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temis-de-leon · 11 days

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Love potion and Dateables - Part 3

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Intro , Part 1 , Part 2

Masterlist

CW: fluff, hurt, insecurities, Barbatos is living in a horror movie for a hot minute, boys are crushing hard and MC is implied to be crushing hard too, pre-established relationship

A/N: I didn't know what to do for Simeon's part and it turned out to be the longest

Diavolo

His extensive knowledge on etiquette begged him to knock the door, but his longing asked him otherwise. He didn’t have much time until Lucifer came looking for him and he really, deeply, needed to see you.

RAD’s latest festival had been a massive hit, various stalls displaying regional costumes, homemade food and games, and he had been naïve enough to think he finally had the chance to take you on a real date. A moment with no interruptions for him to show you how he felt and for you to, hopefully, love him back.

Sadly, spirit week passed by and Diavolo barely had any time to see you. All he watched, from your stunning features to your sparkling eyes, had been from afar. And now, days later, he still felt a tingle in his chest whenever he remembered how you looked during the festivities.

So he knocked once, twice, thrice, until his impatience got the best of him and made him open the door.

The room was dark, but your scent still lingered. It felt weird, however. What was it? Your blood and sweat? The products you used on your body and your clothes? Scented candles, perfume, food…? What was it? A mix of everything, it seemed.

The guilt of intruding your private space mildly subdued when he saw the cauldron on the table.

So that’s what it was. Surely homework for Solomon, although he’d had to ask the sorcerer what was the purpose of this particular assignment.

The potion looked like blood covered velvet and it immediately reminded him of his future: a rich fabric drowned in danger. On the other hand, its warmth soon embraced his face, allowing him to imagine your fingers caressing his cheekbones, your lips covering his in a smile with ridiculous care.

Diavolo sighed and walked away from the table, not sure of what to do. He couldn’t stay and risk being caught by you, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night if he went back to the castle without talking to you first.

He checked his uniform, straightening his tie before brushing his hair with his fingers.

If he was lucky, he’d cross paths with you on the hallway.

Barbatos

The House of Lamentation was introduced to a new routine the moment Barbatos saw that rat. Mandatory deep cleaning once a week and very recommended evacuation once a month for disinfecting purposes. Barbatos would refuse to enter the house otherwise, which was the last thing he wanted to do because he hadn’t spent any quality time with you in days.

There had been chit-chat in RAD whenever he saw you, as well as short trivial conversations on the phone. He’d also tried to invite you to his tamest shopping trips and as much tea parties as he was capable of organizing, but damn the brothers for being jealous and making everything so difficult.

Never in his life he would’ve believe he’d feel thankful for a rat’s existence.

However, MC, if you didn’t open your door in the next ten seconds he would open it himself.

Barbatos knocked again, mouth full of saliva and heart jumping out of his chest. He could feel something crawling up his back, whiskers and soft fur exploring his skin under the uniform and tiny claws scratching whatever they could.

Unable to keep waiting in the deserted hallway, wide enough for any rodent to run up to him without being detected, he rushed inside your room and closed the door with a bang. He felt deeply embarrassed, thankful that you weren’t there to see his dishevelled state, but his demeanour changed when he smelt the room.

It was something he was very familiar with: the tea blend he made just for you! Smiling softly at the realization, he created an image in his mind; you trying to do the blend on your own and succeeding. It made his heart soar in pride and apreciation.

His mood quickly changed without him noticing and soon the only thing occupying his mind was you. How thankful you were of his actions, MC, how happy you made him feel by simply existing.

Feeling stronger than ever and giving himself a few more seconds to breathe and regain his rationality, Barbatos opened the door and stepped out of your room.

His fears be damned; he was in dire need of your presence.

Solomon

Your smell vanished soon after your departure and Solomon had to grip the edges of the table to stop himself from grabbing the vial again. He knew what would happen then, as it happened before. He would lose himself in the potion and the memories within, every reason he had to love you and to feel loved by you.

Your humanity, tainted, but still present, the colour of your eyes, the softness of your skin; the lack of horns and wings and tail. How you trusted him against everyone’s advice, like you knew there was more to him that no one else bothered to see.

And he refused to feel threatened by someone like Mammon; Barbatos or Simeon he could understand, but why Mammon? Why did he have to sit and stare whenever the Avatar of Greed reached the limit of his jealousy? And why did that limit lower when Solomon was present?

He frowned in anger and frustration. Ironically, the thing he knew would make him feel better was the one he was viciously trying to avoid. Was he even an option for you, MC? Asmo did tell him from time to time to go for it, but he also inserted himself in those fantasies, so Solomon tended to take his words with a pinch of salt.

Unable to resist the temptation of your comfort, he walked towards the cabinet and grabbed the vial again. How could such a small container radiate so much warmth? For so many years he had it and in just a few months it grew stronger than ever.

Reinvigorated.

That’s how you made him feel. You may call him an old man and he may be an old man, MC, but he wasn’t one to bend the knee and he wouldn’t start doing that now.

Feeling determined, Solomon vaguely waved his hand and watched as his room tidied up itself. Books flying to the shelves on the walls, spell equipment returning to its original place in the table and clothes resting in hangers.

You once called him Mary Poppins and he had yet to understand, but never mind that for now.

He’d give you enough time to make your own potion during the evening and then he’d go to the House of Lamentation. Having your friendship was enough, but King Solomon the Wise never settled.

Simeon

The moment he heard Solomon’s door close, his heart went up his throat, blood rushing through his body in excitement. The table was full of vegetables, meats and fruit native to the Devildom, the result of experimentation as a cure to boredom, and he deeply hoped you could stay for dinner. He needed more testers other than Luke’s sweet tooth and Solomon’s destroyed palate.

To his disappointment, the only thing you did when you entered the kitchen was wave goodbye.

“Gotta leave, Simeon! Enjoy dinner!”

“Wait! MC!”

You turned around, fighting to force your arm inside the jacket with your schoolbag tightly secured between your legs. You looked at him silently, embarrassed? Probably due to the unnecessary effort when gathering your things.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner? There’s more than enough for all of us”

You smiled back at him, suddenly bashful, before pointing at your bag.

“I have homework to do, blame your roommate”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, trying not to show his dissatisfaction at seeing you leaving once again, but he could try another time. Probably best to ask in advance, though.

“What did he ask you to do?”

His hands went back to the food, cleaning, cutting and slicing with carefulness, but his eyes were set on you. Simeon couldn’t help but feel anything other than delight when he noticed you leaving the bag on the floor and coming closer.

“It’s a love potion, he said it might come in handy in the future”

“Did he now?”

For what, he may wonder. He hoped you never felt the need to use it; your heart was more than enough to enchant anyone you encountered.

“He showed it to me once, too” he confessed, not really thinking through what he was saying “It smelled rather nice; although I suppose that’s its purpose…”

His mouth stayed open, unsure of what to say next, before finally closing with a snap. Simeon’s attention went back to the food once more, failing to see your uncertainty at his words.

“And what did you…?”

He raised his gaze when you stopped talking and your shy demeanour took him by surprise. Did something happen? Did he say something wrong? He was about to ask, worried at your silence, but you beat him to it.

“Forget it, it’s nothing. I’m going home, okay? I need to study”

“Stay safe, MC”

You nodded, then grabbed your bag again and left the kitchen. Barely a minute later he heard the front door open and close one final time.

Whatever happened? Everything seemed to be doing okay, although he did stop looking at you for a short moment. Did the love potion have something to do with it? Solomon better pray that wasn’t the case, otherwise he’d be learning a new method of teaching very soon.

Fortunately for the sorcerer, thinking about the love potion again made him remember what he smelled when he saw it for the first time. A faint scent of old books, like a memory, and a stronger coat of cinnamon, cocoa powder and whipped cream.

He had a great idea.

Maybe a couple of pastries would make you feel better! He’d need to notify Lucifer in advance so someone could hide the desserts from Beel until you were finished.

Or should he deliver them in person? Simeon couldn’t avoid imagining you opening your bedroom door, smile wide in your face upon seeing him and offering him to eat his baking together, like many times before.

He’d make sure to prepare your favourites; he knew them by memory.

@hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae @eliciria @darkflowerav @zarakem @yuuvis32 @anxious-chick @commets-space @deepestartisanhumanoidshark @ourfinalisation

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gallusrostromegalus · 11 months

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Re: zanpakuto

what about the zanpakuto that have more than one wielder at one (Toshiro)(diamond dust rebellion) also can zanpakuto die? are they forged from a dead, once-powerfull, hollow?

(for An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy)

... imagine zanpaktou as... Optional gut flora.

A human is it's own organism, and bacteria are their own organisms but both work a lot better together. All "souls" are composite organisms, really - you are not just yourself you are also made up of the influences of friends, teachers, books you've read, weird cultural phenomena etc.

The process of hollowfication is therefore a bit like suffering a major gastric disorder and losing a huge portion of your gut flora. Sure, you *can* live like that, but wow, it sucks. But nature abhors a vacuum, and a hollow hole is effectively waiting to be filled, and not just in the way most commonly found in Ao3 's explicit works section - hollows very literally accumulate smaller soul organisms and living fragments of other souls like walking spiritual magnets, which is kind of FUCKING ESSENTIAL to keeping the balance of souls between the planes :)

An asauchi (remember the pre-zanpaktou spirits?) is, essentially, a type of smaller soul or living fragment, but one that specializes in living in hosts that are relatively intact. If they attach to a living soul and/or a tool, it will manifest as a zanpaktou when that soul dies and moves on. If the soul is having a rough go of it, the asauchi starts getting desperate to keep its host alive, and can turn into an inner hollow. An inner hollow is not a bad thing, per se- it's VERY eager to keep you alive, after all. It's just willing to keep you alive at the expense of others, if necessary. So whether that inner hollow takes over or otherwise misbehaves is a matter of the host's self-control. The more desperate your situation, the harder it is to maintain that control.

Meanwhile, if things improve internally or externally, an inner hollow can transform into a regular asauchi or a zanpaktou if the host has a weapon, amd vice versa- a desperate enough zanpaktou can hollowfy.

