#no matter how long i keep it plugged in it's always almost dead

[dragonsarecool]

Whumptober Day 31 - Bedside Vigil

Thirty One: Bedside Vigil

A/N: Follows up from my day 2 prompt ‘Caged’, but can be read as a stand-alone. Set as an alternate ending to ‘Alph Art’.

If only he’d gotten there sooner.

He stared at the battered and burnt body of his best friend, currently surrounded by a labyrinth of tubes, lines and wires, each playing a vital part in the grand scheme of keeping him alive.

He’d been too scared to hold his hand for the first day, only doing so when a doctor had reassured him that he wouldn’t feel it, and it wouldn’t cause any further damage: “We’ve wrapped it in lots of gauze and bandages, so it’s not going to hurt him.”

Despite the reassurances, it had taken a few days before he worked up the courage to clutch his friend’s hand as he prayed for a miracle.

He counted each mechanical breath the ventilator pumped into Tintin’s body, and continuously begged to whatever power was listening that he would be able to do it on his own again.

They hadn’t been sure he would survive the first night. As soon as they’d arrived in the ambulance, a giant team of doctors and nurses surrounded Tintin as they whisked him into the depths of the hospital for surgery, leaving Haddock stranded in the surprisingly-empty emergency department. He’d taken up residence on an uncomfortable waiting room chair for several hours before the surgeon came to inform him of Tintin’s critical condition.

Haddock had never seen an intensive care unit before, but it was a experience he was eager to never repeat. He’d felt much smaller than what he actually was as he was led through a maze of beds, surrounded by alarming monitors and machines as tall as the ceiling.

He’d nearly fallen to his knees when he saw Tintin for the first time. 

The young man was completely dwarfed by the array of devices plugged in around his bed. Bandages and gauze seemed to cover every spare inch of burnt skin; his face was puffy and swollen to the point of being almost unrecognisable.

It took a few minutes before Haddock gained enough composure to take a seat at the young man’s side, though he spent most of that night wiping away his tears and gratefully accepting cups of tea from the nurses. If you die, lad, I will never forgive myself.

If he’d thought the first night in hospital was the longest, he severely underestimated how long the coming days would feel. He barely moved from Tintin’s side as the young man remained in an induced coma, his body desperately trying to repair itself from being submerged in polyester.

The nurses continually tried to send him home for sleep and personal hygiene, yet he’d continued to push back until they ultimately called security to throw him out. “He won’t be waking up anytime soon,” One of the nurses had said after checking Tintin’s vitals. “He’s got more sedation pumping through him than what we would be using for an elephant. Go home and look after yourself.”

Haddock had reluctantly obeyed, though he made sure to return to the hospital when he knew the next shift of nurses would be starting..

The Thompsons had visited during the first week to inform him that Rastapoplos had fallen from a cliff when police pursued him, and that he had been pronounced dead at the scene. Haddock knew he would never believe it unless he saw the slime ball with his own eyes. They’d removed their hats in respect and spoke some kind words to Tintin, though it was blindly obvious to Haddock that they were convinced he was dying. He can’t die…he won’t die. He’s Tintin!! He always survives.

His firm belief in Tintin’s longevity was tested when they informed him that despite their best efforts, an infection had begun to spread throughout the young man’s left arm. The surgeon had come by to request his consent for an amputation if it was ultimately required.

Haddock had thrown the torn-up consent form in the bin. “Put up some damn medicine and get it started! He is NOT losing an arm!"

The antibiotics had been attached to Tintin’s intravenous line within a matter of minutes, and did not stop running for a considerable number of days.

By the end of the third week, the room was beginning to look like the inside of a florist shop. The Professor had continually dropped in with fresh cuttings from his rose garden, replacing them more frequently than the Captain had thought was necessary, though he still appreciated the gesture. It does make me wonder how many roses he’s got left in that garden of his…

Nestor came by every couple of days to inform Haddock of his progress with maintaining the estate, as well as to produce yet another bunch of flowers that had been delivered to Marlinspike from almost every organisation one could think of, all of which were addressed to Tintin. Haddock’s eyes never failed to water at the sight of one of these bouquets, for they served as a perfect reminder of how much Tintin had achieved at such a young age.

“That’s something you’ve got to fight for, lad,” Haddock had said to him one night. “Think of all these people you’ve helped! They’re sending you the equivalent of a thundering botanic garden because you cared enough to help them!”

Yet despite his enthusiastic speeches and passionate begging, Tintin continued to remain motionless, completely reliant on the devices breathing for him.

Haddock’s patience began to waver as the days continued. 

Three weeks turned into four weeks. 

Four weeks turned into five weeks. 

The medical staff continued to ensure him that these sorts of injuries did take time to recover from. “Second and third degree burns are nothing to sneeze at,” The surgeon said on his morning rounds. “Remember, it’s a miracle he survived the surgery at all. There was a lot of cleaning up we had to do. Plus, he’s already had one infection; God only knows if he’ll get another.”

They slowly weaned back his sedation, yet Tintin continued to remain stubbornly unconscious.

Day thirty-two swiftly turned into day thirty-three, and Haddock was exhausted. 

Although he was never the most diligent in maintaining his appearance, he finally acknowledged how dissolved he was looking. His beard had grown incredibly scruffy, and it itched relentlessly throughout the day. He’d begun to start shoving his hair underneath his hat, otherwise it completely obscured his vision. Heavy, dark bags had settled under his eyes, and his skin was incredibly pale. I could pass for a lighthouse at this point…

He gazed at the clock, sighing as it only read ten thirty. The doctors had already finished their morning rounds, reiterating to him that it would probably be a while longer before Tintin would regain consciousness. 

And as usual, Haddock had retorted and said they underestimated this particular patient. He just hoped he would be proven correct.

The Captain hung his head as he reached for Tintin’s hand, his fingers curling around the bandages. It had been a strange sensation at first, as though he was trying to clutch a hand through a baseball glove, but now he’d become used to it.

He felt the fingers clutched in his hand twitch, and nearly jumped out of his chair in shock. “Thundering typhoons!!”

Haddock’s eyes darted to Tintin’s face. A smile quickly grew as he saw the young man’s eyelids beginning to flicker. It took a few attempts before he was able to force them open, but he blearily gazed around the room before settling on Haddock, a distinct look of recognition visible in his weary eyes. …Captaine?

“Tintin!!” Haddock’s voice broke as he wiped away tears of joy. “Oh, heaven be praised!…You’re alive! NURSE! NURSE!! HE’S AWAKE!! HE’S ALIVE!!”

Although he had enough awareness to give the Captain’s hand a reassuring, albeit weak squeeze, Haddock could tell that Tintin was still very much away with the fairies, for he didn’t try to fight the ventilator or pull out any of his lines. Every other time he’s woken up in situations like this he’s usually falling out of the bed by now…

But to him, it didn’t matter. 

He was alive, and he would recover, even if it took a while.

A/N: And that concludes my first Whumptober! Thank you to everyone who has been following this throughout the month - really means a lot to me to see people enjoying my work :)

#tintin #the adventures of tintin #adventures of tintin #fanfic #fanfiction #whumptober #whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022

[the-firebird69]

I'm talking about this fool Paul who wouldn't listen to reason and it's not pulled photos it's Paul who was a BG and I took him off into the side at church and that big new church part in hoptown and I said listen you're ugly you're stupid you're a moron I wouldn't have anything to do with you I told him I said that later. And he would not shut up him saying I'm dead and stuff to my face so I put my mouth right to his ear and said you're dead right now and I poisoned him in his arm. So he was so shocked and you start to feel it how do you feel you talk to yourself to death. And you said you know you can't tell people that it's no you just can't I was getting groggy and he fell over and he said you poison me should I poisoned you. It's twice as lethal. He heard my husband laughing he said you're next and you people are invalids you're invalid. Cuz you shouldn't say that stuff to us we'll get the wrong impression and slaughter your clan like we have been almost gone and BG doesn't want you to but you're a freaking homo he says. It almost gone after this you will be so say what you like in the weekling. As he's dying he's trying to see your name and stuff like that so he's going out his last words of this I can't take the stuff anyways so you shouldn't mess with someone else's girl at all idiot and you can't take it cuz you're not supposed to try to. He said I'm in life I said I don't care that's why your dead. It says blood and my husband says I don't care about anything that stuff when you're dead you're silent that's what matters. This happens is you're the one who will unwilling to participate so yeah I value my life you can die like paper. Goodbye by the way you piece of dog s*** so he dies fully I go back grab him question him and said this over and over I was wrong to do that as if I'm going to free you have to killing him in church in public. No after that he said I don't have any help and all this crap I said why don't I just cut to the chase I already interviewed you I got what I need I want to hear you blab to see if it's anything I had to tell you one thing you're so stupid as a people this should not be as hard as we're making it but my husband said a big huge mob ofyou problem that's true and you proved it.

So it's going out and he's muttering and he says I can't think of anything to say I said we're hoping you would so we can wipe out all of your clan to the last idiot. It says thinking since I can't think of anything. So it's making fun of us saying dumb things so we're getting rid of them now that's why you're leaving you got frustrated said which way do you want it so you're so stupid you don't know which way it is. It's not saying how it works cuz I'm jotting it down. Tries to get up in his mind's eye his brain really and he's gone we pulled the plug. But this thing was BG and Trump started a long time ago and always going at it and they're always fighting and then my husband in the middle and they found it so detestable they couldn't stand it they keep doing it and dying yesterday everybody was pissed off at both of them and started hitting them and we can't stand you people you act like animals and don't care they do care and this guy's a huge animal he's such an a****** he's in the movie saying stuff moving around looking around for a friend pissing in the wind he would not stop talking during the movie, finally said do you want to leave the movie so we can see it or you can shut up it's quiet for a while then start up again. So they have to go outside then for some reason the movie stopped so I went out and he was there. And you tried to give her a son s*** and he's so stupid and he didn't have communication or motor skills cuz he was shot recently that morning and it was in Cicero. And yes someone blew up it wasn't him. He keeps getting shot out there cuz I'll get shot you can't figure out who's doing it I really it's his son and his daughter. And BG. Yeah it's not funny it is funny you were laughing at you because you can't even figure out who it is if you will tell you and you won't shut up. Now this isn't a nutshell if you threaten us we're going to get you you're going to be dead you can certain each other all you want or use it go around kill you we have to to take your stuff so you see...

So Travis getting hammered right now a little a****** who won't leave the apartment next door and it's not even his and yes Sherry and stand stop by I just saw him inside the apartment scoot around with stuff in other words he was touching things and moving stuff around. This is behavior is so damn annoying. He knew they were there watching and tried to annoy them and Stan was pushed out of his job at the mall like four times for this a******. And all the a****** does is ring him up and send him on his ways to do anything. And or drive the bus I mean people are wondering what the hell he's doing it looks stupid. We don't comply and we don't do any wants you know we turn them into like a veg and kill his people to get them away from him cuz he would usually demands so I hit them and hitting them and hitting him... And my husband says we should get rid of any of that proximity not just once he managed to do things I need done that made a lot of sense instead of doing that. All in all yesterday we cleaned Florida out like four times. doing it right now literally we going town to town and pulling everybody out. It's a huge fight you know a bunch of webs this moan complain like the service isn't good. But we need the Intel about tomorrow it's a huge offensive all over Earth. The attacks in the tunnels are going well Trump is near four very large lasers and 10 medium sized lasers with his Force. It's not the point of you of announcing it you stupid f****** moron point is that the kill top side more okay

Hera Zues

[costlaw47]

The Memorial Headstone Sayings And Inscriptions

the funeral program site funeral program funeral pamphlet the funeral program site One from the biggest motivating factors for individuals in their 50's and 60's is leaving a long-lasting legacy. As mentioned by Carl Jung, at midlife we move from cataloging achievements to discovering significance. We begin to realize that va . limited - and even though many men and women think of one's mid-fifties or early sixties as midlife, we additionally aware that runners probably will not live always be 0ne hundred twenty.

The same task can be said of this current financial meltdown. Most of every one of the I have never heard or read suggests that the crisis was caused by greed, especially with the issue of sub-prime mortgages and subsequent bank failures in the united states. To make matters worse, I'm sure many people have locate the outrageously high salaries that were paid to the CEOs impeccable premier banks. Goods almost badly as the salaries that many professional athletes are premium. At the same time, many people in society are struggling to get by on low wages, social assistance, or you are getting underpaid for the work these people do. Write your obituary. Your obituary is your final statement to planet. Do you really want to go out of it to a person else to schmaltz higher? What do you want people to consider about one? The first question she asked was whether an autopsy should be done. The solution to that question raised a regarding very significant issues. Incredibly is orlando. The second could be the competency with the individual doing the autopsy. First, I'll describe what an autopsy may be. Then I'll demonstrate how I answered her pressing suspect.

I prefer to start any strategic planning meeting by asking for the numbers. Mobile phone did the phone ring? How many of those became a call for your firm? Solar panel systems those determine have a visitation and/or memorial assist? How many of those families referred others to your funeral home? Offers of help. While food is nearly always appreciated (see above), sometimes other offers of assistance are essential. Maybe you provide some hours of childcare, walk a dog, and keep it where carload of groceries or clean a residence. The best thing to do is ask what is important - decent quality answer which. What perform here unveiled matters. With every breath are usually shaping the future of generations arrive. Your children, my children, are all a part of a spiritual community that longs to prosper from a greatness. Bring this in your thoughts when you tempted to think that what you have been doing is not important. You may try the intestinal flush once for a while. Like plugging your hose into an outdoor faucet and turning it on full blast. Really clean out all the dead leaves accumulated on the winter. Your body works on a single principle because the car whilst your kitchen wash hand basin. So just give it an equal amount of attention, and you may find yourself getting significantly more healthy in ways you might not have dreamed in. Which will allow you to take it easy much more, and that blasted car, if it ought to be.

#funeral program

[stairset]

Not me looking at body razors and keeping one in mind to put on my birthday list and realizing oh god I really am a boring adult now

#the body razor i have just sucks #no matter how long i keep it plugged in it's always almost dead #which is inconvenient for someone like me with a lot if body hair #my dad cursed me with gross hairy genes lol #fellow men if you're upset about not having enough body hair #just be grateful you don't have to reach your arm around to try and shave gross back hair #shut up tristan

[hotwings0203]

Meeee. I want a longer version of the voyeur deku and bully kacchan. but in kacchan's pov tho. 💜💜💜👀

My dear anon. You ask and so you shall receive 💓

Pt.1, Pt.2

Tw: implied gangbang, stalking, implied noncon

If there’s one thing Katsuki Bakugo hated more than Deku, it was you.

No, actually, scratch that.

He couldn’t stand you around Deku.

As his childhood friend-or rival, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it, Bakugo knew Deku like the back of his hand.

He knew how he liked his breakfast, eggs runny with cheese and pepper sprinkled in the middle. He knew how crazy he could be as a fanboy for All Might, collecting over 500 antiques of the hero. He knew how he liked spring better because then he could stand under the Sakura trees and close his eyes in bliss while the petals floated softly down on his face.

He knew how he liked to steal your panties and jerk off to them.

He knew that his favorite position to watch him rape you from the front so that he could see every expression while you were filled to the brim with cum.

How the fuck could you be so blind?

Did you not notice the way your undergarments slowly started to vanish, one by one? Did you not realize who’s handwriting it was when you found yet another threatening yet lewd note in your locker? You had to actually be brain dead to not catch on to how he was always the last person out, just to trail behind and watch how your ass swayed when you walked out of the classroom.

But no, apparently you were even more stupid than he thought.

Because instead of correctly matching a face to actions, you thought him, Bakugo fucking Katsuki was the one doing all of this.

He supposed he couldn’t actually hold it against you though. I mean, he was the one slipping a hand up your shirt when you were walking out said door, he was the one who was shoving you against the lockers right when you were about to unlock it and find the notes, and he was the one who tore your panties in two, dangling them in front of your face while you pleaded for him to give it back. He never did, of course, he simply threw them over his shoulder and proceeded dragging you away so he could fuck you in privacy.

But he guesses there wasn’t much privacy if he was being watched all the time.

It was actually pretty typical of Deku. To leech off of what he left behind and try to claim it as his own. First his All Might obsession, then his shoot style, and now you? It’s pathetic, but typical.

He should’ve realized it wasn’t the shadows moving in the corner of his eyes when he was buried to the hilt inside your warmth. When the hairs stood at the back of your neck in the showers, it wasn’t because he was fucking you dumb, it was because someone else’s moans were in synch with his.

But it’s okay, because he knows and you don’t. He knows how the dweeb looks at you, how he sports a tent in his pants when you innocently lay a hand on his shoulder, he knows why your window is broken even though you fell asleep with it intact.

He catches Deku one day. He catches him red handed like the little rat he is.

It was so easy, too, the green haired little shit follows him around like some lovesick puppy anyways. Sometimes he can’t tell if he’s following you or himself.

You walk home from your night classes one evening, when the night is darker than your own shadows and the stars barely dust across the sky. No one else is around, and so you clutch your bag a little more tightly against you whenever you hear a leaf or a start car rustle in the trees surrounding your path back to the dorms.

Bakugo knows your schedule, of course. You take English and Statistics in the morning and save Quirk Training for the evening when you’re the most tired-a stupid plan, in his opinion.

Or at least he thought, at first. Turns out that you’re the easiest to follow when you’re spent and covered in bruises from being thrown against rocks and burned by fire from class. He wishes he could’ve seen you in person when that all happens, but it doesn’t matter when you’re stumbling down the cobblestone path towards your dorm, deaf and blind to any person that might be right behind you.

You just want to go home, he can accept that. Especially when he can so easily trail after you, merely 20 feet away on the same path as you. No one would suspect he’s up to no good from the leisurely way he strolls with his hands in his pockets, and he would bet his entire life that you wouldn’t waste a second to turn around and check your surrounding in favor of hurrying up to your room so you can sleep the aches away.

He might be subtle, but Deku isn’t.

The fucker hides in the bushes and almost crawls like a bug in the foliage after his two favorite people. It’s not even a clever disguise because his hair is three shades lighter than the leaves on the thickets.

Bakugo can hear the twigs snap and rustle as he bumbles around trying to be inconspicuous. He rolls his eyes and turns around, a deep scowl on his face.

“You’re not fooling anyone you bastard. Get the fuck out here right now before I blast you away.”

It doesn’t even take a full three seconds before Deku’s head meekly pops up and he gives a weak smile.

“H-hey Kacchan. Nice to see you here, I just dropped my papers-“

“No you didn’t. How long have you been following us?”

Deku blanches and slowly lifts his eyes to meet Bakugo’s. His mouth might’ve tried to open and refute the accusation, but when he saw the subtle smirk in the latters eye he found himself caring less about being caught.

“Howd you know?”

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” He scoffs and takes a quick glance back at you to ensure that you hadn’t walked too far off. You were still slowly trudging away, an easy distance for him to cross. “You’re about as stealthy as my quirk you freak.”

Deku laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head, also trying to quickly turn his head to see where you are.

“You likin’ the show so far?”

“Huh?” The green haired boy snaps his head back to him, blushing furiously now.

“You heard me. And don’t pretend to be so scandalized, you’re not holier than thou.”

The low voice to an almost predatory tone makes Deku drop the act. He straightens up a bit taller and his eyelids lower, his brows raised in a mocking sneer of some sorts. His lips curl and his teeth gleam in the moonlight, almost looking like fangs.

Bakugo has to remind himself for a moment not to back up a step.

“Yeah, I’m likin’ it.”

“I knew it. I bet you watched us every time we fucked, you bastard. Next time I’ll make you pay for front row seats since that’s where you always seem to be.” He crosses his arms and stares Deku down.

But the other doesn’t cower. Instead, his expression morphs into that of a weird hopeful look.

“I wouldn’t exactly say fucked is the right word. I’d say raped is better, Kacchan.”

It’s the utter confidence and ease in which he says this that makes Bakugo do a double take, his scowl breaking for a moment.

But he regroups. He knew this little shit was weird and fucked up, but he didn’t realize he was twisted beyond repair. In reality, he knew he was actually having sex with you without your full consent but hearing it from a guy like Deku made it so much worse.

It made his heart pound a little faster, while it made Dekus mouth water.

“Yeah? You liked watching me motorboat and fuck her tits? You liked hearing her scream for me, scream to get away from me too?”

And even in the shadows from the trees he can see how hard the degenerate nods his head eagerly like a dog waiting for its bone.

Even though he doesn’t like how the glint in his eyes darken with each vile word coming from his own mouth, he can’t help but go further down this rabbit hole and see how much Deku can take before he snaps-he’s never seen him so hungry for something before, except for when he would be around All Might.

So he eggs him on.

“I bet you got off on watching her struggle underneath me, didn’t you?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement to which Deku confirms.

“I did. I got off so many times I thought I’d have to get it checked out. But honestly, I think you could do better.”

Katsuki wasnt expecting that response.

“Who the fuck are you to-“

“Have you ever really savored the look of fear in her eyes? Have you ever tied her up and really played with her?”

His voice gets stuck in his throat as Deku continues.

“She’s pretty when you fill her up, but I can’t help but wonder..what would she look like with every hole plugged?”

He has no right looking so shy and nervous when such filth leaves his salivating lips. A drop of spit falls to the cobblestone and as Bakugo grimaces and steps back a bit, he realizes that he has not given his childhood rival as much credit for being a creep than he actually is.

“No fucking way. You better not be suggesting you get in on any of this action. She’s fuckin’ mine and I’ll be damned if I have to share her with some useless fuck like you.”

“I promise I won’t be useless, Kacchan. I’ll make sure to keep her moving at all times. She won’t stop bouncing when I’m with her, please, please let me give it a try too.”

And when he doesn’t look convinced, Deku rambles on like a madman. “I’ll even gag her with her own bloodstained panties so that she can shut up and I can focus better. I won’t ask you for her pussy either, I’ll take her ass or throat instead if you want!”

Katsuki wishes he didn’t hear the childhood boyish eager in his voice as he spoke.

He also wishes his dick didn’t get quite so hard when all of that was said.

“God, just shut up already, she’s getting farther now. Okay look, I’ll let you give it a go this one time only so that I can fuck her in peace without you staring at my ass the entire time.”

Dekus eyes light up and he lifts a leg over to step over the hedges. “Really, you mean it? I can fuck her too?”

Bakugo snarls and turns away, heading towards the same path you took. “Whatever, just don’t think this is gonna be a regular kind of thing. I worked hard to get myself a toy and I’ll be damned if you fuck it up for me.”

And when they both join the other towards you, there’s a moment when you glance back that you think the shadow that has been following you this whole time has turned into two.

