungkook #soft yandere jungkook #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts scenarios #yandere kpop #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #bts jungkook imagines #bts Jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook

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time-eclipse · 3 years

Text

Gymnopedie No.1 (Donna Beneviento X reader)

You had known Donna Beneviento since you were both very young children. You never separated from her side. You loved her with all your heart and you promised your insecure friend that you would never leave her.

You had been there for her through out the death of her family. It was a dark time filled with nothing but heartbreak and sadness. Then Mother Miranda showed and she, for whatever reason, didn't approve of you seeing Donna. Donna begged Mother Miranda to let you stay once the feathered woman had adopted the young Beneviento. And after years of constant begging, Mother Miranda couldn't keep you apart. So, she gave in. You were extremely grateful that Mother Miranda had accepted. If you went home they would call you awful names because of your disability.

How you got the disability? You were walking in the village but you were attacked by one of the lycans before you could react. It managed to scratch your face before it was shot by Lucy, one of the members of the village. Unfortunately, the event left you blind. Lucy helped you back to the Beneviento Manor.

Donna was extremely stressed when she saw you and Lucy at her door, you bleeding out in front of her. Her shaking hands trembled as she took you from Lucy and thanked her quietly. Donna stayed with you that night. Holding you close. Her last human friend was nearly killed... And she couldn't do anything. You repeatedly that dreadful night. All the years you were there for her and she could finally be there for you.

Now here you are. Sitting in a carriage with your friend, on the way to the Dimitrescu castle. You placed your hand on top of Donna's when you felt were it was. She squeezed it. "Are we there yet!?" Angie, Donna's doll, complained. Donna sighed. "Donna!!" Angie huffed. "Fine I'm gonna sit on Blake's knee!" She hissed and you felt movement beside you before a small amount of weight on your knee making you chuckle fondly.

Donna squeezed your hand tighter. "What's wrong, Donna?" You asked with worry in your voice.

Donna pulled her hand away making you frown. "Nothing is wrong... I'm sorry. Just promise me something?" she question softly as always. Her voice was a gentle piano to you. It soothed you in every way.

You took noticed that Angie had stilled and was extremely quiet. It caught you off guard and put you on edge. "Yes?" you said, preparing yourself for what the veiled woman would say.

"Blake, promise me... That you won't leave me." She said and retook your hand tightly. Almost possessively. You took in a breath. This sounded like more of a beg than a request. You smiled putting your doubts in a jar.

You put your hand over your heart and swore to her. You would never leave Donna. No matter what life threw at you.

The carriage stopped when you arrived. You notice that Donna began to sweat slightly. The slight shake in her hand was enough to tell you that she was nervous. "We can wait a minute if you like?" you offered. Donna looped her arm in yours.

"No.. Its alright. We just need to go and eat then hopefully leave after I take Lady Dimitrescu's measurements." she replied and held you closer. Heat rose to your cheeks. You mentally scowled yourself. Donna didn't like you back... You were just friends and how it hurt.

You could hear... Nothing. Everything was deadly silent. Too silent. It made you pull Donna and Angie towards you. You heard Donna take in a shallow breath when your hand touched her hips. Your blush grew in embarrassment and you changed your hand position.

You could smell blood lingering in the air. Donna had informed you about all the Lords. Dimitrescu was the one family name that you were the most scared of.

Donna took the lead and lead you to the doors of the castle. "Donna!" a voice rang making you jump. "You came and you brought a guest!" you noticed Donna tighten her grip on you. Any tighter and you would have burst.

Angie wiggled away from your grip and you heard her patter away. "This is Lady Blake! She's Donna's best friend!! But don't you dare forget I'm better than her, tall one!" Angie shouted like an angry squirrel.

"My name is Lady Dimitrescu, doll!" the voice, Lady Dimitrescu, hissed in a bitter tone. Angie laughed and walked back over to you. Donna had told you about Lady Dimitrescu and her short temper but her incredibly tall height. You were also told that the lady Dimitrescu and Heisenberg didn't get on well... Didn't get on at all. "If you'd like to follow me, Donna, we'll have dinner first then you can take my measurements." she said and led the three of you to... Somewhere else.

Right away, you could smell all kinds of food. You hears some buzzing in the background. Donna took you to a chair and sat beside you. Immediately, you very subtlety began to feel around to get used to your new surroundings.

The buzzing got louder. Until you felt a hand on your shoulder. "Mother! You didn't tell us that Donna had a human pet!" A voice chuckled in your ear. You shivered a little. "she is so pretty mother!" the same voice laughed in kind. "What's your name, little one? Mine is Bela!" she said and touched you shoulder.

You smiled slightly. "My name is Blake" you replied. Then the two of you jumped into a pleasent conversation. You had to explain to her about your disability. The young dimitrescu was surprising very supportive and kind to you. Dinner was a blast! You and Bela got along really well. Perhaps a little too well...

Something wasn't right. You felt someone glaring at you. Like sharp daggers were been thrown at you. The only problem was that you couldn't tell who. "I think I should take your measurements now, Alcina!" Donna suddenly snapped. It made you jump. You had never heard Donna so angry before. It scared you. It was so out of character for her. Lady Dimitrescu hummed and you heard the clicking of heels walk far into the distance. Did you do something wrong?

°°°

When you returned to the Manor, no one said a word. Not even Angie. It put you on edge. You hated it. You couldn't sleep that night. Donna or Angie didn't even say goodnight to you! That hurt like a tone of bricks.

The next day you walked around the Manor with frightened eyes. "D-donna? Angie?" you stuttered. You had been calling them all morning. Why didn't they come to you? Donna would normally be by your side in less than a minute.

For the next few weeks you felt lonely. Like there was a heavy cloud hanging over your head. You heard shuffling in the background. You had assumed that it was just Donna's dolls but you heard footsteps. Real human footsteps. "Donna!?" You called out desperately. The footsteps stopped. It became agonising so that she was avoiding you. You burst into tears. You didn't know what you did wrong! "Donna? Please?" you begged between a torn sob. There was no reply but you did feel a little wooden hand against your arm. "Angie?" you said hopefully.

"Are you okay, Blakey?" Angie asked. You could actually hear the concern in her voice. It surprised you a little. You were expecting something sarcastic like 'Why such the sour face, B?' you were glad that the doll was actually concerned about your wellbeing.

You didn't answer. You couldn't. All you could think about was Donna. Did she hate you? No... Donna doesn't hate anyone... But then why the silent treatment? It was going to drive to you mad. She had never been angry with you. With a deep cry, you stood and ran back to your room. Angie shouted after you but to fail.

Once in your room, you began sobbing deeply into your pillow. You decided that you wanted to listen to some music. You felt around for your favourite CD and began to blast some depressing songs. Some were gentle and reminded you of Donna. It made you sob louder and louder until....

There was creak. You assumed it was the door. "Blake?" you immediately recognised the gentle voice. Donna! You flung up and called her name in hope. You felt weight beside you. Delicate hands wrapped around your form. "I-" you cut her off with a sob.

"What did I do, Donna?" you asked through your tears. "Why are you mad at me? Please tell me so I can fix it!" you begged, your voice breaking in several places. You noticed Donna tense. You hugged her close. Not wanting to let go of your friend. Wow... You never noticed how much the word 'friend' stung before.

Donna slowly relaxed and touched your cheek. "I wasn't mad..." She mumbled, pulling you closer. "I was scared." she admitted. Your brows furrowed and you were about to say something when she caught you off. "I didn't want you to leave me..." a sniffle came from Donna. In that moment, you had forgotten about all your saddeness. Donna mattered to you. You didn't want her to be sad You felt then reached for her veil. She pulled away. You frowned. She grabbed your hand and held it close to her heart. "I can't let you leave... You're all I have left. When I saw you and Bela..." a realisation hit you. You felt so stupid.

"Donna, I couldn't leave you even if I wanted to... You mean the world to me!" You promised and removed her veil before she had time to react. "Lady Donna Beneviento, I-" you stopped and choked on your words. You were scared to tell her. However, when she placed her hand on your cheek, you knew you had to tell her. "Donna... I love you..." you squeezed your eyes. "You are my world..." you finished and let the tears fall.

You expected something harsh in return. More silent treatments. However, you felt Donna weave her fingers through your hair. You leaned into her gentle embrace. You felt safe. Suddenly, you were pulled forward and your lips crashed onto hers. They were soft and tasted like cherry. She let you lead the kiss. Neither of you had ever done this with anyone before. You could feel her smile against your lips. "I love you too, My doll." she muttered shyly once you had both pulled away.

"ABOUT TIME!" Angie squealed happily while, you assumed, clapping her tiny wooden hands. You jumped slightly before laughing it off. Donna sighed deeply and pulled you closer to her. You smiled and cuddled closer. "LET ME IN!!!!" Angie hissed and snuggled in between the both of you. This was your little family and no harm would come to it for as long as you remained.

++++

Any requests? Let me know.

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #angie beneviento #resident evil #re8 village #lady dimitrescu #Reader needs a hug

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se0kie · 4 years

Text

heat of the moment- knj (m)

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: pwp, it’s pure smut i’m so sorry

established relationship, werewolf!joon, classic heat trope

warnings: *deep breath* let’s see if i can get it all?? dom!knj, sub!reader, heat sex, possessive sex, marking, biting, nipple play, pussy eating, fingering, squirting, choking, rough handling, dirty talk, degradation, use of bitch/whore/slut, multiple orgasms, impreg kink, breeding kink, creampie, cumplay, mentions of blood, namjoon has a big cock (duh)

tagging @ironicarmy fellow microtip pen enthusiast ^3^

not edited oop so you’re just gonna have to ignore the shitty mistakes

summary: you love your werewolf boyfriend, heightened senses and all. you’ve also begged him to let you help him through his agonising heats that torture him every month but the overprotective man he is, he will absolutely not let you near him when he’s so feral. but now he’s standing outside your door and asking to fuck a baby into you. are you ready for that wild ride?

a/n: i have no explanations for this behaviour. this is like 0 plot and all filth, I am so sorry. Horrific overuse of ellipses and uhhhhh,,,,, yeah it’s a product of my inner whore thirsting for Namjoon that’s about it.

You had been having a quiet evening to yourself, safe in the knowledge that your werewolf boyfriend was out on a hunt with his buds and all your work had been done and dusted. You were free to have a peaceful weekend all to yourself filled with self care and trashy movies.

Your dear boyfriend, Kim Namjoon, you had met him in college when he was a senior and you were just a bubbly new freshman.

You had instantly clicked and went forth to become the closest pair in all of Saint Wilson’s Arts University.

Enamoured by his height and intellect since the very first interaction, you had spent a whole year and a half crushing on him like a fourteen year old schoolgirl.

He had told you about his supernatural genes a week before asking you out on a date. And you had been together since.

Werewolves and vampires weren’t unknown to you, you were aware of their existence, but you had never thought that you would meet one.

You adjusted to Namjoon’s wolf characteristics better than you thought possible.

Sure he was warm like a furnace, and yeah he did have a terrible habit of spending hours scenting you so that anyone within 50 feet of you would know you’re taken.

Despite his somewhat difficult behaviour you loved him with every fibre of your being. He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky and he swore he would give you anything your heart desired.

Well... except one thing.

Ever since you had been told about the mating behaviour of werewolves and the monthly period of sexual craze that they were subjected to, you had wanted to help Joon out with his.

You had seen documentaries and read papers on the topic. You had learned everything there was to know about werewolf behaviour yet their strange heats boggled your mind more than anything else.