You can also have more than one of these guys hanging out in your soul at once, like a pack of hopefully friendly remoras on a shark. The VISOREDS all have at least two- the zanpaktou they started with, and a fun new hollow that moved in when they nearly died during TBTP. Ichigo inherited a zanpaktou, a hollow AND a gob of divine cancerous tumor! Kyoraku Shunsui is hosting two zanpaktou- his own, and the Ise Clan treasure. Some zanpaktou are two souls acting as one, like Ukitake's (Ukitake is ALSO hosting more than one symbiotic soul- Mimihagi is more or less living in the same space as the twins or where Ukitake's theoretical inner hollow might live. Perhaps that's why Ukitake has been able to avoid hollowfication despite the extreme bullshit he endures...)

As for the lifespans of asauchi... It varies wildly. Some live long enough to be transferred from history to host, like the kuchiki clan's Senbonsakura. Others bond so closely to their wielder they die with them. Some follow the same cycle of reincarnation most souls do, others die and mange to become large enough to host others.

As for where they come from, the zanpaktou that most shinigami wield pass through the Royal Forge. The Royal Forge is what happened to the Soul King's stomach and part of his torso after he got dismembered- his stomach became an enormous hot and acidic chamber, and his chest... Well. Getting dismembered was not a great time for him, psychologically speaking, and now the Divine Hollow Hole draws asauchi spirits from all over- soul fragments, small spirits, ghosts that got a bit lost during reincarnation - and they stay in the pit, healing, growing, playing and sparring until they are ready to leave and be bonded to a weapon.

Not even Oetsu, the forge master knows all the details of this process. The spirits just seem to know when it's their time and what kind of weapon they will become. Sometimes it's a collaborative process between Oetsu and the asauchi, other times they kick in his door at 1am and go "HOW'S IT HANGING MOTHER FUCKER? JUST KIDDING, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT, I'M A SWORD MADE OF ACIDIC BLOOD."

"how does that even work?" Says Oetsu, pulling his shorts on.

"THE FUCK IF I KNOW, YOU'RE THE FORGE MASTER. CHOP CHOP BITCH."

Most of the resulting zanpaktou (an asauchi bonded to a weapon or tool) are carefully put aside and delivered to the shinigami academy where they will meet their wielders as students. Other, (more annoying) swords are tossed out the window to land where they will in the planes and meet whatever equally profoundly irritating bastard who can wield them.

...this may make more sense with pictures.

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfiction

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sigmoon · 8 months

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𓇢𓆸 Wildflowers under the summer rain

Chapter four: Daisies

As hard as you try not to, you’re beginning to feel attracted to Fyodor, despite your tense relationship. Fyodor’s own behavior is only making things more complicated…

Bonus: A little fluffy time-skip snippet <3

cw: None, really; a weird declaration of love that gets a little graphic and Fyodor is being a dick. Otherwise, this chapter is pretty tame and a bit fluffy.

Pairing: Fyodor Dostoyevsky x reader

Metamorphosis

Thump-Thump.

Warm breath fanned against your forehead like a feather-light kiss. His heartbeat in synch with your own. Your fingertips grazed over the chest you lay on, stroking up and down. Collarbones, sternum, belly, waistband, reverse. Up and down, up and down.

You gently pressed your fingertips against the sternum once more. How lovely would it be to push your fingers in, breaking the ribcage open and building a nest inside it to curl up in? Warm and close to the heart you loved so dearly, hearing its steady beating as you rest forever. Close wasn’t close enough.

Thump-Thump.

To be the air in his lungs, invading the organ like a molecule. To be the blood in his veins, coursing through his body, hot and crimson, or just being the main vital organ itself, pumping day and night to keep him alive. You longed to be the sweat seeping from his pores or his feet carrying him everywhere.

Thump-Thump.

Fingers traveled up to the delicate neck, wrapping around it. Not too tight, just feeling the pulse throb under his skin. Then towards the right ear. Tucking some hair behind it, before stroking the shell and the lobe. Oh, to be the music in his ears, crawling inside and staying there, close to the mind you adored so much, able to whisper sweet nothings all day, only for him to hear like a voice in his head, quite literally.

Thump-Thump.

Your attention was drawn back to the chest you lay on, caressing it, drawing invisible patterns on the soft ivory skin. Grazing the ribs that stood out slightly, due to his lean physique, then down to the hipbone.

You dreamed about consuming him fully, flesh and bones, eating him up, and keeping him safe inside your body, far away from others to reach him. You longed to be the skin that hugged his flesh, stretched all over his body, being attached to it. Pressing your body against his, skin to skin, you yearned to melt into him, to become one with him.

Thump-Thump.

You wanted to merge with the body underneath yours.

You imagined yourself to be a caterpillar, wrapping both of you in layers of thin, delicate threads, building a cocoon as your bodies lie there, entangled. Close, but not close enough.

Melting inside of the cocoon, losing your human shape and becoming a homogenous goo of flesh and bones, mixing, becoming one. Staying inside the safe warmth of the cocoon, until the time has come for you to break out, as one unified being. Individuality abandoned, only a mix of the best and the worst of you left as you’re reborn.

A few weeks had passed since you started working for Fyodor, and your tasks had grown in complexity. Many things you used your ability for were disturbing, to say the least, but what other choice did you have than to keep going? And besides, it felt good to have an outlet, even if it was such a sinister one that required you to practically break people that not even Fyodor managed to break with his manipulation.

Aside from that, you enjoyed being better at something than Fyodor, which was very rare, and to harp on about it. You loved the sour expression on his face when you easily finished what he failed to do, especially when he didn’t bother to hide his pout behind his usual aloof expression and a brief “well done.”

However, your ability was pretty much the only advantage you had over Fyodor, and you were smart enough to not provoke him too much because you knew full well that he could humble you into silence in a heartbeat, which he did once and it was so humiliating and embarrassing that you remembered your place from then on.

The first time you ever felt attracted to Fyodor was during a rare moment when he spoke about something that wasn’t work-related. Despite the accent, his speech was flawless and eloquent and each sentence was dripping with knowledge and wisdom, fascinating you and making you feel stupid compared to him.

You knew that you found intelligence attractive, but you always thought it was just a nice extra, not a trait that could make an otherwise unlikable person like Fyodor seem attractive in your eyes. The points he was trying to get across still made you roll your eyes at him in annoyance, as you rarely agreed with him on something and found much of what he was saying to be a bunch of nonsense, but there was no denying that Fyodor was a man with an intellect like no other, and it pissed you off how sexy this trait made him appear.

You didn’t want to like him, not when he was being such a dick about the fact that he was smarter than you. Answering your questions before you even finished phrasing them, like he already knew what you wanted to say, pissed you off so much that you avoided asking anything at all if it wasn’t urgent. But that didn’t keep Fyodor from subtly picking on you now and then whenever you didn’t understand something.

He took your furrowed brows and compressed lips as an invitation to derisively explain things and make a fool of you whenever he could, either talking to you as if you were five years old, or, what you found especially mean, purposely phrasing his explanations as confusing as possible, so you were left to keep asking for an answer that was easier to comprehend.

As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, Fyodor’s response was always the same. With a mocking grin, he kept you in suspense until he decided it was enough and finally provided you with an answer that you could understand. You could tell that he got off on those little games and how your anger grew more and more visible the longer he taunted you.

It was a mystery to you why he treated you like this. To be fair, you weren’t exactly making an effort with him either, letting him know that you weren’t fond of him, but being ridiculed like that stung. Apart from that, he was usually patient with you when you struggled with a job and, unlike you had initially expected, not once made fun of your intense feelings regarding your past or being disrespectful about what you had endured. The bare minimum, yes, but you had expected a guy like Fyodor to shamelessly take advantage of the sensitive knowledge he had about you, using it as blackmail or pouring salt in the wound just to see what reaction he could get out of you. He was a dick, but you appreciated that he at least had a bit of decency.

Nevertheless, your relationship with him remained strange.

Distant, characterized by aversion and disdain, but slowly, something else crept in that made you even more uneasy than his taunting, and you ached to know whether he felt it too…

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee ♡

Previous chapter

Next chapter coming soon…

Hio’s note: The metamorphosis part is a time-skip-like snippet into the future of Fyodor and y/n, in case you’re wondering. Do I hate time-skips when I read them? Yes. Do I love to write time-skips? YES!

I wrote the metamorphosis part at 4am after a breakdown over the new episode. My brain was mushy and flooded by all sorts of feelings and I poured my heart and soul into this disconcerting, macabre declaration of love that’s bordering on insanity. It’s fucking weird and I’m proud of it.

@honeydazai-main Vee, I hope this helps cheer you up a teensy bit, I’m squishing you real tight and giving you headpats <3

#bsd #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x reader #bsd x reader #Bungou stray dogs #fics📖#wildflowers under the summer rain #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #fyodor fluff #fyodor smut #bsd imagines #bsd fics #🐀

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lightofthemoonglow · 1 year

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𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚rter ficlet dump part one Featuring: Marty Mikalski, Milton Dammers and Vincent Sinclair

❛ what are you looking at? (Marty Mikalski)

It’s really hard to not look. Which is a terrible defense, and you know this, because it’s just so weird. Like, you do have impulse control even though you joke about not having any. You can look anywhere else, you’re out in the woods, which are really nice. There are trees, there’s probably birds somewhere and there’s the lake itself. Marty is just one thing in the lake. One shirtless, surprisingly ripped…person. Not a thing.

The two of you had been the last ones to leave the lake. The others were in town, killing time before it was dark enough to start a bonfire. You and Marty were all alone now, in the outdoor showers that had no curtains to separate the two showerheads. You’re doing your best to not look too hard at him as you rinse off the nasty lake water.

But his voice breaks the silence and you kick yourself.

“What are you looking at?”

Those five words are a knife to the chest, it just comes out of nowhere. At least to you. Your face feels like it’s on fire as you try and figure out what to say. The truth just slips out instead.

“You.”