#tw: stalking #tw: noncon #mha #bnha #mha smut #bully bakugou #creep deku #villain deku #weird little incel deku #yandere deku #deku smut #deku mha #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugo #bakugo smut #bakugo bnha #villain izuku #yandere izuku #izuku smut #katsuki scenario #katsuki smut #bnha smut

[uppermocns-moved]

if you’re taking requests maybe roadtrips with eren, jean, armin and connie?

road trips

oh my god this is the greatest idea i’ve ever heard. 

eren, jean, armin, connie + road trips

(going on a road trip with all four of them at the end)

cw: fairly gender-neutral, modernverse, weed references

𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻 𝗷𝗮𝗲𝗴𝗲𝗿

eren insists on driving the whole time, no matter how long the trip is.

his phone is plugged into the aux because “my car, my rules” but he doesn’t complain when you unlock his phone and start picking songs. 

forcing him to pull into a drive-through so he can eat real food, not just the 44 oz of mountain dew and monster energy he got from the gas station before you left.

hand-feeding him french fries.

playing i spy when it’s too dark to see anything, or on long highway stretches where the scenery doesn’t change. 

“i spy... something blue.” “is it the sky?” “you’re so good at this, babe.”

it’s very easy to talk him into impulsive detours, even if they’re in the opposite direction – he may be the one driving, but he’s relying solely on you for instructions. just tell him where you’re going and he’ll take you there.

“___ is only a two hour drive from here! we should go!” “yeah? okay.” 

driving with the windows down and enjoying the cool nighttime air.

car-camping in national parks – putting the seats down in the back and throwing together your bed for the night, sitting on the hood of his car to look at the stars with no light pollution, getting baked and watching a dumb show off his phone before going to sleep. 

at this point, eren realizes he forgot to pack his phone charger so you’ve gotta share.

getting breakfast together. eren’s not a morning person, but he can’t be grumpy when you’re looking so cute and sleepy in one of his hoodies. 

eren driving with one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours, occasionally lifting it up for a kiss as a silent thank you for being there with him. as if you’d dream of being anywhere else. 

𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗸𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗶𝗻

listening to the radio to keep things spontaneous, usually the classic rock stations. 

jean taking his hands off the wheel because he needs to air-bass along.

listening to true crime podcasts when the radio cuts out – it’s funny watching jean’s face twist up in disgust during crime scene details, and sometimes he yells in response as if the podcasters can hear him. you also play detective about who you think did it – loser buys food at the next stop. 

music keeps things energetic at the start, but podcasts keep his mind stimulated when he’s been driving for a while. 

the original plan is to split the driving, but you end up falling asleep with your face smushed against the window and jean doesn’t have the heart to wake you up. he doesn’t mind driving the rest of the way.

stopping for food every couple of hours to make sure you’re both eating properly, not just snacks. you do have plenty of snacks, though. 

jean going "uh – excuse me” whenever you open a bag of something and sticking his hand out. he’s like a dad, he always needs a handful of whatever you’re having. sharing is caring. 

jean always packs a lot of unnecessary things, and he will reserve the right to say i told you so when his double-hammock comes in handy.

limited stops along the way (minus food/gas/bathroom) – getting there relatively early means you can relax in the hotel room and maybe explore/go out for dinner later that night.  

when you take over driving, jean is a big window-watcher and takes a lot of pictures of the mountains/scenery. 

already making plans on cool things you can do on the way back, when you have no time restraints – day trips, scenic rest stops, hikes, etc. 

𝗮𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘁

stopping at a starbucks first-thing to get drinks for the road (he makes sure to get some food too so you’re not just running off a venti iced coffee)

splitting the driving – armin is the better (and calmer) navigator so you usually take the first and final shift. 

dozens of cute polaroids to put in your adventure scrapbook

researches fun (and romantic) things you can do when you get to your destination and reads them aloud to you. you come up with a plan together. that waterfall hike sounded really fun. 

armin takes lots of videos because he likes making little montages for his socials

you’re in control of the music. armin likes when you show him new artists – he’ll slowly nod his head along and inevitably add the songs to his spotify. he really likes snail mail. 

he takes over driving when you get tired – he likes holding your hand when he drives, or sometimes you’ll lean over and rest your hand on his thigh.

armin trying not to melt when you put on one of his hoodies for warmth – you have your own, but his are comfier and they smell like him. 

silly games to pass time like i spy or looking for different license plates. it’s fun until armin gets clever and spies things like the mile marker from 10 miles back. 

you insist you aren’t going to fall asleep because you wanna keep him company, but you end up curling into your pillow and dozing off mid-conversation. it’s adorable, and he doesn’t mind. he’ll usually turn on a podcast or an audiobook. 

armin stays awake the whole time but it catches up with him once you reach your destination – all he wants to do is cuddle and rest up

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿

leaving a day in advance or very early in the morning because you stop at every tourist attraction along the way.

scenic lookout? let’s go there. world’s biggest ball of yarn? fuck, count me in. meteor craters? already merging onto the exit. dinosaur bones? you read my mind. 

picking up cool souvenirs along the way like geodes and stickers to put on his water bottle. maybe a funky lil alien to hang from the rearview mirror, along with his 20 tree air fresheners. 

taking cute, cheesy pictures of and with each other – connie posing with his arms out like he’s holding the mountain, standing in front of national park signs, etc. 

you collaborated on a road-trip playlist in advance (it’s 12 hours long)

somehow you end up listening to veggie tales or absolutely losing it until the car starts rocking to britney spears

"i love this song” to every song, as if he didn’t put it on the playlist 

listening to connie sing along and butcher all the lyrics. impressive falsetto, though. 

arsenal of snacks – more than you realistically need

screaming every time you see a new “welcome to ___” sign

“WELCOME TO ___!” “WOOOOOO!”

connie rocking the socks with slides. it’s comfortable. 

pulling through drive throughs every once in a while for food, continuously forgetting to throw out the trash bag from your last stop. 

𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝗮 𝗿𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗽 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺

stopping at the gas station to fill up the gas tank and stock up on snacks for the road – almost everything from the candy aisle, giant bags of doritos, slushies, energy drinks. nobody really thinks to get actual food.

the driving is split between eren “i’m serious, pull the fucking car over or i’m gonna piss myself, jean” jaeger and jean “eren stop honking my fucking horn, traffic won’t go any faster” kirstein. armin is the navigator because they’ll both get everyone lost.

everyone has their turn with the aux cord – until connie cracks himself up playing the same song over and over, then you have to pry it from eren’s cold, dead hands.

so many pictures

impulsive stops at tourist attractions.

playing dumb games to pass the time (quickly turns into replacing one word on each sign with “poop” because they’re all a bunch of children).

finally stopping at a diner later that night for real food

making it to the campsite and setting up tents and hammocks

getting baked around the campfire and telling spooky stories

connie complaining and scaring himself while he wanders off into the dark forest to find a spot to piss

smores (ofc)

going on group hikes and jumping into lakes/down waterfalls together. video of jean belly-flopping.

#attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #armin x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein #jean x reader #connie springer #connie springer x reader #connie x reader #my writing #mine #mystiiclevi requests

[chemicalpink]

Only Good Vibes ♡ Min Yoongi

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Genre: smut, a futile attempt at comedy, strangers to friends to lovers au.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5.9k

Summary: If Yoongi was being honest, the last thing he had expected to inherit from his father was a sex toy manufactures, even more so, the last thing he expected from being there was to fall in love. Or let someone peg him, but you know, potato potatoe

Warnings/Tags: mentions of minor character death, Yoongi is bisexual, Yoongi’s father is homophobic, kinda sub!Yoongi, pegging, chaebol!Yoongi, family exclusion, YN is somewhere on the queer spectrum, YN has no filter whatsoever, they drink but they aren’t drunk does that make sense?, Yoongi and YN are soooo awkward istg it pains me, masturbation (female and male), mutual masturbation, use of sex toys, slight edging, fingering (male and female receiving), overstimulation (female and male), squirting, slight dirty talk, kinda voyeurism (do i even write something that’s not voyeurism by now?), Yoongi’s suit gets ruined, anal plugs (male), cock ring, electrode vibrator, use of lube.

A/N: Gotta say, this one took a lot to get done BUT SHE IS HERE. Huge thanks to @birbdae for the banner, I know you did it quite a while ago and since then this fic evolved into this so- yeah I hope that you guys enjoy this one.

Yoongi walks the pristine halls once he enters the building, it smells like a mix of freshly brewed coffee and sanitizer, his shoes somewhat squeaking on the floor with each step he takes, the starched collar of the white shirt he was practically obliged to dress in has started to itch his skin from not being used to the whole put together look. It had been a few weeks since his father died, nobody really seemed phased by it, being that the man had passed away after a long battle on a hospital bed. No one had cried during the funeral, not even his mother. Truth be told, they were all instructed not to do so, something along the lines of being the most deserving family in the country or some bullshit like that. Of course the man would be missed, not for his grandeur as a human being, but more for the millions he made day by day. And that’s where Yoongi comes in. Dressed up head to toe in a way that he hadn’t done ever since his father practically threw him into the streets. As much as he disliked it and had grown out of it, he couldn’t help but compromise, eyes on the grand prize: the family fortune.

So what if his siblings and a few cousins would get something out the old man’s will too, the Min’s fortune, both in money and enterprises, was huge; after his grandfather had passed away, and his father, being the youngest child, absorbed every single part of the fortune as his siblings weren’t fitted anymore to run their part, the newest Min generation had turned to resemble a bunch of vultures waiting to feed. So as long as he got his fair share for having to put up with the man for so long, he would be okay with it.

Everybody was already sitting on the large wooden table by the time he arrived, the commissioner signaling for him to take a seat before he began the lecture. An almost three hour long preface that had Yoongi dozing off multiple times, getting a side eye from most of the other people present, before the distribution began. Min Enterprises consultant branch for Daejun, Min Enterprises technology branch for Hada… and last but not least, Min Enterprises recreative branch for Yoongi.

“HA! TAKE THAT YOU HOMOPHOBIC FUCK! I KNEW I’D GET SOMETHING!” all eyes turned to him as he stood up from his seat, some shocked at the word choice, although it was no secret he had a rough relationship with his father, most of them just snickering at him, like they knew something he didn’t.

And man did they know.

“So he just had to keep being a homophobe even as he’s buried six feet under the ground and give me the dildo factory” Yoongi sighed as he frantically paced around the room

“Eh” his friend shrugged as he munched on a small bag of pretzels “The snacks are nice”

“What the fuck am I supposed to know about dildos! I don’t have a vagina!” Yoongi’s face was redder than ever, throwing a fit on his very first day at the office he inherited just a few days ago– not before going through a lot of papers and signatures and approvals– and learning that apparently amongst the whole business emporium his family had built, there was a sex toys manufacturer. And his father had decided to be his funny homophobic self even after death, by letting his bisexual son run it.

Namjoon had laughed for a good five minutes on the phone before he decided to come over and help his best friend out of what was surely about to be an existential crisis. Leaning against the couch that was placed on what would now be his office, he added distractedly “You don’t need to have a vagina to use a dildo tho”

“Well-true” he seemed to ponder it for a while, before shaking himself from the thought “either way I wouldn’t know a thing about it”

“Remember back in college summer 2013?”

Yoongi turned to his friend, stopping dead in his tracks and squinting his infamous cat-like squint at the younger, gritting his teeth “We DON’T talk about summer 2013”

Namjoon lets out a whole body laugh at both his friend and the memory, when you make your way into his office in order to deliver some of the papers you needed him to sign “What happened in summer 2013?”

“We don’t talk about that” you couldn’t help but smile at him, grumpily making his way to his desk, rubbing his temples as he let out an exasperated groan. Not everyone really knew a thing or two about the new boss, never been the one to be acquainted with his late father’s business, or family, for that matter and it really showed, the poor guy didn’t even know where to begin with before he was savagely thrown into an already clock-work organisation. People were starting to talk as soon as he set foot inside the building, gossips going around about how he wasn’t fitted for the position and how he was the outcast of the family, yet you thought he could use a friendly face if he ultimately decided to take the job. His friend was still absentmindedly laughing before his eyes caught something on his phone screen.

“Well this has being fun, I’m gonna head out” he started getting up from the couch before the elder interrupted his wave towards you

“What am I supposed to do Namjoon?!”

“Just- give me a call once you figure out if you get an employee’s discount, okay?”

“Wha-” Yoongi was quick to throw a pen that had been lying on top of his desk at his retrieving friend, the object falling to the ground as it hit the doorframe, completely missing the other man, whose laugh could still be heard as he walked away.

He slumped against his desk chair once again, eyeing the stack of documents you had brought in for a brief moment before groaning and hanging his head low. There were a lot of rumours going around, with the Min family being as successful as they were, and although you had decided not to trust them, you couldn’t help but feel your heart ache if what people said about Min Yoongi were true. A prodigal son fallen from his father’s grace, truly one –if not the most– prepared person out of the whole family, with a lot of curriculum to back him up, everyone rooting for him to be the head of the whole Min emporium, only to be casted away in a rush of headlines, front pages of magazines and online bashing as he was seen leaving a bar that was known to be one of the few LGBTQIA+ friendly ones around and it all went downhill from there, never to be seen around his own family again except for the big events and now, here.”I could help you figure out your way around if you’d like”

He didn’t even bother to turn your way when he answered “I don’t even know where to begin”

“That’s alright, come on” you tapped his arm in an attempt to have him follow you outside. Although the methods seemed quite unorthodox for an enterprise carrying the Min’s family name, Yoongi didn’t seem the type to take offence on a lack of traditional manners, plus, the whole workplace had always been quite different from the rest of the Enterprises. “My name’s Y/N, I’m the head director of a sister brand, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me around”

“So…” he turned to face you as you two made your way out of his office “dildos?”

“Kinda- we run the LGBTQIA+ focused brand” he almost missed a step as soon as the words were processed inside his mind and you couldn’t help but smile at him

“I never knew my father had an inclusive line in his business”

“Oh he didn’t” you couldn’t help but find it cute when he made a confused gesture with his face as you both stopped at one of the doors that led to the designing part of the building “You see, we tend to do things differently around here, and there’s a lot of space to work with”

The room is, admittedly, not at all what Yoongi had expected it to be –not like he had a precise image in mind about a dildo manufacturer. But the room he was brought in was almost surgical, men and women alike are all dressed up with white laboratory coats and all, one of them approaching both of you with a smile on his face.

“Y/N! What brings you here? It’s been a while since we’ve seen you!” Yoongi can’t help but steal a glance at your smile, the heavy air that he was accustomed to feel every time he came close to one of his family’s business nowhere to be found, the whole room was breathable enough.

“Work’s keeping me busy, anyway, this is Min Yoongi, he’s taking over” for a second Yoongi felt like suffocating, you having to introduce him as if he wasn’t quite literally your boss, as if he was a new employee “I’m showing him around, see how he finds the place”

“Oh the infamous Min Yoongi” and he could feel his heart race- even in such a place, only god knows how much of his family disaster the people could hear of, the flashbacks to being outcasted and laughed at for his downfall all coming back to him “It’s nice to have you man, I’m Hoseok”

You turned his way and smiled at him, in an attempt to let him know that it was fine. There really wasn’t much to fear inside the building– except for when they had to deal with executive meetings– things were different around here. Yoongi’s gaze seemed to fixate on one of the computers where another man in a white coat was sitting, albeit still quite awkward, he approached him “Is there a program for that?”

The guy, one of your best designers ever since he joined an internship a few years back, Jungkook, turned to look at Yoongi with wide eyes and sort of shy at the stranger “Oh yeah” when Yoongi didn’t seem to break out of his fascination on watching a 3D modelling program run with a sculptured cock being designed on it he added with a small chuckle “Drawing penises by hand only gets you so far”

He watches you chat away with both men and can’t help but feel at peace, as weird as the thought of it could be. Min Yoongi, with a MBA and a Business Administration Doctorate, feels at peace in a dildo factory. But the teamwork seems like something he had never seen before, the line of production is almost text-book like. He can’t help but wonder, even if headless, things seem to run smoothly, where exactly does he fit in? “So what exactly am I supposed to do in a dildo factory?”

You laugh at his choice of words, before Hoseok steps in somewhat offended by them “We don’t just make dildos” and although it didn’t help his case, he throws one squiggly silicone penis his way, to which he has no other option but catch “We are in charge of designing, planning and manufacturing recreational tools in aid for people’s mental health, self indulgence and lifestyle” he then loses his whole offended facade as he takes a small ring between his fingers and shrugs before smiling brightly “At least that what we tell the big boss”

The younger man in a white coat speaks up from his place in front of the computer “Except he’s now the big boss”

Hoseok’s eyes grow as wide as saucers as he realises “Oh god did I fucked up?” You can’t stop yourself from smiling at his antiques, hand coming up to shut his mouth as he realises his slip in vocabulary “Oh shit” Jungkook rolls his eyes at him before returning to his work and Yoongi can’t help but feel endeared as the whole scene develops “Sorry boss”

Gratefully, you step to his side, waving a goodbye to both of them, Hoseok returning it with a smile and a bow towards him, and he realises his question still hasn’t been answered “So really, where am I supposed to fit in?”

You seem to ponder the question before responding “You could take over the white collar meetings, we all hate them” Yoongi groans at that “or” you take the silicone penis from him with a mischievous smile on your face as you shake it around on his face “you could be Jungkook’s test subject”

“I-no. Despite what you heard from Namjoon I don’t- I” your body almost doubled over in laughter at the face he pulled, an honest horror face and hey, the man is quite attractive, that much could be seen from miles away, and it had been a few too many months since the last time you got laid, technically he wasn’t even your boss, as you held the same position for a different product line.

“Eh- you could always try them on me” Yoongi’s eyes widened in surprise before they took on something darker in them, almost amused at your advances “...if you let me try my products on you”

“Deal”

“Hyung what the fuck”

Yoongi started playing with a stress ball you had given him the day before after all introductions and tours were said and done, and now of course, after texting in the groupchat at night, both Namjoon and Seokjin wanted to hear all about what Jin named– very proudly– the deal-do “What could be worse than dildos?”

“Strap ons?”

Seokjin placed a hand on Yoongi’s back and sighed, already knowing the answer yet forcing himself to ask “Did you even read the papers you signed? The product lines of your company?”

“Oh”

“So you’re not going to keep the whole Min Yoongi doesn’t bottom facade any more?” Namjoon asked, knowing that although it was quite fun to watch the whole scenario unfold, his friend was the one going through it all

“I don’t bottom, that’s a fact”

“Hello boys, having fun on company time?” you crossed the door to his office the way you did the day before, dropping on top of his desk a stack of documents, only now noticing a new face on the couch, turning to greet him as he does the same before standing up, signalling Yoongi’s other friend, Namjoon to do the same.

“Well Yoongi-ah, this has been nice and all but it looks like you’ve got work to do” although he was trying to keep a straight face, the snickering of both men could be heard as they left the room. Yoongi really has to tell them that the walls are paper thin.

“So…”

“So…”

“Was the whole deal thing a thing? or should I just pretend it never happened and get stuck on reviewing whatever papers I’m supposed to review?” A short laugh escaped your lips as you looked at him, still kinda awkward about the whole ordeal.

“Oh it is a thing” you grabbed one of the folders on top of the stack, pressing the paper against him “We like to be very particular on our quality”

His eyes travelled along his feet for a few seconds, no word spoken about it.

“Yoongi, you do know you can say no right?” it was something you should have addressed way earlier, knowing beforehand that the work ethics around branched out into almost non existent territory, and the man was fresh out of a big family outcasting, getting thrown back in it to take over the least coordinated side of the enterprise “Look, I won’t lie, there’s a lot of talk going around, but you seem like a nice man, and I find you very attractive, you came in here as the boss and I was trying to get you entertained with the whole dildo factory idea, I know it must have been tough being designated here, especially since we tend to be...a little too much to handle, so just know that you can opt out of this one, I can just get Jungkook and his girlfriend to try these ones out, as they always have”

“That’s- that’s a lot to process”

“Then take your time and let me know okay? just thought you could have a nice laugh at the whole situation”

It took Yoongi three days and a half to get back to you on the offer, three days and a half in which, although he wouldn’t admit to it, you had wormed your way into his heart, having you deliver documents each morning, bantering along with his friends before you had to go back to whatever it is that you did around the company. You had also started to smile more at Yoongi’s antiques as he slowly but surely made himself more comfortable around the company, handling small white collar tasks and getting less squeamish at every prototype Jungkook or Hoseok handed him without previous notice.

“You really invited me to dinner beforehand” Along with the responsibilities of being a head of management, came work trips, which were initially a you thing until Yoongi came along and now had to take responsibility as well, so naturally you had suggested to him–after a lot of rain checks on your deal– that this work trip would be perfect for you two to give the new toys a try.

“I’m a true gentleman, Y/N I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Min Yoongi you’re about to absolutely ravage me after this”

“Y/N” his cheeks coloured a pretty pink as he tried to stifle a giggle by taking a sip out of his wine.

Even though it was hard to tell from first glance just what type of lifestyle Yoongi was accustomed to, it certainly became very visible as he navigated effortlessly through the menu with all the french names on it, swiftly ordering for both of you and being delighted at your reactions when the hors d'oeuvre came out, a soft smile on his face the whole time. Whether it was the soft buzz of two cups of red wine over dinner or having the chance of relaxing after a particularly busy week, it made you start gravitating towards Yoongi more than usual. It really was no secret that you found him attractive–you had even told the man yourself. And although you two had somewhat friendzoned each other, the awkward glances, blushing smiles and lingering touches certainly held more than what any of you two could express after barely a month of knowing each other.

Getting Yoongi to your hotel room was the easiest part, a faint blush on the apples of his cheeks as he gazed longingly at your held hands while you dragged him along after leaving the elevator. The kiss was unexpected but certainly welcomed, the way that Yoongi– the man that you had come to know for always being adamant on trying new things– looked so out of his element yet was willing to give it a try instead of running away like many times you had seen him do at work. The kiss was brief, a bit shy and probably out of all the built up tension in the room, your heart swelling at the gesture before you leaned in and captured his lips once more.

“Well this is certainly the first time someone has dined me, wined me and courted me before fucking me into next week”

A laugh escapes his lips, nothing like before, his eyes turning something dark within them as he lowers his voice and his fingers play with the strap on your shoulder, letting it fall down before his lips latch on the base of your jaw “Well what type of assholes have you let fuck you into next week”

A breathy moan escapes your lips as his mouth travels down your jaw to your clavicule, pressing you against him where you could feel his cock hardening, your hand coming down to trace the clothed length as he sharply breathes in “You know, maybe if you end up being good with the toys I’ll let you fuck me with this instead”

He groans loudly, head hitting the wall as you grip him inside his pants “Just fucking give me the dildos already so we can get on with it”

You both move to the bed, losing your dress in the way and positioning yourself nicely as you take out the box engraved with the company’s name on it before he trails behind you, feeling his cock twitch at the image he was greeted by, legs spread open, head against the pillows as your right hand leisurely strokes your already wet folds for him to see.

Yoongi tries his best to take deep breaths as he takes a look into the box, not recognising most of its contents “You really gotta walk me through these”

He can hear you laugh the way you always did when you noticed him being awkward in the slightest at work “Look, I’ll get the part going okay?” your hand stopped stroking your folds, fingers coming up to your mouth, licking them clean before going to grab a small bullet vibrator from the box– a classic you had become well acquainted with during your time working at the company.