The sheer amount of pain and need that they felt every single month for a whole week, it saddened you to know that you could be helping your boyfriend out but he wouldn’t let you.

Instead choosing to tie himself up with heavy, blessed chains and have his six best friends keep watch.

You had given up after trying for a year straight, deciding that he would entrust you with helping him with his heats when he was comfortable with the idea.

Namjoon was a big man, standing tall at 6 feet with broad shoulders, heavy biceps and sculpted legs, he was scared of hurting you while giving in to his most primal instincts to claim you.

He had chosen you as his mate, his one love for his one life, and being the alpha’s son it was harder for him to control his needs.

So being near fragile, human you when all he could think of was sinking his fangs into your neck and breeding you was out of the question.

Coming back to your peaceful evening, you had just cuddled up with your fluffy blankets and a mug of hot cocoa when you heard the bell ring, the shrill noise resounding through your home.

You weren’t expecting anyone but knowing how impulsive your friends were you got up to open the door nonetheless.

Imagine your surprise when you see your giant of a boyfriend standing outside the threshold of your home, sweat dripping down his large body as he radiated heat.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Joon? What happened? Weren’t you out on a hunt, are you hurt?!”

Concern washed over you as you scanned his frame to look for any possible wounds.

Namjoon shook his head, movements tight and controlled, “No Y/N, I’m fine. I had to leave the hunt halfway.”

“What? Why?” you questioned.

“My heat arrived early.”

Oh.

“Ohhhh...” you thought to yourself as realisation sank into you.

“Joon, sweetie is it okay for you to be here? Did you need something before the isolation?” You couldn’t fathom why he would be here if his heat was upon him.

Unless...

No, he wouldn’t. You shouldn’t get your hopes up.

Suddenly you realised that he was still standing outside your shared apartment like a stranger, you stepped aside gesturing at him to come in.

As he stepped inside you closed the door. You noticed how his movements were stiff and rigid, an aura of tension clouding him.

“Is it alright for you to be back home, Joon?” you said softly, “Y’know, considering your uh... situation?”

You could hear his breathing in the silent room; slow, deep and controlled.

“Y/N, what if I told you that I wanted to mark you right now?” he said in a sudden rush.

You heard your sharp inhale, the question surprising you. But you knew the answer already, it was easy.

“I’d let you. Why?” You said without hesitation, carefully selecting your words you asked, “Do you want to?”

“I wasn’t expecting my heat to arrive this early, I had no idea why it happened in the middle of a hunt... But then I understood when I was standing outside the door.”

He said, “Y/N you’re ovulating.”

“Oh... wow, Joon are you trying to say what I think you’re saying?”

He looked at you as if he was calculating what to say next so as not to scare you away from him.

“Y/N, my wolf refuses anyone else, I know you know of how I used other bitches from the pack to keep myself sated during my previous hunts,” he said casually, the word bitch had very different connotations for humans and werewolves you had come to know.

You could feel your heart twinge in jealousy.

It was a sensitive topic for you, on one hand you really wanted Namjoon to be as comfortable and safe during his heats even if it meant sleeping with someone else; but it also really, really hurt to picture him in bed with the other gorgeous women of his pack.

You were insecure of your mundane genes, often comparing yourself with the strong and fierce she-wolves who had helped your boyfriend through his heats.

Namjoon spoke softly, “The past few months my wolf has been rejecting anyone who isn’t you. He wants to mate you, mark you as ours. Your ovulation must’ve sped up my heat. I can’t go on anymore without making you mine Y/N... for good.”

You were feeling strangely warm, you had obviously had sex with your boyfriend but you knew heat sex was in an entirely different league of its own.

All you could do now was nod your consent.

Namjoon stepped towards you, hands reaching out to capture your waist as his head lowered to your face.

His cheek grazing against yours, his lips brushed your earlobe as he mumbled into your ear, “Let me fuck a baby into you, Y/N. Let me breed you, please.”

You whined unconsciously at his words. Your belly warm and heat seeping through your panties. You whispered back, “Y-yes.”

With a swift change in demeanour his lips came crashing down to yours, large and calloused hands grabbing roughly at your hips as if afraid to let you go.

He growled into the kiss, his usually soft lips now tasting different because of the sheer dominance that radiated off of him.

His tongue swept against yours, making you moan wildly into his mouth, your own smaller hands grabbing onto his broad shoulders, fingers finding purchase in the thick, soft hair that curled gently at the nape of his neck.

His hand roamed south to the flesh of your ass as he cupped them with his hands and squeezed a cheek, tearing a gasp from your mouth at the surprising gesture.

Begrudgingly he pulled away from the kiss, releasing soft pants courtesy of your little makeout sesh, “Y/N I’ll ask you again, sweetheart. Are you absolutely sure you want me to mark you?”

You didn’t know if you had it in you to verbally say it, so you nodded shyly.

One of his hands came up to your chin as he gently angled your face upwards to gaze directly into his eyes.

“Use your words angel, a nod isn’t consent,” he rasped.

“I want you, Joon,” you whimpered as your eyes fell to the floor once again, unable to face your boyfriend as you openly declared your need for him.

“I want to be yours, only yours.”

You felt, rather than saw the smile creeping onto his expression.

He cupped the backs of your thighs as he hoisted you up to wrap your legs around his waist. His bulge pressing against your core. You whimpered at the soft brushes of his crotch against your clothed clit with each step he took towards your bedroom.

You giggled, the rush of hormones making you feel lightheaded as you whispered into his ear, “You grew really fast, Joonbug. Happy to see me?”

Namjoon chuckled under his breath as he looked at the spot where your cores met, and then when he brought his gaze up to meet yours you could see the shift in personality.

Your little puppy was gone. This man right here in front of you was all wolf.

He smirked at you before he answered softly, “That’s just half-hard, angel.”

Your eyes grew comically wide, surprise etched onto your expression as you once again looked down to the bulge in his trousers.

That’s what it usually looked like when you fooled around before.

You looked back up at him with questioning as he answered your unasked question, “I... change, during my heats. A lot of things about my body are going to be different when I’m like this. But I promise I’ll be very, very gentle.” He said with a soothing smile. His voice calming you down even when loaded with lust.

Slowly his arms fell to your sides as he brought your (his) sweatshirt over your head and threw it aside, followed by your shorts and then your panties.

It felt weird, being naked in front of a fully clothed Namjoon. But it also somehow made you feel safe, as if you could trust him with every piece of yourself.

Namjoon then laid you down on the bed, his hands travelling from your neck down to your heaving breasts.

His mouth working at your jaw as his skilled hands massaged the flesh of your chest, palming your nipples as his fingers tweaked and pulled at the stiff peaks.

He kissed the spot at the base of your throat that had you gushing wetness out onto the sheets. His fingers skimmed across your stomach as he finally, finally touched your core, drawing a surprised gasp from you.

His middle finger swept across your sensitive nub as he spread your juices around, stroking it and sending jolts of pleasure through your nerves.

Two fingers sank into your warm opening as he gasped at the feeling of your tight grip around him. Slowly pushing them in, in an attempt to prepare you for what’s to come.

You could hear the wet, squelching noises emanating from your cunt as Namjoon’s fingers fastened their pace.

He was having trouble tearing his gaze away from the view, his thick fingers thrusting into your pretty, quivering pussy. Creamy juices flowing down your thighs as you gasped his name softly in a medley of moans and whimpers.

You tried to straighten out your legs to cope with the intense pleasure building at the pit of your belly, warmth flowing through your body as you felt yourself get closer to that familiar edge.

Namjoon’s fingers curled as the tips grazed against the spot inside you that had you seeing stars every time.

You could vaguely make out the sound of his voice, as if you were listening through glass, “Cum for me, angel. Feel my fingers inside your filthy, little cunt and cum for me.” That was all it took for the dam inside you to burst as you groaned in pleasure. Your cunt quivering around your boyfriend’s fingers as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

The both of you waited a few moments, listening to each other’s breathing when you sat up straight and leaned foward to whisper in his ear, “Come on, it’s my turn to help you out.”

Namjoon, to your surprise, shook his head in refusal. “If you suck me off I’ll finish in ten seconds and the only place I’m cumming tonight is in your pussy, baby girl.”

You could feel the goosbumps rising on your arms at his words. He reached out and pushed you down once again, “I’ve got to prepare you well if you’re gonna take my cock, sweetheart,” he said as he ran his fingers down your torso, “So lie back, and let me taste you.”

You could feel him grinning against your thighs, his hot breath on your messy cunt making you shiver in anticipation.

His tongue swiped a kitten lick up and down your lips as a single finger pressed against your abused clit. The warm and wet appendage nudging at your opening as you gasped at the sensation.

You reached down to your boyfriend’s head between your thighs and roughly grasped strands of his hair in an attempt to cope with the overstimulation.

Soft, long strokes against your core sending shocks down to your toes as you arched your back against the sheets. Already reeling from your previous orgasm you could feel yourself reaching the end once again, much faster this time.

You felt incredibly hot, sweat forming on your forehead as Namjoon teased your clit with his mouth, gently nipping the bud with his teeth.

His hot tongue poked at your entrance and ever so gently eased in, his nose bumping against your bundle of nerves making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

He looked up at you with his mouth still on your core, smirking and the next thing you knew you were bursting with pleasure, hot liquid splashing on your thighs as your legs jerked violently through your climax.

You could hear Namjoon’s faint chuckles, “Whoa Y/N, did I just make you squirt?” You blushed and covered your eyes with your fingers to escape his shit-eating grin. But his strong arms pulled your much smaller hands away from your face as he sat up towards you and attacked your neck once again.

His soft, plump lips mouthing at your collarbones as he drew marks across the skin. Blood red splotches that were sure to turn purple the next day. Namjoon murmured softly, “You’re mine. All of you, it’s all mine. Isn’t it, Y/N?”

You hummed in respone as you threw your head back and relished in the feeling of his breath on your neck as he bit and marked you to his desire.

He pulled back after what felt like minutes, the faint light of the moon creating a halo behind his back.

His large frame towering over yours as he spread your legs with a grip on your thighs.

He rushed to pull his t-shirt off his sculpted torso as you fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, helping him to discard the last piece of clothing keeping you from him.

The sight of his naked cock drew an audible gasp from you, it was double the size you were used to and angry red in colour. The weeping slit at the head thoroughly wetting his shaft with precum.

Namjoon touched your cheek gently to calm you, he rubbed his cock up and down your messy cunt. You leaned into his palm as he finally nudged at your opening.

You tried hard not to scream as he pushed the rest of it in, pain and pleasure intermingling as you felt like you were losing your virginity all over again.

He leaned his face down close to yours and whispered, “It’s okay, angel. Relax, take your time and get used to me, okay?”

You mumbled a small, “Mhm, okay.” Your voice straining as you felt like you were being split open. Minutes flew by and gradually you grew used to Namjoon’s size and girth inside you.

You mumbled, “You can move now, Joon.”

You could see the result of holding himself back in his expression and the way his arms shook around you.

You knew being so close to you and still not going feral was extremely difficult for him, let alone impossible for younger wolves.

But you also knew that he would never do anything to hurt you, even if it meant depriving himself of his most primal instincts instead of fucking you senseless.

He nodded in response and gave you an experimental thrust. You couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. His cock was so large you were stuffed full with no escape.

But you wanted more. You were done with being treated like a glass doll, you wanted him to let go and fuck you like he would any other she-wolf from his pack.

“I thought werewolves were tougher than this when they fucked. Or is it just you who’s scared to hurt me?” you piped up, feeling unusually feisty.