Marty pauses for a long time. A really long time. It feels like the moment goes on for lifetimes. “Is it weird that I want to kiss you?” He sounds unsure, it’s so unlike him that it almost breaks your heart for a moment. Instead, you finally close the gap.

It’s warm outside, so it’s like you’re indoors instead of being exposed to the natural elements. Marty tastes like weed, faint and smoky as his lips part for your tongue. The breeze that nips at your bodies is just enough to make you shudder in his arms and it breaks the spell just long enough for you to pull back.

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

There’s a rug on the floor of the cabin that serves your purposes nicely. You can’t make it to the bedroom, not when the tension has finally reached its peak after waiting for so long. You smile wolfishly as you straddle Marty, running your hands over his shockingly toned bod. Marty is looking up at you in what feels like awe, his eyes unable to focus on one place for very long. “You’re fucking unreal,” he whispers, a trembling hand finding your breast. He’s hard, you can feel him. “I don’t know what to do with you…”

“Then let me take the lead.” You wrap your hand around him, feeling him pulse in your palm and Marty moans and it’s so sweet and pretty. You don’t even mind when he comes all over you, streaks of white on your stomach and thighs. There’ll be time for more later.

❛ you know where to find me. ❜ (Milton dammers)

It only happens a few times a year. The two of you try not to cross paths intentionally. It makes things easier. Neither of you are in a place to have a relationship, both emotionally and practically. So, this is what you do.

As you finish packing up your temporary workstation, another case solved with the combined forces of the BSU and the Unexplained Phenomena Unit, you walk past Milton’s desk. It’s pure organized chaos, much like the man himself. “You know where to find me, Agent Dammers,” you murmur as you stand as close as you dare.

That night, once he’s confirmed his transport home, Milton finds himself at the local motel, on floor three, in front of room seven. He doesn’t always show up. Some days after more difficult than others. You understand and it’s never an issue when the two of you meet again. It’s why he keeps going back to you when those needs arise.

You’re in bed already, wearing nothing but a large t-shirt and underwear, your hair free around your face instead of tied up in a severe bun. Your jewelry is on the nightstand, neatly organized for you to put on in the morning.

“Do you want some water?”

“No. Maybe…after.”

Sometimes he stays. Usually he goes, but it never feels like he is abandoning you. But every time feels like a reunion, a borderline holy homecoming. When you reach for the hem of your shirt, Milton stops you. “Let me do it.” You nod and lay back, sprawled on the cheap motel bedsheets, legs opening for him as Milton finally joins you on the bed, a gloved hand resting on your thigh for a moment. The gloves stay on, and you know why. But maybe one day, they won’t.

You’re soon completely naked, bared to that dark gaze that holds a lot more pain than he deserves. All you can do is hope that this eases it somewhat. Milton crouches down, staring at the apex of your spread open thighs. “May I?”

“Yes. Of course.” He asks every time for a reason, and you don’t mind giving him permission every time. Milton nods and you gasp softly as his tongue drags across your core. It’s his way of showing you that this isn’t one-sided, that even though he may leave immediately after. He knows your body well at this point, knows where to lick, where his fingers need to go to make you moan in pleasure, coaxing pleasure out of you until you need to muffle your cries into the pillow.

“Do you want to see me this time?”

Milton hesitates, truly mulling it over. “Yes. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to take me every time.”

His lips are shiny, and he licks them without a second thought. “But I want to.”

You nod and watch as Milton unzips his pants and rolls on the condom. While you don’t know exactly why he never takes off his clothes, but you know enough about him to have a good idea. The scar by his eye says more than one would think. You wonder what it would feel like to have his bare chest pressed against yours, to feel his whole self pressing against your body as he pushes inside. Instead, you hold onto his shoulders as he enters you, filling you up just right. Milton’s face is a mask of concentration as he precisely thrusts into you, eyes only fluttering closed every once in a while.

There’s something right about this. You want to hold onto him forever, his cock feels so good and you feel safe. Milton makes you feel safe, because you know that despite how fragmented he is on the outside and on the inside, he’s not the sort of man to turn it on you. Not even right now, as you move your hips to meet his motions, he’s holding onto you for dear life and you’re holding him, warning him you’re going to come. He kisses you for the first time as you do, swallowing the sounds that accompany your climax.

Milton opens his mouth, as if to say something, but his own orgasm cuts him off and he’s lost for a few moments, coming back to himself only after it is done.

The condom is quickly disposed of and he just looks at you, still sprawled on the bed. “I can’t stay.” Milton lingers by the bed, watching you, unable to move just yet.

“I thought so.” You smile sadly and sit up, looking for your underwear.

“Maybe next time.”

“I’d like that.”

❛ i’ll be good, i promise. ❜ (Vincent)

[warning: bit of a dark!Vincent vibe going on here. Or a lot. It does border on dub-con so read at your own risk!]

You can feel the pounding of your heart against your chest, a steady, frantic beat that never seems to end. You don’t want it to, you want to feel this for as long as possible. The wood of the table you’re laid out on is smooth, but a splinter would be a welcome distraction from the all consuming terror that is threatening to overtake you as you look up at the man looming over you.

“Please, Vincent.” Your lips are so dry that they practically crack after you utter your first words in what feels like days. “Please.”

It had started with your car breaking down. A true accident, honest to God, Bo had claimed. You had needed to walk a few hours to get to Ambrose, not noticing anything odd due to the heat sickness. And by the time you had been given water and time to rest, they had been able to cover everything up. It was just a dying town to you by the time you had been able to ask questions.

Vincent had been the most elusive of the three brothers during your time here. Lurking in the shadows, never speaking. Only listening to your chatter as you had remained a respectful distance away. You liked him the best, even if the occasions where he would sign a response were rare.

But then you had gone into the theater.

And now you were on the table, straps digging into the soft flesh of your wrists and ankles. Totally helpless, at his mercy. Your dress is hiked up, exposing your thighs, the rumpled straps doing the same to your shoulders.

Vincent gazes down at you, the mask hiding his expression. You don’t know what he’s thinking, what he wants, but his hesitation to do anything gives you hope. Slowly, he reaches out, trailing a finger along your face, following the dark streaks left behind by a mix of tears and mascara. He takes your chin in hand, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

The lips of the mask press against your own and you kiss back, despite…everything that’s going on right now. “I’ll be good, so good, just for you.” It’s all you can say as Vincent takes a knife to your dress, slicing it off. The halves fall to the floor, and you nod when he pauses, giving him permission for whatever he wants to do.

When the straps are undone, you sob in relief, about to babble your thanks, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. Before you can get the first word out, Vincent has you in his arms, he’s bending you over the table. Your body practically slamming against the wood knocks every word and thought out of your head. A hand goes to your head, strong fingers weaving into your hair and then he gently presses it down, indicating he wants you to remain still.

It's dimly lit, he can barely see you. So the first attempt just slides between your thighs and Vincent keeps thrusting, rubbing against your center as he grunts, still holding your head down. You can smell him, musky and something else, something familiar yet elusive. You clench your thighs, shivering in the cold air of the workroom as Vincent fucks between your thighs, never quite giving you enough to feel something. At some point, he lets go of your hair to grip both hips hard enough to bruise, fucking your thighs hard enough to make it sound like he’s spanking you, the room filling with the sound of flesh against flesh. It shouldn’t be enough, but it turns you into a mess anyway, you’re shaking and crying, tears flowing freely by the time the tip finally finds its way inside of you.

It's just the tip, but it’s enough to make you wail out of sheer want. Vincent comes before he’s even a quarter of the way inside, most of his seed landing on the floor. You’re left unfulfilled but at least you can feel the pain of denial.

Even though you know that you’re free, you don’t move. Not yet. Instead you wait, wait until Vincent turns you around to face him. The relief finally comes when he signs one word.

Home.

#vincent sinclair x reader #marty mikalski x reader #milton dammers x reader #slasher imagine #slasher imagines #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #horror fanfiction #slashers #vincent sinclair #marty mikalski #milton dammers

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south-sea · 1 year

Text

Second Chance AU Shadow (Headcanons Masterlist)

I was encouraged by a certain someone to share all the Shadow headcanons I omitted from a more recent post, but it quickly got away from me and turned into a sort of masterlist with all the links being added in for context.

So in the interest of eventually having a working catalogue of "view these specifics posts for more organized information on Second Chance AU instead of sifting through various rambles", here it is!

Initial context for what this AU even is is here.

(edit: this is definitely out of date by the time you're seeing it, see pinned for an overall tag)

He figures things out about himself/interacts with new or developing interests in phases. Which is probably pretty standard, but so far he’s gone through a particular trend of weather —> photography/scrapbooking —> food —> adventuring/getting into Situations [you are here]. No telling what’s up next, but he never really abandons discovered interests either. He still keeps up with photography/scrapbooking, still appreciates new weather patterns/cloud formations and whatnot, and is basically never not thinking about Good Food. I would love for him to some day focus on music and maybe pick up an instrument or something; he could learn piano from Metal’s caretaker, even.

Discovering preferred foods is also a slow but unique process in that he doesn’t notice, really, until someone else points out he has a clear preference for something. From his perspective, he still doesn’t really have favorites because why would he, but anyone else would be able to tell there are certain things he gravitates toward (and that applies to everything, not just food). So far, other than expensive chocolates, that’s mostly tomatoes, whether raw or roasted; cherry tomatoes especially. They’re somewhat of a comfort food at this point. A few other honorable mentions: avocado, sautéed spinach mixed in with things, and grilled veggies in general. Weird little kid who goes out of his way to ask for vegetables, really. He also especially likes the crunch of carrots, but celery and lettuce on their own practically insult him for how comparatively tasteless they are.

Don’t ask him what his favorite color is either. He has no idea. He likes the green Emerald the most, but also the light blue one (he’ll never admit it, if just because he doesn't consciously realize it, but it’s because that one specifically reminds him of Metal). From his perspective, that’s about as much as he’s able to place; wires get crossed and he answers according to his Chaos Emerald color preference, not ‘colors in general’. From my perspective, I see it as him being partial to blue and green because that’s what he’d most commonly see from the ARK, looking down at earth. Objectively, blue probably wins by sentimentality alone, given so many of the people he’s close with are/were inherently associated with blue.