The small object comes to life with a practiced twist on its body, buzzing against the air a few seconds before tracing the tip all over your folds before settling it on your clit, a gasped moan escaping your lips as you blindly fetch the glass dildo inside the box, cold surface sending a thrill down your spine as you slowly begin to insert it messily from being focused on not loosening your grip on the small vibrator. Warm hands remove your own from the clear object as you feel warm breath against your exposed skin, the tip of Yoongi’s tongue circling around your right nipple, capturing it between his teeth as he brings the tip of the glass penis inside and out of your cunt playfully a few times before deciding to bottom it out, earning a moan from you. Pumping the dildo a few times, his weight is suddenly shifted from the bed, movements halting and you prop yourself onto your elbows just to throw your head back in pleasure as you feel Yoongi’s mouth on your cunt, tongue lapping up your juices before he inserted the dildo once again, lewd sounds taking over the small room as he continues to fuck you and eat you out at the same time, you feel your thighs start shaking when he stops his movements, smirking at your surprised face, gaze fixated on you as he takes out both a set of ben wa balls and a rabbit vibrator, prompting yourself to explain both of the toys when he cuts your off “Oh I do recognise these two from the lab”

He quickly turns the rabbit vibrator on, wasting no time in fucking you with it as deep as its second vibrating tip allowed him to, the design effectively sending a wave of pleasure against your already worked up clit. Yoongi positions himself comfortably on your side, still fully clothed, hand at a slightly awkward angle so that he can reach down all while having open access to nibble at your skin, having you gasping and moaning under him

“Y-Yoongi I-!’m-” he throws a wink your way as you clench around nothing, impending orgasm long gone “You fucker”

He’s about to pick up the ben wa balls placed carelessly on the bed when he discards them in favour of a small silicone gadget that catches his eye “You were very much eager to try all of these tho” turning to you, all red faced and fucked out “What is this?”

You have half a mind to answer him “It’s a finger vibrator you just place it on your fingers like a glove”

There’s a brief glint in his eyes before he lowers himself again on the floor, easily manhandling you so that he had full access to your already dripping cunt, leveled to his face, cleaning you up with his hot tongue before he experimentally inserts his fingers inside you, vibrations making you instinctevely try and close your legs, to which he only chuckles and playfully bites the inside of your thigh. He quickly starts scissoring his fingers, gentle nibbles to your clit scattered between pumps, working you towards your previously cut short orgasm at a fast speed, walls clenching around his fingers as he separates himself from your core in favour of replacing his tongue for a mechanical sucking motion that you don’t even need to look down to know that he had reached for yet another toy inside the box “Yoongi- oh God- Yoongi p-please I’m-”

You moan loudly, pretty sure that if the rooms in your vicinity were occupied, they were most likely already filing a noise complaint, as you feel your whole body spasming by the force of your orgasm, feeling wetness around yourself, out of the corner of your eye you can see Yoongi smirking at you, the upper part of his sleeves wet from working you until you squirted on him. You can’t even begin to process the situation or really come down from your high as you feel Yoongi’s fingers carefully inserting what could only be the last toy. Your cunt seems to gape before clenching yet again as he works each of the rounded toys inside you, a mix of feeling too much yet not enough, dabbing between pleasure and feeling uncomfortable from the overstimulation taking over you for as long as Yoongi took his time inserting them all “God I can’t wait to see if you’d take my cock as well as you take these balls Y/N”

You’re about to respond with something snarky when he starts to slowly pull at the string of the toy, the ben wa balls coming out one by one, stretching you deliciously, a moan escaping your lips before Yoongi proceeds to start the ritual all over again. A sensation in your lower tummy aching for your climax buildup again and you could already tell it was going to be a long night.

Falling back into a comfortable, bantering routine was easy enough, if anything, that fated sleepless night followed by small giggles from Yoongi everytime you shifted uncomfortably on your seat at the meeting the next day, served the purpose of shifting your relationship towards a more relaxed sexual tension between the two, instead of the awkward one from before, lewd jokes thrown around as well as shameless flirting around the office when you thought no one was watching.

“Look what Jungkook just came up with” you said as you barged into his office a Monday morning, Yoongi almost choked on his coffee as you threw the artifact his way

“And I seriously hope this is a you thing”

You rolled your eyes at him, a smile stretching on your face as the sweet idea of revenge took over your thoughts “It’s an us thing”

His eyes seemed to want to escape their sockets at that “You gotta take me for dinner before you even plan on using that on me”

“Tell you what, I’ll feed you afterwards”

“Deal”

The office usually went quiet and lonely at around a quarter to seven, people from all sectors filtering out after a day’s worth of work, with you being the only human left on the building afterwards, that is, until Yoongi started working there, the man tended to stay for even longer than you did, the lights inside his office filtering to the otherwise dark place. You knock three times on the wooden door before entering Yoongi’s office, finding him hunched over his desk, some document open on his desk as he stares intently at it. You make your way towards him, hands kneading his shoulders to relieve tension, a pleasured groan escaping his lips as your lips bite teasingly his earlobe.

“The ever so romantic Y/N about to fuck me in my own office”

Your hands travel down to the expanse of his chest until they reach his belt, where you struggle a bit to get it undone. “I really just couldn’t wait any longer, could you blame me?”

Yoongi is quick to capture your mouth with his in a heated yet chaste kiss. He rolls his chair out of its original position to allow you to place yourself in between his legs, hips coming up just a few inches to allow you to bring his suit pants down to his ankles, half hard cock twitching in the cool air, your hand wrapping around it and pumping it a few times, to which Yoongi groans loudly, head thrown back as you lick a strip all the way from the base to the tip.

“Oh god Y/N” he can almost feel himself twitch in pleasure as he gazes down just in time to watch you slip him insid eyour mouth, lips wrapped prettily around him as you bob your head a few times before taking him out and giving his tip a few kitten licks “Oh-Oh I swear to fucking god you’ll be the death of me”

You take more of his length in your mouth, ravishing in the way that Yoongi responds, hand coming down to rest on your head, guiding you, yet not forcefully enough as you take a small set of rings from your bag laying around as soon as you feel him tense. You expertly maneuver the toy so that it is wrapped around his cock, him looking down and shivering at the cold metal touching him, constricting his cock to stand proudly as you move to straddle him, moving around a little so that his exposed cock grazes your clothed core under your skirt “I think you should stand up for me”

Yoongi does as he is told, not a word coming out of his mouth as he braces himself against his desk, one of your hands works on his cock as the other one comes down to his asshole, surprised enough to come across a bejewelled toy nestled inside it. You experimentally tug at it, Yoongi hanging his head low with a moan before you tease him a little with it, repeating the motion “So you prepped yourself for me”

He inhales sharply at your ongoing movements, biting down on his lips to keep a much louder noise from coming out “Shut up”

“No I think it's hot" you finally take the plug out, taking a few too many seconds to place the strap on you had thrown his way earlier on before moving to squirt some lube on it as well as on Yoongi’s hole before you tease it with the tip of the dildo, a broken moan coming from Yoongi’s mouth at the feeling, although it had been years– and he really wasn’t about to admit he was looking forward to having you fuck him ever since that sleepless night at your hotel room.

Your hips meet his in a faint and comfortable rhythm, Yoongi clutches his fists tighter every time you graze his prostate, cock leaking in front of him as he feels his orgasm building at a rapid pace before you completely remove yourself from him, bending down to put his pants in place, hand fumbling with the zipper so as to have his still ringed up cock standing still through the pants, forcing him onto his chair as you smile wickedly at him, a small set of electrodes being placed along his length, thin cables leading up to a small device you held in between your fingers.

He gasps as soon as he feels the electrodes vibrating against his cock, his faded climax coming back tenfold, something between a groan and a moan coming out from the back of his throat as you refrain yourself to just continue to watch him curiously “Look at you, such a pretty baby”

Yoongi’s moans keep getting louder by the second as you increase the level on the toy, and you certainly have to thank the universe for the whole office building being completely empty as you clearly see his cock twitch a few times before he cums all over his pants, Yoongi’s breath is ragged as his cock is unable to go soft, discomfort blending into pleasure once again as you keep the toy on for good measure, until you see his eyes watering, to which you hastily make your way to him, as he almost dissolves against the chair.

“It’s- it’s fine, I’ll clean myself” his voice is raspy and kind of quiet as you make sure to clean him the best that you could after removing the toys and running to his private bathroom for some towels.

“Yoongi, I’m not about to leave you after splitting your ass open and overstimulating you into oblivion, you’re not even sitting properly”

He makes a go at inhaling sharply before coming to fix himself on the chair “No it’s okay, I’ve had worse”

“Yoongi” you chastise, fixing him a glare

“Summer 2013”

You chuckle at that–the very much recurring inside joke of his. “What even happened in summer 2013?” He barely opens his eyes just to send an irritated glare your way “Yeah Yeah, we don’t talk about summer 2013”

Carefully selected dates under the pretense of trying out whatever new gadget Jungkook and Hoseok came up with during the month soon turned into weekly meetups, meetups turned into staying the night that soon enough turned things as official as they could be– if Human Resources were the ones asking, Yoongi and you were just really great friends, end of the story. Out of all the ways that Yoongi had initially thought this scenario could play out, it certainly wasn’t this one.

“I’ll see you at home once the meeting is over then?” you say after placing a kiss on Yoongi’s adorable pouty lips, gathering your documents and thoughts for the meeting you were supposed to already be at. He nods right as your knees buckle, feeling the small device inside you pick up in speed, turning to the culprit only to find him smirking at you “Yoongi”

“Love you!” the little shit is quick to pretend like he hadn’t done a thing, eyes quickly fixated on whatever that was showing up on his screen as he watched you leave his office. Guess you’ll just have to get revenge on that one.

#bts smut #yoongi smut #houseofddaeng #ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #btscreatorscorner #bangtansorciere #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader

[jiilys]

would u help me out for a second. im in the mood to write for the first time, and i think your style is beautiful. sitting down n actually trying though, im stuck as fuck! i’m realizing that in your dialogue/scenes you’ve got a lot of Little Things. little tiny elements that are subtle & just enough. how are you deciding that lily is building a house of cards at the moment or sirius is sitting in a tree or whatever during a given scene? how do you come up with those ideas for dialogue that are so silly & real & sneakily tender? do you know where it’s going when you begin? any advice for just… starting something?

ps: i appreciate you. you make it look easy & that’s very very cool

This is a lovely question!! Sorry it took me so long to get to it, I didn’t want to get it wrong. Also I’ve included some examples to try and explain what I mean in practise, but it also comes off rather like plugging. tragically this is unavoidable. Anyway, all that being said I have no idea how to advise you about dialogue and coming up with it, I think just listening to people talk helps. Don’t forget contractions, and when in doubt always trust the reader to keep up, real people don’t say perfect or even grammatically correct sentences a lot of the time. We also cut each other off all the time, especially when we’re trying to be funny. Like, here’s an example from warm front:

“He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”

Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”

“Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“

“–Permanent–“ “

–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”

Another thing, but people say um and like or can't speak or cut themselves off, especially when they’re nervous. James when Lily says she loves him for the first time: ‘“Wow,” He breathed, “I’m– wow.” He put both hands on her cheeks and kissed her crazy, abruptly, dumbly. Her head spun.’ He can’t even speak! Dumb boy.

I think natural dialogue sometimes just requires you to read it aloud, which is very embarrassing but ultimately quite useful in trying to figure out whether something sounds normal or not. Use casual words, and try not to go dictionary hunting: if you cant think of the word chances are your character can’t either

In terms of concepts I have no idea, but I do have a few tips. I write all my short one-shots in one document (its called ‘just bad’ lmao) so its easy to start something, write a few lines, and then if it doesnt work just start a new concept, but still have all the old stuff handy. if you feel like you’ve written yourself into a corner its probably because you took a wrong turn earlier, so its just a matter of going back up and figuring out where you turned onto the dead end, or where a line could be funnier and/or sadder and/or more meaningful. Sometimes the bare bones of a decent line is there but you have to work it a little.

In this harry/ginny thing where harry is apologising for all the attention and ginny brushes him off she says:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

The response went through a few drafts, all variations on the same thing:

(1) “You’re funnier.” [too short, doesn’t make sense, and not really that funny. unholy trinity]

(2) “You make it funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, “It’s not– you make it like that.” [this could work! I have no idea why I cut this, I think I forgot abt it lmao]

(3) “You’re the funniest person I know, Harry said, sincerely, and Ginny felt her heartbeat all through her, “You make it funny.” [jumping from ‘its more funny than annoying’ to getting this sincere out of nowhere is a little much, even for harry who is famously whipped]

I ended up going with this:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

“You’re funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, flustered, “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”

It follows the flow of the conversation and I think the way he says it, ‘you’re funny’ like its obvious, and then being like oh fuck and over-explaining it stumbling a little “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”. You know when you like someone and you say something that gives you away before you can stop yourself? I wanted it to sound like that. Just gotta keep in mind how people behave, we are so stupid a lot of the time, we give ourselves away.

The thing about short stuff i find is implying a lot of history without actually describing a lot of it. I normally do this by having memories come up as almost shards, one second of feeling. You know when you’re in a conversation with someone and they mention someone or a past event, and it rises to the top of your brain, but only for a second? i find sometimes when you’re reading stuff people will try and replay entire memories or events mid-conversation, which is not something you do when you think. You don’t need to replay it beat by beat, you were there! This sounds vague as hell so I’ll try and show you what I mean:

From good crimes: “Petunia is engaged.” Lily’s voice, raw and wrong, “To Vernon. Eliza Hunt told me at the supermarket.” Sudden flashes of Petunia, the only time he’d ever met her, sat in the back of Lily’s twenty-first, pinched and whispering. “Whose Eliza Hunt?” This seems as good a thing to say as any.

pretty on the nose (the phrase ‘sudden flashes’ is pretty so i'll allow it from past me). But see how you don’t need to know how Petunia didnt talk to anyone, how she left early, how she was the odd one out: you don’t need to read all that, you already know because she was sat in the back and because pinched is such a mean verb, spiteful and sharp, you can already imagine how the evening went without me saying so

From my proposal take, after Sirius finds out they’re engaged: Sirius’ grip on his shoulder tightened for one second, still grinning, and James knew what he meant. “I know.” He said, because only Sirius had been there for all of it, when they were fifteen, drunk on Firewhiskey for the first time and James had said I think I’ve fucked it, I think I’ve fucked it but I like her for real.

you don’t need a description of the whole night, what party they were at, who they were with, what they were talking about: the important bit is that Sirius was the first person he told, and that they’re both remembering that at the same moment because they’re soulmates lmao. You know when something big happens for a friend and you feel so full of pride & love that you feel like you’ll burst into confetti?? this needed to feel like that, and you only need a flash for it

I feel like I’ve sort of strayed off from what you asked me, which is really advice on how to start something. I normally start with a line, usually of dialogue, and then try and build from there because dialogue is my thing. You might have a different thing! Some people write from concepts or locations, or an image. i might start with one or a few lines of dialogue, write them down, and then try to build from there. For example for the proposal thing I started from james just saying “Marry me”, which I find more romantic than ‘will you marry me’, purely because it sounds like he simply couldn’t stop himself from saying it, like it rushed out. Another example, this thing started from just “don’t be mad at me” “okay” James agreed instantly, because he is such a sucker for her.

When I write I don’t normally know where I’m going! I normally set out to write something I think is vaguely funny and evokes An Emotion, and then I just play around with stuff until I get there. when I write certain stuff and I have scenes in mind, stuff I want to happen, but I find that if I try to plot it to tightly its not exciting to work on, because sometimes you write a good line by accident, that you hadn’t thought of when you sat down, and you surprise yourself. That is a really nice feeling! i want to maximise that feeling.

'What I mostly try to remember is that writing something down, anything down, is useful. Sometimes you write for a whole night and dont get anything useable, but its like clearing pipes. Sometimes you have to flush through shit to get to the good bits. All the rough stuff, the things you don’t like or didn’t work, you wrote to get you to the stuff that did work. All of the bad shit got you here! It wasn’t a waste, you were working to find the good thing

If I had any tips its just the usual stuff, read! It is annoying how much that helps. Also, and I know this may make you shudder, but reading poetry is useful just because in no other literary or media form is language so important. In comics you have pictures, in novels you have plot and character, in film you all that and cinematography, but in poetry you live and die by how good the words are. If you want recs here’s my poem roundup tag, that I do sometimes, or if you want something just now read this by Anne Carson, which uses words like ‘smashing’, ‘boatwash’, and ‘green’ in the best way possible. Also it has these lines: “Recently having learned to recognize the type of tree called sycamore, / I see them in any forest— / the ones that look harrowed, / in shreds, but / go also / straight up into life,”

I mean, think of a sharper image than that?? It’s not possible. Just try remember to stay true to your characters and that in real life, the little stuff is the big stuff. Little things the people around you do normally show they care more than big speeches, and if you want to show love that’s how to make it feel lived in. You want to build a world! the little stuff is usually the world. Take some from your own or dream the ones you wish you had.

This truly was a very kind message and I’m so grateful you like my stuff, I hope any of this was even half-useful, although now reading it back it is borderline nonsensical. I’m going to bed now, good luck with the writing, and don’t forget to send it to me!!

caro xoxo

#writing bitching #said it already but loved this message it was so thoughtful. seemed pretty articulate to me i think ur writing is gunna be just fine!!! #rooting for you & anyone trying to write something rn. words suck and are difficult! they are also better than drugs & sex. regretable #kindnesses

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 4- You Cannot Cage A Wolf

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: Fuck the police and Ironman for that matter, now how the hell are you and Bucky going to manage getting out of this mess?

Warning: violence no duh, bucky going through it, bit o angst, things getting hectic

Masterlist

To say you were pissed would be the understatement of the century, again, you were locked in a cage of steel and glass. Surrounded by enemies who’d rather see you dead, but maybe you deserved it. 

Maybe.

The Romanian combat police had locked you and Bucky into separate concealed glass confinements before loading the two of you into one long metal truck. Purposely facing the tiny prisons face to face with one another so that you would have full access to witnessing the discomfort and irritation on each other’s faces while armed officers sat to either side.

Well you’re not sure if it was exactly intentional, but still, at least you could make sure Bucky was okay and him you.

Your hands and legs are guarded by thick metal as your shoulders and upper arms keep firmly held by a small cage of steel; your body forced to sit for hours on end as the security trucks drive you both all the way to Berlin, Germany. A fucking 18 hour field trip by vehicle, at least you got some pee breaks.

Staring angrily at Bucky’s hand, you wish nothing more then to break out of here and fucking gut the assholes responsible for your unlawful imprisonments, Bucky did absolutely nothing to T’Challa and why the hell would they think you’re involved with his fathers death? It doesn’t make any sense. Not at all.

Why would anyone want the two of you for that matter?

Suddenly the truck jostles and stirs before stopping completely as you start to feel the shift of the vehicle reversing into something, your eyes immediately look up to find Bucky who’s already focused on you. His eyes are sad and full of pain for how they’ve treated you like an animal, caged you like a wild cat, more so then what they’ve done to himself. He never wanted you to deal with any shit like this again, not after the traumatic history Hydra had befallen on you for so many years. You don’t deserve this.

Returning a small smile, you give him a playful wink of reassurance before your glass and metal prison is rolled backwards and away from Bucky. Your fists clench in vexation and enmity for the current shit situation you happen to be sucked into, you feel like a beast at a goddamn freak show. Soon you’re rolled into a yawning chasmal underground parking garage of sorts, as flashing emergency lights from police cruisers blink annoyingly from your left while their riders park. 

This must be some government building here in Berlin, you think, eyes wandering around at the secured cavernous glass and metal interior. Sliding clear doors make the entrance way to your far left wall, while further into the spacious room is a large wall of cement, more doors in various areas and a large staircase ascending into a giant balcony onto the next floor up.

Bucky’s cell is placed next to yours by another forklift as he glances at Steve drearily, while you throw nothing but an irritated scowl at the back of Steve just as Sam and T’Challa exit the black security van. Guards dressed in black attire close by. They soon make a swift yet cautious admission over to greet some short salt and peppered haired man in a dull grey suit, a blonde woman also with an equal amount of security by his side. Three armed guards in the back and three behind Steve. 

What the hell are these people so afraid of? And why is any of this happening?

You can’t quit tell what’s being said from the concealed limitation of your moveable prison to where these assumingly high end important government officials are placed. It’s incredibly frustrating that you could just about scream, but now where would that get you? Probably smacked by some electrical shocking stick, those bastards, you think bitterly.

Soon the group appears to make some agreement before the shorter grey haired man nods an approval of invitation and with that does Steve, Sam, and T’Challa follow the short man and blonde woman farther away. All you or Bucky are able to witness before the doors to the new hallway you’re currently being pushed into closes, is the group walking for some glass doors that show a long hallway.

Then the giant metal doors slam shut in your face. 

——

The forklift holding onto your portable prison cell ascends down the hallway as armed guards keep watch from both sides, walking in step with the pace of the lift as a set of eight in total surround yours and Bucky’s confinements. A minute later they bring your steel box into a windowless cement room, turning you to face the exit, your cells are rolled separately across some caution tape before all comes to a halt. Finally.

Your eyes follow the movements of regular security guards as they take long thick wires from the side of the stone walls, plugging them into your prisons as the lights inside flicker for a brief moment, stabilizing in a second. One guard gives you a wary yet curious glance before snapping his head down when your fearsome glare just about smacks him in the face, quickly after that, everyone leaves before shutting the sliding metal doors that hide you both from the outside world.

Waiting a moment, your eyes dance suspiciously across the room, “Y/N.” Calls Bucky, causing you to snap your attention over to him.

“What?” You mumble somberly, gaze trailing all over his stoically pensive expression, he’s without a doubt not pleased to be here. Though having you next to him makes things more bearable. 

“Can you breath alright?” He asks worriedly, due to the thick plastic half face mask that prevents you from properly communicating with anyone, guess the Romanian police didn’t appreciate you calling them bastards. Among other things.

“Yeah.” You mumble out once again before pulling up on the metal clasps to no avail, what is this even made out of, “They got us pretty good, Buck. This might be a bit of a challenge to get out of...”

“You think we’re getting out of these things?”

“Well.......I’m being optimistic....so, uh.....there’s always a chance.”

The smallest of smile reveals itself for a flash of a second as Bucky forgets where you are and just welcomes your never ending humor, “You think they’re watching us?”

“Without a doubt. If I could flip them off I would.” You chuckle as your eyes trail up to the tiny dark sphere in your prison, yeah that’s definitely a camera. “Dickheads.” You mutter to whoever is listening.

“What do you think they’re going to do to us?” Wonders Bucky after a long moment of silence.

Taking a heavy breath you lean your head back, “Oh I don’t know. They’ll probably put me down like an old dog and then you’ll get broken out of jail by the Captain America himself.......you’ll probably be fine.”

Shaking his head, he looks over at your relatively bored face, “What if we’re not.”

Sensing his growing anxiety for your future placement, you turn to face him, “Then I’ll......uh........break us out of here?” You muse with an unsure shrug, well the best you can with the steel hugging your shoulders.

“Not all of us can take multiple bullets and survive.” Deadpans Bucky as you frown, he’s got you there.

“Okay uh.....let me think for a second.......uh, alright I got it..” You chirp enthusiastically before your face falls just as quickly as you let out a defeated, “...fuck never mind I don’t want murder charges.”