Namjoon looked up at you, his eyes piercing into yours, expression hardening upon hearing your remark. “You wanted to fuck a werewolf so bad,” he spoke softly, “Well then, take it like a big girl, Y/N.”

He thrust into you exceptionally hard, your body moving up against the mattress because of the force. His deliciously thick cock dragging against the soft, wet muscles of your cunt as he buried his nose into the crook of your neck.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull while you tried to process the immense pleasure running through you. Namjoon’s hands gripping your thighs, his balls slapping against your ass as he pushed his cock in and out of you.

You could feel every ridge, every nerve of Namjoon’s cock plunging into your pussy.

The squelching, wet noises emanating from your sex making you feel even more perverse, the obscene sounds filling your ears as you turned wetter by the second at the feel of his blunt cockhead buried deep inside you, massaging the spot that made you see stars.

Pleasure shooting through your veins and warming your belly as you felt the mixture of your juices and his precum slide down your thighs and the cheeks of your ass.

Rough, calloused hands gripping at the soft flesh of your hips with such force you were sure to find purple bruises littered the next day.

“J-joon, please make me cum. I wanna cum so bad, I can’t take it anymore! Please!” you garbled through the impact of his powerful thrusts, the sheer speed and force slamming you back into the bed with each movement of his hips.

You could hear him chuckle in your ear, the bastard.

“Tsk-tsk Y/N, be a good girl for me. You’ll cum when I want you to.” He grunted, “For now, you’re just gonna have to take it.”

A whine of frustration left your lips, the sinful noises combining with Namjoon’s almost painfully big cock assaulting your poor pussy.

You could hear your boyfriend whisper above you, “I wish you could look at your pussy right now. Oh god you’re so swollen, you’re dripping all over my cock like the little cumslut you are, waiting for me to give you my seed.”

You clenched around his cock at the thought of being filled with cum.

His cum.

“Fuck! You just got so much tighter, angel. You like that, huh? You want me to fuck my cum into you, breed you like my obedient little bitch? Gonna fill you up with my cum so you can carry my pups, my pretty little whore.”

You whined at his words, just the image of your poor, abused cunt filled with his thick cum had you salivating.

To your surprise, he had you flipped over and onto your stomach in the matter of a second.

Your ass raised instinctively while he gripped your hips with one hand with the other secure on your neck, squeezing just lightly enough to let you breathe but tight enough for you to know who owned you.

His hips snapped into yours rhythmically, his groans falling like music in your ears. Your tits bounced against your chest with each thrust he threw upon you. His balls slapped against your clit with every rough thrust, adding more to your already throbbing core.

You could feel the hot tears run down your cheeks, the overwhelming pleasure becoming too much for you to process.

The luxurious ache returning to your core you moaned his name without a care for who listened.

You could feel his hot breath nearing your neck as he drew his face close to your shoulder.

His teeth sank into the flesh as you screamed in pleasure and pain. Searing hot shocks ran through your veins as Namjoon licked at the thin rivulets of blood running down your skin. The tears flowing once again as you gasped from the thrusts.

The thought of being marked and belonging to your man had you squeezing against the large cock inside you. Namjoon had stood you up so now your back was pressed up against his hard chest while he pistoned into your thoroughly used cunt.

The hand that was once at your hip came down to rub at your neglected clit as you gasped and moaned in pleasure, the incredible pressure inside you building rapidly. His hand at your throat gently squeezing, just the way you liked it.

Namjoon’s fingers were furiously rubbing at your nub using your combined juices as lube. You had barely the energy to mumble, “Joon, I-I’m cumming! Please, baby I wanna cum so bad, please let me cum!”

You knew you sounded pathetic but to your fortune Namjoon was close to his end too, his grip having gone considerably harsher and cock largened even more inside you.

“Let go for me, slut.” he growled into your ear as you crashed once again, this time even harder thanks to the added stimulation, knowing that you were marked and now rightfully intertwined with the love of your life.

Namjoon came with a grotesque growl, hot, thick cum spurting inside you as he laid you down once again.

Hovering over you as he shot rope upon rope of his seed inside your warm, welcoming cunt.

After a minute when he was sure he was all drained out he removed his cock and instead plugged two fingers inside you, saying with an apologetic, “Gotta make sure we don’t spill.”

You giggled at his strange, instinctive behaviour.

“You know that’s not how it works, don’t you?” you said with a tired smile.

He looked at you with overwhelming love and tenderness, that favourite smile of yours painting across his beautiful face.

“Wolf habits die hard, I guess?”

#bts smut #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #btswritingcafe #bts namjoon #kim namjoon au #kim namjoon smut #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #werewolf!namjoon #werewolf!bts #bts rm #se0kie

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

Text

Fighting Blind, pt 19

Masterlist here ~ thank you @heatherbel for the beta!!

Warnings: shameless angst.

I sleepwalked back to my apartment. The noises of London made me jump at first, my movements jerky. Had I locked up the storeroom? The museum staff entrance? I didn’t know.

I didn’t much care.

I had lain on the floor of the storeroom for some time, clutching the axe. Sobbing my throat raw. Willing it to send me back to before. Willing it to let me look into Pero’s eyes just one more time.

Willing whatever magic that it had before to let me hold him, just for a moment, feel his heart beat, bury my face in his neck. Hear his voice.

Just one more time.

I didn’t remember taking off my filthy robes and changing into the spare outfit I kept in my locker for nights out. The nylon fabric felt incongruous; I’d become used to thick, soft robes. My bra chafed.

I let myself into my apartment. Everything was where I’d left it.

My phone chirped in my bag and I pulled it out to see a text from Emma: Don’t stay too late! Reality TV beckons.

It was our little joke since she had introduced me to Ru Paul’s Drag Race, six months ago.

It felt like five lifetimes ago.

I put the phone to sleep, dropped my bag in the kitchen, and dragged myself to my bed, looking ahead of me but not seeing.

I lay down, fully clothed. The date on my bedside clock showed that here, almost no time had passed. I’d been deposited back to almost the exact moment I'd left.

My gaze was unfocused as I stared at the ceiling. My eyes reported back a view of the plain plaster, but in my mind I saw Pero’s last moments. The length of thick red ribbon around my wrist felt unreasonably heavy. I twisted the fraying ends with my right thumb and forefinger.

If I could have cried some more, I would have.

I felt wrung out, a cloth squeezed too hard and then left out on the line until it sagged, dry as bone, moving only at the whims of the wind.

Eventually, I slept, and when I did, I dreamed of my husband’s big, soulful brown eyes, his scarred hands on my skin, the whisper of his melodic Spanish accent in my ear.

*****

I woke up in the middle of the night, shaking. My arm spread out across the cool, crisp sheets, reaching for the warmth of a broad Spaniard who had been killed in battle thousands of years ago.

I clutched desperately at a pillow that did not smell of him, and I waited for dawn to come, silent and dry-eyed, a husk of myself.

The next day, I called in sick.

Emma left me six texts and three voicemails. Marco tried to call all afternoon. I ignored them both, and I stayed curled up on the bed, staring at nothing, hardly moving except for water and bathroom trips.

Eventually, I slept.

No dreams came.

*****

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a sharp rapping on the door jerked me from my half-sleep, half-grief stricken stupor.

“Fuck off,” I moaned to the empty room, my voice paper-dry, cracking. “You’re not Pero. He’s gone.”

The clock showed a whole day had passed. It was just after ten a.m.

The pounding got louder.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, got up wearing yesterday’s clothes. Walking felt like dragging my feet through a carpet of molasses.

I yanked open the door without checking to see who it was.

Emma stood on the other side, and she took me in with wide eyes, her lips parting.

“Um, oh my God,” she breathed, taking in my wrinkled clothes. I probably stank. “What happened? Flu?”

I gazed at her, my very best friend, trying to summon joy at seeing her face again, when I never thought I would. Instead, I just shrugged.

And then she moved forward and wrapped her arms around me, and I let my face fall into the familiar feel of her shoulder, and I cried.

Two cups of tea later, I had unloaded the entire story to Emma, who had listened without interruption, various expressions parading across her elfin face, but, who now almost certainly thought I had experienced some sort of intense mental break.

I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t.

“Well,” she said finally, with the tone of someone speaking to a very infirm person or a baby; “You can’t go back to work in this state, can you?”

I gaped at her. “You want me to go back to work now?”

She tugged my hand until I reluctantly stood up from the sofa. “You’ve not got a lot of choice. There’s a man in the staff waiting area and he says he won’t leave until he sees you. Came all the way from America.”

My heart sank further still. I just heard America, not Spain.

Emma herded me into the bathroom, stripped me off as I stared sightlessly at the wall, turned on the water, shoved me under it.

I watched, unfeeling, until the spray hit the red ribbon around my left wrist, and then a cry raked up my throat, and I slid down the tiled wall, curling in on myself, pressing the damp wedding bracelet to my lips, wishing myself back in China. Back in Pero’s arms.

Wishing I could hold him just one more time.

Just one more time.

*****

Emma didn’t say much on the way to the Armouries. What could she say? From her point of view, her colleague had called in sick one day and appeared to have suffered an intense psychotic episode.

I half sleep-walked off the tube, up to the museum. People passing probably thought I was taking very strong drugs.

Emma made me a very strong cup of tea, so strong that perhaps the spoon could have stood up by itself, and steered me to my desk chair. “Sit. I’ll bring the visitor.”

I stared into the mug. “Do I have to? Please don’t make me.”

Emma set her hands on her hips, her face creased in sympathy, brow pinched with worry. “You can go home right after. I swear. Okay? You get one more day of whatever... this is, and then I’m taking you out on the town. London at our feet. Or, you know, twelve hours on the sofa, with popcorn and Ru Paul. Okay?”

I nodded, just to get her to leave.

Time passed; I wasn’t sure how much. I stared at my PC’s Welcome to the London Armouries screensaver, and wondered how much trouble I would get in if I hurled my computer out of the window.

Then I remembered I didn’t even have a window in this office.

I smiled without humour.

A soft knock at the door made me look up. “Come in,” I called, with zero enthusiasm.

The handle turned, and I expected to see Emma, but I didn’t. What I saw made me topple off my chair.

A man with Pero’s face stood in the open doorway. His hair was lighter, cream caramel kissed with autumn, tousled. Scruff adorned his upper lip and the same strong jaw as Pero’s.

The same soulful, deep brown eyes.

The same striking profile, same nose I’d loved the hook of.

I stared at him as all the noise was sucked from the room. My ears rang.

He hurried over to me. “What the- Are you okay?” he asked in a husky-edged, drawling baritone, California with just a lick of Texas.

I stared at him wordlessly. My mouth opened and closed, until I finally squeaked out, “is this some kind of joke?”

The man stepped back, brows furrowed. “Funny. I’m pretty sure that's my line.” He rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw, and that was when I saw it.

The circular mark on the root of his thumb. The depiction of infinity; the spiral, the serpent eating its own tail. Not black, like ink, but the colour of melanin.

My heart lurched into my throat.

This time when he offered me his hand, I took it.

Our palms touched, and something electric chased down my arm. The stranger jerked as if I’d struck him, slapping his hands over his face as he reeled back, hitting the wall and sliding down it. I rocked back on my heels, staying on the floor.

He held his hands over his eyes for a moment that stretched, shaking, his shoulders hunched in.

When he finally looked at me, his eyes had changed. Darker, somehow. His mouth just a little scowly.

My heart jumped like it had been supercharged, because there was my Pero. I was frozen to my spot.