He starts a lot of sentences with “I think”, as a sort of parallel to Metal regularly starting statements with “but”. Those who don’t know him might wrongly assume that this, paired with the fact he rarely speaks above something comparable to a whisper, means he’s not very assertive/sure of himself. Not the case, he’s just naturally very quiet. To hear him use his whole chest to speak is unusual, and to hear him shout is downright shocking.

He rests his hand on his forehead to self-soothe, as leaning it against Maria was something he would regularly do when cuddling with her back then. As a direct consequence of this, he does not allow people to touch his head without warning, but pushing his forehead into someone's chest/shoulder is often something he does automatically if someone hugs him, so it's an "on my terms only" kind of thing.

This is very much canon. She/her feels like he’d be stepping on toes (that’s for Maria, not him), they/them doesn’t quite feel right, and neo pronouns are not for him. So, using he/him really is just for the sake of convenience. It’s not quite right, but being referred to that way doesn’t bother him either, so there’s really nothing else for it. That’s just how it is.

The more exploring and such he does, the less sensitive his paw pads get. That eventually leads to wearing half-gloves instead.

He currently lives in a place that looks an awful lot like space. The house is shared with Metal, and has two stories. Upstairs is where his study/bedroom technically are, but he rarely goes up there to do anything but write. A majority of his time is spent downstairs, either cooking or napping. Who needs a proper bed when he has a comically oversized blanket to make a nest out of? (This blanket is eventually torn beyond reasonable repair. While it's replaced with another of similar size, the original is eventually tailored into a jacket.)

Re: this, it directly lends to what I was getting at in this post. There will come a day where he’s so much more “Maria” than himself that he practically drops everything and has to find a more earth-looking [second] home. He will keep and take care of this place even after the “Maria day” passes. I expect this location to be mostly rural—he wants to appreciate nature, its sounds, weather, and things like sunrise/sunsets unhindered, but not so much that he’s fully isolated. Maybe on the outskirts of a smaller town, but still within walking distance of it so he can check in and people-watch or window shop, things like that.

Relatedly, his relationship with his own age is complicated at best. He's neither adult nor child. (There is no argument to be made about how mentally mature he is otherwise. No matter how you spin it, he is still a minor. Arguments about that are not tolerated here.)

The rest of the points are arguably less general and more “Shadow regularly gets himself into trouble: the series” and delves into things like his regeneration ability/biology in relation to the Black Arms/etc, so I’m stuffing ‘em under the cut. Nothing particularly gory or anything like that, just a general courtesy in case people don’t want to read about that rougher/more scientific aspect of his character.

Shortly after his revival, he (safely) gave himself over to trusted scientists. For a few months, he underwent a gauntlet of tests/scans/etc in hopes they would help him find a cure for the illness Maria suffered. Some of these scans were painful despite what he thought was a high pain tolerance, which came as a surprise to him. This is relevant for most of the upcoming points.

Most controversial take: he finds guns boring. Primarily in the sense of what’s being used against him as a weapon, though. Bullets will not stop him. If you want him to stop moving, you’re going to have to lop something clean off, then flip a coin. Heads he stops, tails he’s too hyped up on adrenaline/chaos energy and will still wreck the antagonist’s shit.

Needless to say, his relationship with pain/injury is a bit weird, to the point of being distressingly casual about it. He can recover from just about any damage within reason; so far, he can and has regenerated an entire arm before (with help from an Emerald). Pain and dangerous situations that might inflict damage do not scare him.

His tolerance for pain is another matter entirely, though. In some twisted kind of way, once he realized he does in fact have a limit/pain threshold (e.g., the scans, and a particular other few events, even before the arm loss), he almost started getting more reckless to challenge and raise that threshold. His pain tolerance is already pretty high, so the fact there still exists situations in which damage exceeds that tolerance is almost like a thrill/challenge. He won’t go out of his way to or purposely hurt himself, but if the dangerous situation he’s half-intentionally placed himself in causes an accident or something, then so be it. The more experience he gains, the less likely he's going to be stunlocked by pain when stakes are high.

If he’s left to his own devices for too long, he gets restless. Being restless leads to getting himself into Situations (e.g., the above points, and also kind of like this.) Basically his impulse control just plummets. That’s where races or spars with Metal might eventually come in later. He can only stand being serene and mild-mannered for so long. There is still Black Arms blood in him; it's where he gets his otherwise well-hidden temper/competitiveness/etc. Playing rough with Metal, who has a similar “so what if I lose an arm, it can be repaired” outlook, is a good way to safely manage and expend that energy when it starts to drive him a bit stir-crazy.

Speaking of blood, his is not green. The chaos energy overrides the Black Arms’ blood color, so instead his glows bright gold in the first few seconds it’s exposed to air, and then gradually dulls down into a near-black.

In the event he’s injured, the spots being healed/regenerated come back a bit paler, not unlike a scar (the fur, too, is a bit finer). Eventually his fur evens back out to the usual black, but is a bit longer around the edges of where the injury was for a little while after/to the point he might have to manually trim it. Also tends to keep souvenirs of sorts when he gets into Situations. (General sketch page mulling over all of this. I'm still not 100% sure about the 'his fur eventually goes back to its normal color' thing; he may just Stay Like That with the paler patches/missing quills/etc like regular scars, but until I decide for sure, I'm just operating under the assumption this is not the case.)

He's essentially a highly efficient energy burner. Food/water just gets converted into pure chaos energy. Nothing is wasted; frankly his anatomy doesn't even allow for it.

In the same vein, he can go a few days without food/water, but it'll take a lot to replenish his energy stores. It's typical for him to go into an almost coma-like sleep for a few days to recover from critical injuries (not unlike in Sonic Battle). Outside of that, if he doesn't replenish his chaos energy quickly enough, he stays lethargic/fatigued for about a week.

He is biologically incapable of contracting illnesses (the Metal Virus would still, hypothetically, be an exception), and cannot be poisoned. Whether it's inhaled/ingested, he'd just cough or spit it back out without it taking effect. Similarly, he doesn't experience typical nausea outside of extreme fatigue/pain, so it's one of the few things he knows of due to his time with Maria, but can't really empathize with.

When tired, he's more Creature than not. There's a lot more little squeaks/chirps/huffs and whatnot that you'd expect from a typical hedgehog. This is especially true when he's already asleep/recovering. If he's cradled or hugged for an extended period of time, he will start to purr in a way more comparable to a bear cub than cat. It's so faint it's more felt than heard, and can otherwise only be heard by the person actively holding him.

#second chance au #second chance highlight #shadow the hedgehog #& co #sea talks #occasionally you'll see me still drawing him with the paler patches #it's not a continuity error or anything #don't worry about it #other than that there may be a few miscellaneous things missing #but i suppose little tidbits like that are just a bonus for following me #[for legal reasons this is a joke]#tumblr immediately freaks any time i try to reformat these big posts so i am once again apologizing i couldn't make it less of a text brick #i just want to add line breaks between the bullet points...!! and then it refuses to save!#every time!!

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pythonpie · 11 months

Note

Which character's basic personality and backstory has changed the most in the past few years? Which one has stayed more or less the same?

Oh boy, A LOT has changed.

Lucy becoming a trans butch lesbian that doesn't take estrogen or go through surgery was very big brained of me. Bc there are cis women! Who don't want tits! And present very masculinely! There are cis women with 5 o' clock shadows! And flat chests! She becomes a community organizer after she loses her sense of smell during a riot and is traumatized to the point of being unable to be at the front lines anymore and grappling with the fact that it's okay and learning there are millions of ways to engage in mutual aid! She becomes a community organizer and has a talent in conflict mediation.

Emma is a gender non-conforming Arslani doe who is ENORMOUS and comes from a very large Filipino family (taken in after her Ina's (mom's) best friend (who is Arslani) is killed in a fatal accident). Emma presents very masc and is often mistaken for a bull, but she shrugs it off. She still IDs as female (She's a product of the 60s and 70s, so she was definitely seen as a bull by the average human), but her gender is not very important to her and does what she feels most comfortable.

Bruce becoming a short king at 15'ish feet tall due to childhood malnutrition and becoming a tiny lil teddy bear for Emma is so god tier. Little crossdressing guy (definitely inspired by Klinger from M*A*S*H ) that would probably align closer to genderfluid in modern terms. Also he takes to city living like a champ in his adult life, entering the Philidelphia dance club scene in the late 70's/early 80s.

Emily (who is really my bff's oc but I kinda adopted somewhat on accident) is a disaster bisexual camp counselor who was dumped as a baby. Her bio dad is a powerful conservative human politician who had an affair with one of his staff and she chose to keep the baby against his wishes. He pays for the baby to be disposed of, but she is found by an Arslani garbageman making his rounds. He and a close friend decide to adopt her together and coparent. Emily is a Weird Little Girl. She gets in trouble for fighting at school a lot bc she playfights to rough since she is being raised alongside Arslani cubs (that are all like 8' tall and larger).

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cuubism · 2 years

Text

Flight - Chapter 2

Alec had felt too embarrassed to mention it at the time, but Magnus’s feather ornament was… really something.

It wasn’t the ornament itself that affected him so much, though it was certainly nice. It was the idea that Magnus had wanted to keep one of his feathers by his side in the first place. Even though it didn’t have magical properties, and could do nothing of value for him, he wanted it with him.

He wanted to carry Alec with him.

Alec had thought of trying to replicate it in some way—obviously warlocks didn’t have feathers, and the idea of carrying a lock of Magnus’s hair or something around just felt a bit weird, but he’d thought maybe he could snag one of Magnus’s necklaces.

That plan had been derailed by the revelation that the feather was magical.

Alec didn’t know what to do with that information. It didn’t feel real. Centuries of spiritual understanding, of ceremony and culture, couldn’t just be overturned in an instant—could they? Was it actually possible that the Nephilim knew so little about their own magic?