Bucky could have laughed, “I think we’d need to be more stealthy, and anyways there’s to many cameras.”

“Yeah.” You mutter dully, “Too many goddamn cameras.”

After about twenty minutes of mindlessly sitting in your cell while Bucky sits equally as bored from his own space a couple feet next to you, a man of relative height and stature walks into the large windowless cement room, a black book shaped travel bag hanging from his shoulder. He smiles in greeting at the two of you, though you can tell behind those glasses of his it’s anything but friendly. It’s strange, the way that his dark eyes reveal no true form of kindness or pleasantries. 

Who the hell is this now?

The dark blondes beady umber irises flicker curiously from Bucky to you and back to Bucky again, a sort of childlike wonder flashing through them as he steps closer to the nearby desk.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes.” Nods the man in an almost Sokovian like accent, kinda sounds like you, greeting set on Bucky before he sends you a devious grin, “Miss. Valerious.” He nods, inquisitive eyes studying your stoic face of pure daggers as you breath steadily in your muzzle, “I’ve been sent by the United Nations to evaluate your partner here, so you needn’t worry, your time is not with me. But I ask if you please give me my time with him, that is all.” Assures the strange man as he focuses his attention back on Bucky again; eh, not like you have much of a choice.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Asks the dark eyed man as Bucky simply stares, suspicious and bored out of his mind; you naturally roll your scrutinizing leer as the man seats himself next to a table farther away in front of you two.

Guess he’s not leaving anytime soon.

“You’re first name is James?” Wonders the man though you can tell he already knows the answer; with pursed lips does he shrug innocently, “I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are James?”

Bucky keeps silent, and all you want to do is smack that annoying blondes glasses right off of his face, “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me, James.”

“My name is Bucky.” Begrudgingly mumbles your irritated companion, while your brows set hard in puzzlement for where this conversation is going.

Writing something down in his notes, the man nods, “Tell me something Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?”

Bucky glares, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop.” Mutters the blonde man as you scoff, his dark eyes instantly snap over to you.

“Come over here and I’ll show you something terrifying.” You threaten, though your voice is mumbled and husky through the damn mask covering your mouth from properly speaking. He hands you a fake smile in reply, appearing to enjoy your menacing presage nonetheless.

Dark eyes set back onto Bucky, he hums, “Don’t worry. We only have to talk about one.” You watch in curiosity as he looks down at his touchpad screen, a satisfied little grin appearing onto his thin lips when suddenly the lights go dark, sending the room into pitch blackness. 

Though your sight shifts to dull grays and blues to counter this with your enhanced vision. A second later the dim emergency lights glow from up above giving the room a dull blue tint. While a red one blinks off and on repetitively in the shadowed room. The fuck?

“What the hell is this?” Grumbles Bucky as your eyes trail warily and alert over to the man as he draws his chair back to stand, though he remains seated. 

“Why don’t we discuss your home? Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no.” Taking a faded red book out of his traveling bag, your eyes squint in suspicion as you notice a large black star printed on the front while he continues, “Your real home.”

oh, fuck

Turning to face Bucky, you’re alarmed to witness as his face appears conflicted and anxious; he’s afraid, soon the man rises to his feet before opening up the book and begins walking towards Bucky’s cell. A smile on his face as he begins speaking in Russian, “Longing.”

“No.” Mutters your lover as he blinks hard before staring hopelessly up at the ceiling.

“Rusted.”

“Stop.” Protests Bucky as he turns to throw you a pleading look, you frown, not sure what’s happening but you know it can’t be good. Hydra never did anything like this to you, no trigger words, just good old childhood manipulation and the occasional beating if you didn’t comply.

“Seventeen.” Speaks the man as Bucky’s face darkens with anger.

“Stop.” He growls furiously as heavy breaths push at his chest with building adrenaline.

“Daybreak.” A frustrated ragged scream emits from Bucky’s lips as his fists clench and muscles tighten, the man smirks as he gets closer to Bucky’s cage.

“Stop it!” You cry desperately while Bucky yells before ripping the metal from his left hand and breaking the metal clasp on his right, an animalistic growl sounding from deep within his throat as panic sets rooted into your stomach, “Fuck off!” You scream frantically, “I’ll gut you like a goddamn fish!”

Giving a pernicious grin, he ignores you, “Furnace.”

You watch in horror as Bucky emits a roaring cry of desperate anger as he begins pounding furiously against the glass. Coming back to your senses you ignore the mess happening next to you as your muscles contract and strain against the tight metal clasps caging your forearms, shoulders, and legs to the chair.

“Nine.”

You listen to more heavy pounding on glass as a hopeless ragged cry of futile rage rips forth from your throat in an anguished attempt at breaking free. Pulling your arms upward, your flesh strains viciously against the tough metal clasps while you struggle to free yourself. A moment later the metal clasps begin to groan and creak as they loosen accordingly, your strength forcing them into compliance.

“Benign.”

A thin sheet of sweat emits from the side of your face while you yell in frustration at the weight of the locks against your wrists, Bucky pounds furiously, soon metal fist starts cracking though thick glass as you finally rip the metal clasps from off of your right arm, “Fuck off!” You roar threateningly, eyes wild and raging like a bursting dragons flame unto a hopeless stick village, the man simply shifts his gaze back down to the book.

“Homecoming.”

He ignores you; heart beating a mile a minute, you unsheathe your right claws only to free your left hand from the abrasive metal lock as he continues to pound his fist against the slowly breaking glass door. Raising your hands to the back of your lower head, you forcefully rip the thick plastic muzzle from off of your face with a distinctive cracking sound emitting from the strong material.

“Nine.” Speaks the dark eyed blonde as he walks in between the two of your cells, appearing unafraid of your threats from earlier even as he witnesses you breaking free from the steel clasps on your legs now.

“Freight car.”

Crash! 

Instantly your head snaps up to watch as Bucky’s glass door flies violently across the room and onto the harsh ground below; your breath hitches as all goes silent. The mans back is to you as he calmly walks over to Bucky who’s crouched onto the floor like a predator ready to strike, a second later he slowly rises to his feet. Though all life is gone from his dark pools of inky blue, he’s not your Bucky anymore.

“Soldier?” Whispers the dark eyed man in wonder, confident that his plan has effectively worked, whatever the fuck kind of plan in question.

Eyes wide, you swallow thickly as Bucky stares at the door, face noticeably covered in sweat, his eyes stare forward like a beast waiting to kill. He’s nothing but a vessel for chaotic destruction.

Breathing heavily, Bucky speaks in Russian, “Ready to comply.”

Suddenly the frustration in you boils over into pure animalistic rage for what this fucker has done to him, screaming bitterly, you punch the glass, slicing three thin lines straight through the material. The blonde one gives you a wary glance before addressing the Winter Soldier, “Mission report. December 16, 1991.”

“Bucky, don’t tell him shit!” You cry frantically in Russian, hoping that the Winter Soldier consuming him might hear something familiar in your desperation; whatever this man wants, you know full well what happened that night which means his motives are anything but friendly. If that wasn’t already apparent.

Bucky blinks, eyes shifting to the new ringmaster in control.

It’s no use, he’s not there, it’s what Hydra had made of him and now he must obey; Bucky ignores as you pound and scream for him to stop, to shut the hell up and come back to you but it’s all in vain. He tells the bastard everything in a matter of seconds as your face falls.

Heart pounding with adrenaline, you slash a clean line that rips right through the bolts of the door in wild fury, it sparks against your Adamantuim claws while creaking in protest as you finally kick it open. The huge door clatters and clashes to the ground as you step out of the glass prison and onto the cement flooring of the large windowless room. Red emergency lights flashing behind you as they make your tense form appear as sort of a clawed beast rising from straight out of hell.

The dark eyed man warily turns to you, when a sudden childlike excitement dances across his features as he takes a cautious step back, a small thrilled smirk pulling at his lips. The mans obsidian pools flicker over to Bucky who keeps a steady death stare with the wall ahead, the man nods in approval for his painstaking work before trailing his eyes over to you, “Soldier. Kill the Hellcat.” Smirks the man as your eyes shift reluctantly from himself to Bucky. 

oh shit, you think miserably as your heart feels like its just sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Swallowing thickly, tears threaten to spill as your body shakes with racing adrenaline, your breaths noticeably heavier as you willingly begin retracting your claws. 

The familiar metal sinks painfully back into your skin as you stare them down distastefully. Frowning deeply, you slowly pull your hands up into fists, readying your stance for the fight that’s inevitably about to come.

Making a sickened face, you swallow nervously as Bucky takes a step forward with eyes set like a wolf to his prey. Reluctantly your feet move an apprehensive step closer, “Fuck.” You mutter under your breath as Bucky makes the first move. 

——

God why does your head hurt so damn much? Is the room spinning?

When you come to, the lights are still blinking an obnoxious red as you lay sprawled out across the cement floor, a puddle of blood trailing in a couple of dark-red thin lines from beneath your head to the yellow hazard stickers placed on the ground.

The air smells of blood and sweat as you suck in a deep breath before moving to sit up, at least the headache is gone, your eyes trail warily across the empty room as you touch the back of your head to get an understanding of what the hell happened here.

You can’t remember a thing.

A warm wetness greets your finger tips to no surprise, pulling them away, you study the murky crimson liquid staining your fingertips before your mind heals completely, your brain matter fusing back accordingly. Bits of the missing puzzle pieces soon form a coherent picture as you sit back in shock from the violent happenings that resulted in you bloody on the ground. 

 The man commanded Bucky to kill you.

The two of you indeed fought, but knowing that if you wanted to win you’d have to kill him yourself; Bucky kept his life as you let the Winter Soldier end yours. After dodging fist after fist thrown at you by Bucky, you finally gave in and let him pin you to the ground before he grabbed your face with his metal hand, smashing your skull against the cement floor in one dangerous deafening blow. Then it was over and...

Where even is he?

Picking yourself up, you quickly wander into the nearest opening only to be greeted by a multitude of unconscious guards, walking further down, you furrow your brows at the heavily dented elevator door where it appears that someone had been forced through. Touching the bent metal you sniff the air, it smells of Bucky and Steve. They couldn’t have been here less then thirty seconds ago.

Shifting to the right, you book it down the hallway to the sounds of strained grunts and fists hitting flesh. Soon you’ve found yourself at the edge of a large excessively windowed room, presumably the food court of sorts in this excessively ginormous place.

In the center is Bucky who’s absolutely beating the shit out of everyone making frugal attempts at stopping him. Your eyes observe Tony who’s positioned a good distance away as he breaths heavily from the floor, eyes wide in shock while he cradles one of his arms. The blonde haired woman from earlier appears in pain as she lays on her back, a broken table underneath her as the Black Widow squeezes Bucky’s neck with her thighs.

Natasha uses her elbows as a battering ram against his skull while he walks with her over to the closest table before slamming her roughly against the metal; he glares fiercely down at the Black Widow before using his titanium fist to choke the life out of her as she struggles against his weight.

Stepping into the huge room, your boots pound against the flooring as you deliver a powerful kick to Bucky’s strong waist, he tumbles across the thin carpeting before jumping to his feet in an instant. Natasha regains her lungs in a choked gasp as you throw a fist at Bucky’s chest, deflecting it, you use this new side lined momentum to duck under his approaching blow as you slide on the flooring, missing a fatal hit to your face by mere inches.

No more face shots please.

He whips around from the near miss, charging you once again; preparing for the worst of the Winter Soldier, your shoulders line up with his approaching body as your eyes calculate his next move. But when he readies his arm to punch, you slide to the side before swiftly twisting your body around to face him once more, all done within less then two seconds.

Watching his head turn left in confusion, you kick his back harshly onto the ground with the power enough to rival that of a lioness before huffing in frustration as he surges to his feet; you immediately halt in your tracks when out of nowhere T’Challa kicks Bucky across the floor. Soon the two men dance like two skilled warriors before Bucky takes the upper hand and whips the prince over the carpeted floor.

Blinking in bewilderment, you watch as he races up the stairs; the Winter Soldier doing his absolute best to get the fuck out of there, knowing he’s outnumbered by two and wary of getting his shit rocked by you again. Though he’s not even fully aware why you’re attacking him since his mind is back at Hydra and last he remembers you where on their side, and presumably bleeding out in another room.

Breathing heavily, you turn to share an awkward moment of uncertain eye contact with the prince of Wakanda before he throws you a half restrained dirty look, sprinting up the stairs after Bucky.

You’re able to take one step before a raspy voice snaps your attention over to a table, it’s Natasha, “Y/N.” She gasps through strained breaths.

Clenching your fists you leave those two to work it out as you swiftly approach the ex-assassin, “What?!” You snap.

Forcing herself into a seated position, she gingerly touches her bruising throat, “Guess you where right.” She chuckles painfully.

“Right about what?” You bark with a frown, eyes flickering over to Bucky and T’Challa as they throw jabs on the stairway landing.

“Last we met. You said I’d be lucky if we never met again. Guess you where right.”

“You’re an ex-assassin how lucky did you really expect to be?” You retort before taking a step for the ascending stairs when a hand takes your wrist.

“You have to stop him.” Urges Natasha, “No one here’s an equal force, you’re the Hellcat Y/N, you have to stop him no matter the cost.”

Throwing her an irritated glare at hearing your Hydra code name yet again, you growl like a wounded beast, “I’m not killing anyone!”

“You might not have a choice.” Challenges the red head with a pleading yet stern display, understanding that Bucky means more to you then just simple companionship.

“There’s always a choice!” You grumble angrily, heart pounding a mile a minute as you huff before turning for the stairs only to meet a disheveled and deeply confused prince, he’s sweating and looks rather conflicted as his dark eyes scan frantically around the room for any sign of Bucky.

Suddenly his eyes land on you, freezing in place, your mind swirls with what to do next; you’re a wanted criminal in plain sight and for some reason this prince wants Bucky and presumably you, dead.

Shifting your panicked gaze over to Nat, you shake your head before turning to T’Challa as you scowl like an angry brute, “If you touch me, I’ll gut you.” And with that heavy threat do you swiftly turn on your heels and race out the closest door and into the nearest hallway. Leaving Natasha and prince T’Challa with their lives.

Now where did Bucky go?

Running past door after door while the emergency lights annoyingly scream their bright red colors in caution of extreme danger, though you and Bucky are technically the “extreme danger”. Soon you take a hard right turn and immediately slam into the firm chest of Steve as he books it down the hallway for some door hanging open at the far end.

Falling into the closest wall, you don’t have time to wait on the pain emitting from your arm as he mutters a quick apology as the six foot two American hauls ass for the exit door. Recovering in no time, you press a bloody handprint against the wall before turning after Steve. Funny, you don’t ever remember cutting yourself on anything. Doesn’t matter.

Bursting open the cracked door, bright blinding rays of sunlight glare annoyingly in your eyes while your pupils adjust to the new terrain, soon your eyes catch the dramatic scene unfolding in front of you farther down on the helicopter landing area.

Perplexed, you stand in astonishment as Bucky attempts to take off in the chopper while Steve fruitfully leaps mid-air before tightly grasping onto the aircraft’s landing skids.

He pulls down hard, face straining in intense efforts to keep Bucky from escaping and heading into God-knows-where. Legs moving quickly, you race up the small flight of stairs leading onto the huge landing pad as Steve struggles fiercely to hold it down.

But before you’re able to aid in putting an end to Bucky’s fruitful efforts, he slams the chopper into the cement; causing you to leap backwards for fear of getting your guts sliced open by the blades. You’re helpless to watch as Steve narrowly misses becoming a decapitated corpse as the blades crash violently against the ground.

Chunks of stone and steel go flying in all directions as you shield your face from the debris. But as the dust settles, you peer from over your forearm to watch as Bucky’s metal arm bursts through the glass only to immediately grasp around Steve’s neck.

“Fuck.” Slips silently from out of your lips as you take a couple cautious steps forward while moving reluctantly towards the shit show; how has the last 20 hours gone so goddamn terribly?

Creeeek. Sounds the destroyed helicopter as it suddenly begins a slow ascend over the platform edge, where a large river awaits with open arms to presumably swallow whole the broken aircraft. Now in a panicked sprint, you race over the rubble as the last of the chopper, Bucky, and Steve are seen before they plummet to the waters below.

“No!” You cry helplessly as you reach the peak of the landing, nothing beneath you except for the broken tail of the chopper and a plethora of air bubbles.

-

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes​ @iamasimpingh0e

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier #tfatws x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #series rewrite

[clusterbuck]

i can't breathe without you (but i have to)

(2k words, rated T, complete) read it on ao3

trigger warning: minor character death (on a call)

@911week day 6: "please don't leave me" + angst

The call is rough. They always are, when someone dies, but this one hits harder than most. It climbs inside Buck and makes a home within his ribs, and he knows he’s going to carry it with him for a long time.

It’s their first call of the day, a head-on collision on one of the twisty little roads that line the coast. Someone had come flying around the corner a little too fast and crashed into an oncoming car. These roads are usually empty, and the fact that these two cars had happened to cross each other in the worst possible place is just bad luck. A freak accident.

The driver of the speeding car has barely a scratch on him, and at first, Buck thinks everything is fine. But then he looks over to where Eddie is checking on the other car, just as Eddie looks up at him and shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.

Buck leaves his driver with Bobby and hurries over to Eddie. He knows he probably won’t be much help, but Bobby doesn’t need him either, and there are two passengers in the other car.

The second he reaches Eddie, he can see that it’s bad. There are two teenagers in the car—a girl, conscious and sobbing in the passenger seat, and a boy slumped over the steering wheel. Blood flows from a gash at his hairline, staining his blonde curls a deep shade of rust, and his neck is bent at an awkward angle.

Eddie takes a step back and tugs at Buck’s wrist, pulling him back with him. “I already checked, he doesn’t have a pulse,” he says in a low voice. “Looks like he hit his head and the impact broke his neck.”

Buck looks back at the car, where Hen is trying to help the girl out of the car. She’s inconsolable, straining against Hen’s arms and trying to get to her friend. He can’t imagine what she must be thinking. Her entire life has changed in the blink of an eye.

Chimney comes over to start extracting the boy’s body, and Buck goes over to help Hen. He doesn’t think there’s anything he could say to comfort the girl, not when she’s just watched her friend die in front of her, but the least he can do is distract her so she doesn’t have to watch as they manoeuvre him out of the car.

“Hey,” he says, crouching by the door. He takes one of her hands in his, hopes it grounds her, even a little. “I’m Buck. What’s your name?”

The girl blinks, and for a moment Buck thinks maybe she’s so in shock she didn’t understand him. Then she takes a gasping, shuddering breath, and wipes at her eyes. “Sarah,” she whispers, hoarse and watery.

“And your friend?” Buck doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to bring her attention back to him, but—she keeps looking over anyway, frantic glances every few seconds like she doesn’t know how to exist without him at her side.

“Jordan,” she says. “His name was Jordan.” Fresh tears spill from her eyes, but she isn’t wracked with sobs the way she was a few moments ago. “And he’s not just my friend,” she continues. A laugh breaks free, hollow and humourless. “I’ve been in love with him since the seventh grade. I was going to tell him today.”

Buck’s blood runs cold, ice spreading from his chest to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He can’t grasp the enormity of what Sarah has lost, what’s been snatched from her in the blink of an eye on what was supposed to be one of the best days of her life. He’s looking around before he knows what he’s doing, gaze seeking out Eddie, and something inside him settles just a little when he sees Eddie talking to Bobby over by the ladder truck. He stares at Eddie just a little too long, reassuring himself that Eddie is fine.

His attention is pulled back at the sound of Hen’s voice, giving Sarah her condolences in a gentle tone as she looks the girl over. She seems satisfied that Sarah isn’t injured, but it’s protocol that all car accident victims get taken to the hospital for examination, so she turns to direct Sarah to an ambulance.

That’s when Buck notices there are only two ambulances, and they have three patients. Sarah is going to have to ride with her dead best friend, or with the man that killed him.

“I’ll go with Jordan,” Sarah says, and her voice is small but there is steel in it. “And I should—I need to call his parents.”

“They can do that at the hospital, if you want,” Hen says softly.

“No, it’s—I should do it,” Sarah says, and Buck watches as she straightens her spine, visibly pulls herself together before climbing into the ambulance beside the black body bag.

He looks on in awe. For three seconds, he lets himself consider how he’d react if he had to zip Eddie into a body bag and climb into an ambulance with it.

He doesn’t think his body would hold him up long enough to do it.

The rest of the day drags on, an odd contrast to the heaviness of their first call. There are barely any calls, and by the time day starts fading into night, Buck is dozing off on a sofa in the corner of the lounge.

One moment he’s in that halfway place between waking and dreaming, and the next he’s right back on the cliffside from this morning, except this time he’s the one in the car. He is the one in the car, and Eddie is slumped across the steering wheel next to him, blood smeared around lifeless eyes that stare at him, unseeing.

And on some level, he knows he’s dreaming, but that doesn’t stop him from surging across to Eddie, examining the wound on his head as if there’s something he can do about it. He finds the source of the bleeding, but every time he manages to plug it, another wound opens, and there’s nothing he can do to keep Eddie’s blood inside of him.

Not that it would matter, anyway, because Eddie was dead long before he ever started trying.

Buck is still frantically trying to hold Eddie’s body together when he jerks back awake, so suddenly it takes him a moment to understand what’s happened. There’s someone in front of him—Eddie, he realises—with one hand on his shoulder, and the other pushing his damp hair back from his face.

“What—is there a call?” Buck asks, looking around. He can’t see any of the typical rushing around that comes with the alarm, but then he can’t see much of anything else either, because everywhere he looks he sees the image of Eddie bleeding out.

“No call,” Eddie says. “You just—you looked like you were having a nightmare.”

“That’s definitely a word for it,” Buck mutters, and Eddie frowns.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?” And Eddie looks so concerned, so open, that for a second Buck wants to tell him everything.

Then he takes a breath, and reminds himself of the truth that sits heavy in his chest like an anchor. The truth that keeps him weighed down, keeps his feet on the ground when his head threatens to float into the clouds. The truth that keeps him from doing stupid things, like pouring his heart out to his best friend in the middle of the firehouse in the gathering dusk.

The truth is this: Eddie is with Ana. The truth is this: Eddie is with Ana, and he is—well, Buck doesn’t know if he’s happy, but he’s definitely content. He’s content, and settled, and in a stable relationship, and Buck can’t be the one to take that away from him.

“Just the usual,” he makes himself say, and he thinks he pulls off a somewhat passable grin. “I’ll manage.”

“If you’re sure,” Eddie says, and it looks like he’s about to say something else, but then the alarm really does go off and they’re both scrambling into action, everything else temporarily forgotten.

Calls start picking up again after that; they usually do, once night rolls around, almost like darkness doubles people’s propensity to do stupid shit. Eddie doesn’t try and ask him again, but every now and then Buck catches Eddie watching him like he’s worried.

Eddie follows Buck home after the shift, like he often does when they have overnights and get off work mid-morning. He doesn’t usually stay long—they’ll have breakfast, maybe play a couple of rounds of a video game, and then Eddie will head home to try and get a couple of hours of sleep before Christopher gets home from school.