“The dreams,” the man said, very slowly. “I’ve been having these crazy dreams. But they’re.. memories, aren’t they?”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

“They’re my memories. But also… not mine.” He stared into the distance for a long moment, his face pale, wonder sketched on his features. “And this.” He ran the index finger of his right hand over the birthmark on his left thumb. “You did this.” His eyes sparked hazel fire, accusing me of this insanity.

And he was right. I had done this to him.

I held his gaze, my heart in my throat, heavy. “I gave it to you. Before.”

The stranger’s hand eased over his abdomen, resting where Pero had been gored open by Tao Tei teeth. “It feels… fuck, it feels real.”

I swallowed, my eyes burning, stomach bottoming out. Tears streaked down my face and I let them come, my stomach cramping, and for an agonising moment, it was like losing him all over again. In my mind’s eye I saw the blood pulse from him, his life slipping away and me crouched over him, helpless to stop it. “It was real.”

We sat together in silence for, I don’t know how long. I both ached to touch him and feared it. Feared the modern texture of his open-flannel shirt over a white t-shirt. Feared the rough denim of his jeans.

And how would he smell? Not of lemon oil, leathers or woodsmoke. How could he?

“I’m Zach,” he said into the dragging silence. “Zachary Pero Wellison.”

My mouth dropped open.

Zach smiled lopsidedly, pushing a hand over his face. The face that was Pero’s, and yet, not. “So… I guess with the addition of…” He waved his hand between us. “...this, I’m sort of…. Both of us? I’m Zach, but I somehow have the memories of….. Pero.” He pressed a fist to his head and then popped his fingers in a “head exploding” reference. “Is this really happening, do you think?”

I laughed, without humour. “At this point, I don’t think I know.”

Zach huffed out what might have been a laugh. “The shrink sure as hell didn’t cover this in PTSD counselling.”

His deadpan delivery made me smile for the first time since I’d woken up back in 2019.

Footsteps sounded outside, followed by voices that lingered and then, after a minute, moved on. My gaze flicked over Zach, my stomach heartsick. Pero, my Pero, was in there, and yet, he wasn’t.

This was impossible. Everything I had ever learned told me what Zach and I were experiencing just did not happen.

But.

“You’re military?”

He nodded, shrugging off the shoulder of his flannel shirt and pulling up the right sleeve of his t-shirt to show me the bottom half of an intricate tattoo on his shoulder. “Semper Fi. Marines. Buzz cut grew out.”

I ate up the extra view of his body, greedy to know where he would be the same, and where he might be different.

“Glad I never saw anything like… the Tao Tei in Afghanistan,” he said shakily, a self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips.

I held his gaze. “It was an experience. Are you.. I take it you don’t still serve?”

“Nope. Three tours and an honorable discharge, two years on the street, but for the past five I’ve had a steady job. A roof over my head.” He summed up his life so flippantly; his delivery really reminded me of Pero’s nonchalance about death.

I sell my sword for coin, I sleep when fighting has exhausted me, and one day I will die and return to the earth. Simple, don’t you think?”

“Um, so... can I get you a coffee?” I asked, swiping my hands over my eyes. It felt like a monumentally banal thing to say seeing as this man now seemed to hold every memory my dead husband had ever clocked up, but I didn’t have anything else.

“Got any whiskey?” he half-laughed.

“I wish I did.”

“I’m good. Drank about a gallon of it at the hotel. Nerves. I, um…” He lifted those cocoa eyes to mine, and for a second, a heartrending second, it was Pero looking at me. My pulse tripped. “This is... fuck, this is a lot. I really…” He clenched his hands into fists, drawing my attention to that birthmark, the same lines, lines I had drawn, only in that brown shade of skin pigment. “I wanna touch you. Or he does. I don’t know. But… can I? Is that okay? I can’t think about anything else.”

Twin zings of excitement and fear skidded up my spine. “Um… okay.”

Neither of us moved.

Zach laughed nervously, standing. He towered above me as I sat in the corner next to my computer chair. I let my gaze travel up his body, long legs in faded blue jeans, a flat stomach under that white t-shirt, the lines of his torso delineated by the open plaid shirt.

His eyes were soft as he offered his hand again, palm out flat.

This time, when I took it, no lightning. Just a warm touch. His fingers sure and confident around mine.

He tugged me gently to a standing position, until we were only a foot apart, then he let our joined hands fall to our sides. We stood together like that for goodness knew how long, looking into each other’s eyes; his so familiar and yet so new.

Zach lifted his free hand to gently skim his thumb along my jaw, and just like that, the air changed. Each breath I took seemed supercharged as I gazed into his big, soulful eyes. “Zach,” I whispered, and it didn’t feel wrong.

He slowly lowered his head to mine, his eyes constantly flicking to meet mine, checking it was okay. Checking I was okay.

And then just before our lips met, a shudder went through him, and he whispered, “Cielo,” with just a hint of Spanish melody, and there was no way in hell he could have known that word unless-

And I yanked him down to me and kissed him with all the love and yearning and grief in my heart, and he kissed me back. His hands came up to spread over my back, and the warm, solid wall of his chest felt divine.

Perfect.

Bliss.

I opened for him, and he licked into my mouth, his teeth scraping just a little, and I welcomed the tiny hurt, pressing closer into his body. His lips were Pero’s lips, his little shaky inhale the way Pero would sometimes suck in a breath when we kissed. I shoved my hands beneath his open plaid shirt, felt the play of muscle on his back, under the soft t-shirt, and it was like holding Pero. I sobbed into Zach’s mouth and he drew back, frowning.

“Sorry,” I choked out. “I’m sorry. I -”

“I know,” Zach whispered, stroking my hair back. “I was there. He - I - loved you … He loved you. More than anything.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my lips together to stop them from trembling. “This isn’t happening. I would give anything to have him back. Anything. But this is… it can’t be real.”

Zach cupped my cheek, his eyes dark, stormy, and for a moment it was my husband looking at me. “Ask me something only he would know.”

I opened my eyes again. This was like living in an alternate reality of the film Ghost. But real. I felt the floor under my feet. I felt Zach’s palm against my skin, gun-callused, the same way Pero’s had been sword-callused.

“What did he say to me, when we... when I…” The words dried up on my tongue. Suddenly I didn’t want to share, which made no sense. “The first time,” I finished lamely.

Zach dropped his gaze from mine, a flush stealing over his cheeks. “Cielo. Heaven. I will not last,” he murmured, that Spanish melody sneaking, incrementally, into his tone.

My pulse spiked.

No one could know that.

He met my eyes again. “Fuck. I know. This can’t be happening. But it is. Unless we’re both suffering the same delusion.”

I half-laughed. “Unless. God, Zach. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about…. all this.”

“I’m not. I wanted answers to these insane dreams, to the burning feeling on my birthmark, and however absolutely batshit those answers are... I had so many moments over in Afghanistan, wondering what I was fighting for... where my life was going. Always thought - it’s so stupid, but always thought I was just waiting for something. And maybe that something is you.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh, Zach.”

He smiled lopsidedly. “Whatever this is, it doesn’t feel like just my twisted little secret anymore.”

“I-” My heart pounded. “Secret. Oh my God, secret. The axe.”

Zach’s gaze shot to mine, wonder sketched on his handsome features. “I know how to open it.”

*****

I’d never run so fast before. I skidded out of the office, Zach on my heels, past some very surprised visitors and down to the artefact storeroom. I could only hope that no one had been there since the day before yesterday.

Zach stood silently by, but I saw his hands clenched into fists by his side as I swiped my keycard.

It was still there.

The door slammed behind us as I lurched on to the floor, picking it up, uncaring about being without cotton gloves.

Zach held out his hands, and I passed it to him. He gazed at it in wordless awe, his eyes poring over it, fingers stroking reverently.

Then he turned it over, pressed his thumbnail into the slice representing Pero’s scar in the carving on the bottom, and the handle turned, loosening.

I gasped in shock, surprise, joy.

Zach gently pulled the haft loose to reveal a shallow compartment in the metal handle, two pieces of parchment and a loop of crimson lying inside, like the finest of treasures.

With hands that shook, I took out Pero’s handfasting bracelet. The edges were frayed, the fabric so old it had discoloured, but it was his. I lifted it to my lips, felt my heart wrench from my body.

Zach had set the axe down and held the pieces of parchment in his palms. His eyes were wide as he breathed, “I wrote this. I mean, he did. But I remember writing it.”

I paused, the dusty, faded bracelet pressed to my cheek. “What?”

He showed me the yellowed parchment, the writing faded beyond recognition. “The words are almost gone. But I was there. I - he - wrote it while you slept. On the handfasting night.”

The world spun. I braced myself up on one arm. “Would you read it? Please.”

Clearing his throat, Zach closed his eyes, and to my amazement and joy, to my sadness and gratitude, Pero’s voice left his lips.

Querida

You sleep as I write this. My wife, in our bed. Your body and soul more beautiful than I could ever have wished for, in this life certainly. I am not good with words, mi vida, but you must know that you hold my old, scarred heart in your hands.

I think perhaps, you always have.

If you are reading this then I have gone with God, but whatever He may have planned for my old bones, I will carry you with me always.

Until we meet again,

Yours,

Pero

When he’d finished, tears streamed unashamed down my face, wetting my jeans. I couldn’t have cared less.

Zach’s face was drawn, too. He set the two pieces of paper aside and opened his arms, and without a second thought, I crawled into them. He rocked me gently, and I pressed my face into his neck, breathing him in; he didn’t smell of Pero, he smelled of rosemary and sandalwood and coffee, but it wasn’t wrong.

“Thankyou,” I whispered into his shirt. “Thank you, for letting my hear his voice, just one more time.”

Zach said nothing, just nodded. He understood. He always would.

We sat that way for I didn’t know how long. Eventually I roused myself. “Zach?”

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. “It’s still me. I think,” he drawled, American again, but that husky-edged voice curled its way into my heart.

“What’s the other piece of paper?”

He lifted one arm to pluck it from the floor. “It’s… what is this language?”

I recognised the penmanship. “Oh my God, it’s Gaelic.” I scrambled off his lap, reaching for my phone. This piece of parchment had been wrapped inside the other, and the words had been mostly preserved. I took a picture of the text, uploaded it to the translation app a colleague at the British Museum had developed. While still in beta, it nevertheless contained many ancient languages.

Within a few moments, a translation appeared, and Zach and I gazed down at the screen as I read aloud:

Jade

The thought that this message may find you in a future many, thousands of years from now gives me pause, I must admit, but since fighting those… Monsters, I find nothing surprises me.

We gave your husband a warrior’s wake. That I swear to you. Lin saw to many of the details personally. After your rooms were cleared I found a note in his hand and I enclose it here.

We captured a Tao Tei in the days following Tovar’s death. We fed Ballard to it. A fitting end for such a waste of air, I think you’ll agree.

And after that, the strategists found the Queen. We think we’re halfway to learning how to be rid of them. Once and for all, I pray.

A year has passed since you and Tovar left me. As I write this, Lin sits beside me with our twins, Jade and Pero, named for the man who saved Lin’s life, and the woman he loved beyond the boundaries of time.

I don’t know what will happen when we die, but we will keep Tovar’s axe in our family as best we can. Lin says she trusts the spirits to take care of it, and after all I’ve seen here, I can’t disagree with her.

She wouldn’t listen even if I did.

We miss you.