The thought disturbed him more than he wanted to let on to Magnus, or anyone else.

Which was why Alec now found himself in the Institute library, digging for any information he could find that suggested his feathers were more than they seemed. His wings draped over the back of his chair, and he had to stop himself repeatedly from poking and picking at them, however tempting it was to try to tear them apart to figure out what was going on inside.

The books, thus far, had proved unhelpful.

Perhaps it was a fluke, he kept trying to convince himself. Feathers did carry a small amount of angelic magic—rune magic—in them while they were attached to their bearer’s wings. Perhaps it had lingered, mingling strangely with Magnus’s warlock magic.

But Alec’s gut was telling him that wasn’t the case.

“Mr. Lightwood,” came a voice from the doorway. “You weren’t in your office.”

Alec leaned back in his chair. “It might surprise you,” he said mildly, “but occasionally I have duties that take me out of the office.”

Consul Dieudonné stood in the library doorway, looking royally peeved. The man really had a terrible poker face; Alec didn’t understand how he could run an organization as manipulative and two-faced as the Clave while showing every emotion he ever felt blatantly on his face.

“It’s important for Institute Heads to be easily contactable,” Dieudonné said tersely, to which Alec held up his phone in answer. Dieudonné’s lips tightened in an irritated line.

Alec was, unfortunately, very used to Clave officials dropping in unannounced, trying to catch him slipping up. One could only poke at a rather powerful bear for so long before it swiped back. Honestly, he was surprised he hadn’t faced more retaliation for his ‘radical’ policies. All in due time, he supposed.

He enjoyed treating their visits as nothing more than trivial annoyances. It wasn’t something Alec would have done earlier in his career, but Magnus often took a blasé attitude towards unjust authority, and Alec had been inspired. He never actually broke any rules, never let the Clave down on what they asked for, but his indifference to their self-importance rankled them every single time.

Alec’s uptight, anxious younger self would have been terrified of such behavior. Now, he just found it amusing.

He closed his book slowly. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“We need your report on the rift that opened in Times Square—”

“Rockefeller Center,” Alec corrected. Pedantry was another toy he’d borrowed from Magnus’s extensive chest. “You should visit more often. Learn the city a bit.”

“Whatever,” Dieudonné snapped. “We need the report. Any strange rift is of highest importance.”

Expecting a full report delivered less than twenty-four hours after the event in question was unreasonable and against the Clave’s own protocol, but Alec didn’t bother saying so. He’d already finished the report. He may have had to stay up until five a.m. to finish it after spending the evening with Magnus, but he’d finished it.

It was just so much more satisfying to always be one step ahead of the Clave’s demands than it was to complain.

He may also have fudged a few of the details to keep scrutiny off of Magnus. As far as anyone was concerned, Magnus’s own magic had repelled the beast. No need to mention a possibly troublesome experiment with Nephilim feathers. Alec figured he’d share the knowledge about the feathers eventually, once they knew more—but first he wanted to find out if the Clave somehow knew about it, if the knowledge was kept hidden in their highest-ranking offices and secret annals. What purpose that would serve, he couldn’t say, but it was better to err on the side of caution.

This was one aspect of ‘playing politics’ that Alec disliked. He wasn’t a dishonest person by nature, and still felt uncomfortable weaving webs of untruths that he would have to both shoulder and maintain. But the Clave had no qualms about bending the truth or straight up lying, so Alec had just had to get used to it. Magnus’s safety was more important anyway.

I’ll get that report for you now, was on the tip of Alec’s tongue when Dieudonné continued—

“I’d also like to speak with Magnus Bane. The Clave requires his eyewitness account of how your feathers were able to best this creature.”

Shit. How did he even find out about that? There hadn’t been many Shadowhunters on that patrol, and Alec didn’t think any were in direct contact with the Clave. Then again, maybe rumor had simply spread.

“You’ll have the report within the hour,” he said. He had a few… last minute amendments to make.

He considered carefully his response regarding Magnus. There had been blame in Dieudonné’s voice, as if Magnus had somehow engineered this whole situation to prove his own power. Alec wouldn’t put it past the Clave to lay this on Magnus’s shoulders, even though him being behind it made no logical sense whatsoever.

“I will ask Magnus if he’ll speak with you,” he said finally, “but I want a witness present. I’m not saying me. But some third party.” In a just world, it probably shouldn’t be Alec, for impartiality’s sake, but their world wasn’t just, which always skewed Alec’s viewpoint when it came to Magnus. Regardless of who bore witness, Alec would probably be waiting in the hall outside, just in case Dieudonné… tried something. Really, Alec was more worried about him simply twisting Magnus’s words, but he’d also seen Dieudonné be downright ruthless in the past and had to be prepared for anything.

Dieudonné scoffed. “You think I would, what? Murder the man if left unattended?”

Alec just raised an eyebrow. Would you?

The Consul waved a hand. “Have your witness, I don’t care. But I will speak with him.”

“You going to drag him into the Institute and force him?” Alec said. “You don’t have the power to do that, not unless you actually want to charge him with a crime. And I doubt that would go over well with the Shadowhunters whose lives he saved… but don’t worry, I’m sure Magnus will agree to talk, if we ask nicely.”

Another thing Alec did that annoyed the Clave to no end was to act as if Magnus was just a warlock who happened to work with them instead of his actual partner. Clave officials seemed to think they could simultaneously deride Alec and Magnus’s relationship and leverage it to get Magnus to do things for them—and usually expected it for free, to boot. As Alec loved to remind them, if they wanted to get Head of the Institute’s Spouse privileges from Magnus, they had to let him get married in the first place.

Even so, Magnus would usually help out with Institute-related problems if Alec asked him to. Which was exactly why Alec didn’t ask, at least not on behalf of the Clave.

He couldn’t force Clave officials to treat Magnus with respect, but he sure could make it incredibly hard for them to do otherwise.

Dieudonné’s lip curled, but he apparently decided arguing over this wasn’t worth his energy. “Fine,” he said. “Have it your way. But I advise you, Lightwood: in life we are faced with many battles, and can only choose some of them to fight. You seem to be choosing an awful lot of them lately.”

And with that, he strode from the room.

Alec sighed, slumping in his chair and turning back to his books. He’d thought he’d have time to do this research, but it seemed that was going to have to speed up tenfold. This was the absolute last thing with which he wanted to be a step behind the Clave.

He studied the cover of the book he’d recently closed. The Duty of Angels, it was called—an ancient tome from the late eleventh century, preserved only by a perseverance rune inscribed on the inside front cover. He hadn’t gotten through much of it, but the contents thus far had been disturbing: dark tales of the angels on earth, wreaking God’s vengeance directly on unfortunate mundanes. Stories of parishioners setting themselves ablaze before their church altars; babies morphing into demons to punish adulterous parents; animals turning spontaneously rabid and tearing out the throats of their handlers. Alec hadn’t seen the likes of it in an Institute library before; most books about the angels and the Nephilim talked more about duty and justice rather than punishment. Even if the Clave’s idea of duty and justice had started to look a lot like punishment, in recent decades.

Alec stacked the other books on the corner of the desk so he wouldn’t misplace them, then stood to head to his office to edit the report. Dieudonné might be able to afford to let some of his battles go unwon, but Alec could not.

He left the library, taking The Duty of Angels with him.

“Playing games again, darling?”

Magnus’s voice was crinkled with amusement. Alec leaned in to give him a greeting kiss to the cheek, and was presented with a fire message from Malachi Dieudonné.

Bane. The Clave requests your presence at the New York Institute to discuss the incident at Times Square Rockefeller Center. Come at your earliest convenience.~ Consul Malachi Dieudonné

Alec sighed. “Would it really kill him to try to be polite?”

“I assume this is your doing?” said Magnus. “This ‘official missive,’ rather than simply a, hey Magnus, come to the Institute text?”

“They think they can just summon you whenever they want,” Alec grumbled. “Least I can do is make them put in some effort.”

Magnus hummed, laying a hand over Alec’s heart. “My gallant defender.”

Alec softened. Of course, he thought.

Magnus spun away towards the kitchen. “So, how should I play it? Plead the fifth? Oh, no, Mister Consul, I have absolutely no idea what happened there.”

“It’s too late, they already know about the feather.” Alec followed him into the kitchen. He figured Magnus would have made some dinner at some point, considering it was nearly nine p.m., but all he found in the kitchen was a plate of chocolate cookies. “Really? That’s what you had for dinner?”

“I was in a sugary mood.” He took another one and munched on it, offering the plate to Alec. Alec took one, even though, to be honest, he wasn’t that hungry. Political conniving, though fun at times, tended to turn his stomach.

“But as I was saying, they know about the feather. I tried to hide it, but the rumor must have spread.”

“Well, they aren’t going to get many answers from me,” said Magnus. “I still haven’t figured out what happened. Oh! I did make myself a new ornament, though.”

He snapped his fingers, and a clear glass ornament similar to the one that had broken appeared in his hand. Alec took it, tilting it this way and that in the light. The feather frozen within was one of Alec’s primary flight feathers, one of the ones that had a bluish tint in certain light, at least according to Magnus. And that—

“Magnus, those feathers are huge, how did you get it to fit?”

Lips twitching, Magnus looked like he was about to comment on Alec’s phrasing, but he decided to show mercy. “Well, magic, of course.”

Alec looked at the ornament more closely. The feather didn’t look like it had been shrunk, exactly; it looked more like it was at the bottom of a deep pool, and was being refracted to the surface of the glass in inaccurate size. He decided not to probe Magnus more about it right then.

“Any idea if it would still protect you?”

“None. I did try to infuse a bit of my magic into it. I wondered if it might have been the interactions between our magics that activated its power. Of course, there’s no real way to test it—other than threatening to kill me, of course.”

“No,” Alec said, before realizing that Magnus was joking about actually trying that. “No threatening to kill you,” he added anyway, in case Magnus got any ideas.

Magnus patted his chest. “Relax. I’m sure the opportunity for that will arise organically without me having to initiate it.”