But today, the thought of Eddie leaving—the thought of being all alone in his loft—feels suffocating, so every time Eddie looks like he’s about to leave, Buck comes up with something else to do. And it works for a while, but eventually Eddie looks at the time, and he frowns.

“I should really—”

“Stay,” Buck cuts him off. “I just—I don’t want to be alone right now. Please don’t—don’t leave me.”

And he doesn’t know who he hates more: himself, for the way his voice cracks, or Eddie, for the way he immediately softens and settles back into the couch.

Ana, Buck reminds himself. It doesn’t mean anything.

“You sure you’re okay?” Eddie asks. “You’ve seemed a little off since I woke you up earlier.”

“I just keep thinking about the call this morning,” Buck admits, because it’s as close as he can get without touching on the real heart of the issue.

“Yeah, that was a rough one,” Eddie agrees.

“I know we see a lot of shit,” Buck says. “I know it comes with the territory. But those kids today—they were so young, you know? They were supposed to have their whole lives ahead of them.”

Eddie’s quiet for a while, and then: “She’s going to regret it for the rest of her life. Not telling him.” He looks over at Buck, just a quick there-and-back dart of his eyes.

And what the hell is Buck supposed to do with that?

Ana, he reminds himself again.

He searches for something to say for so long that Eddie clears his throat and starts talking again. “Want to play Mario Kart to distract yourself from the random cruelty of the universe?”

And Buck agrees, but he can’t help but feel like he missed something. He just doesn’t know what, and now that Eddie’s moved past it, he doesn’t know how to ask about it. It sits between them on the couch as they race each other’s virtual characters, and over the course of the day it calcifies around his ribs, is added to the pile of things he can’t talk to Eddie about.

Eddie stays late into the night, and for scattered moments here and there Buck forgets that this isn’t what they do. That they don’t have the kind of life where they spend hours together just doing nothing. Because Eddie has Christopher, and he has Ana, and he has a whole life outside of Buck. Because Eddie doesn’t want Buck the way Buck wants him.

But every time he forgets, the anchor in his chest is there to remind him; the weight of it is as familiar to him as his own skin. And finally, Eddie leaves, like he always does. And this time Buck doesn’t ask him to stay, because that request isn’t his to make.

#911week2021 #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #i've been sprinkling enough angst everywhere this week that for a moment i thought i was all tapped out but hey i think this is something #shush emma #emma writes

[witcherslittledove]

May I request some knifeplay with a side of humiliation? Maybe Jaskier got himself caught and Geralt has to cut him free and picks up on how much he loves the knife? And gets off on how desperate he is for it?

@jaskiersbow I believe this was your prompt? If I remember rightly!

Just You Wait

Ship: Geraskier

Rating: E

CW: witcher potions, knifeplay, humiliation (minor namecalling really), butt plugs, anal sex, bondage, canon-typical violence (and death to unnamed characters), mentions of Jask/OCs, orgasm denial.

(I think that's all the warnings but let me know if I missed anything?)

Summary: Jaskier gets imprisoned as part of a spy mission and it's down to Geralt to rescue him, and well, they might as well take advantage of the chains whilst they're there.

AO3

Jaskier should be used to getting tied up. As a Redanian spy, or occasionally Temerian depending on his mood, he sometimes needed to get caught in order to obtain the information he needed. No one ever suspected the bard, and he had a particular talent for getting into trouble, namely a tendency to sleep with the wrong person’s spouse or child. This time was no different. A quick romp with the mayor’s wife, and then his daughter, had been enough to land Jaskier in jail. The poor man never even realised that Jaskier meant to get captured, and it hadn’t taken long for Jaskier to con the guards out of the information he needed. The only problem was that he was stuck, and the guards were enjoying using him as their personal punch bag. Little did they know that every hit, every movement that made his wrists pull against the shackles, jostled the plug that Jaskier had shoved up in arse before he’d been captured. So he was trapped, chained, and unbearably horny.

The best combination in his opinion.

And unfortunately for the guards, Jaskier’s husband was almost certainly on the way. That thought kept his spirits bright through every punch to the gut and face. His lips were split, he had almost certainly broken a few ribs, and he was struggling to open one eye, but that didn’t keep him from laughing. The guards had practically signed their own death warrants the moment they laid hands on him, and Jaskier happened to find it incredibly hot whenever his husband tore down half the Continent to keep him safe.

"Just you wait til my husband gets here," he whispered, his voice hoarse and cracked.

The guards looked at each other, giving Jaskier a reprieve from their brutal punches, and then they laughed. It didn’t matter though, Jaskier knew he would have the last laugh. The idiots were too busy howling to notice the sudden eerie silence in the prison, but Jaskier grinned, not looking up from the ground. A terrible scream tore through the room as a sword appeared in one of the guards stomach, blood shining in the candlelight.

Jaskier cackled. “I tried to warn you,” he sang, finally looking up to see his husband wrenching his sword from the dead guard, Geralt’s eyes were black as the night and a web of inky veins crept across the ghostly pale skin.

Geralt smirked, not bothering to wipe the blood from his sword. The second guard jumped to his feet, ready to fight but Geralt was faster. The sword flew through the air, slashing the guard's throat and he crumpled to the floor next to his companion. Jaskier cocked his head, licking his lips as he took in the bloody form of his husband, all scary face and sword raised.

Lowering the bloody weapon, Geralt cupped Jaskier’s cheek, making sure he was okay with a frantic sweep of his black eyes. It was kind of sweet really. Geralt was barely himself when he was high on the potions like this, and yet he cared so deeply that his first instinct was always to check that Jaskier was safe. And oh, how Jaskier adored him.

A low snarl rumbled in Geralt’s chest as his dark eyes took in the damage that had been done, but Jaskier just met his gaze, offering a smile. “I’m alright, dear heart,” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off Geralt.

"You're hurt," Geralt growled, scenting Jaskier, one hand gripped around his still shackled wrist.

"I'm fine," Jaskier sighed, pulling his husband into a kiss, the taste of their blood on his tongue. He’d never expected to enjoy the taste of blood, but combined with the thrill of the fight and the lingering sense of danger, he was weak. He whimpered, pulling at the shackles, wanting to be free, but first... he needed Geralt to take him like this. It was a drug, an addiction, and Jaskier was the addict. He let out a pitiful "please" against his husbands lips, desperate and aching as he was.

With the final reassurance, Geralt finally snapped, his sword gliding through the air, but Jaskier didn’t even flinch as he felt the kiss of steel grazing against his chest. Thankfully, his clothes were already ruined, otherwise Geralt would be buying him a new set, but the sound of fabric tearing and the sting of the sword scratching his skin made him feel heady. Jaskier licked the blood off his lips as he strained against the chains, but Geralt was faster, holding the sword at Jaskier’s throat with a low growl. Jaskier wasn’t scared, even though his husband was more animal than man at that moment, he trusted his husband.

And holy fuck…

He could barely catch his breath, too aroused, too dizzy, too lost in Geralt. Jaskier whimpered as the tip of Geralt’s blade nudged his chin up, forcing him to look into those midnight black eyes. Gorgeous, beautiful, obsidian eyes that haunted Jaskier's dreams. When Geralt pressed the sword harder, it cut into Jaskier's throat, not much, just enough to make him cry out. He whined pitifully, unreasonably turned on by the sharp pain. Geralt let out a low growl, and the sound sent a shiver down Jaskier's spine. The witcher’s voice was truly something else, like all of Jaskier’s wet dreams combined.

"Tell me, husband, how exactly did you get yourself arrested this time?"

Jaskier didn’t answer, too tongue-tied to form the words. They both know what he did, they might be married but Geralt had never expected Jaskier to be monogamous.

"Fucked the mayor's daughter," Jaskier admitted, gasping for breath as Geralt pressed the flat of the blade against his windpipe, "and his wife...."

And maybe his son... but Geralt didn’t need to know all the details.

Geralt snarled, the tip of his sword running through the thick hair on Jaskier's chest, dancing around Jaskier's nipples. "Is that what you do, whore yourself out in exchange for information?" Jaskier nodded, whimpering as the blade traveled further down towards his cock."I should have known I married a whore, that's all bards really are."

The witcher’s words were like fire in Jaskier’s veins, he was a whore, Geralt’s slut to use and abuse as he saw fit. He wanted that, needed that and he whined, pulling again at the chains. If he didn’t get Geralt's cock in him, blessed Melitele, he might in fact die…

"Geralt, please, I'll be good."

The sword clattered to the ground but Geralt already had a dagger ready, before Jaskier could even protest. They both knew he needed the extra incentive to stay quiet, even with no one left alive to hear them, it was just a part of the game they liked to play. Sometimes Geralt liked to gag him, but most of the time it was down to Jaskier to force himself to stay as quiet as possible.

“I don’t think “good” is in your vocabulary, bard,” Geralt said with a low snarl, biting at Jaskier’s bottom lip as he finally reached down to tease Jaskier's hole.

Jaskier laughed as he felt his husband’s fingers press against the plug, flicking his hair from his eyes as he leaned in for another kiss. "I told you I'd be good for you."

The witcher tugged at the plug, pulling it out in one swift movement, and Jaskier had to bite back a moan. It stung but dear gods... did it feel good. There was an aching emptiness at his core, as he felt the oil trickle down his bloody thighs, and he heard his own voice pleading, begging, beseeching. He needed to be filled, he needed it more than the air he breathed.

Thankfully, his husband was in a worse state than he was and it didn’t take Geralt long to slick up his cock, growling as he pushed inside Jaskier. The stretch burned slightly, the witcher’s cock larger than the plug Jaskier had prepped himself with. It felt like Geralt was fucking his very soul, and he couldn’t help but choke on his own cries as his husband pounded into him at a relentless pace, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. Jaskier couldn’t even hold on, arms sore against the shackles that bound him to the wall.

Geralt’s teeth grazed against his neck, nipping sharply at the skin. The witcher’s low voice snarled and growled, whispering utter filth in Jaskier’s ear, but it wasn’t enough. He’d never been able to cum untouched, but Geralt was too lost in his own pleasure and Jaskier’s hands were still tied, leaving him teetering on the edge of an orgasm but never quite able to fall.

Before Jaskier could beg to be touched, Geralt came with a grunt, tearing the chains from the wall. They both tumbled to the floor in a heap, bloody and exhausted. The only remaining sounds were Jaskier’s quiet whimpers as he pressed his face into Geralt’s chest, his cock still hard and leaking, and yet still feeling strangely at peace in his husband’s arms.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz

[kylorengarbagedump]

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 3

Read on AO3. Part 2 here. Part 4 here.

Summary: You always hated tagging along on boys' night.

Words: 3300

Warnings: tw//kassanovella

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: HI LOOK AT ME I GOT THIS OUT IN TIME. I did indeed test positive for COVID so this was wrought through my fatigue--and may be why there is a delay for the next chapter. We'll see!

I hope y'all enjoyed this. I am doing my best to respond to all the feedback, but I'm like... so tired LMFAO. Thank you so much for your support and engagement. It literally means the world to me and is so encouraging.

I love you. ❤️

It didn’t matter how many times you told yourself to calm down. Your pulse bounded like a rabbit, every thump a reminder of your tightening chest. The walls of the Steadfast washed past in black-silver blurs, your mind wild with fear. Hux’s words replayed over and over, a cruel broadcast in your brain. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered. 

Realistically, that could mean anything. Pessimistically, everyone was dead and you were homeless.

The thought of losing your crew weakened your knees. For four months, they’d been your solace and something akin to a family. Not like you’d had other real options on that little butthole of a planet--but you’d gotten lucky. You’d made a home out of Orinda; a home where you’d planned to return. 

Lip pinched in thought, you joined Kylo in a new turbolift, crossing to the corner again as if he were a disease you wanted to avoid. You folded your arms over your chest, stared at your shoes. If you were homeless, it was anyone’s guess as to what you’d do or where you’d go next. It was clear that your supposed… whatever he was didn’t care for your presence. 

Leather gloves scrunched in the silence. The lift arrived, and he stormed off, in expectation that you’d follow. You rolled your eyes, trailing behind him, allowing the need that had burgeoned between your thighs to deflate. 

He’d said he would punish you. But you couldn’t think of a punishment worse than going four more months without his touch. 

Kylo broke through another set of blast doors into the hangar, officers and Stormtroopers alike snapping to attention in his presence. If he noticed or cared, it didn’t show--he pushed through the quiet floor, furious stride carrying him toward one of the ugliest ships you’d ever seen. 

Black durasteel panels formed a long, cylindrical frame, the bow outfitted with a row of rakish teeth and bordered by two guiding flaps. The engines looped like two smooth bricks at the stern of the vessel, the two ends connected by rows of external piping and guarded by a sprinkle of gunning stations. Its blocky build bore a resemblance to a prison transport--if that prison transport was then modified by an eager, unsophisticated halfwit. 

He climbed the descended ramp in thundering strides, and you skulked in his wake, only to be greeted with one of the mercenaries you’d seen earlier. You paused, but Kylo passed the soldier, marching toward the stern and abandoning you in the main corridor. The man--at least, you were fairly certain he was a man--wore a mask embedded with breathing tubes, a huge, heavy club in his hands. The weight of his gaze anchored you to the floor. He said nothing.

“Uhm…” You tried to find an introduction, but none seemed appropriate. Grimacing, you offered him a half-hearted salute. “Sir.”

The man did not respond. Face burning, you scurried into the ship, hot on Kylo’s heels. 

Few lights rimmed the interior of the vessel, your only guide the resonant thump of his boots along the durasteel slats. It was as dim as it was dank--the deeper you delved, the heavier the air. It was sticky with the stench of war, weighed with iron and brimmed with smoke. And underneath that, a scent you’d only describe as one owned by a pack of panting massiffs.

A chill crept over your scalp. This ship was empty of kindness, barren of mercy. You didn’t need the Force to know that nothing good had ever happened within these walls.

Your fear had you scampering to keep pace. Kylo led you through a flickering hall and turned a corner, swiped a switch. A set of blast doors opened to sharp steps, another pair of doors at the top. Those parted as you approached, light spilling from the Steadfast hangar through wide slats of red transparisteel. You’d arrived in the cockpit.

Six chairs lined the wrap-around dashboard. Two as pilot seats, two positioned at gunning and weapons systems, and two plugged toward the back, each in front of a monitoring station. One seemed to handle communications--or lack thereof, the radio receivers and wiring were all almost entirely torn out--and the other dedicated to internal surveillance. At the latter, a matrix of screens with live feed of the interior of the ship.

Even through the shadowed halls, you could distinguish a handful of prison cells. Each of them was torn apart, littered with metal scrap and half-shorn weaponry. The walls themselves were adorned with sloppy graffiti, one of them decorated by a mural of a massive, five-legged lizard beast. A huge red beam was bursting through its neck. Within the tiny walls were separate collections of cultured artifacts. You knew enough about war to know they were trophies.

Every room also possessed a rumpled, dirty bed. A flash of hall light near one cell, illuminating notches in the durasteel where the head of the bedframe met the wall. Like the frame had been slammed against it. Over and over and over.

You swallowed. On one of the feeds, a body slipped through the hall like a living shade. Pausing, you watched until it disappeared from view. The sound of footsteps whispered, then hummed, then roared. You spun, seeking out Kylo, finding him by the co-pilot’s chair, and darted into the pilot’s spot as if this was a totally normal occasion and you weren’t on a weird deathship surrounded by his weird death bodyguards.

Kylo turned to gaze at you, and the blast doors opened, stealing his attention. In the frame stood another would-be man, outfitted with a ribbed-weave robe and carting a huge plasma rifle. Filth smothered him from his boots halfway up his legs, and his head was obscured by a helmet, not unlike the one you’d known Kylo to wear. This one had two blinders on either side, like this man was a predator. 

Like he was a hunter.

Whatever fear you felt for him, he certainly did not feel it for you. He glanced between you and Kylo, trying to ascertain the relationship that resulted in your presence.

“She’s in my seat.” His voice was grainy, like glass on stone, distorted underneath his mask.

You held up your hands in deference. “Hey, sorry. I had no idea this was your seat.” You went to stand, frowning at Kylo, who was studying your every movement. Really had to love how helpful he was being.

“Hurry up,” the man said. 

Nodding, you wriggled around the chair with your hands still raised, as if this would offer any form of protection between you and this fully armed guard. He squared his feet and stalked toward the pilot’s seat. You side-stepped him, but he shoulder-checked you despite it, and you stumbled back, wincing. 

“What the f--”

Kylo Ren’s saber screamed to life, slicing a divide between the hunter and the chair. He stalled, fists balled, neck rolling to stare at Kylo. You gulped, rubbing your arm, your eyes flipping between him and the crackling rod of plasma only a foot away from the man’s waist.

“Sir.”

“Careful,” Kylo said.

He snorted. “Of a Lieutenant--”

“Kuruk.”

Kuruk pivoted to you, and you met his stare somewhere behind the shield of metal. Whoever was underneath the helmet was rending you apart in his mind. 

He shrugged his shoulder and looked back to Kylo.

“Excuse me. Sir.”

The saber disappeared, and Kuruk took his seat at the dashboard. You flushed. At least he’d done that much. You snuck to the back of the cockpit, thinking to sit at the surveillance station, but pausing there too. Every one of these seats could have an owner whose name you didn’t know. Glimpsing Kylo, you threw up your hands in confusion.

Kylo caught this, but did not acknowledge it. “Resistance activity was spotted on the scanners. Get Cardo and Trudgen on the turrets. Ushar gunning.”

“Yes, Master.” 

Your eyes widened. Master? 

Kuruk fussed with the dashboard, relaying the information, and you gazed at Kylo, examining his body in the same routine you’d practiced nightly with your hands between your legs. Fuck, he was big--the thick expanse of chest rose with a slow breath, and you watched it fall, then watched his neck tense as he turned, attuned to your observation. Heat rushed your spine when you linked eyes. His jaw stiffened.

“Get in your seat, Lieutenant.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Is this my seat? I didn’t know.” You sank into it, shooting him a wide, sparkling smile. “Thank you, Master.”

Kylo swallowed.

The blast doors opened again, the soldier you’d seen at the entrance bursting through and tromping to a gunner console--you assumed this was Ushar. He tossed his club to the side, flicking on the controls and calibrating the sights. The ship itself bellowed to life, rising from the floor, and you gripped the seat, unable to force your focus from Kylo--just as he was unable to force his from you. 

The two of you were in competition. That much was clear. 

You just couldn’t figure out what the loser would be impaled with--or if that would make them a winner, instead. 

The Buzzard shot into the stars, coasting in a direct path toward Orinda. You broke the staring contest, glimpsing the little planet through the cockpit, pulse picking up again. Requests for response unanswered. Once you got on the ground, you’d go find your crew and make sure they were safe. That’s all you needed to know. Whether or not Kylo wanted you to come back was irrelevant.

You met his gaze again, his irises hiding a storm. Blood bit your cheeks.

Mostly. 

“Nothing detected on the sensors,” said Ushar. 

Kylo glanced at him then turned toward the transparisteel, searing you with a leer before he sat at the dash. You shivered. Whatever you’d done to make him feel this way, his brief glimmers of favor only made it worse. Maybe you did want to fuck him so you could get a chance to figure it out. Or maybe it was just frustrating to know him in ways no one else had while simultaneously knowing almost nothing at all.

The three men operated in silence as you approached Orinda. From space, it seemed normal. With no starcraft popping up, there was a chance it was a false alarm. That it had been a fly-by. You held your breath when you broke the atmosphere, flames whipping the transparisteel. The Buzzard trembled with gravity, diving toward the ground, greens and browns and blues splitting to trees and fields and sea. 

Then a flash of light, smog blooming to life, tiny fires swallowing your narrowing field of vision. Air froze in your lungs, nails biting the hard back of the seat. 

“Fuck.” You launched from the chair, scrambled toward the dashboard. “No, no no…”

Kylo spun to face you, but you ignored him, shoving between the two pilot seats to crane over the console and peer through the transparisteel. 

He stood, looming over you. “Back to your seat.”

His words swum in the tsunami of your mind. The outpost was smothered with smoke. The closer you drew, the dimmer the horizon, until the Buzzard landed on the border of the eruption, the entire sky encompassed with billowing black fog. Every muscle in your chest felt like wire around your ribs, forcing the breath from your lungs. You shook your head, hands starting to tremble.

They were out there. They could be dead. 

The blast doors opened, and you whirled to leave, but Kylo caught your shoulder and stilled you. 

“What the--”

“Gather the rest,” Kylo said. He was speaking to Ushar. “Spread out and secure the perimeter.”

Ushar nodded, grabbed his club, and disappeared down the steps. Huffing, you wrenched yourself free from Kylo’s grip and stomped toward the exit only to be paralyzed by a very familiar nothing. You growled, unable to even make a fist.

“Dude!”

“You will remain on board the Buzzard until I return.”

The fact you couldn’t turn to look him in the eye made you even angrier. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you said. “That’s my crew. They’re my responsibility.”

“Stand down.”

You snorted. “Hell no.”

Two long, slow steps brought him behind you. His presence consumed you like a black hole, crushing you in darkness. 

His chest met your back. “Every one of your little quips has gone unchallenged.” Another step, and his mouth fell to your ear. “Do not test me here.”

Warmth flooded your thighs. If he didn’t like being challenged in front of his soldiers, he shouldn’t have put you all in the same space. His own fault. 

“I don’t care,” you said. “These are my crew members. You don’t know them. I do. Let me go.”

“No.”

“Why are you even doing this?” you said. “You’re the one who fucking brought me here!”

A pause. Silence settled between you, the only sounds the distant noise of destruction and your anxious, heaving breath. You heard him exhale.

“Kuruk,” he said. “Scout and support.”

Behind you, Kuruk stood, followed by the metal click of him grappling his rifle. You watched, stuck to your spot, as he charged through the cockpit and down the steps. The blast doors to the stairs shut behind him. Then the ones to the cockpit. And you two were alone.

Kylo snarled, snatched your throat--he was a swoop of rage, swiveling and slamming your back to the wall. You seethed, squirming under his grip, unable to hide the smirk curling on your lips as you tried to pry his wrist away. He subsumed you like a star subsumed space, bright hot and pure, and you were a simple nothingness, addicted to his heat.

“You think you have earned my submission,” he muttered. “You have not.”

You wheezed, gazing into his eyes, finding an electric spark of hunger and fury within them. Four months without this had been far, far too long. As long as he was treating you like a stranger, you didn’t want to give in. But that wouldn’t stop you from making this torture for him, too.

“Then what have I earned,” you purred, “Master?”

He sucked in air through his teeth, pinning your body flat--his chest rolled with excitement, his voice raked over lust. “The further you push me, the worse your earnings.”

You bit your lip, bucking your hips against his, feeling a growing bulge between his legs. “You’re ridiculous.” You’d thought he’d wanted you to go to Orinda. Maybe you’d been wrong. “What, is this because I left?”

A huff. “No.”

“Then I don’t get it.” You rolled your pelvis into him again, and he jerked forward, crushing you to the wall. “Why don’t you want me around? What did I do?”

Kylo shifted, panting into your neck, his mouth centimeters from your skin. “Not what you did,” he said, clutching your throat tighter. “What you saw. It will not happen again.”