With love,

William Garin

*****

A/N: One more chapter to go on this journey. Thank you, thankyou, thankyou for all your love, comments, messages, reaction gifs, theories, THANKYOU x 1000000000. Thank you for indulging my insanity.

Tagging: @babybelou @theravenreads @vanillabeanlattes @alienprincesspoop @knittingqueen13 @lackofhonor @holographic-carmen @thewayofthemandalorian @buckstaposition @thegreenkid @agirllovespasta @chews-erotically @apples-of-february @mstgsmy @songsformonkeys @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @buckysalefty @readsalot73 @restingnurseface @opheliaelysia @emmy-dandiliom918 @prdsdjarin @a-seeker-of-imagination @havenforafrazzledmind @badassbaker @thewaythisis @kindablackenedsuperhero @keeper0fthestars @starlight-starwrites @agentpike @alldatalost @littlemissthistle @cryptkeepersoul @stylelovechild @maryan028 @seawhisperer @emesispo @beccaplaying @hdlynn @jaime1110 @marydjarin @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @mrsparknuts @pinkzsugar @cutepurplehedgehog @ksgeekgirl @skdubbs @roxypeanut @usernameistooshort @tortles

#fighting blind #pero tovar fic #the great wall fic #the great wall au #pero tovar au

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seizethecarpe · 3 years

Text

After 9 days || Dave and Rio

Timing: Currentish, end of Versipellis Plot Summary: Dave begins to feel better Content warning: Self harm, vomit mention, medical blood

Dave woke that morning in piecemeal bites, his skin clammy and cold to the touch, slime dried on in places. It was like a fever had broken, or like he’d been pushed into arctic water and was being jolted awake. He opened his eyes, head pounding as her surveyed the room. It wasn’t in the worst disarray. Two bunk beds had been tipped over in last night’s rage, the door dented and teeth marks on the wall. Rio’s book had been picked up, but in a rare miracle, hadn’t been torn up. Not that he hadn’t threatened to. Not that he hadn’t tried to trick Rio into coming down to a near certain fate more than once. Last night had been the worst, as if the sickness inside him had known it would be its last chance to win. Had he not been here, it may well have been.

Dave grimaced at the rancid taste in his mouth. Hygiene hadn’t been a priority the last few days either, he stank like a haul out, but the worst was the smell of human and seal blood still caked into all of his clothes. Nell’s, Mina’s… Dave shuddered. The human girl he’d dragged to the bottom of the river, held underwater so long her lungs had to have been fit to burst. Even once she’d chased him off… Dave wasn’t sure a human could have gotten themselves to the surface and land so safely. Nor could Nell, trapped underwater and tangled in a weighted net.

He pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, stumbling to the bathroom and threw up the last contents of his stomach, and slowly began to clean the last two weeks of grime off of him. In the cracked mirror (Dave must have been the one to crack it, yes, there it was, a cut over the knuckles of his fist) he looked properly at the injuries he’d developed. A deep gash in his face, running from the bridge of his nose to the corner of his mouth, warped in ways that made no sense for human skin because he’d been struck as a seal. Claw marks on his arms, deep and showing early signs of infection. Then the bite itself, having been neatly stitched on the first night and abandoned since then. Deep black bruises bloomed across his shoulders, arms and torso. Breathing hurt, and so did everything else. Cleaning himself was slow, agonising work, but it was a distraction from the much deeper horrors lurking in his mind.

At some point, Dave would have to convince Rio that he was back to himself for real this time. He just wasn’t brave enough to admit it, yet. Once he was clean, he began to slowly tidy the bedroom, grunting and wheezing as he went.

It had been a long few days. Orion hadn’t gotten much sleep, only managing to catch a couple hours of shut eye here and there when he could hear the steady beating of Dave’s heart as proof that he was sleeping too. Even then, Rio was so paranoid about all that could go wrong that every single creak of noise jolted him awake. Unfortunately in a building as old as this one, those noises weren’t uncommon. Rio felt a bit lightheaded from the exhaustion, something he was sure was represented in his face in the form of pale skin and bloodshot eyes. For his own sanity, he had avoided mirrors when possible.

For all of that, he tried to remind himself that he was hardly in the right scenario to complain. Anything he was feeling, Dave must have felt ten times over. Rio hated being on the other side of the door instead of in there helping the man. On the other side, everything felt like an intrusion. His hearing made sure that Rio wouldn’t miss a single curse, scream or outburst. Most nights, Rio would put in headphones and sit in the hallway outside of the locked door. It was never enough to block out the noise completely, but it helped. What had realistically only been a few days had felt like weeks.

Today, things had been quiet. It shifted like this often, loud bouts of angry pounding followed by begging and eventually some quiet. But it only lasted for so long. However, by Rio’s calculations they should be towards the end of their timeline. As long as that Scribe had been right, they should almost be done. Rio crawled across the hall floor and sat against the door again, as he had done that first day. Then he pulled out his phone. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

Dave froze when he caught Rio’s scent, instinctively holding his breath, bracing for the hunger to tear through him. He grabbed a nearby bed post, knuckles pale with the force of the grip. The pain helped anchor him, give him the few seconds control he’d need before Orion was gone again.

The hunger never came. It didn’t shred his control, suffocate his mind, or even make his stomach snarl. If anything, he just felt more nauseous. Knowing how much time he’d spent fantasizing about tearing off Rio’s arm and eating it like a chicken drumstick. Relief washed over him like a gentle summer tide, until his phone buzzed, and the ability to ignore the world was lost again.

“Shit.” Came the only reply, before Dave put his phone away, stooping over to pick up one of the knocked over beds, but almost immediately his back popped and his body sank to the floor with the effort. Ignoring the half dozen fights he’d been in had been fine when the hunger had been his sole master, but now his body had had enough and felt every bit the 62 years it was. But being inactive let his mind fill with other things. Carefully, he texted Rio back, aware he was the damn boy who cried wolf when it came to saying this monster had let him go. “Like I never want to eat again.”

At least so far, the anger hadn’t come. Orion waited for moments too late, not realizing he had been holding his breath. No matter how many times Dave cycled through the stages of his hunger, Rio still got surprised when the man started yelling and shoving things around. Even when he could tell it was about to start. In fact, the only thing that Rio could hear Dave say at all was a short curse word. Was this what the two had been waiting so long for? Had the moment finally come

“That’s a start.” Rio replied to the text quickly, but didn’t move. As much as he wanted to fling the door open and hug the man who probably had no interest in hugging the small, tired scribe back, Rio stayed sitting on the ground. He had received texts like this before in the past few days. Right around the time the anger would stop, a flood of texts would come in claiming to feel better. Or faking an emergency. Dave and Rio had exchanged very few messages since meeting in the woods and almost getting killed by the monster chickens. Now, there were too many to count. And if anyone saw some of the messages, they might recommend Rio seek legal action. “I don’t know if this is a real text or not.”

"Smart," Dave replied, making no effort to convince Rio otherwise. He was hardly convinced himself. Hardly believed the whole thing had happened. Dave dropped his head down against the cool metal of the upturned bed, and no amount of cleaning himself or the room up would remove the thick layer of disgust he felt right now.

“Is there any antiseptic in this room?” Dave messaged eventually. It was already bad enough that he hadn’t taken any care of his rapidly accumulating collection of injuries over the last couple weeks, he couldn’t justify not looking after them any longer, especially when he could start to smell there was something wrong with them. Couldn’t afford to let them fester. Didn’t much have the energy in him to treat everything, but he could make a start. Focus on the injuries, not on the people who might well be bloated corpses bobbing in the waves right now. Sooner or later, he’d have to start looking through the obituaries and missing person’s. Start checking for Nell and the girl with the dark hair. Start checking for Ollie.

Orion hopped onto his feet as soon as he got the text from Dave. “Not in there but I should have some in my bag.” He replied as he jogged off toward the library. He hated giving credit to Athena for just about anything, but he had to admit that it was on more than one occasion now that her emergency pack that she forced him to carry around had come in handy. This was the first time Dave seemed to show any vested interest in his injuries at all. That had to mean something.

He pulled the emergency kit from his book bag and abandoned it in the library to run back to the locked door. He slowed as he got to it, listening in again to make sure nothing had changed. From what he could tell, all seemed calm. “Ummm” Rio texted first, not sure what the best course of action was to get the supplies to him. Eventually, he settled that a small amount of trust would have to be given. “Can you go to the other side of the room? When you’re there. Knock on the wall. I’ll hear it and open the door.” It was the only plan he could think of. He figured even if Dave did lunge, he would probably be fast enough to shut the door on him. Probably.

Dave nodded to himself when Rio’s text came through, pinching the bridge of his nose, just above where the deep gash in his face started. It had been a long time since he had been precious about getting new scars on his face, at least. He did not move, even when Rio’s scent became stronger again as he returned. Dave was always feeling for the hunger, the desire in him. But it never came. His chest slumped. It never, ever came. The corner of his lips had even turned up slightly when he got Rio’s uncertain text, and then the instruction. Smart kid.

Dave huffed and grunted as he pushed himself back to his feet, wincing where his ribs protested the effort. He was reminded, suddenly, of how much power he’d surrendered here. His pelt was tucked away in a safe place, but he hadn’t looked at in days. There was no water for him to swim in here, more walls than Dave usually ever let around him, not when he was used to the wide spaces of the ocean and the thin walls of his van. But nothing was as claustrophobic as the fate Rio had described waiting for him if he had indulged in anyone’s flesh. So Dave swallowed the sudden nerves, and banged his fist against the wall furthest from the door, hoping that was loud enough for Rio to hear. Then he turned, and lowered himself down to the floor. Just like Rio, he wanted to be as far from being able to attack the scribeling as possible incase the hunger ambushed him.

Orion took a deep breath. His hand was on the doorknob, ready to turn but waiting to hear the knock. When it finally came, Rio hesitated for just another second. His hearing was still far from ideal, but Kaden’s training had helped him come a long way to controlling it. He could tell that the knock was from the other end of the room.He knew he would never know if Dave was better until he opened that door, so he finally turned the knob and pushed the door open.

Dave was on the floor, still on the opposite side of the room. And he didn’t look good. Aside from the normal ramifications of being locked in a room for three days, his cuts and wounds had only gotten worse, a bad reminder to Rio that he didn’t have the same healing process as hunters did. Unsurprisingly, he looked far worse than Rio did. “Hey” Rio signed for the first time in days, big still in hand and obstructing his ability to do it efficiently. Rio hovered behind the frame, waiting for any movement. Eventually, Rio held the first aid kit up and tossed it over towards him. “Bad question but… how are you feeling?”

As the door creaked open, Dave held his breath, just in case. His eyes set on Orion, looking exhausted and drained and even paler than he normally did, which was frankly impressive considering how pale his complexion normally was. Dave exhaled slowly, signing back a half hearted greeting, and then inhaled. Nothing. No hunger, no desire, no inexplicable rage that was just the hunger wearing a new face. Dave almost sobbed with relief, catching the medkit with a grunt.

“Like I should be dead,” Dave replied sharply, before dropping his hands back into his lap, carefully unzipping the medical bag and pulling out the bottle of antiseptic and some swabs. “Or one of those Versipellis,” he spelled out the word on his hand before opening the bottle and without even flinching doused the deep scratches on one arm with the stinging iodine. With his hands occupied, he said in English. “Think you’re one of the ones I owe for keeping me from that. Thank you.” His voice was hoarse and strained like the rest of him, and when he poured the antiseptic on the bite he did hiss.