That didn’t make Alec feel any better.

“I guess you should carry it around with you then,” he said, “just in case. But… maybe hide it when you’re meeting with Malachi. No need to let him know that the situation is replicable.”

“Technically, we don’t know that the situation is replicable,” Magnus said, wiggling his eyebrows. “A pretty ornament does not necessarily a magical shield make. So he can’t officially hold it against us. I do so love technicalities. And in case you’re wondering how I actually plan to play this, it’s how I usually deal with the Clave—reveal as little information as possible, but just enough to avoid suspicion.”

“We’ll see how he takes it. Malachi is a suspicious sort. He’ll try to poke at anything you say.”

“I’m going to drop a few tidbits of knowledge about both the feather and the strange beast it repelled. I’m curious if there will be any… recognition.”

“Let me know what you deduce,” Alec said, and Magnus smiled in acknowledgement, rubbing his shoulder. And they let the subject drop for the time being, in favor of getting some rest.

Alec was dubious, to say the least, about talking to the Silent Brothers.

The Silent City always felt dangerous and claustrophobic, like one wrong word would find him interred in the ground forever. The Silent Brothers were keepers of Nephilim history and lore, but to think of them as librarians, or even as healers, was a gross underestimation.

What the Silent Brothers really were was a group of Nephilim sunk deep into their angelic heritage, deeper than any Shadowhunter could manage with their sanity and mortal body intact.

Alec wondered if learning those secrets had been worth losing almost everything else.

But despite his misgivings, he couldn’t think of anyone else who might have insight into what had happened with the feather. The information—such that there was information about it at all—had been nonexistent in the Institute records. There were mentions of Nephilim using their wings as weapons, of course. Alec did that as well, though the resulting wing damage was often not worth the blows dealt to enemies. There were mentions of feathers being useful in minor potions as well—mainly, potions to warn of Shadowhunter presence. But nothing like what Magnus had experienced.

He still didn’t want to ask the Clave directly, at least not until Magnus had tried to probe Malachi Dieudonné’s mind on the subject. So here he was in the tunnels of the City of Bones, hoping he could find even a sliver of an answer.

Alec made his careful way through the narrow stone passages, past plaques set in tribute to Shadowhunters fallen hundreds of years in the past. The halls were near pitch black, with only the occasional torch to light his way, but that was alright. Alec was hardly a stranger to the dark. More difficult were the low ceilings, and the winding turns that took him further and further away from the surface.

Not that he was in New York at all, anymore. The Silent City had no firm physical location; Magnus would have found it fascinating, had he been allowed inside.

Finally, the narrow tunnel opened to a wider atrium, the musty scent of dead earth ceding to the tang of rust and metal weaponry. He knew the Brothers would have sensed his approach, and he waited until one emerged, coming to stand before Alec in his fraying brown robe, hood shadowing his scarred features.

Even Alec, who had been bucking against Clave authority for so long now, couldn’t help but dip his head in deference. The Brothers were… other, they were no mere mortals squabbling for control in the City of Glass. Their authority derived from something deeper that he didn’t dare disturb.

Alec Lightwood, said the Brother. His voice was a susurration in Alec’s head, like wings dragging over stone. Unbidden, Alec’s own wings stuttered out to fall over his shoulders. He always felt safer with them guarding his back. I am Brother Abel. You have come to us about the attack by the holy Beast.

So they were more in tune with what was happening in the world than Alec had thought. And… the what beast? The way Magnus had described it, it had seemed the opposite of holy.

Then again, according to many of his peers, Alec had already forsaken all that was holy by falling in love with the son of a demon. So, who was he to judge?

“You know about the beast?” Alec said to the Silent Brother. “Have you seen it before? What makes it holy?”

On earth, I have not seen it. In myth, perhaps. Brother Abel was preternaturally still, and Alec resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. It is holy the way that your wings are holy, the way your sword is holy when it drives a demon back to hell. It is an instrument of the divine will.

A shiver ran up Alec’s body. If that was the case, then the divine will involved attacking Magnus.

“Could it be corrupted?” he asked. “I could use my sword to stab another Shadowhunter through the heart, but that wouldn’t make murder the divine will.”

You are correct; the tool’s path reveals only the bearer’s mind, said Abel. The Beast knows no righteousness on its own. It knows only that which it is fed.

Alec relaxed fractionally. That meant—at least, he hoped that meant—that there was someone, in specific, on the other end that they could fight.

However, it is still troubling to find it on this plane, Abel continued. Such creatures never portend peaceful times.

“How are they supposed to be defeated?” Alec asked, then added, “In the myths.”

Unfortunately, young Lightwood, our myths rarely capture the nuance of our real lives. In the stories, righteousness prevails, and the Beast is on the side of righteousness. But who is to say, in our world, what is righteous.

This was a more radical response than Alec had expected to get from a Silent Brother. In his past encounters with them, they had been rigidly aligned with the Clave on all matters, particularly those of faith. But maybe recent events, the current instability in Idris, had pushed the Brothers onto their own, separate footing.

But it wasn’t all different. He was still getting the same amount of practical information, which was jack shit.

“Magnus was able to repel it using one of my feathers,” he admitted. “We still don’t know how.”

One of your feathers? Abel’s voice, melodious and monotone before, peaked in interest. Evidently, the Silent Brothers hadn’t known this particular piece of information yet. May I see?

With some reluctance, Alec angled one of his wings toward Brother Abel, and the Silent Brother laid a hand on the hard bone of his wing. His touch was surprisingly normal, not cold or bony as his rigid appearance might have suggested.

Alec didn’t feel anything strange, but there was a frown in the Brother’s voice when he next spoke. I sense something has changed.

“Wait, what?” Alec looked at his own wing, but there was nothing strange about it. Nothing felt strange, either. “What do you mean?”

I do not know. It is very subtle. I do not believe it will harm you.

That still didn’t help.

“What does it feel like?” Alec pressed.

Abel considered. Finally, he said, with a tone that suggested he wasn’t used to having to translate these feelings into words, It feels like change.

This seemed significant to him, but all Alec felt was irritation. He wondered why he ever bothered coming to the Silent City when the result was the same every time.

“Change,” he said. “Alright. Thanks.”

Brother Abel stepped back and let him withdraw his wing. I can predict your next question. You want to know if there is historical precedent for this.

He wasn’t wrong.

There is… to some extent. Angels, of course, held power within their wings. Early Nephilim were a very… raw form of the Shadowhunters that exist today. The power we hold today is candle smoke to the wildfire that swept the earth in those times.

Alec thought of that gruesome book The Duty of Angels, which he’d nearly finished reading. He knew. He fucking knew.

Abel continued, The records are incomplete, but it’s reasonable to assume that early Nephilim carried power in their wings also. How we’ve gone from there to here—I can only assume that it faded, gradually, over time, as we moved generation after generation away from the Angels, until it turned into memory, and then into myth, and then disappeared altogether.

Alec figured he was right, but he also felt they were letting an awful lot ride on assumptions.

“So how would it be activated again?” he asked.

The magic must have lain dormant within the wings, rather than disappearing. But what, exactly, in your husband’s encounter with this Beast was enough to activate it, I cannot say.

Magnus wasn’t technically Alec’s husband, but Alec didn’t correct him. It was essentially true in all but legalities, anyway.

Keep abreast of the situation, young Institute Head, Abel finished. I fear it may impact more than just you.

Alec feared so as well. “Thank you, Brother Abel,” he said, dipping his head again.

The Silent Brother merely spread his hands, in a release. Go with the Angel’s blessing.