Some bit of that stung. You saw inside of his mind. “You act like I made you admit it!” It was difficult to speak under the pressure of his palm. “You could’ve just let me go.”

“Hm.” His hand squeezed, and he dragged his hardening bulge along your thigh. “Perhaps I should have.”

So that’s what this was about. Whatever had happened, he’d decided that what he’d shared with you was weakness. And being Supreme Leader meant he couldn’t be weak. Meant he couldn’t have room or time for you. All you were was a living regret. 

Frowning, you glared at him, driving your thumbs into the meat of his wrist and throwing his hand from your neck. 

“Yeah,” you said, shoving him back. “Perhaps you should’ve.” His eye twitched. A screeching blast broke the air, and you tensed. “I’m going to find my crew.”

You stalked out of the cockpit, blast doors parting for you as you hit the stairs and cut through the halls back to exit the Buzzard. It was one thing to abandon you. One thing to make you leave. One thing to act like he’d never held you, kissed you, or whispered your name. 

But it was an entirely other thing to imply he wished it never would’ve happened. The thought pierced your heart, and you steeled your jaw, tried to pull the pain free. You didn’t have time to play Kylo Ren’s newest Game of Repressed Emotion. You had friends to find. 

The ramp to the Buzzard was already down, and you hurried to the ground, smacked with the scent of blazing fuel. Embered ash battered your eyes, and you coughed, covering your face with your arm. Under the wailing wind of heat, you heard Kylo approaching the exit, so you trudged toward the outpost, seeking out any hint of life.

“Tonis!” Your voice was eaten by the flames. “Mirna! Lin!” Narrowing your gaze to protect it, you pushed toward the hangar, knowing that if they were anywhere, they’d be there. 

Sweat crawled down your nape, scattering over your lower back as you drew nearer to the fire. The mercenaries were nowhere to be found, but you supposed that was okay, since they didn’t seem very fond of you regardless. The hangar was beyond the completely engulfed fueling station and therefore impossible to see, but as you curved around the fire, you could discern slivers of it. Edges of the building, and then whole sections.

And your stomach dropped.

Another couple of steps, only to discover the hangar scorched, collapsed in on itself like a shattered greenhouse. You stopped a scream and bolted, careening toward the wreckage to see if you could find anyone or anything among the debris. Thick durasteel girders stuck out of the heap like nails, the ridged ceiling crumpled in pieces and mirroring the fire’s light.

“Tonis!” Your back burned from the heat, but you didn’t care. You tried to find a way in, a way to pull something apart, a way to find someone. “Mirna!” You grabbed a huge wooden beam, hands slipping on the soot, but you fruitlessly tugged anyway. “Lin!”

A ragged shard of wood ripped your palm, and you shrieked, cradling it to your breast in shock. Cursing, you left the mass alone, following the foundation around the corner, hoping against hope they escaped out of the back and were huddled behind the hangar. You approached the corner, calling their names, louder and louder. They weren’t coming to meet you. Again, and louder, and you turned the corner, pleading with the Force that they’d be there.

Of course, they weren’t. 

In front of you was a cluster of discarded starship parts, all outdated or malfunctioned or busted. It was a collection you’d gathered since you’d arrived--arranged and created when more parts were added. Each fragment was unique, and when building it with your crew, it sometimes resembled a sculpture. Under the clouds of smoke, it looked like a pile of junk. 

Growling, you rushed it, kicking the base and sending it all tumbling to the ground. Your furious hands found purchase and hurled whatever they had grabbed to pieces. A scream shook your chest, and you jammed your foot against a solar array panel, cracking it in half. Underneath, you found an old, pretty fuelcell splinter. You grabbed it in your bloody hand and hissed, pulverizing it with your fist. Grunting, you threw the dust into the air, watching as the firewind ate it all.

You heard the rustle of grass behind you. Your shoulders sagged.

“There are no signatures of life remaining at this station.”

Sighing, you turned to Kylo. He was watching you, face blank.

“Yeah.” You wiped your palm on your pant leg, smearing it with blood. “I know.”

His eyes flicked to your hand for the shortest, sharpest moment. Then he met your eyes. “The silencer is still in need of repair.”

You frowned, averting your gaze. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You’d prefer to sleep outside in melted trash.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged a shoulder, crossed your arms. “Dumpster fire and all that.”

Kylo Ren held you in his stare, cape fluttering and hair rumpled in the breeze. Tears stung your eyes. You wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

“Come.” 

He turned the corner. Clearing your throat of sadness, you followed him. You allowed him to guide you through the devastation, past the flames, and up the ramp until you were safe in the Buzzard cockpit. And then he left, likely to gather his men before departure.

And then you were alone.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren #defy your authority #fya2 #fanfiction problems #COVID CUTIE BRINGING THE CONTENT........

[milliedazzledust]

Turning Pages (Kol Mikaelson imagine)

Request by @scallisonbaby : Could you write an imagine for Kol, she’s the daughter of one of his main enemies, she tried to keep it a secret but he finds out and klaus tries to kill her saying she’s probably spying on us but Kol proctects the reader.

Words: 2858 words

A/N: this doesn’t follow the chronology or history of the show. Kinda felt inspired, this is long

Y/N knew she was screwed the moment she saw him. The brown eyes, disheveled hair, handsome smile and smartass attitude, not to mention this british accent that could make her swoon. Yes, Kol Mikaleson really was her weakness.  She suspected he knew it and played with it anytime he could. She hadn’t known the Mikaelsons for long but had helped them countless times.

Several years ago, before the family came back to New Orleans, she had come to seek shelter. Her path had crossed Marcel’s. He had come to her rescue before some vampire could kill her one night and she confided a whole part of her story she wished she could forget to him. She had expected him to ask her to leave and never come back to his city, but instead, he had agreed to help and hide her.

Ever since, she had kept that secret and had sworn no one would ever find out. Before New Orleans, she had another life, another name. A one she despised more than anything with a man she no longer considered family. She’d learn of his implication with Klaus himself later on when the man she had succeeded to avoid for years came back, hellbent on revenge against the Mikaelsons.

« How exactly do you think this is gonna go when they’ll find out ? » Marcel asked her, handing her a bottle of beer.

She sighed. Sitting on the couch in his living room, her feet crossed on the table, she took the beverage and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

« I think Kol is gonna kill me » She answered.

« Kol isn’t the brother you should be worried about »

She gave him a side look and pursed her lips before taking a sip from her bottle.

« Family’s a real bitch sometimes, huh ? » She half heartedly joked.

« He’s not your family, not anymore. Not since you came to New Orleans »

She smiled at her friend.

« But your father has become powerful enough to kill an original over the past couple of weeks and you know he’s gonna try to destroy them »

Again, she sighed.

« What am I suppose to do ? »

« I know you don’t want to see him, but you might just be the only one who can stop him »

« Do you really think he’ll listen to me ? After all I’ve told you ? »

« Lucien is … well … complicated, but not beyond reason »

She chuckled.

« Complicated ? Is that your definition of psychotic maniac killer ? »

Marcel stood up then turned to the girl, offering her his hand.

« You owe it to yourself to at least try »

She rolled her eyes.

« Damn you and your moral Marcel » She muttered, taking his hand and getting up.

With a heavy heart, she let him take her to the compound. So far as she could remember, she always had felt scared of her father. When she was a child, often she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her heart would race at the simplest sound of his feet approaching. Countless times she cried herself to sleep, hoping he wouldn’t hear, otherwise he’d come to show her what it was to be strong and not weak, as he would put it.

Marcel took her to the French Quarter, knowing whatever Klaus was planning, it was certainly to lure Lucien into the compound. He wasn’t wrong. The moment they step foot inside the Mikaelson’s mansion, one of them was already flying across the room, landing with a loud noise on the staircase. The vampire she had once known as her father was standing in front of Niklaus as his brother got back on his feet.

« You should’ve ran while you still could » Klaus threatened him.

« And miss an opportunity to kill you ? » Lucien laughed.

Klaus grinned, taking a step back. He silently nodded at his sister Freya. She instantly started chanting ancient words, a grimoire in one hand, the other raised in defense against him. In a matter of seconds, Lucien was on the ground, screaming in pain.

All this time, Y/N stayed behind Marcel. It was her way to shield herself from him. No one except Kol acknowledged their presence. Instinctively, after a quick look at her, he put himself in front of her. For a moment she thought it was to allow his brothers to attack, but when she felt his hand clasped around hers, she knew he was trying to protect her from the fight to come.

Suddenly, almost as quick as it started, her father stopped screaming and laughed. She’d recognize that evil, wicked sound anywhere.

« Did you really think this would work ? » Lucien proudly stated, standing up.

Freya took a step back, glancing at Klaus. Whatever spell they had planned, it wasn’t working on him. They all looked tense when he casually crossed the magic border around him with ease.

« Let’s get this show on the road, shall we? » He grinned.

The Mikaelsons spun in a defensive stance. Elijah launched himself first and made Lucien fall, but the vampire was quick to get back on his feet. Klaus used his speed to attack but the other creature anticipated his move and threw him against a wall. Angry, he got back up, breaking a chair and stabbed him with it. Lucien took the weapon out of his chest and Elijah used this distraction to get behind him and try to strike. It was no use. The other vampire turned before he could do anything and grabbed his arm, breaking it in the process. Seeing his brother struggling, Kol glanced behind him at Y/N before rushing to help him.

« Don’t move » He warned her.

He squeezed her hand one last time and ran to Lucien, punching him and making him lose his grip on his brother. Y/N watched in horror her worst nightmare happening. Soon, Marcel joined the fight and the violent dance started against the vampires. Her breath suddenly got caught in her lungs when she saw her father twist Kol’s arm, making his knees hit the floor. When Elijah and Klaus tried to get closer, he pulled harder on his shoulder. Kol winced in pain and his brothers stopped dead in their tracks.

When Y/N saw her father’s fangs retracting and the black veins running on his face, she swore her heart stopped beating. Right then, out of pure fear for the man she loved, she deciding she could no longer stay back.

« Enough! » She yelled.

His mouth wide opened, close to Kol’s arm, he looked up at her and smirked. For a moment it all sounded quiet. Everyone was completely still and no one moved over the silence of the room. The invisible tension was almost palpable as she took a tentative step toward him.

« Let him go » She told him, her voice quivering.

Still wearing that god awful smile, he looked back at her, pleased by her intervention.

« Stay back, Y/N » Kol warned her before, worried she would try to come closer.

She stopped in her track. As she looked around the room, she could see the questioning stares around her and she knew this moment would change everything, but she couldn’t let him hurt this family.

« Please … stop » She whispered, her eyes watery.

« Why would I ? » He darkly chuckled.

« Because I’m asking you »

Her lips quivered as she forced herself to take a breath.

« Y/N, step back. He is dangerous » Elijah advised her.

Lucien let out a sinister chuckle, raising an eyebrow.

« They don’t know, do they ? »

She pursed her lips, silently answering his question. Once again he loudly laughed, finding the situation amusing.

« Marvelous ! »

From the corner of her eyes, she could see Klaus started to put the puzzle into pieces. She was screwed and she knew it.

« I’ll come back if you let them go » She offered, ignoring Kol gaze on her.

He bitterly smirked.

« You chose your side when you fled my home, Y/N. And for that you will die too »

He tightened his hold on the vampire beneath him when he started to fight back at his words.

« And your pathetic lover with it » He spitted.

« You left me no other choices ! »

« You were supposed to rule by my side! » He screamed. « You were suppose to defeat the Mikaelsons with me ! »

« Those were your plans, not mine » She cried.

Again, she saw his fangs retracting and she felt the fear growing in the pit of her stomach.

« I’ll teach you what happens when you betray your own father, Y/N ! »

This was it. They finally knew. She saw each Mikaelsons widened their eyes in surprise. Marcel took a defensive step toward her when she noticed Klaus starting to shift, angry. What hurt her the most was the way Kol stared back at her. His jaw tightened, his fist clenched, he looked betrayed and it broke her heart. Before any of them could process the news or react, she watched her father plugged his fangs into the arm of the man she loved, making him scream in agony.

« No! » She shouted, running to them in a vain effort to save him.

Before she could even reach Kol, she felt her body being pushed and her back violently smacking a wall. The force of the impact made her close her eyes just for a second but when she opened them back, she noticed her father had fled. Ignoring the physical pain she felt, she tried to stand up.

« I’ll kill you! » She heard Klaus yelled at her.

He reached her at an impressive speed, clasping his hands around her neck. With all the power he could, he strangled her, and the girl was no match against Klaus Mikaelson. Marcel was quick to come to her rescue and threw the vampire attacking her across the room.

All Y/N could focus on was Kol cries. The man was on the ground, Freya and Elijah by his side, fighting an invisible force trying to kill him, fighting a fate brought by her father. He screamed in agony as his brother tried to hold him still while their witch sister had already started to gather ingredients for a spell.

« We don’t have long » She told them.

« Why are you protecting her ?! » Klaus shouted to Marcel. « That wicked woman lied to us! »

« She had no choice, Klaus! »

« So you knew ! You knew she was a spy send to destroy my family and you said nothing! »

« She’s not with him ! »

« Do I care about terminology ?! He is her father ! »

Elijah watched Y/N as she tightly shut her eyes at his brother’s words.

« Enough, Niklaus! » He shouted at his brother. « This is not the place, nor the time »

Kol was still restless on the ground, the spasms making it harder for Elijah to hold him still. His skin had started to become sickly pale. Y/N stared at him, a few feet away. Never had she felt so guilty and ashamed. She could see his misery and knew the mere sight of it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

« Freya, do something ! » Klaus urged her when his brother stared to violently shake.

« I’m trying ! » She responded.

She quickly gathered everything she needed around her, working as fast as she could.

« I’m gonna need Lucien’s blood » She informed them.

The brothers shared a look. They knew wherever the man was, they wouldn’t reach him in time.

«  Would … would mine work ? » Y/N softly suggested.

« Yes »

« You’re not coming anywhere near him! » The hybrid shouted back.

« Niklaus, let the woman help! » Elijah answered him.

He nodded at her and she almost ran to Freya, offering her arm to her. She winced when the witch cut her skin but her eyes never left Kol. Freya finished her spell and mixed all her ingredients, adding Y/N’s blood then handed a cup to Elijah. He brought it to his brother’s mouth, forcing him to drink. The girl waited by his side, anxious. She hadn’t noticed the tears on her face, nor her hands trembling. She let out a breath of relief when she saw the man stopped shivering.

« Leave, now » Klaus firmly ordered.

« Are you serious ? She just saved your brother! » Marcel warned him.

« It’s … it’s alright, I’ll go »

She stood up, shaking with emotions, ready to collapse in tears, and walked to the door. She took a look back, needing to make sure he was alive.

« He’s gonna be alright » Elijah reassured her.

She nodded, glad he at least wasn’t showing any sign of anger toward her then glanced one last time at Niklaus.

« You and I share one thing in commun, we didn’t choose to have a crappy father. I thought you of all people would’ve understood that »

He pursed his lips, holding himself back from answering.

« I’ll leave New Orleans tomorrow » She told them. « I’ll try to draw him out of the city »

« You don’t need to go » Marcel told her.

« Just … tell him I’m sorry, okay ? » She asked, looking one last time at Kol.

Marcel sadly nodded at the girl before she disappeared. For a while, she just wandered around the streets, enjoying the eery atmosphere of New Orleans one last time before going home and packing.

Leaning over the balcony of her home later that night, she stared at the life still roaring so late in the city. A man on the street was playing the sax while some people danced to it. She could hear the noise from Rousseau’s, the laugh, the music, the chatter. Bourbon street and its live music and vibrant people felt so alive and inviting, a chaotic contrast to what she was feeling. Time seemed to slow as she tried to photograph this memory, a keepsake to give her strength in the rough times she knew would come against her father. She felt a sudden gush of air behind her and shivered, knowing what it was before he even spoke.

« Were you really expecting me to let you go that easily, love ? »

She closed her eyes, a tear rolling down her cheek. All the noises around her disappeared. All she could hear was the loud silence and his heavy presence. She tensed when she felt him take a step closer, scared he might say something that would definitely hurt her.

« Kol… » She whispered.

« Why ? » He simply asked.

She pursed her lips, trying to come up with an answer that would be enough to make him understand.

« I was scared »

« Of what ?! »

« My father has done terrible things »

He grabbed her wrist, making her sharply turned to face him.

« Y/N, have you seen my family ? » He argued. « Did you think I would judge you ? Do you think so low of me ? »

« Are you alright ? » She suddenly asked, not acknowledging any of his questions, her eyes scanning his body for any sign of injury.

« What ? »

He seemed lost for a moment.

« Your wound » She explained. « Has it healed ? »

« That’s beside the point, Y/N »

« You almost died because of me »

« Because of him » He corrected her.

In a second he was in front of her and entangled his hand in her hair, his thumb softly stroking her cheek.

« Why, Y/N ? » He asked in a whisper, his eyes pouring into hers.

She felt small under his gaze, unarmed and vulnerable.

« I didn’t want to remember » She admitted. « I just wanted to forget him, forget he existed, forget the years of … »

She stopped herself and he knew why. He didn’t need her to say it to know Lucien had hurt her, badly.

« I didn’t think I’d see him again » She kept going, a lump forming in her throat. « I thought I was free, Kol »

She starred right back at him, a sob escaping her throat.

« I thought I was finally free » She told him, her shoulders shaking with every word.

He dragged her to him, squeezing her as she melt down in his arms. It was more than crying, it was the kind of desolate sobbing that comes from a person drained of all hope. He felt her sank to her knees before she could touch the ground and tightened his hold of her. He waited patiently until she was calm enough to take a step back.

« There’s no way I’m letting you leave the city, Y/N »

« I have to make him go. Besides, your brother will have be beheaded if I don’t disappear »

« The hell with Niklaus, he can go fuck himself for all I care »

She rolled her eyes at him.

« I’m not letting you go » He vehemently stated, cupping her cheeks.

« He’ll come back for you. All of you » She muttered.

« Well good. We’ll be waiting for him »

« Kol … »

« Mark my words, Y/N ; I am NOT letting you go » He repeated.

He leaned into her and kissed her forehead, then her nose, then softly, her lips.

« I can’t let him get to you » She confessed.

« And I can’t let you go near him. This is a dead end, love, and you’re not winning this argument »

She chuckled.

« I really thought I’d lost you for a moment »

He smirked.

« Never. You’re stuck with me for an eternity »

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson fanfiction #kol mikaelson imagines #kol mikaelson fanfic #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #the originals

[wynniewright]

In Harm’s Way (M)

→ This story is a part of the @bangtanshadowfamily “The Creatures of Moonlight Manor” Halloween collab!

→ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

→ Word Count: 4.8k

→ Genre: grim reaper au, halloween au, smut, lots of fluff, bit angsty

→ Summary: After fighting with her grim reaper boyfriend, Y/N decides to throw herself into a dangerous situations to get him to stop ignoring her.

→ Trigger Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide (it’s not dark, think of when bella tried to get edward to save her so she kept doing stupid shit - it’s that), one time mention of a past near-death experience (not detailed, it’s just vaguely mentioned in the fluffy part), reader attempts suicide via toaster bath (with the intention of being saved by her supernatural, soul-reaping boyfriend). Please don’t read if these make you uncomfortable! 

→ Warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral (female), bit of impregnation kink, tae just wants to be a dad, reader makes stupid decisions, cum play, possible impregnation?, sex with pants on, fingering, lots of fluff and all that good stuff

→ A/N: Hello hello! Finally found the time to squeeze in this story in the middle of my full-time school and part-time work schedule. Sorry it took so long for another fic to post but here I am! I want to thank my amazing bangtan hq sprinting crew who helped motivate me to finish this @purpletigertaetae @nightowls388 @shadowsremedy @wwilloww. This story was supposed to be a lot darker and a whole lot more filthy than it turned out. Wasn’t supposed to be fluffy at all and somehow it turned real quick so I hope you enjoy. I’d also like to state that I’m not promoting suicide or slightly toxic relationships, this is a fictional story and the reader hasn’t died, isn’t dead, and won’t die, so the suicidal scene in this is not meant to be disturbing. If you’re not comfortable reading, please don’t. Alright, I love you all.~ Hope you enjoy.

The biggest struggle of dating Taehyung was that no guide, tutorial, or advice blog post could’ve prepared you for what it was going to be like to be in a relationship with him. I almost wished there were some sort of ‘how to’ on dating a grim reaper because no matter how much dating experience I had, being with him was like being in my first relationship again.

It was a little unconventional, sure. Date nights were always iffy since, apparently, reapers don’t need sleep and therefore are technically scheduled around the clock. Boy, there was nothing like us setting up a nice, stay-at-home dinner date when he’d suddenly kiss my cheek and disappear into thin air, only to come back a few minutes later and announce he’d taken another soul. I’ll be honest, it was a slight mood killer. 

But aside from his job description, Tae was a kind person. He didn’t seem to know exactly how to deal with human emotions, as his kind were strictly prohibited from having human-reaper relations and never had the opportunity to learn from us. But just because he didn’t know what emotions were, doesn’t mean he didn’t feel them. He was a sensitive guy, too.

I remembered the first time he cried. We were watching Marley & Me and I cried at the end like any other sane human being. Tae didn’t cry at all, in fact, knowing I was sad made him sad enough to tear up, even more so when he couldn’t get me to stop. That memory was one of my favorites purely because it was too wholesome to forget: a grim reaper crying because a girl was sad that a dog died in a movie. 

But like every other person in the world, not ever emotion was positive. 

Being much older than I, Taehyung didn’t really have moments where he got angry to the point of exploding in a fit. There wasn’t a situation where he ever passed that threshold, at least, not in front of me. The feelings Tae couldn’t quite grasp were hurt and jealousy. 

From his own words, he never loved anyone before me, and something I knew better than anyone was that jealousy and love were very closely intertwined. 

The first year we dated, I tried explaining to him what jealousy was, that even I felt it too in an attempt to teach him that he didn’t need to act on it. It was safe to say that it didn’t really work.

Over four and a half into our relationship together and Taehyung still chose to disappear whenever we got into a small petty argument that involved him taking something out of context and then not wanting to talk about it like the century old being that he was. 

In our most recent example, my best friend, Sam, called and told me that she was expecting her first baby. We cried a little and then spent the rest of the conversation talking about whose eyes they would have or which parent they would most resemble. Tae and I never talked about kids nor a future together, we just lived in every moment the two of us were given, so indulging on a new topic with Sam gave me the image of tiny Tae-Taes waddling across the wooden floor, matching their father’s bright, boxy grin as they giggled. 

I made one comment - one! I told her how I’d love to have mini-Taehyungs running about the place and that I was so excited to meet her little Sam. Somehow, he took that and ran with it.

He didn’t bother letting me speak, pulling the usual disappearing act he always resorted to when he was upset and didn’t want to properly face his feelings in the moment. I thought it would pass like all the rest, but something changed. 

Hours passed and he never came to check in on me. Days flew by and I hadn’t heard from him. I wanted for him to come by, swallowing my pride and shouting at the empty air in hopes he was listening, to no avail. Nothing worked. 