Orion stood awkwardly in the doorway as Dave unzipped the bag and started dressing the wounds. Rio wished he could help, but he knew Dave wouldn’t take too kindly to Rio risking closing the distance for that. It was better that the two stayed at a distance. “Well luckily, you’re neither!” Rio signed and spoke, finishing off with a smile. It felt forced, mostly because the scene the two had found themselves in was incredibly sad. Even though it should be a victory. The smile was as genuine as it could be in this situation. “Of course. Anytime. You don’t owe me anything.” Rio shrugged off the compliment.

They still couldn’t be completely sure that this was over. Sure, there seemed to be light at the end of the tunnel. But neither of them knew exactly what was happening with the Versipellis. Only what they had read in Rio’s book. He supposed no matter what, they had no way to truly know that this nightmare was over. Not for a while at least. It was an unsettling thought, that Rio realized that even though he couldn’t prove Dave was over the hunger he could tempt him. If Dave didn’t react to fresh blood then it was an even greater sign that the nine days was an accurate estimate. “Don’t freak out, okay?” Rio prefaced Dave, rolling up the sleeve of his hoodie just enough to show off his wrist. Small hints of scars and burns peaked out from the edge, which Rio chose to ignore. He pulled his keys from his pocket and pressed the jagged edge of the object against the side of his wrist and forced it down. The cut was small, but he still winced at the sudden pinch and immediately caught the scent of blood before it poured from the cut and across his arm.

Dave just frowned. Without the hunger, he was only more certain that coming here had been one of the more selfish decisions he’d made in a week of horrific, selfish decisions. It took even just a cursory glance to see that even though Dave hadn’t hurt Rio by some miracle in the last few days, he’d asked far too fucking much of someone far too young and far too lonely. He wouldn’t point it out to the kid, wouldn’t express his worries, because Rio was so patently happy to help, but it was another lead weight in his gut as he shifted uncomfortably. “Pretty sure I owe you plenty,” Dave disagreed. “I’d feel better with a way to repay you, scribeling.”

Don’t freak out. Dave pursed his lips, trying to bandage one arm with the other and failing miserably, but it was the sharp smell of iron that had him pause. Dave stared at the dripping rivulet of blood running down Orion’s wrist, then looked up at Rio with a single, unimpressed eyebrow. “Right up ‘til then, I figured you were the smart one.” He sighed. “Blood didn’t make me more or less hungry before. Sure as hell doesn’t make you smell any better. Points for intent ‘n’ noble risk taking, I'll give you. With a key too?” He sighed, eyeing the bloody steel. “C’mon, you need this kit too now.” He picked up one of the bandages and tossed it to Rio’s hand. Then, he signed in a quiet, throw around way, “It’s no effort at all to not eat you.” The deep, shaking breath he took as he signed it gave away just how much a relief that was.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t.” Orion reiterated. He had no interest in asking anything of Dave. He had been through enough in the last nine days. Right now, the only thing that he needed to worry about was the infected wounds on his body and getting some rest. Eating some real food might go a long way too, considering the only cravings he had for over a week was flesh. “But if it make you feel better then we can just say you’ll have my back and do me a solid someday if I need it.” Despite knowing that neither were fae, he still tried to edge around using the words anymore. Promise. Swear. Owe. All of them felt dangerous now.

In hindsight, it wasn’t a very good idea. The cut didn’t hurt much, just a quick pinching pain as it pierced the skin. The blood trickled down his arm slowly. It didn’t matter. It would just heal anyways. The blood could be wiped away as it always had in the past. Orion shrugged at Dave’s comment and offered a guilty grin, “Thought it was worth a try. I never told you I was smart.” Recently, Rio was more and more convinced that he was actually getting dumber. Like all those years of actively trying to avoid danger and plan ahead had completely flown out the window. He might actively be losing brain cells throwing himself headfirst into danger. “The key was the only thing I had on me.” Rio leaned forward to catch the bandages and took another couple steps forward. He really didn’t have any desire at all to attack or eat Rio? It had actually worked. “Holy crap. Then it’s actually over isn’t it? You beat that stupid curse or disease or whatever it was! This is incredible!”

Dave’d been about to protest, when Orion offered his alternative. Didn’t feel right to get away with this without at least the idea of an I O U. “Sounds like a deal,” he agreed begrudgingly, and winced as even that agreement caused pain. Most days, he knew better than to let injuries compound with increased movement, but this hadn’t been most days.

“You’re a scribe. Kinda comes in the job description.” Dave looked skeptically at the blood trickling down Rio’s arm, twinging in concern. “Hope you heal quick. That looks nasty.” Keys weren’t known to be clean and sharp, exactly. He wouldn’t say anything else on the matter. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe it wouldn’t have, but the young scribe had meant well and… that was more than could be said about Dave’s most recent choices. Like putting Rio in danger to begin with. He breathed shakily as the reality of it all sank in with the kid.

“Yeah,” Dave said, looking down at his trembling hands. He’d always known that a bite could destroy a life. He’d nearly lost his to the jaw of a mermaid he hadn’t quite outswum. Not to mention the number of lives he’d ended with a bite to an ankle, dragging them below the surface. How many he might have ended in just the last two weeks. The memory of blood on his lips had never tasted so rancid. But he was alive to regret it. His voice was thick and heavy. “Yeah.”

Satisfied that he didn’t have to immediately think of a favor for the selkie, Orion grinned at the guy and gave a thumbs up. Despite his own exhaustion and the hopeless energy in the room, Rio was beaming. They hadn’t had any choice but to put their faith into this old scribe book. And it had actually worked. Dave, though clearly not quite over whatever he had been through the last nine days, was still here. He was alive and himself and he hadn’t eaten anybody. Thanks to this old scribe, he wouldn’t crave it anymore either. Reading through these old dusty books and scouring the abandoned library, Rio had started losing a bit of faith recently in his goal. He was starting to lose hope that the scribes had the right idea. Things hadn’t been perfect still, but their knowledge had just saved lives.

“It’s not too bad. Just a surface cut.” Rio was embarrassed that he had done it in front of Dave. He finished bandaging the cut and then kept his palm hovered above it as if that would provide any further cover from Dave’s gaze. Something as small as that seemed so inconsequential to Rio. He hated his reliance on his healing. But it was hardly the time to worry about a tiny cut. All he could do was grin at the man. “I can’t believe we did it.” His voice felt octaves too high because of the excitement. “I guess… You can get back to your life now?”

“Depends. On what that book says. I mean, that thing was some sort of lycanthrope. Is this gonna be an issue every full moon? I can’t-” Dave pressed his knuckle to his teeth, breathing sharply. Orion was getting too hard to hear as the pitch of his voice rose in enthusiasm. It was infectious, thrumming in his chest like giddiness, but for the first time in a damn while, his fear was even louder. “I can’t be that again. Ever.” Was the book only written by humans? Was it written for humans? Dave felt like maybe it needed to be some sort of common knowledge that he could be turned into something other than a seal and a ghost.

“No!” Orion answered a bit too passionately, but he couldn’t help that. Dave sounded so defeated, so… scared. He needed Dave to know that he had already won, even if it didn’t feel like it right now. “No.” He repeated himself, more calm this time around, “I’ve read every entry about that thing that I could find in this library and my-” Mom’s journals was what Rio almost said, but stopped himself just short. He didn’t know how Dave felt about hunters, and didn’t need to add any stress to the man’s life right about now, “my archive. Multiple times. The versipellis can’t change back once they turn. It’s one shot. Either you resist the cravings in the nine days or you don’t. You made it. You’re done. Seriously, you’re done.”

Dave dropped his head into his hand, staring at the floor as he shook his head. At first, he was silent, as if he hadn’t heard Orion at all. His shoulders began to shake, and then his whole body. Even Dave wasn’t sure which way he’d go until laughter broke the silence of the room, bubbling up his throat and then spilling over. Belly deep rumbles of relief, of disbelief, in the joy of survival. Every laugh hurt, shaking every bruise and battered bone, but that didn’t stop him either. Nevermind that scribes had been wrong before. Slowly, his laughter petered out, as guilt as familiar as his lungs settled back in his chest. “Thank you, Rio,” Dave said, looking back up at the boy. Man. He stood, slowly wavering. “I mean that more than you know.”

Orion sat beside Dave quietly for a long time. There was a lot that the man was processing apparently. And no way for Rio to continue to comfort him, really. The excitement that Rio felt didn’t seem appropriate, but he couldn’t exactly stop himself from it. Even as he tried to remain stoic and calm, his body was shaking with joy. Something had worked. A life had been saved because of knowledge Rio was able to pull together. He felt like a legitimate, honest to god scribe. And it had helped him keep a friend of his from turning into a cannibal. If nothing else, that had to count for something. Dave broke that silence eventually when he started laughing, a jarring change from the man’s previous mood. It didn’t last long, but it was enough. Rio grinned and watched as the man’s laughter settled. Eventually, Dave thanked Rio, a small act that made Rio’s face heat up and glow a bright red. “Yeah. Of course.” Rio nodded solemnly, too embarrassed to keep extensive eye contact with him, “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

#chatzy #para #rio #thank you everyone for taking part!#wickedswriting #self harm tw #vomit tw #medical blood tw

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hanaasbananas · 3 years

Text

100 Ways to say I Love You Chapter 6

Happy birthday (Adrinette)

AO3

“Marinette?” Adrien stepped into the classroom, the door clicking shut behind him “what are you doing here so early?” Walking up to her, he frowned in confusion. “Wait, what are you doing at my desk?”

***

It started with a cupcake.

After the Bubbler incident with Nino the year before, Adrien hadn’t expected much fanfare on his birthday. So when he came to school on the morning of the 4th of September, he was pleasantly surprised to see the plain white box on his table.

Inside the box sat a cupcake, perfectly topped with a swirl of blue frosting and a sprinkling of dark chocolate. Adrien glanced over at Nino, who only shrugged in response, peering into the box and pulling out a note that had been affixed to the lid.

The message in itself wasn’t unusual, wishing him a happy birthday, but it had been written in letters cut out from magazines and newspapers, as though the sender hadn’t wanted him to recognise their handwriting.

(If Adrien had had a better sense of self preservation, he might have been more wary of eating the cupcake. As it was, he’d already stuffed half of it in his mouth when he read the message and so nothing could be done.)

“It kind of looks like a ransom note,” Adrien mused, tracing over the letters absentmindedly. “Don’t you think? Like—” he was interrupted by a loud choking sound and turned around to see Marinette her face bright pink as she coughed, until Alya thumped her on the back hard enough that he winced in sympathy.

“Are you alright Marinette?”

“Fine am! I’m fine!” Marinette exclaimed once she had caught her breath. “Just uh- this water you know,” she grabbed her water bottle and waved it around madly, almost hitting him in the face as it flew out of her hands. “Sorry!” she squeaked, staring in dismay as it bounced off his desk and rolled across the floor to Ms Bustier’s desk. She didn’t bother to go and get it, instead dropping her head down onto her desk, hiding her face from view.

Alya patted her on the back sympathetically, speaking to Adrien “would you mind grabbing that for her?”

***

“Uh…” Marinette’s eyes darted around the room, as she fidgeted with the strap of her bag. “I just got here and saw this on here” she gestured to the cupcake box on his desk “I know you’ve been trying to find out who’s been leaving these every year so I thought I’d try to see if I could find something.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

***

Adrien had pretty much forgotten about the anonymous cupcake, having dismissed it as a random, one off gift. Until the next year, when another one was left on his desk the morning of his birthday.

This time, the note was typed.