It was a typical, formal, Shadowhunter farewell. But for the first time, it rested uncomfortably on Alec’s shoulders.

~~~

“So, what did Malachi say?”

Alec was supposed to have been in the Institute during Magnus and Malachi’s ‘discussion,’ but a demon infestation in the Bronx had called him away. Magnus had been disappointed. He’d been looking forward to seeing Alec standing out in the hallway, all protective, ready to bury his sword in Malachi Dieudonné’s neck given the slightest provocation.

Magnus didn’t need Alec’s protection from Dieudonné, but damned if he didn’t want it.

But Alec had been away, so Magnus had endured the riveting conversation on his own, with Luke sitting in as witness. Smart, Magnus thought, having a witness. The Clave so liked to twist words. And Luke was a good choice—part Shadowhunter, part Downworlder, and Magnus had never known the man to be anything but fair-minded.

“Oh, we enjoyed ourselves immensely,” Magnus said, munching on an empanada. “I pretended to be a gibbering idiot, he got increasingly irritated, and the more irritated he got, the more my heart filled with glee. Not a bad afternoon. God I love tapas.”

This last bit he said more to the empanada as he popped the last of it into his mouth.

The line of Alec’s mouth was wavering between annoyed and fond. “You just like them because you don’t have to pick only one entrée.”

“Exactly.”

“But, seriously.” Alec leaned his elbows on the table, jostling their wine glasses. Having leaned in, he was finally able to lower his voice and still be heard. In retrospect, maybe this bustling tapas place hadn’t been the best choice for a Friday night date-slash-political crisis debrief. But Magnus was hardly going to make his own empanadas. “What was his angle? Is he going to try to go after you? Or us? And by the way, you could never come across as an idiot even if you were trying to.”

“He seemed…” Magnus sipped at his wine. “He seemed concerned. Of course, he didn’t want to let that on. But he kept asking me questions like, are you sure you don’t know how this happened? Can it be replicated? Will it happen on its own? and so on. I think this whole feather incident… well, you would know how the Clave doesn’t like change. I doubt they like the idea of anything about Nephilim magic being out of their control. I would imagine they are afraid. Afraid that this will be a crack in the cornerstone of their power.”

When he finished speaking, Alec was looking at him with a satisfied expression. He still hadn’t eaten anything, and Magnus nudged a basket of bread in his direction. “You always say you aren’t a politician, but you’re damn good at it.”

“High Warlock is a political job, but politics is not all that I do,” Magnus said.

“I know, but still. You could be a politician, if you wanted to. You’re crafty enough for it.”

Magnus gave an exaggerated shudder. “I think I’ll leave the statecraft and manipulation to you, darling. I need time in my schedule for upending our lives with my experiments, after all.” He held up his pendant.

Alec chuckled. “Honestly, I’m surprised the Clave hasn’t just… cracked down on us. Taken control of the situation. That’s what I would have done.” He seemed to think about this more and hedged, “If I was a power-hungry consul fearing the end of my reign.”

“You are a bit power-hungry, my love. In a lovable way, of course.” Magnus tore off a piece of bread and nudged it at Alec’s mouth.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you to eat. Come on, it’s good. You think I would take you to a restaurant with mediocre bread?”

Alec sighed, but obediently let Magnus slip the piece of bread into his mouth.

“And it seems to me,” Magnus continued, “that they’re simply waiting to see where things fall before making any hard decisions. That’s what I would have done.”

“Hmm.” Alec swallowed the bread and sipped at his wine. “Did he seem to know anything about that… creature?”

“He was shockingly unconcerned by it.” Magnus had kept trying to bring it up, trying to learn anything he could, and each time Dieudonné had simply let the matter slide. “I’m not sure I adequately conveyed the strangeness of that encounter. They seem to think it was just another demon.”

“Hmm,” Alec mused, mostly to himself, “another knowledge gap.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, Brother Abel said—”

“Wait, you went to the Silent City? When?”

Alec frowned. “Earlier today. I didn’t tell you that?”

“No.”

“Hm. Well, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just worry about that place, a bit.”

Alec gave him an amused smile. “Creepy crypts aren’t your thing?”

“I can handle crypts. It’s the mystical Shadowhunter dungeon of limitless dark knowledge vibe that creeps me out. I’m always a bit afraid you’ll disappear there and never come back out.” Magnus had known one or two Silent Brothers in his time, but he didn’t understand the overall Brotherhood very well. It was hard to tell where their allegiance lay. With the Clave? With the historical upkeep of Shadowhunter ideals? He didn’t think it lay with the individual Shadowhunters charged to their care, and thus it concerned him whenever Alec, or any of the other Shadowhunters he knew, put themselves in their care, however briefly.

Alec patted his hand. “It’s okay. I’m fully aware of this whenever I go in there.”

Magnus spluttered. “I’m sorry, you’re fully aware of the possibility of disappearing and never coming back out?” Alec opened his mouth to speak, but Magnus held up a hand. “You know what, never mind. Let’s not unpack the Silent City right now. What did Brother Abel say about the beast?”

Alec pressed his palms together in seeming prayer, tipping his fingers against his lips. “He called it holy.”

Magnus’s lips twisted. “I suppose a Silent Brother would consider a beast that attacked a warlock to be holy.”

But Alec shook his head. “It wasn’t that. I think he meant it literally.”

“It’s connected to the angels in some way?” Now Magnus was surprised.

“It must have been corrupted,” Alec said decisively. “Someone must be using it for wrong. Like Valentine with the Soul Sword.”

Magnus didn’t know about that. He had far less faith in the angels’ righteousness than Alec did.

“The beast said I was being blasphemous,” Magnus told him.

“Wait, you spoke to it? It could speak?”

Magnus tapped his temple. “In here.”

“What does it mean by blasphemous?” Alec demanded. He seemed offended on Magnus’s behalf.

“Well, most likely it was referring to what you did to me the other night,” Magnus said, tilting his head at him, smiling innocently. “Are your runes really meant to be used that way, Alexander?”

Alec blushed. “Magnus!”

“I don’t know what it was referring to, exactly,” Magnus admitted. “As far as I can tell, my entire existence is blasphemous where angels are concerned. Our relationship, too. And yet none have come to attack us before now.”

“We don’t know it was an angel that sent that beast,” Alec said, frowning.

“We don’t know it wasn’t,” Magnus pointed out. Though he hoped it wasn’t. He had no idea how they were supposed to fight an angel.

“I guess we’ll just have to keep investigating, and hope that it doesn’t come back.”

Magnus wasn’t feeling very confident about that. Clearly, the creature—or whomever had sent it—had an agenda. An agenda it had not been able to fulfill.

“I suppose I will—” he started, thinking of other research avenues he could pursue, but a fire message interrupted him, flying past his head and into Alec’s hand.

As Alec read it, his face twisted into a grimace.

Magnus leaned forward to see. “What’s that?”

Alec handed it to him. “It’s the Clave taking control of the situation. I’ve jinxed us.”

Magnus read the scrap of parchment.

Alexander LightwoodYou are hereby summoned to Alicante on order of the InquisitorArrive at the Gard by midnight Idris Time tonight, or your arrival will be arranged for youSigned, Imogen Herondale

“Shit. Midnight Idris time? That’s in—” Magnus looked at his watch, then up at Alec in horror. “That’s twenty-three minutes from now! What the fuck?”

“They don’t like waiting,” said Alec.

Magnus read the message again, picking apart each word in increasing fury and desperation and seething as he realized the words beneath the words. “Damn these cryptic shitheads! Are you under arrest?”

“It’s not arrest, just a summons.”

“One which will be arranged for you.”

“Only if I don’t go willingly. I guess I could make a scene of it, but I’m pretty sure I’ll only get to use that card once, and I’m not sure now is exactly the time for it—”

“Alec!” Magnus interrupted, scanning his almost-husband’s calm expression for any tells. He knew Alec was unnerved, because he knew Alec. But Alec was darn good at not showing it sometimes. “This isn’t fair.” Magnus had gotten them into this. Magnus and his ornament and his sentimentality. Magnus and the beast that knew his name and apparently wanted to kill him. “If anyone should be arrested, it’s me.”

“No!” Alec yelled, then took Magnus’s hands and lowered his voice. “No. The absolute last thing I want is you in the hands of the Clave. And it’s not an arrest. Because of the Accords, if the Clave wants to force you to go to Idris, they’ll have to charge you with an actual crime. And that would raise a lot of shit that they don’t want to deal with on top of everything else. It’s different with me. I’m in their chain of command. They can summon me whenever they want. I’m not going to let them arrest you.”

“So you’re just going to go?” Magnus said, voice tense.

Alec’s mouth pressed into a line. “Do I have much of a choice?”

Magnus leaned across the table and tried to kiss that look off his face. Alec looked more at ease when he pulled away.

Magnus wavered, thinking, then pulled off one of his necklaces and reached across the table to clasp it around Alec’s neck.

Alec looked down at it, fingering the charm, then back up at Magnus with curiosity.

“I saw you looking at them, the other day,” Magnus admitted. “So, here. Take one with you.”

He had given Alec a pendant set with a round, glass-like stone. And it was… Magnus had to admit this was a bit trite. But the thought made him smile nonetheless.

Alec picked up the gold-brown stone, tilting it back and forth in the light. “What is it?”

Magnus grinned. “Cat’s-eye stone.”

Alec laughed hard enough that the worry slipped off his shoulders. “Seriously?”

“Deadly.”

Alec pressed the stone to his breastbone. “Then I’ll keep your eyes in my heart.” He grimaced immediately afterward. “Oof, that sounded so much weirder than I intended.”

“So weird,” Magnus agreed, smiling. He touched Alec’s heart with a light fingertip. “Keep me in your heart.”

“I always do.”

Primarily out of spite, though there was also a bit of fear lingering beneath it, they waited until the last possible minute before sending Alec to Alicante. Only when the clock struck 11:59pm Idris Time did Magnus open a portal.

He leaned in and kissed Alec gently. “Be safe, my love. I don’t trust those assholes as far as I can throw them. Which is pretty far, since, you know, I have magic.”

Alec laughed. “Don’t worry. I don’t trust them, either.”

He stepped through the portal, blowing a kiss in Magnus’s direction—and then he was gone, and Magnus tried hard not to think that he had just sent him off to his doom.

#Flight fic #my writing

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isitoctober212015yet · 2 years

Text

Wrote a lil fic about Eddie and his need for music heehoo (also under the cut

"So you ran all this way and instead of grabbing something that might help…you brought your cassette player?" Harrington asked.

Eddie clutched the off-brand player tighter to his chest in reply. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Steve Motherfucking Harrington right now. Even if he was supposedly a friend. It wouldn't last, Dustin was probably the only thing stopping him from committing a hate crime right now. Don't engage, don't engage, don't engage.

Harrington was just sitting there, mocking him. Still looking as pristine as his high school reputation led people to believe. Even after getting roughed up twenty minutes ago. What the hell was wrong with him?

It seemed he'd noticed the daggers being glared through his skull so he can figure stuff out, huh. "Munson? You good?" Harrington reached over to presumably snap Eddie out of his thoughts but Dustin grabbed his arm before he could make any contact to which Harrington looked at the younger boy confused

Dustin only shrugged "He doesn't like being touched, and it's rude to poke a guy out of the blue anyways. You've done enough of that." Harrington grumbled but pulled his arm back. "Why do you care anyway?"

"Well…" Harrington opens his mouth and closes it, starting several sentences before finally coming to a conclusion in his own head "I don't know, just curious? Weird choice when you're on the run from the law. You had a split second to grab anything that might help you out here like food. Or a gun, and you took the player"

"It was in my van already." Eddie said, slightly mumbled but enough to be heard in the silence of the boathouse. "I didn't have time to get anything, I already had this. And I wasn't throwing away something I need."