After two weeks of being ignored and left without so much as a trace, I decided to do what any normal girl would do to seek out her boyfriend’s attention.

I needed to kill myself. 

I didn’t want to die, by any means. Tae knew how close I’d come to death a few too many times, but if I was going to get his attention back on me, I needed to attempt something stupid. Not only did it have to be stupid, it also had to be believable. I needed to convince him that I was going to die and hope he’d rescue me just in time.

I knew it wasn’t a good plan to start off with but it was the only thing I could come up with to get him to focus on me. The only reason I even thought of such a stupid idea was because I knew he’d never let me actually die. He saved me once and I was willing to bet he’d save me again and this time my life was actually on the line.

All that being said, I’ll regurgitate that it wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had. 

What if he’d decided to have someone else cover me? What if the one time he decided he didn’t want to see me again, he passed the job on to someone else and they just let it go?

I shivered with that thought fresh in my mind. To say I was scared was a gross understatement, the thought of all the ways this could go bad were enough to paralyze me with fear. There was only one reason I stood there in our master bathroom with a bath full of water and a toaster in my hands, already plugged in and ready for me to drop it in.

If I wanted him to talk to me, I had to force him to keep me out of harm’s way.

Nervousness nagged at the back of my mind, heart beating a million miles a minute against my ribcage, forcing me to take a deep inhale of fresh air, even if it was only to calm my nerves for a few seconds. A few seconds was enough to release my grip and pray that Tae would be there to rescue me.

With a last shake of my head, I thought up a quick “I love you” to the universe as if the universe would deliver my message to my friends and family if things didn’t go as planned. And with that, I dropped the small appliance.

The moment it slipped from my fingers, I clenched my eyes tight and waited for the shock to ripple through my body in powerful waves, but nothing came. In fact, time itself seemed to slow down as a large clanging against the wall forced my eyes open, right as a tall, dark figure wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me out of the tub to press me against the wall adjacent. 

Taehyung stood there, fuming in anger as his gaze bored into mine, hands gripping tightly to me and keeping me pressed against the wall, though I’m not sure if he was holding onto me to keep me steady or if he was preparing to murder me where I stood. To be fair, if it wasn’t for his hold on me, I would’ve slipped against the tile floor that puddled with the water leaking from the bottom half of my jeans. I added a mental note to myself that next time I do something like that again, I should prepare for it to actually work and actually wear a pair of shorts or something. But another problem for another time.

The sheer force in which Taehyung’s eyes glared into mine would normally have made me cower. But knowing I had to do something that stupid just to get him to talk to me again filled me with a burning anger that I didn’t know I had within me. With that newfound anger, I pushed back against his chest, my hands rebounding off his chest without moving him in the slightest. He dropped his hold on me and I stepped forward, my foot catching a slippery tile and making me bang my back against the wall roughly. A sharp pain shot through my back and Tae softened for a  moment, reaching out again to steady me before I finally exploded.

“No. Don’t touch me! I don’t even know where to begin right now!” I defiantly shoved his hands away from my body and crossed my arms over my chest once I balanced out a bit. 

“You? You?! The fuck did I do?” He argued, waving his hands in the air as if his gestures were defence enough for his stupid inhuman reactions.

“Oh, so you’re going to play stupid now, is that it? Really?” I barked, taking a step forward and poking a finger right against his tight chest. “I don’t know. How about the fact that you just walked out on me and never came back? What happened to having a normal fucking conversation like an adult?” He received a poke to his clothed peck with every word to emphasize what he’d done wrong.

Annoyed with me prodding at him in frustration, he grabbed my wrist at my last poke, holding my arm away from him and resumed the glaring. “You’re making this about me now? Are you going to completely ignore the fact that you almost just fried yourself? What the fuck were you thinking?!” He raised his voice, something he didn’t do often, and I naturally shied away from the loudness of his voice to keep my ears from ringing.

“Well I wouldn't have needed to do that had you come back to talk! Of course I tried to get your attention. I love you, you fucking moron,” I grunted, voice cracking at the end as tears instantly sprang to my eyes. Willing them away, I stood my ground and met Tae’s heated gaze with an unwavering one of my own. I wasn’t the one in the wrong. 

“We did talk. Yeah I left, but I did that after I said things weren’t going to work out between us.”

He wasn’t wrong. He did technically say that but it was spoken like a passive statement made in anger, a second before he disappeared to wherever the fuck he went to whenever he was upset with me. So I was just supposed to accept that was it after four and a half years and no idea what broke the two of us. Fuck that, he meant too much to me.

“I don’t understand why you keep saying that. I made one comment - one! - about kids to Sam and now you’re dead-set on not being with me? Why are you so angry about that?” My words came out in a pained whisper as I pleaded with him. I just wanted a response back, to know what was hurting him so I could try and fix it. 

His eyes shifted from mine repetitively, searching my face for something before he mumbled out, “Because I can’t give that to you.”

I froze, all but my heart coming to a halt as I processed his words. He couldn’t give that to me… Kids?

I couldn’t help the frown that framed my lips as his face morphed into one of discomfort, grimacing at himself. A pang of guilt smacked me right in the chest as his face fell. All of it began to make sense and I wasn’t sure if I made things better or worse by doing what I did.

“Tae…” I started, mouth agape as I tried to form some sort of response but I couldn’t think of one at that moment.

He straightened himself out and all visible evidence of his emotional expression was wiped clean off his features. “I can’t give you kids,” he repeated clearly, seemingly more for himself than for me.

Pride swelled up in me and I reached out to wrap my arms around his midsection to hug him close.

“Baby,” I cooed, a fresh wave of tears threatening to soak into his soft cotton shirt as I smothered my face against him, taking in his scent and his warmth. He returned the embrace, tightly hugging me back with his nose buried atop my head.

“You’re not mad at me,” he mumbled thoughtfully.

I shook my head against him, squeezing him that much tighter to reassure him. “I figured it wasn’t biologically possible, but there are plenty of ways for couples to have kids when they otherwise can’t themselves.”

I imagined his brows furrowing as he turned his head, resting the side of his plump cheek on top of my hair. “I don’t understand.”

Pulling back, I tilted my head to look him in the eyes and smiled supportively. Our kids don’t have to look like either of us to be ‘little Taehyungs’ or little ‘Y/Ns’.” I leaned back further and pressed my chin against the center of his chest, humming as he readjusted his embrace around me. “I’ll see you in the way they smile or laugh, all those little idiosyncrasies they pick up from you that make them you kids.”

Tae blinked with a blank expression on his face, staring me down without so much as a response to follow up. The longer he went without responding, the stronger my heart pounded in my chest. 

We never had any serious talks like that before because everything about our relationship was too complicated. Marriage and families weren’t even on our mind, at least not on mine until Sam was getting her own, and suddenly I realized how I’d love to have a family with Taehyung, no matter how unconventional. But there’s a chance that could’ve just been me. Maybe it was too early to be talking about that so Tae didn’t really have an opinion since he couldn’t have kids. Maybe he was trying not to hurt my feelings? God, I broke him.

I cleared my throat and opening my mouth to talk when he cut me off. “So you’re not mad that I…. you’re okay with it?”

“Of course I’m okay with it. Sure, I’m a teenie but sad they probably won’t have your boxy grin or your cute little nose freckle, but our kids would be cute regardless.” The anxiety I had towards his response was no longer a thought in my mind as I suddenly grinned, punctuating my statement with a kiss on his chin, which he playfully returned. But he didn’t stop there. Strong hands gripped the back of my thighs and urged me to jump, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist as he pushed us up against the wall once more, chaste kisses littered across the length of my face. Each peck tickled, giggles pouring past my lips as I scrunched my nose up and took all the comfort he gave. Lips trailed down my neck before he buried his face in the crook of my collarbone, happily sighing against ym skin with a happy hum.

The smile on my lips pinched at my cheeks, making my face ache with the strength of my happiness alone. I never knew he’d have such a human response to something like kids. It made my heart flutter to know that’s where his heart and mind were, that he wasn’t actually mad at me.

With determination, he pushed us off of the bathroom wall and opened the door to our shared bedroom, carrying me to the bed where he motioned to put me down.

“Babe, my pants are still wet,” I reminded him, to which he nodded and set me down a foot or so away to stand in front of him.

“Well, we’re going to solve that,” he quipped, reaching down between us to fumble with the button and zipper on my jeans while I grinned up at him. It wasn’t what I had in mind when planning this out but I sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.

He had a few issues with the clasping mechanics of my pants, a regular issue he was faced with, and grunted in irritation. I giggled, brushing back the long strands of hair behind his ear before a loud ripping sound pulled my attention.

“Baby! These are my favorite jeans!” I screeched at Taehyung, lips pouting as I admired the fresh rip down the center of the jeans that paralleled the zipper. You know, the zipper he could’ve just undone.

Lips pressed to my forehead as a chuckle rippled through his chest. “Not anymore, they’re not.” He meant it to tease but I still glared at him, not finding it in me to laugh at the expense of my favorite pair of jeans. “Sorry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he offered in a light-hearted tone, making me roll my eyes and return the kiss to his chin.

Lean fingers dipped into the waistband of my jeans, tugging them down my hips until they passed the curve of my ass. But the material from the thigh down was still sopping wet and made it even more entertaining to watch him struggle to slide the denim down my legs, coaxing another giggle from me.

“Fuck, why is this so difficult?” Tae let out a soft groan, giving up on his quest of removing the wet article and instead closing the distance between us, lips meeting mine in a gentle kiss.

“What about my pants? Not going to rip them all the way?” I wriggled my eyebrows and laughed when he rolled his eyes back.

“Pants or no pants, I’m still fucking you into the mattress.” His voice dripped with heat, his tone comparing to sex itself, sensual and deep, which made the words shoot straight down to my core.

As promised, he stalked towards me until the back of my knees pressed up against the edge of the bed. He didn’t miss a beat, cupping my face with his large palms and pulling me into a deep kiss that took away what little breath I had after his sexy statement. His tongue skimmed over the seam of my mouth, canines digging into the flesh of my bottom lip as he gave me that final push back onto the bed, lowering me down with a steady hold on my back until I was flush against the mattress with him hovering above me. Mouths lavished over one another, pulling the other into each other as far as our bodies would let us until the lack of oxygen forced me to pull away for a moment.

I wasted no time in pulling the white shirt from his black dress slacks, untucking his usual orderly work clothes so I could dip my hand under the smooth material to feel his bare warmth against my fingers. Each little divot and bulge across his stomach only added to the arousal gathering between my legs, allowing my fingers to explore the clothed spaced with the image of him naked on my mind.

The thought of that alone drove me mad, thighs instinctively rubbing together to relieve some of the pent up pressure. But doing so only reminded me of the pants I still had clinging to the lower part of my legs, the tight and uncomfortable sticky feeling causing a slight bubble of irritation to well up within me.

“Bab-” I started, cut off by Tae’s lips roughly soothing over mine with a kiss deeper than the one before it. It was his mission to explore my mouth, delving deep inside to slide his tongue along mine in a dance for passion, not power. There was no struggle in the kiss, which was different - a good different that made my heart beat just a little bit harder for him.

“Sh, ignore the pants,” Taehyung whispered against my lips and I had to force down the eyeroll that almost surfaced at such a dismissive response.

As I was about to protest further, Tae parted from the kiss and pushed himself from the bed, kneeling down on the floor and pushing my legs up until they tucked up to my chest to expose my clothed core for his eyes to feast on. The tip of his tongue swiped across his lips before he dove down, pushing my panties out of the way to dip a finger shallowly into my sopping heat. I moaned softly, holding onto my ruined jeans with one hand and sneaking the other around to his head, intertwining my fingers in his soft, chestnut locks.

Without warning, Tae pushed his finger in to the knuckle and lowered his head to hungrily lap at my clip over my already soaked underwear, ripping a moan forcefully from my throat. He moaned in return, any noise that left my mouth only adding to his determination to work me up and get me as wet as inhumanly possible. He sped up his pace, curling the tip of his finger to stroke the pad of his fingertip along the rough patch at the top, the spot that made my mind go blank and left me a mumbling mess for him to please. He always knew how to hit the right place, each and every time together was spent as a new learning experience for him to map out and worship my body as I did his.

A few pumps later, Tae placed a sloppy, wet kiss along the inside of my thigh before adding a finger to the one already thrusting into my cunt at a moderate pace. The stretch burned despite how slender his fingers were, always filling me up nicely. Brushing against a particular spot deep within me, I was left gasping for air, tugging the strands at the top of his head as I attempted to buck my hips against his hand to meet each of his thrusts, my sopping pussy tembling around his fingers.

“Fuck, baby. You always take me so fucking well,” he praised, leaving a few stray kisses along my thigh to accompany the faster pace he’d set, working his fingers into me as if he could do it all fucking night long.

“Mmh, Tae,” I groaned, abandoning the grip on my legs to ground myself against the duvet underneath.

“What, baby? What do you want?” Rougher kisses were pressed into the length of my thigh and along my wet mound, tongue practically dancing everywhere but my clit to tease me.

“Tae-Tae, I want you in me. Please.”

Despite the urgency in my request, Tae peeked around my legs with a softened look, eyes kind as his body smile outshines the gloss of arousal painting his lips and chin.

“Yeah? Where do you want me, baby? Here?” He asked with a slide of his fingers across my g-spot, causing my thighs to quake as I fought off the softest hint of an orgasm. I nodded and begged him for his cock while he rubbed the remainder of my slick from his face and onto his sleeve, towering over me once again as he climbed up the bed once again, having stripped himself of his clothes. The heat returned to his gaze as he devoured my body with his eyes, not needed for me to be naked in order to let his imagination run wild. 

Leaving a soft kiss against my lips, he pushed back to sit on his knees and lifted my legs up until my feet rested against the top of his shoulder. The position we were in gave him the perfect view of my ruined panties, his eyes lit up with a heat unlike anything I’d ever seen from him before as he traced the material with his fingertip. 

“You want me to fuck a baby into you?” He asked, fighting the blush that creeped up his neck and into his ears as he stayed locked onto my clothed pussy. 

His words made me giddy, the thought of him fucking me and getting me pregnant with his child adding fuel to our very passionate fire. “Please, I want your baby, Tae,” I whined. He dragged his cockhead against my clothed core, earning a grunt from us both. With a push of my panties to the side and a gentle rock of his hips against my own, the entirety of his cock slid into me, walls protested the stretch his thick girth gave despite the prep, drawing a synchronized moan from us. 

“Oh fuck, babe,” I groaned, fisting the sheets beneath me as his grip aropund my legs tightened. He stilled when the last inch of his cock sank into me, the tremble in his breath telling me he felt the tightness in this position too. Without warning, he dragged his hips back, exposing everything but the tip of his cock before he quickly thrusted back in. 

He continued his languid pace while pressing open kisses to my foot just beneath the hem of the jeans, nails raking against the flesh of my thigh before his eyes flickered down to me. 

I gasped when he adjusted the angle of his hips and targeted my g-spot without miss, setting a punishing pace with his hips as he suddenly drove his cock into me roughly. I moaned out, teeth capturing my bottom lip to contain the sounds his actions were tearing from my throat. 

With a grunt, Tae switched our positions, lowering himself down until his shoulders nestled in the hollow of my knees, face ducking down to pull my lips into a kiss as he resumed his powerful thrusts into my aching pussy.

The new position had every part of my body humming in happiness, the surface of my flesh tingling with each thrust he gave until my eyes shut. Our lips danced together, tongues stealing tastes of one another as the little sounds we made were muted by the other. I fisted a hand in his sweaty hair, using the brunette strands to ground me against his assault against my hips. I tried to meet his thrusts, but the awkward position left me lying there, unable to move, as I took his cock as he gave it. 

I tightened around him, loving the way I felt every ridge of his thick length as it disappeared from my cunt and pushed back inside to hit me in all the right places. After so many thrusts against that spot deep within me, a pressure built up in my lower stomach that burned, growing in size with each pump of his cock until I whined, needing pressure on my clit to push me over that final edge.

Knowing exactly what I wanted, he snuck a hand between us and used the slick on my thighs to wet his thumb before swiping rigorously against my sensitive clit. I mewled in pleasure at the contact, throwing my head back and parting our lips as loud whines and moans leaked from my mouth. It was almost too much, the combination of his hand and his cock throwing me over the edge faster than I could ever get myself off, pushing me over that ledge and into my orgasm. 

I mumbled incoherently as my spasming cunt only drove Taehyung to ride out into his own orgasm, continuing his brutal pace until his cock twitched and stilled inside me, filling me to the brim with his seed.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, taking the time to catch our breaths and return to reality. My body protested him pulling his limp cock from my oversensitive hole, making me grimace. When he pulled back and released my legs from his grip, I groaned at the stiffness in my legs from being in that position for a while, but completely forgot about that as goosebumps fluttered over my skin and brought my attention back down to the soaked jeans I still had on my body. 

Taehyung noticed my shivering and gave a small laugh, deciding to help me out and finally rip each of the legs until the material wasn’t too tight to remove. Sticking to the stripping, I took off my top and unclasped my bra, flinging both across the room to deal with later as Tae stood at the edge of our bed, between my legs. His eyes locked onto the cum dripping from my pussy and he couldn’t contain a grin as he reached forward and swiped a drop up onto his finger to push it back inside of me. 

“Well, at least we’ll know for sure,” Tae murmured to himself. 

“Hm?” I hummed, reaching out with grabby hands for him to come join me on the bed, which he did with a soft smile and a peck to the nose.

“I’ve always assumed we can’t have kids. I guess now we’ll figure out whether I was right or wrong.”

#creaturesofmm #btsbookclub #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #bts smut #taehyung smut #grim reaper au #halloween au #collab

[writerofblocks]

*sneaks this in* Bridget/Troy - things you said with no space between us (or) things you didn’t say at all

This was. From a long ass time ago. BUT ITS FINISHED NOW SO IM POSTING IT.

Sleepless in Stilwater

“Three.”

“Hmm?”

Troy held up three fingers. “That’s the third time you’ve yawned in as many minutes. And I’d be okay with that if you weren’t, you know, doin’ seventy on a forty-five mile an hour highway.”

Bridget broke eye contact with the road long enough to give him a sidelong glare that would wither a lesser man. “I’m not the only one doing their best Fast and the Furious impression out there,” she irritably shot back. A sports car rushed past them with an ear splitting squeal that made Troy jump, and she gestured at it. “See?”

Troy sunk back into the leather seat of the [insert car model here], returning her glare with one of his own. “That’s not the point and you know it. The point is I’d rather not end up a red smear on the pavement because my wheel man fell asleep at the goddamn wheel.”

“Oh, is that all I-” Her mouth cracked open into another face-splitting yawn; she barely managed to hide it behind her hand. “-all I am to you? Your wheel man?”

“Four. And don’t give me that crap, you’re the one that called dibs on driving.”

“I only called dibs cause you drive like a grandma on a broken scooter.”

“You mean I drive the speed limit.”

Bridget ignored him. “Besides,” she said, swerving around a semi-truck sharp enough to make him grab at the handle above the passenger window, “I’ve got places to be after this. Julius called me about a-” she let out another yawn. “-about a storage place, said the Rollerz keep their best wheels there.”

A smirk crossed Troy’s face. He waited until Bridget’s attention was on him before he held up five fingers and wiggled them. It was worth it to see the way her eyebrows dropped into a sharp V before she jabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t you fucking say it.”

“Don’t need to say anything.”

The one finger swiftly flipped upward into giving him the bird as she returned her attention to the highway. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you out on the highway this second,” she growled, though a smile playing at the corners of her lips undercut the hostile tone.

Troy chuckled, then settled back in his seat enough to look out the car window. Stilwater was a shithole on a good day, but the oranges, purples, and blues of sunset colored the world into something more palpable to take in. Light bounced off the towering buildings of Downtown, harsh edges and cold, reflective glass softening under the gentle touch of twilight. But you could only watch buildings whiz by for so long. His gaze, as it so often did in these rare quiet moments, returned to her.

As much as he bitched about it, there was one thing he didn’t mind about Bridget being the go-to driver. It allowed him time to just… take her in. Look openly, without other people seeing and giving him crap for being lovestruck. Without her giving him crap for being lovestruck, because even after the months they’ve been together she still shied away from open affection more often than not. She cuts the sentiment with a joke, or by teasing him, or some combination of both. He doesn’t mind it- he wonders sometimes if he’s a glutton for punishment, given his career path and choice of romantic partner, but he doesn’t mind being so. Not with her around.

So he looks at her. The way her eyelids keep fluttering slightly, only for her to stubbornly hold them back open. The dark circles he’d think were black eyes if they weren’t only on her lower eyelids. She’s tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, jiggling the leg not in charge of the pedals. Any motion to tell her body it isn’t time to sleep yet. He’d make a joke about looking in a mirror if seeing it didn’t bother him so much.

That was the downside of being undercover. You got real good at seeing things people tried to hide. He had to say something. He opened his mouth, and...

“For real, though. You look like shit. Have you slept at all?”

And of course something stupid came out. Miracle of miracles, she scoffed instead of chucking him onto the highway. “Bold move to question my sleeping habits. How many used coffee mugs are on your desk again?”

Troy chose to ignore her words. “Look man, just-” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “-go home. Take a shower or something. Get some food. You need a break, Bridge.”

Bridget’s face was impassive, staring straight forward as she shifted the car into the express lane. “Can’t. Julius-”

Enough of this. “Did he tell you to do it tonight?” he asked, cutting her off before she could restate whatever bullshit task Julius had given her to do on top of everything else he’d piled on her. For fuck’s sake, sometimes it felt like she was carrying the whole gang by herself in between the tasks Julius sent down the pipeline and the duties she’d taken on herself to perform.

The glare she gave him could melt permafrost. “No.”

“Then do it tomorrow when you’re fresh.”

“I’m fresh enough,” she bit out. “You’re worrying way too much-”

The words burst from his chest before he could vet them. “I’m worrying the right goddamned amount for someone watching a person he cares about take way more shit on than she needs to.”

Bridget’s eyes went wide, whatever she’d been about to say dying in her open mouth.

Troy ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if this is some macho attempt to prove yourself or some shit, but you don’t have to do this. Slow down. Take care of yourself. Just- please.”

She was quiet for several minutes, eyes locked on the road as she slowed to match the speed of traffic. He’d almost given up on getting a response before she spoke again. “I won’t go to the storage place tonight. It’s-” She swallowed. “It’s late. Rollerz’ll be getting the cars out for races by now, there’s bound to be way more hanging around than during the day.”

He knows those justifications. Her saying he’s right without saying it directly. When she spoke again, her voice was careful. “Got anything else going on later?”

Manila folders scattered across a coffee table, a rapidly growing pile of cigarette stubs as he figures out the best way to ruin his friend’s lives-

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

When Bridget had first joined the Saints, Troy had thought her unreadable. It was easier now to read her once he knew what to look for. Her rubbing her thumb against the side of her index finger- something self soothing. Bouncing her leg- buying time to think. The lift of her head to look at him directly- she was searching him, weighing his reaction. “Feel like staying over?”

Always. “If you want me to.”

The tension in Bridget’s shoulders dissipated, and she gave him a small smile. “Of course I do, that’s why I asked,” she replied, punching him in the arm. “Dumbass.”