***

“Mhm!” Marinette nodded emphatically, “anyway, I was just about to go to the library before class so-” she went to move past him, but Adrien grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her in her tracks as his mind raced, everything clicking suddenly into place.

***

“Girl, when are you going to tell him?!” Adrien paused when he heard Alya’s loud whisper. “You’re gonna have to at some point.”

“I know ...and I will...I just. Isn’t it weird now? After so long?”

“What’s weird?” Adrien interrupted them, coming up behind Marinette, studiously ignoring the knowing look Alya gave him when his lips pulled into a grin at the way Marinette jumped at the sound of his voice. It rarely happened anymore, and he found it endearing whenever she got flustered.

“A-Adrien!” she exclaimed, her voice high as he pulled out a seat and sat down beside her. “We were talking about that new commission Jagged Stone gave me-with exams and everything, it’s a little much right now, you know?” Marinette clapped her hands briskly “but that doesn’t matter. This is a study group, we can talk about it later.” She peered around Adrien, looking behind him at the library. “Where’s Nino?”

***

It made so much sense. Adrien could have slapped himself, it was so obvious.

He’d dismissed Marinette after the third year when he’d gone to the bakery to see what they had on display and hadn’t been able to find a match for his cupcake.

But that just meant she wasn’t taking them from the stock. She’d been making them herself .

Adrien remembered the conversation he’d heard between Alya and Marinette the week before-had they been talking about this? Without letting go of Marinette’s wrist, Adrien opened the box, carefully taking out the note and flipping it open. This note was longer than any of the others had been, and this time, it was signed.

“It was you.” His voice was reverent when he looked up, “but...why the secrecy?”

“Well...” Marinette began haltingly, “the first time I gave you a birthday gift it didn’t go well at all , and you remember how freaked I used to get when I tried to talk to you because of my huge crush, so I decided to leave you something anonymously since I couldn’t mess that up…”

Adrien barely heard the rest of her words, his mind latching onto the vital piece of information Marinette had let slip. Huge crush ? She’d liked him? Romantically? His heart skipped a beat at the thought. How long had he been agonising over asking her out, worrying about rejection, writing bad poetry and annoying Plagg to no end as he swooned over Marinette?

And the entire time, she’d liked him too! Had liked him longer than he had, if he’d understood her correctly.

Plagg was right. He was an idiot.

“—and it was only supposed to be a one time thing! but then you liked that first one so much and I thought, well I thought I could do it again, and it just became a Thing—”

“Marinette,” he interrupted her babbling and her mouth snapped shut. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Her eyes widened, cheeks flushing scarlet as he took a step closer, his hand sliding down from her wrist to twine his fingers with hers, cupping her face with his other hand. “Is that okay?” his thumb stroked her cheek softly, feeling the heat of her blush as she nodded dazedly, eyes fluttering closed when he lowered his head, his nose brushing hers before finally capturing her lips with his own.

His lips moved slowly, languidly against hers, and Adrien smiled against her lips as Marinette tilted her head up in response, her hand coming up to cup the back of his neck, fingers twisting deliciously in his hair. Eventually, he pulled away, pecking her once more on the lips before resting his forehead against hers, breathing heavily.

They stayed like that for a long moment, until abruptly, Marinette disentangled herself from his arms and turned away.

As he watched, she carefully pulled the cupcake out of its box and held it out to him, smiling brightly as she said:

“Happy birthday, Adrien.”

#miraculous ladybug #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #100 ways to say i love you

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ibelieveinharrystyles · 3 years

Text

Chapter Nine: Baby You’re A Firework

In some ways life had become easier for Ashley since her pregnancy was leaked to the press, she could freely walk Daisy to school each morning without having to wear the baggiest jumper she could find. She was also inundated with kind messages from other women, who like her were raising children as a young adult, she finally felt ready for her baby’s arrival. Knowing the baby was due to come any day, Daisy was behaving more angelic, perhaps in an attempt to make Ashley’s life easier, or maybe it was to ensure she wasn’t forgotten about when the baby arrived. “”Mummy, when the baby comes will I still be it’s big sister?” Daisy asked as the pair walked to school.

“What do you mean Dais?” Ashley asked.

“Harry isn’t my Dad is he? But he’s the baby’s daddy.” Daisy replied.

“You’ll still be the baby’s big sister darling, in fact you’ll be the best big sister ever.” Ashley assured her.

“I promise I will be mummy.” Daisy smiled as they approached the school gates.

“Be a good girl today poppet, and remember we’ve got Lou and Lux’s fireworks tonight.” Ashley told her, holding her tight in the warmest of hugs.

“Love you mummy!” Daisy cried before running through the school gates.

“She’s a sweetheart,” One of the mums beside Ashley remarked.

“I don’t know where she gets it from, I was a little tear away at that age.” Ashley replied.

“Surely it’s her dad, he is a national treasure after all.” The lady smiled.

Although Harry wasn’t Daisy’s biological father, the whole world just assumed he was, he loved her like she was his own, and for Ashley that was enough.

“So do you feel ready for the new baby?” Gemma and Ashley had planned to shop for bits for the baby, but the british weather has other ideas. They’d managed to find shelter in a small vegan coffee shop in the back streets of Hampstead. It was one of those cool instagrammable places with hanging ivy trailing across ceiling beams and pink neon light signs.

“It’s less scary this time, even though Harry won’t be there for the birth, I know he’s going to be the best dad.” Ashley replied, sipping on her hot chocolate.

“Definitely, he’s finally mastered flat pack furniture, he’s set up a little nursery in the room next to his.” Gemma smiled.

“You know a mum at the school gates referred to Harry as Daisy’s dad, but I didn’t correct her. Because it felt right.” Ashley told her.

“Daisy will always be his world, we both know that.” Gemma assured her.

“Yeah, she adores him.” Ashley replied.

“And he adores you. He’d move heaven and earth for you if he had to. Where did it go wrong for you two? You were so good together.”

“Maybe we were always just destined to be best friends, and nothing more.” Ashley sighed.

“Ash, I’ve seen the way you look at each other, even at your house when the pregnancy got leaked, he could’ve easily contacted Jeff to protect his reputation and let us look after you, but he went straight to you. For Harry, it will only ever be you.” Gemma explained, she knew her brother better than anyone else, she knew they were right for each other since they were kids. She saw Harry’s face on the day of Ashley’s prom, when she was a bridesmaid at Anne's wedding and when she was on his arm at the Brits, he adored her and he cherished her. If Gemma could put the way Harry felt about Ashley into bottles and sell it, she would, because no matter what happened, or what anyone said, he would only really ever have eyes for Ashley.

It was late in the evening, thankfully the rain had held off, Ashley and Daisy were at Lou’s house for a small bonfire night gathering, the kids were playing in the garden, toasting marshmallows on the bonfire with Lux’s dad Tom, while the mums sat in the kitchen eating the leftovers of the takeaway pizza the kids had obliterated. “So when are you due Ash?” Lou’s sister Sam asked.

“I was due for halloween, but clearly this one enjoys it in there more than Daisy did.” Ashley told her, she knew the baby would come soon as every so often she’d feel a little flutter or a kick in her ribs.

“Have you got any names?” Lottie asked, from across the table.

“There’s a couple, if it’s a girl I love the idea of another flower name to match Daisy, and if its a boy, there's a few nature related names I love.” Ashley had one name in mind, regardless of whether it was a boy or a girl, she wasn’t planning on telling anyone yet, but she knew it would be a name Harry would love and hold close to his heart forever.

All the other parents and children had left, Lux and Daisy were curled up on the sofa drinking hot chocolate while they watched a movie on the TV. “Hey Dais, what are you watching?” Ashley asked as she poked her head around the living room door.

“It’s my Harry.” Daisy whispered, Ashley looked at the screen to see Harry and the boys performing at the O2, the girls had chosen to watch the One Direction movie, a film that captured so many moments that Ashley held close to her heart.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” Ashley asked Lou as she returned to the kitchen.

“What do you mean?” Lou asked, Ashley raised her eyebrows, “You mean Harry don’t you?”

Before Ashley could explain her epiphany the sharpest shooting pain hit her spine.

She gripped onto Lou’s marble top counter, “It’s happening Lou, the baby’s coming.”

“Are you sure?” Lou asked.

“That’s definitely a contraction Lou.” Ashley winced, “Why do I only go into labour in kitchens?”

“Tom’s out the back, I’ll ask him to stay with the girls, Daisy can stay here tonight. Where’s the baby bag?” Lou replied.

“In the hallway, in the cupboard under the stairs.” Ashley told her.

“Ok I’ll grab that and call us an uber, you sit down and I’ll tell Gem to meet us there too.” Lou instructed her.

Ashley pulled out her phone, ringing Harry, even though she knew full well he would be on set filming, “Hey Harry,” She winced as it began recording her voicemail, “It seems as though our little one is on it’s way into the world, Daisy’s in safe hands, she’s watching This Is Us with Lux, she is so proud of you H. I know you’ll worry but don’t because Lou is taking me to the hospital and Gem said she’ll meet us there. I’ve been a bitch these past few months, I should’ve let you in, but we both know that after the way other people have treated me before, that being open and vulnerable scares the shit out of me. I want you in the baby’s life and I want you in mine, frankly at this point I don’t care what capacity it's in, because you mean the world to me Harry, you’ve been the one constant source of happiness in my life since the day we met. From the day my dad died and you slept beside me because you were scared of what I might do to myself, when I had my first period and you spent your pocket money on a box of all my favourite things and when you were like a father to Daisy, that meant more than anything else ever could. Whatever happens between us Harry, whether we parent our baby as best friends, or whether we grow old and grey together, I will always be your golden girl.”

Compared to Daisy’s birth, this one was a walk in the park, Ashley was sat up in the hospital bed, already fully dilated and the nurses had given her the epidural to relieve some of the pain. “Right Ash, it looks like this baby isn’t hanging around, shall we get going?” The midwife said as she pulled on her surgical gloves. Lou had returned home to the girls, but Gemma stayed by Ashley’s side, holding onto her hand for reassurance. “When you’re ready Ash, I need you to push on the next contraction.” The midwife instructed her, “You are sensational Ash! That's the head delivered, I need you to push really hard to get this little one’s shoulders out now.”

“I am never letting your brother get me pregnant again.” Ashley huffed to Gemma after pushing through another agonising contraction.

“This baby is a chunky one Ash, I need you to give me one last almighty push, use every last bit of energy you have to push it out.” Ashley used every muscle in her body to push the baby out as hard as she could, until the once silent room was filled with the shrill cries of her new baby. “Congratulations Ash, you’ve got a little boy.” The midwife cut the umbilical cord and immediately placed him on Ashley’s chest.

“Hello little man, aren’t you a beauty?” Ashley whispered, a single tear of pride rolling down her cheek.

“He’s perfect Ash,” Gemma smiled, “You were incredible.”

“Welcome to the world baby Robin.” Ashley whispered, already completely infatuated with her new baby.

“Robin?” Gemma smiled.

“I adored your stepdad, when we lost my dad he was always there for me, he always looked out for me, and I know how much Harry loved him, and it’s the only name that feels fully suited to him.”

Ashley was in love, her brand new baby boy lay sound asleep in her arms, his delicate little hands poking out of the sleeves of his baby grow. Gemma had gone home to get some sleep, which Ashley had encouraged her to do, so now it was just the two of them in the little hospital room. Ashley’s phone began to buzz and she picked it up to see Harry’s face, “Hello stranger.” Ashley grinned.

“Is everything alright? I got your voicemail.” Harry asked from the comfort of his trailer.