===

Rain tapped an improv jazz rhythm on the glass of Bridget’s bedroom window, and Troy couldn’t sleep. Blame the cigarettes, the coffee, the crippling anxiety and paranoia. The cause ultimately didn’t matter, the effect was the digital clock on Bridget’s bedside table hit 2AM and he was no closer to falling asleep than he was when he originally lay down. Bridget, though. Bridget had been asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a moment of satisfying vindication.

He rolled over, resting a hand on her arm.

It was strange to see Bridget asleep. If Bridget was awake, she was moving- tapping her foot, shifting from side to side. She bounced her heels if a meeting went too long, rattling the table until he placed a hand on her thigh to get her to stop (among… other reasons). If she chose to talk, she talked with her whole body, her hands dancing in the air. Even when she was seated and still, a part of her still seemed to tremble with energy, anticipation and eagerness. Not now, though. Now she laid there, the rise and fall of her chest the only motion. Light drifted through the cracks in the blinds from the streetlight outside her window, resting softly on the freckles on her cheeks.

His hand traveled down her arm, into the dip of her waist, over the swell of her hip bone. Bridget wasn’t a paper-thin waif by any stretch of the imagination, but without the bulk of her sweatshirt to fill out her usual silhouette, she looked… smaller. More vulnerable. Which was ridiculous, he’d seen what she could do with a gun- hell, forget a gun, he’d seen the havoc she created with her fists alone- but somehow. Somehow that veneer was stripped away in the hazy orange light of a half-dead lamppost bulb, and the only thing left was a tired twenty-one year old who needed a hell of a lot more sleep than she was getting.

Christ. She really was twenty-one, wasn’t she? The face she wore around the other Saints made her seem older than that. It was all harsh angles and stony silences, only a twitch of a smile or a slight furrow in her brow betraying the emotions running electric through her veins. The uncertainty there at the beginning had long since suffocated under a rap sheet he hated to tally up in his head. It was a thing with no remorse, and little room for mercy.

And yet that face was forgotten in her sleep. The ever present tension slackened, releasing that hardened shell and letting it fall away in favor of something softer. She denied the existence of that softness, but he knew. He was allowed to know, he realized, warmth settling in his chest at the thought. Of all people, she’d offered that gift to him.

And it’s a gift you’ll lose soon.

The thought cut a sharp line through the haze, frozen against the warmth of the moment. Troy stilled, his hand resting on her waist. Somewhere in between the light on her cheeks and the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, he’d forgotten what would be waiting for them. That as much as he tried to dodge and delay, the day Chief Monroe decided it was time to pull the plug on the Saints was coming sooner than later- and Bridget, ambitious and unknowing, was only hastening that end.

His sigh was frayed, thin and trailing off into nothing. This relationship was never going to last forever. He’d known that going in, had willingly condemned them both to heartbreak, but it hadn’t mattered then. That future had drowned in the affection in her gaze. The warmth of her laughter. The spark of her lips on his. But now…

Troy cupped Bridget’s cheek, pressing his forehead gently against hers as he closed his eyes. “I’m gonna miss you,” he whispered. He had to say it, just once. Even if she didn’t hear it- since she would never hear it- it needed to escape before it withered under his held tongue. It needed to exist, just for a moment, all his regrets pouring into that simple, weighted phrase.

At some point she’d wake up, either through him gently shaking her or her own merit. Either way she’d grouch at him for not waking her up sooner, blinking blearily at him in a hopelessly endearing way she’d punch him for if he ever mentioned it. She’d whip the covers off of both of them, laughing when he protests. Showers would follow, breakfast of some sort, and time would continue to march forward to that inevitable, heartbreaking point.

But that was a future they didn’t have to face yet. For now, they could stay like this- curling into each other, breath to breath and at peace.

For now, he’d save her a rude awakening.

#writers writes things #otp: troyget #oc: bridget summers #troy bradshaw #saints row

[fireflyjunkie]

FEEL SOMETHING

(A Sanders sides Angst one-shot fic)

Part 1

4,391 words

⚠️TRIGGER WARNING⚠️

Razor blades

Self harm

Gore

Numbness

Logan angst

Confrontation on self harm suspicions

Summary:

Logan is tired of being the cold, emotionless robot that everyone perceives him as. He’s repressed his emotions to such a great extent that he genuinely doesn’t feel anything major anymore. He does have his nightly break-downs sometimes, but he needs more than that.

However, this is where roads begin to cross. Logan feels that it would be nice and beneficial to experience strong emotions, but he doesn’t know if this feeling is stronger than his fear of expressing such things. Being viewed as a joke and not being taken seriously is his worst nightmare. Because of this, the logical side just keeps up his stone cold front to avoid being weak.

This dilemma Logan had found himself in really frustrated him. No matter how hard he tried to think of a solution, nothing ever satisfied both ends of the spectrum. The best he had come up with was to keep up the front when he was with the others and then let himself break down at night when no one was around, and even that didn’t help him nearly as much as he wished. This eventually led him to looking for answers online. One search led to another, and Logan has figured out something that might help him. It’s a bit risky, and he’ll have to hide it from the others, but he knows how to be safe with it, so he’ll give it a shot just to feel something.

•———————————————————————-•

Part 1

6:34pm

 Logan was sitting at the dinner table with his three friends as they ate their meal. Nothing unusual about the evening, they had their casual little chats and the occasional playful banter from Roman and Virgil, with Patton butting in every so often. Logan kept his focus all on the plate of food in front of him. The paternal figure had worked hard to make this, he wasn’t going to let it get cold. Plus even if he wanted to join the conversation, he wouldn’t even know what to say. Sure he was the logical side and he had a heap of facts to spit but when it comes to the jovial friendly conversations the others usually shared. He truly couldn’t find the words to contribute something meaningful into the atmosphere, so other than correcting a false statement, he kept silent.

“Now Virgil, I’m just saying that a kid would be much more excited to watch a movie like Alice in wonderland and we all know it!” Roman exclaimed to the emo sitting across the table from him. It’s not at all surprising that the current conversation taking place was one about Disney. Especially when it was Virgil and Roman who were the ones bickering. “I mean all the bright colors and such a classic story is bound to win a kid over!”

“Uhuh sure, like kids would want to watch a film about a bunch of mentally ill people on an acid trip. Plus, the queen of hearts is scary for them,” Virgil retorts, glaring at Roman before taking a bite of his food. “The princess and the frog is clearly a superior movie. It’s about an independent hard working woman who doesn’t need a man to help her achieve her goals, like are you kidding me? And she helps him out, that is a nice change for once.”

“Yea I cannot argue with that, we stan Tiana,” Roman admits, leaning back in his chair. Logan was about to question the prince about the term he just used, but decided against it, keeping quiet.

“But the shadow man is scary!” Roman continues.

“Uh, no. ’I’ve got friends on the other side’ is such a bop. But I am one of the friends on the other side,” Virgil pulls his signature 2000’s MySpace emo face. ‘Bop’. Logan remembers what that meant. He had to ask Roman about it later to make a vocabulary card.

“Oh my god can you get any edgier?” Roman asks the snickering Virgil across the table as he rolls his eyes and goes back to his food. The only thing Logan could think of at this time is how useless that conversation was. Their frivolous arguments had no solid points or evidence to back up their argument if they were trying to persuade the other. He chose not to say anything so as to not further encourage them. Instead he had just yet again kept quiet and his focus was on finishing his food so he could retire to his room.

“So Logan, are you almost finished with your work?” Logan’s head snapped up when the mention of his name came from Patton. ‘Work.. it was always work.’

“No, Patton. There are still a few tasks to be completed that need to be completed tonight,” Logan states, adding on that last bit so hopefully he isn’t bugged with having a ‘family night’ as Patton and the others like to call it. Which, it doesn’t make any sense considering the fact that none of us are actually related.

“Well, once you are done with that, do you wanna come watch a movie with us!?” The parental side excitedly asks. Logan internally cringed at Patton’s use of grammar, but more at his failed attempts at getting out of this without having to ask. It’s not that Logan didn’t like the others, it’s just that tonight specifically he wanted to be left alone. Sometimes spending time with them is considered a good thing to him because he knows that he needs to take breaks from his work sometimes and Patton gives him an excuse to do so. Also, knowing that Patton wants him there helps him feel less like a robot, but that feeling quickly returns when they don’t even care to ask him his opinions for the movie choice.

“Oh.. that’s ok! There’s always next time, right?” Patton sounded a little disappointed, but supportive nonetheless. “Well I wish you good luck with that, Logan!”

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan finishes the conversation while turning his attention back towards his almost empty plate.

The rest of the dinner went by as normal. They all took their dishes to the sink and Patton offered to help Roman complete the dishes and Virgil retired to his room for the night. Logan says his goodnights and follows suit to his own room.

After entering, Logan lightly shut his door and pressed his back against the cool wood. The lights were still off, so he sat in the inky black dark atmosphere staring at the ceiling in order to prevent the dark curtain draped over the contents of his room from playing tricks on his eyes. He didn’t bother finding the light switch; he felt it was unnecessary. It would only illuminate everything that reminded him of everything that burdens him. He hates not knowing.

The logical side leaned his head back against the door and squeezed his eyes shut, the blankness of the dark and the silence began to be too much for him; it made him feel too alone. With no senses available, you are left with nothing but your own thoughts to drown in. Nothing to do but to fall down that hole of endless thinking. Logan’s head swarmed with every emotion he was feeling at once. Every fact he wished wasn’t true danced behind his eyes and pounded on his skull demanding his attention.

Logan couldn’t help but let the tears run down his cheeks. They started rolling faster and he held his hand over his mouth, choking back a sob. He hated doing this, but he had to if he wanted to remain sane. He just felt so vulnerable and embarrassed. Logan felt his legs begin to shake so he slid down the door to sit on the floor. God he hopes no one comes to his room.

The logical side stayed on the floor like that for a while. He didn’t know how long, but he was surprised when he looked at his phone to find he had been there for almost thirty minutes. Once the crying had for the most part stopped and Logan realized that it didn’t really help at all, he decided to get up from his spot on the floor and turn on some lights. He had reached for the plug connected to fairy lights strung around his room and plugged it into the electrical socket, illuminating the whole space with a soft Caramel colored glow. The lights were a gift from Patton last Christmas, the parental figure had gotten some for everyone in the house. At first the logical side thought they were childish and impractical due to him already having a light in his room, but Patton persisted so he put them up and once he saw how they casted a honey coating to all the contents of his bedroom and how the atmosphere instantly shifted from sharp to calming and gentle, he decided that they weren’t that bad.

After his eyes had adjusted to the light, Logan walked into the bathroom that he has in his room and shut the door after turning on the light. The sudden contrast of the soft light of his room to the harsh light of the bathroom only worsened his growing headache so the first thing he did was retrieve the Ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet and swallow two. After that he took his glasses off and placed them on the side of the sink before proceeding to wash his face of tears with warm water from the faucet. After he patted his face dry with a towel, he took a minute to just look into the mirror. He took notice of his cold, dead eyes that were a navy blue, but despite being such a bright color, his eyes looked more dull and grey. ‘No wonder the others think I’m a metaphorical robot.” He thinks to himself. He decides not to stay there any longer or else Remus might hear him drowning in his thoughts and show up so he grabbed his glasses and started back towards his room.

Logan didn’t know what to do now. He’s already cried a bunch but that didn’t help. He just sat on the edge of his bed trying to figure things out. The laptop sitting closed and still in his desk caught his eye. ‘There may be an article on the internet explaining my situation.’ The logical side thought to himself before he got up and made his way towards his desk, pulling out the chair and sitting down. While he opened the device up and typed in his password, he thought about what he was going to type into the search bar. While the Google page displayed on his screen awaiting his questions, Logan’s fingers moved to type in the first one that came to mind; ‘How to feel when you are numb?’

Once he pressed enter, he proceeded to scroll for what he was looking for. He passed a bunch of articles about physical health and stuff like that. ‘Perhaps I worded it incorrectly?’ He thought to himself before seeing something that could potentially be what he was looking for. It was a link to a twitter post. It was titled ‘I don’t feel anything. I do this to feel something,’ and Logan thought that would suffice nicely to his needs. Though, the side wasn’t prepared for what he was going to see when he clicked it. Blood. Lots of blood. Cuts all up and down the poster’s forearm that could be recognized as dermis and epidermis level cuts. And finally, a bloodied double edge razor blade sitting calmly in a warm crimson pool on the counter top.

Logan gasped upon the image displayed in front of him. It wasn’t too intense but seeing a part of the human body all cut up didn’t make him feel too comfortable, but he was slightly intrigued. He was kind of confused why the gorey photo was related to what he was looking for so he decided to look into it further; only because the text part of the post seemed to relate a little to his state of mind.

The logical side scrolled down past a few more photos of the same cuts just at different angles. He kept observing the images while trying to think of where to go from here until he decided to use the tags the original poster had provided with the text to research further. He viewed 10 or so hashtags of random things to figure out what the point of this was. Some of them just confused the side, but one of the words he recognized from an article he read a few months ago when Roman fell into a deep depression and he tried to gather as much information as he could to help him because the others were worried and terrified for him. However, he never had to use much information because they had luckily gotten him out of that mental health decline before anything terrible happened. Well, at least to his knowledge. The tag in question reads as ‘self harm’. Now Logan felt a little stupid because he knew what this was before, but a little clarification never hurt anyone.

He had to admit, he was a little taken aback by the fact that what he was experiencing was linked and related to self harm but he decided to explore more under that subject to further understand it. When he clicked on the tag, he was exposed to pages and pages of self harm. He stopped at one particularly disturbing one. It was a video of a girl with a straight razor that resembled that of what a barber would use. In the video, she had pressed as hard as she could and with one clean swipe, the fat inside her arm was exposed. By this point, Logan was feeling a little sick to his stomach on account of what was displayed in front of him. The video however kept going. The girl dabbed the open wound with a white towel, so the amount of blood that was being soaked up was very visible. The girl picked the weapon up again and placed it in the center of the cut and proceeded to apply pressure while she dragged the blade along her arm at a painfully slow speed. When the pool of blood was soaked up, fascia was exposed and Logan really wanted to look away but he couldn’t. He vaguely understood the premise behind self harming, but witnessing it to this extent kind of confused and scared him.

Luckily the video stopped there and Logan closed it out and continued to scroll through the page. He did not find much there other than the pictures and videos of people cutting themselves and he was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable, almost like what he felt when he was under the effects of Virgil’s room; and for that reason he decided to close out this tab and search elsewhere. The logical side really didn’t know why he was so intrigued to this certain coping mechanism. He knew it was very unhealthy, but he couldn’t let it go.

After a few google searches about the topic of self harm and a few articles later, Logan found one specific body of text that piqued his interest. It was basically describing the effects self harming has on the brain and why so many people do it and says it helps. He read through it and the information he gathered was rather interesting to him. Basically, the context of the article was explaining the science behind why self harming was addictive and why some people do it in the first place.

‘So, cutting myself will release neurochemicals in my brain that mimics that of dopamine? Fascinating..’ Logan thinks to himself. The side takes a minute to think it through. Was he actually considering this? I mean, there is scientific evidence that proves that doing this will help him. Logan ponders a bit on that last point, basically pushing him to do it. He just resorts to searching for reasons not to go through with it at this point. Only two reasons came to his mind when he tried to think up reasons to push the thoughts out of his head. The first was the safety aspect of it. Of course when you are cutting yourself there are things that can go wrong; however Logan felt confident enough that he knew how to do this safely. He knew where the vital points were on the human body so he knew where it was safe to cut as well as how deep to go. He also knew how to properly dress the wounds and how to take care of them so they didn’t get infected so the logical side could figuratively throw that worry out the window.

The only factor that was left in play affecting Logan’s decision in going through with this is the guilt he would have to face if the others found out. With Patton having gone through a situation similar to this when Roman was having severe mental health issues and when Virgil ducked out, Logan would figuratively (and almost literally) have the blood on his hands just adding it to the list. He knows that Patton always tries his hardest to do things that make everyone as happy as they can be, and oh the lengths he would go to do that. Let’s just say that the parental side has had many sleepless nights on account of helping someone else. But surely if Patton had ever found out about all the things Logan hasn’t told him, it would make him feel like he hasn’t been enough for people even more than he already does, even and who knows what could happen to him when that happens and he lives knowing that three of his friends have been struggling.

Logan had to ponder on this one for a minute. But with him being logic and all, he brought up the point that the way Patton was thinking about things is untrue and if he had to, Logan with a little of Virgil’s help could sit down with him and possibly explain things in order to pull him from that mindset.

He quietly hummed to himself, feeling accomplished at finding a solution. This satisfied feeling quickly deteriorated as confusion began to spill. Why was he feeling this way about something so grim? Why was he so compelled to stand up to get that spare razor that lay waiting in the bathroom cupboard? He thought it was even irrational to consider doing such things but it just felt like something that could actually help him, and he needed it.

He didn’t know what made him do it, but something in him made him push himself out of his desk chair to shut his laptop without powering it off and making his way to the bathroom. Once inside, he quietly closed the bathroom door. He opened the door of the shadow box, but for some reason it felt super slow like in a dramatic movie. He didn’t know why his hands were shaky when he spotted the razor and went to gently pick it up.

Just then as he examined the weapon in his grip, he felt the adrenaline pumping. It all just set in. Oh my god he was actually going to do this. He was just moments away from his destination. He gulped down a nervous lump in his throat as he examined the perfectly new blade for any rust. The side didn’t understand why he was so nervous; he knew how to do this safely so why was he so scared? Maybe he’s afraid of the pain

Logan however quickly dismissed this thought so that it doesn’t chase him out of a decision. I mean he would only seem MORE weak if he pulled such a pansy move. It shouldn’t be too bad.

He started by washing the blade and his forearm with warm water just as a precaution. He shakily held the blade horizontally over his wrist. Deep breath in and-

Slice

He ran the blade across his skin and then exhaled the breath he was holding. He sort of relaxed when he realized that it wasn’t that bad and that he was ok. Still, he checked the damage. It was a cut on the epidermis layer of the skin so nothing bad. Even so, he watches the blood bead along the clean line in fascination. It started to drip a little but that was caught with the towel that Logan pulled off the towel rack. He gently pressed the cloth to the cut and when he pulled it back, he closely watched as blood refilled the small wound. He was satisfied with his work and for some reason, he couldn’t stop looking at it. He wanted more.

So that’s what he did; the side made a few more clean lines parallel to the first one he made. He would stop to just watch the blood, then soak it up before watching how it refills again. Logan found himself admiring his arm from all angles, wearing these cuts like some sort of sick and twisted accessory. Logan continued to leave a few more little cuts, holding his arm over the sink to not make so much mess with blood (and to not ruin his favorite button up shirt).

The logical side went for one more and pressed a bit harder this time. When he swiped the blade, white was exposed before blood started to seep out from the edges of this deeper and wider cut. Actually being able to see the inside of his arm like that kind of scared him. He recognized this as the dermis level of skin. It made him a bit uneasy how he could turn his arm sideways and see the cut gape a bit, but he couldn’t stop looking at it. He thought if Remus was here, he would have said it looked like a mouth.

After that tiny scare of going deeper, he decided he was done with this for the night, afraid of going farther than he already has. As he started cleaning the blood from his arm and his sink, he was thinking over his success rates with this exercise. He had come to the conclusion that this had done what he wanted it to for him. He smiled to himself as he looked at the fresh cuts. The smaller and thin ones have already dried and scabbed over, but the deeper one he had just done was still filling with blood after each time he soaked it up, but it was slowing down. He doesn't know if he smiled because the treatment worked or if he was just proud of what he had done, but to him it just matters that he got a smile out of it. Once all the blood was cleaned up, he opened the shadow box again to retrieve the bandages. Carefully, he wrapped his arm in a secure bandage and put the rest away. The pressure of the cloth being wrapped tightly around his arm felt oddly nice and contrasted with the burning sensation on his skin from the contact.

The side stops moving and stands perfectly still when he feels a presence in his room. His heart dropped out of fear in realizing that this is the worst time to be here for obvious reasons. He slowly reaches for the doorknob of the bathroom and turns it, trying to prepare himself for whatever is about to happen. When the door was opened, it revealed Remus sitting on Logan’s bed just looking around.

“R-Remus, what are you doing here?” His voice was shakier than he wanted it to be. He wasn’t sure if the cause was from what he just did in the bathroom or the fear he had from another side possibly knowing.

Remus’s gaze shifted towards the nerd and the bandage on his arm. “Well, as I am Thomas’s own intrusive thot,” he stopped for a second to giggle at his play on words, “I can sense unwanted thoughts from any other part of Thomas,” he got up from his spot on Logan’s bed to walk towards him.

“I was picking up something from you, not like the normal. I had some suspicions and came to investigate but it seems as if I was right,”

“I.. I’m not sure I know what you are referring to,” he lied. Logan thought it was eerie to hear Remus talk in this more serious manner.

“Yea, no we both know that is a big lie,” Remus slightly smirked at Logan for the fact that he was right and gestured to Logan’s bandaged arm. Logan just avoided the other side’s eyes and held his arm behind his back. This and Logan’s uncomfortable silence confirmed it to Remus and he was no longer smiling, he had a look of empathy and slight hurt on his face. He was also sort of mad at the others because he feels and sees what Logan goes through with them and he thinks he can understand why Logan would resort to self harm.

“Logan, do you need to talk about it?” He asked. Logan has talked to Remus about his situation before, but he didn’t want to talk about this. He just brushed past Remus to go lay his pajamas out on the bed to get changed for the night. “No, I do not wish to speak of this and I ask you to kindly not mention this to anyone else, but thank you for your concern,” he never turned around to look at the other once. Remus just stood there with a slight frown. He then got an idea on what to do and he sunk out without saying anything else.

Logan could feel when the intrusive side left the room and released the breath he was holding in relief. He felt guilt wash over him in the moment. He really disliked lying to one of his closest friends but it was for the best. It was way too early for him to be able to tell anybody- scratch that. He didn’t want to tell anyone at all. He just hoped that Remus would listen and not tell anybody. The logical side thought of what he would do if that were to happen as he changed his clothes to something more comfortable.

He stopped before getting into bed to ponder if he should leave his fairy lights on while he slept. They were left on as he climbed under the cover to keep the atmosphere soft.

The logical side found himself holding his bandaged arm up above his face to admire it. He didn’t know what it was, but knowing what he'd done gave him tiny butterflies of adrenaline in his stomach which led him to a small smile. Logan was never an artist of any medium, but those crimson lines that stain his forearm felt like an art piece to him. It made him feel accomplished and.. happy. And with that, the side brought his arm back under the covers and closed his eyes to be consumed by sleep with a smile on his face.

•———————————————————————-•

Hope you enjoyed this first part :)

Yea a little background, sanders sides is such a comfort series for me, so I started writing this back when I was struggling a lot and I decided to keep writing this now so I hope you enjoy this bucket of angst haha

Part 2 will be linked here when it is up!

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides #one shot #logan sanders #Logan angst #sanders sides angst #self harm #ahhh my poor baby #vent #Roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #Janus sanders