“Everything’s great you could even say perfect,” Ashley whispered, “Do you want to meet him?”

“Him? We’ve got a little baby boy?” Harry replied, a smile stretching from cheek to cheek.

“This is our little baby boy, Robin.” Ashley told him.

“Robin? You know Mum is going to adore that, and I adore him too, thank you for naming him that.” Harry smiled.

“It only felt right, I think I always knew that’s what I’d call him, it just seemed to make sense.” Ashley replied, staring at her little boy in adoration. “He’s way bigger than Dais was, he weighed almost double what she weighed when she arrived.”

“She’s going to love him.” Harry whispered, “I can’t wait until I can see you all in person again, I miss you all like mad.”

“We miss you too.”

Robin made Ashley feel truly complete, it was the following morning and she had just changed into a comfier t-shirt and joggers, along with one of Harry’s tour hoodies. Robin was sleeping peacefully in his little cot, having just been fed, as she sent Harry yet another picture of their little boy, a little person popped their head around the door. “Hello Mummy,” She heard a whisper.

She looked over to see Daisy, holding a balloon and a gift bag with Lou beside her, “Hello my best girl, how are you?” Ashley crouched down, greeting her daughter with open arms, “I’ve missed you so much angel.”

“I’ve been very good, Lou made us special pancakes for breakfast.” Daisy told her.

“That’s lovely,” Ashley smiled, “Thank you so much for having her Lou.”

“It’s no problem really, she is an absolute sweetheart.” Lou replied.

“Daisy, would you like to meet your little brother?” Ashley asked, Daisy nodded in response as Ashley lifted Robin out of the cot. “This our little baby Robin.”

“Like my Grandad Robin?” Ashley was taken aback, she wasn’t sure if Daisy remembered him, but everyone loved to talk about him fondly, so Daisy must just have picked up on it, it melted Ashley’s heart that Daisy called him her grandad.

“Yes Dais, just like Grandad Robin.” For once it seemed as if life made complete sense, Ashley had two beautiful children who she loved more than anything else, and finally she knew exactly how she felt about Harry.

#BEST FRIEND HARRY #harry styles fanfiction #Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #one direction #one shot #harry styles one shot #one direction memes #Niall Horan #louis tomilson

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secret-rendezvous1d · 3 years

Note

how about an alex first christmas home with his wife or gf? if your uncomfortable writing this prompt i completely understand

Hello, hi!

Welcome to Blogmas 2020. A couple of days later than I promised, and I apologise for that, but here we are.

Hopefully, the idea of how Blogmas 2020 is planned out will become a little clearer than how my very poor explanations explained it, haha.

Many more blurbs, many more chats and a lot more festivities to come; my inbox will be open all through December this year for blurb prompts for Blogmas so don’t feel afraid to pop in a prompt to get written for tis year; all I can say is that if you’re asking for a lengthy prompt, I’m not the right person right now, haha.

I’m welcoming absolutely anything for this year; any AU, any characters, any ideas.

Reblog, like, comment and share your thoughts with me. Please let me know what you think because feedback is always appreciated on here; much more appreciated now given that I’ve not written a lot in a long while. Please let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

A song to listen to throughout the second scene; Bing Crosby, I’ll Be Home For Christmas

“Look at the size of those toms,” Alex gushed in awe, rushing from his place at the kitchen cabinet, where the kettle was whistling on the stove, to grab the woven basket full of fresh garden vegetables from his wife’s arms, saving a couple of apples and pears from becoming bruised by the floor. “They’re massive.”

“There’s something in the soil, I think,” YN teased, wiping her soil-covered fingertips on the pink and white polka-dot apron tied around her waist. Traces of wet mud and dry soil clinging to the material, tiny specks falling to the floor but nothing bad enough that couldn’t be sweeped with the brush and pan. “You should see some of the runners growing in the corner. Nice and long, they are. Perfect for dinner tomorrow eve.”

“How are the potatoes coming along?”

“They’re good, I was going to dig them and the carrots up tonight before the nighttimes cold comes in,” she said softly, standing beside her husband as he unpacked the fruit and placed them in the empty fruit bowl. The kettle coming to a gentle boil, soon being warm enough for them to make a warm cup of tea to drink by the fire to warm themselves up.

The vegetables left in the basket - varying from cabbage and cauliflower to Brussels sprouts and onions - needed a good brush down and a wash under water but looked good enough to enjoy as part of their meal the next day. A meal that would be enjoyed by her parents, Alex’s parents and a couple of good friends who hadn’t had time to make it back home for Christmas, missing the last train out of London for a few days and unable to find a kind-hearted soul to take them two hours up north. It was also a meal that YN had been panicking over for almost the entire month of December… her first time cooking a Christmas dinner and she wanted it to be as perfect as possible to end a year that needed some cheer.

With the war coming to an end, for a second time, she felt safe and happy. Much safer and much happier than the last time a war was declared to have finished.

Maybe it was the fact that the four-year long terror of air raid sirens and bombings and unexpected blackouts had come to its end; maybe it was the fact that Britain had won the war and there was no more fear to live by; maybe it was the fact that her husband had been one of the lucky ones to come home safe and sound, able to celebrate Christmas as normal without worry that he was going to be called back to fight in the trenches and on the frontline; maybe it was the fact that everything was slowly going back to how it had been and life was on track to getting better.

“Dad’s always saying they taste and cook the best after a night in the cold,” Alex shrugged, taking a bite of an apple and feeling the juice trickle down his chin, something that YN’s thumb caught and wiped away, “I’ll go and dig them up tomorrow morning.”

“I wanted to start peeling and cutting them now,” she frowned, looking at him with furrowed brows, “go dig them up for now, please, darling?”

He mirrored her expression and folded his arms, half-bitten apple still in his hand, a smile toying his lips.

“Do I have to? It’s getting cold out there, I’ve got no jumper on and I’ve just put the kettle on,” he playfully whined, pouting his lips.

Her own eyebrows furrowed deeper on her browline, a silent plea for him to do what she said because she was stressing enough and didn’t want to be panicking so early tomorrow morning. All along he was going to do what she asked him to do, no word of a lie, but he found pure enjoyment in giving her the idea he had no intentions of helping. He placed his half-eaten apple on the kitchen counter and took a step towards her.

“Alright, as long as you do me the best cup of tea possible.”

“Of course, aren’t all my cups of tea the best?” To which he nodded and she grinned, squeezing his cheek and leaving a blush pink behind on his cheekbone, “I love you.”

“I love you the most,” he hummed, pressing a kiss to her cold forehead, reaching around her to grab the basket and tuck it under his arm, “I’ll have a look at these nice, long runners you’ve been speaking so highly about, too.”

“Mum called earlier. She’s grown some strawberries and rhubarb and said she was making a pie for our dessert tomorrow. I told her that with how hard you’ve been working with the garden, on all the veggies, we won’t need a pudding to eat because we’ll be so full of Christmas dinner,” Alex chuckled, peering over the newspaper in his hands to catch a glimpse of a smile on her lips, eyes still trained to the book she was reading in the gentle, almost, silence.

The radio crackled quietly in the background of the living room, playing a Christmas song that had a frequent place on the station they had programmed to work properly. Adding a sense of merriment to the room they were sat in; tinsel hanging on a scarce Christmas tree, with ornaments made from paper and cardboard, and Christmas cards on the windowsill from family and friends. There wasn’t much they could do but it was enough for them.

“Your mum makes a good pie though,” YN admitted, placing her finger between the pages she’d gotten to, “she didn’t have to do that though. She’s already done a lot for me this year and the last four so tomorrow is, kind of, all about giving back to her and your dad and my parents, too.”

Alex’s family had been a huge constant in her life during the wartime.

His mother had been non-stop on the phone with her about new gardening tips that her friends had told her about and seeds to share amongst themselves to grow a healthy batch of fruits to bake with - because they baked, a lot, and his mother had sent her back home with a brain full of new treats to bake and recipes to try out - and they took care of a flower patch in the front garden of Alex’s home, which seemed to pass the time. His father had been just as helpful to her, whenever he wasn’t in factories or working in machinery, coming by to put shelves up for her or to fix a hole in the roof that had begun to leak. Always popping by with a loaf of bread from the bakery and a tin of meat, that YN would put together as a sandwich and they’d eat until he knew his wife would be questioning his whereabouts. They allowed her to stay when she was feeling lonely, always looked out for her during the raids and insisted she stayed with them to wait it out, always insisting that she stayed with them until Alex was home so she wasn’t suffering with loneliness or panicking when blackouts occurred.

It had always been his mother cooking a Christmas dinner, promising she didn’t have to do anything but sit at the dining table and enjoy a healthy meal with family, with no worrying or getting upset that her own husband wasn’t there to enjoy the family festivities.

So it felt surreal when YN saw Alex dressed in his uniform, on the train station platform with a bag swung over his shoulder, in and amongst crowds of reunited families, knowing that they were about to have their life back on track. A Christmas together.

“My dad’s made a good sherry for us to have. Mum said he’s been working on it for almost a year now. Growing currants in the front garden and chasing kids away when he saw them picking at his bushes as they passed,” Yn giggled softly, because the image of her father chasing active youths down a street was rather amusing to her, reaching for her bookmark to keep her place in the book resting on her lap, “she says she’s barely seen him because he spends his time at the allotments, with his friends.”

Alex snuffled a laugh and folded his paper up, setting it on the floor beside the crackling fireplace.

“We should get an allotment. Could build a shed there to hide in when it rains, have you come and sit and watch me dig the veggies up, let you grow some flowers there. We’d be the best there,” he grinned, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “what do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea, baby.”

“Christmases only get better from here,” he stood to his feet and wiggled his fingers in her direction, “let’s have a dance.”

She smiled shyly and stood to her feet, toes all toasty and warm from the fire, reaching for his hands as he twirled her under his arm and let her dress, all dark green and red (which she insisted was her most Christmas-y dress in her wardrobe) billow out at the knees. With the occasional step on his bare toes, and a trip over his own feet, they managed to move themselves around the room with such an elegant sway to their hips as the gentle voice of Bing Crosby filled the room, with the ever so delightful song that YN imagined must have felt so personal to so many around Britain. And she couldn’t help but think of how many others were dancing, singing and crying as the tune filled merry homes, both happy and sad.

And she didn’t want to let her mind wander to the agonising pain of not having a loved one, let alone a husband, arrive home safe for Christmas… but it was planted there and she never ever wanted an experience so heartbreaking.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he hummed and it was in that moment that he felt a dribble of tears against his neck, his feet coming to a stop as the music carried on behind them, “hey now. No crying, we said. This is a happy end to the year, eh? A happy one.”

“I know but,” she choked on a tear and pulled away to look at him, “I’m so lucky you came home to me. To us. But, some women, they never got to say goodbye to their husbands, their brothers, their fathers and grandfathers. They never got to see them for Christmas this year, last year and the years before that. They never knew what was coming,” she whispered with a hushed voice that felt like if she spoke too loud, she’d have the entire country hearing her, as if the music was bad enough to bring out the emotions.

“I promised you, didn’t I, baby?”

She nodded softly and his thumbs wiped away her tears, collecting moisture on the tips of his pads, their eyes locking for a brief second.

“I promised you I’d make it back to you and I did, safe and sound,” he held her face in his hands and brushed the tip of his nose to hers, his warm breath flushing over her face as she sniffled and sobbed, “I’m never leaving you again. Never ever. I promise, no selfish bastard is going to keep us apart, not even for Christmas.”

#alex!au #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles prompts

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