In another circumstance he might laugh at the way Harrington's head turned dramatically to him, cocked to the side in confusion. He looked like a chocolate lab. It was unbearable, a mockery. It made him want to punch the guy's lights out. But he had to play nice with his watchdog, for now anyway.

“Need?” Okay nevermind fuck playing nice! Who the hell does he think he is?

Eddie couldn't stop himself from condescending. "Well Harrington, a need is something that is very important you see."

Harrington narrowed his eyes. "Yeah I know what it means, Dustin's made fun of me mixing up words enough thanks. I just was wondering man. Honest. I'm Trying here since you're caught up in our." He gestured vaguely around the room "Weird. Shit. I don't know! Whether you like it or not, you're with us now."

"And what about you?" He asked

"What about me?!" Harrington asked "Why do you keep answering questions with more questions?"

"What do you think about me being involved in your little secret club? It eat you up? To have to work with the freak?"

Harrington blurted out an offended little "No!" within seconds, after which he let out a long sigh "Look. I know I sucked in high school you don't have to like me. But I really do want to help you. And maybe be friends. Robin used to hate me too but she's like, the coolest person I know, and I'm glad we got the chance to be friends. You don't have to believe what I'm about to say or accept it. But I am sorry. Really. It was more on me than you." After letting that out he huffed and looked away.

That was. Unexpected. Maybe Dustin was right to see something in this jackass. Maybe.

"The music," as soon as Eddie spoke Steve whipped his head around to listen "I took it because it's important to me. It's how I relate to the world, or drown it out if I'm sick of hearing it. You get my music, you get me."

"Okay," Steve said "that's cool. What all did you bring?"

Eddie glanced over to Dustin whose eyes were lit up and made a throat slitting motion before turning back to Steve with a grin. "Well. I'll start you off with the basics."

#Stranger Things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #theyre autisms <3

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husbandohunter · 3 years

Note

You know ur small predicament post?? you should make a reverse version where s/o is smaller!

A Smaller Predicament [Genshin Impact x Smol!Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Not only did you shrink, you went pocket sized as well!

(A sequel to "A Small Predicament")

(A/n): Sorry for the long wait anon, and I kind of added a twist to the scenario for more diversity hahaha hope you don't mind >_<. And why is Childe the poster boy for this series lmao.

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

Childe

When Childe walks in, he doesn't see you....until he looked down. He almost crunched you beneath his feet if it weren't for your constant flailing of arms and screeching voice. He blanks out for a hot minute as you clung onto his toes, doesn't dare to move an inch because he's so petrified (even though there's nothing to be afraid of??). But honestly if Childe moved right now, he might accidentally flail you to the side and that's the last thing he wants.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU??" He screamed so loud it nearly blew you out of proportion. Seems like he's going to have alot of adjusting to do. Childe is a tall man (canonically the tallest) and he knows how impulsive he can get which is why he bought a handmade dollhouse from one of the Liyue merchants for you to stay in.

Though there's something about your tiny size that makes his heart flutter. With your face so small with a pair of eyes far too big, *clutches chest* "My oujo-chan is so cute" -Childe probably. He won't stop saying them over again and you were growing tired of his gushing reactions. He can't help it. He wants to spoil you rotten. You fit right onto the flat of his palms, the way you just snuggle up againts his finger and he just- swoons, might tear up (bruh).

Toys may be for kids but for Childe it was now his favourite pass time. While you navigate around the wooden dollhouse, he pitches in by moving around the furniture to make it easier for you. Offers to carry you through the rooms like a personal elevator. And please, please let him tuck you to bed. He has to pinch his fingers to grab the blanket. It's so adorable to him.

Loves it when you snuggle up against his collar. He thinks it would be the best area for you to be nearby him since the risk of you getting hit by anything (or him) by accident is very slim chance. Sometimes he pulls up his collar so that you're more comfortable and cradled within. He would have to avert his eyes down rather than turning his head if he wanted to look at you otherwise you'd be hit by his chin and that would hurt.

The poking sensation with you by his neck can bother him since he's veeeery tickilish there. Plus, Childe can get easily sweaty so have fun with that.

You have a feeling that he wasn't so pleased when you transformed back. You might be right. Actually, you are right. He secretly has an extra potion hidden somewhere...just in case.

Diluc

Mortified, his soul just left his body. To think things couldn't get any worse ever since he turned into a child to the point no one took him seriously, now you're literally the size of an apple. Oh god what if his bird suddenly swoops in and gobbles you right up? Or the wrath of the wind comes by, swirling you away towards a tornado. Needless to say, Diluc grew paranoid over your well-being ever since.

Due to your extremely small size, he will ensure that you are supervised by him (except at night where he has places to go). In otherwords, you're slipped into the inner pocket of his coat. It's super warm, you can fall asleep (and feel his heartbeat awww). Diluc doesn't like keeping you in places where people can see you, it would be too easy for outer things to access your tiny form (or maybe he secretly likes the feeling of you in his pocket.)

And he's such a gentleman about it. You noticed how careful he moves among his footsteps because he's worried that you might get dizzy. Diluc guards the pocket at close parameter, keeping an eye on things so he won't bump into them. As if he was treading on thin ice (you even suggested it was best to leave you home but he's too overprotective for his own good).

You're like his little assistant. Diluc does so much paperwork through out the day and although the act was small, he finds it endearing how you would help bring the papers back to it's rightful pile or pushing the ink bowl towards him. Or during his shifts at Angel's Share, crawling around the glass utensils and trying to find a specific wine beverage on his shelf. Of course that only happens when the shop is closed, how is he going to explain to his patrons that you shrank and now live in his pocket?

He dislikes the thought of you wandering too far. It's so easy for you to get lost especially when the mansion is so large.

At night you now sleep atop the fluff of the pillow. Diluc is a calm sleeper so he won't have to worry about hitting into you. However he radiates warmth so you just subconicously roll towards to his face. He usually wakes up with you sprawled over his nose. He can hardly breath (careful, he might just sneeze too).

This all happened because of the experiements you participated with Albedo. Diluc ensures that doesn't happen again. It will take some tencaious effort to convince him otherwise.

Scaramouche

Fuck this guy. He treats you like his new pet, a new toy (though you technically are one). He has this arrogant, smug and sadistic look as if he was a predator looking at his prey and grabs you by the collar before dangling you up in the air.

"Hmph, looks like the tables have turned," he says while toying with your state. You tell him he's just angry because he's short himself and mad that everyone else in the Fatui organization is taller than him. Scaramouche demon face activated. He's about to devour you. (Maybe you should keep your mouth shut this time. Honestly your relationship with him is pretty weird).

His hat is so fun to play with. You'd swing around like Tarzan using the strings that were hanging from it. His head was your playground now which annoys him to an enourmous extent because it makes him look ridiculous. Scaramouche will have a hard time catching you since you move around so much. Climb around him, especially the back of his neck. He'll start wheezing when you tickle him there.

The type to put you in a box but also the type to keep you on his shoulders. Being relied on makes him feel taller (lmfao). Scaramouche seemse to have developed a habit to poke your cheeks whenever he needed your attention and you bit him back once when he pushed too hard that you nearly fell off. Despite your size, your teeth still hurt. He threatens to put you back into the box if you don't behave and the outcome ends with a full out brawl as he tries to grab you again while you run around, pulling the strands of his hair to climb on top of his hat. (This is literally Tom and Jerry wtf.)

After transforming back, he outwardly admits his disappointmen. Scaramouche says it suits you better (when he actually meant that he highly prefers you small). You marked his words, keeping an extra vial for your own entertainment in the near future.

Xiao

Xiao was face-palming against his forehead real hard about this. For the love of Rex Lapis, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time? First it was the child incident, now you're the size of his finger? Good grief, looks like he will have to keep an eye on you from now on but at the same time he's scared to get too close, you are nothing but a tiny mortal in which he would have to double his effort to look after.

He lets you sit at the crown of his head rather than anywhere else. You insisted since it was easier to see everything at a nice distance (plus he's short so you won't have to worry about him bumping into door frames). You noticed that Xiao also has a little strand sticking out from the center (ahoge) and you sometimes grab onto it for stability. Turns out he's quite sensitive there and winces when you pull too hard.

For the remaining week as the antedote was being prepared, Xiao became extremely aggressive over your well-being, he looks as if he's ready to massacre everything in his way...which he did. Clears out the monsters off the path before going on daily strolls with you, you wouldn't have to lift a finger from now on. No one except for him is allowed to hold you unless they're a trustworthy person. You could feel his sharp eyes glued on you like a hawk when walking into the grasp of Zhongli's hand.

You once accidentally tripped into his almond tofu when he wasn't looking and he almost ate you. Turns out being small made his job as your gaurdian ten times harder (especially when you're the clumsy type). If you were to fall off the table, he would have to catch you right? Xiao often bumps into furnitures in the process...ouch!

He's very soft. It's all over his forehead, his mouth, his eyes. When he looks at you, his tense eatures melted away and there's an invisible fondness over them as he cradles you in his palm. The way you snuggle in them is lke the most precious thing in the world.

When you turn back, there's a wave of relief. He was really stressed out you know?

Zhongli

His first thought is to get you as far as he can from the Funeral Parlour before Hu Tao finds you. Who knows what that child might have in mind. Zhongli takes one of his empty tea pots and urges you to go inside, or carries a tea cup with you in it, he likes placing you on objects while carrying you around.

Zhongli realizes that you can no longer use the household items like before so he has to remake them to your standards- especially when he realized he doesn't have the mora to buy you a dollhouse. He improvises. Takes a handkerchief to make your blanket, his cups for your bathtub, Zhongli had to cut the foot into byte-sized too. But in terms of clothes, well he had to make them as well. Living thousands of years would mean he would have lot of experience. Sewing was one of them luckily. But that would mean he has to take your measurements as well. In the end, most of the things he made were dresses since they were alot easier.

You like to sneak in between his shirt and his vest tucked behind the coat he wears. Unfortunately Zhongli doesn't seem to have visible pockets (most likely the reason why he doesn't carry mora either), though if you don't hold on tight you might just slip down his vest and right to his stomach. It makes him chuckle when that happens even if the amount of effort to get you out took more than he thought since his attire is quite complicated to put on. If you really want to climb on him, he'll find a seperate pouch (but realizes it won't be a good idea when there's alot of pick-pocketers in Liyue streets).

All of a sudden he reads you bedtime stories. It's some sort of inner instinct that tells him he's taking care of a child now (he's right though). You realized that his voice was equivalent to a thunder's roar due to size difference. He would have to whisper now.

It will always be part of his precious memories when you turned pocket-sized. Zhongli still keeps the clothing he made somewhere in his closets too.

Kaeya

Amused by this eventful situation. Absolutely thrilled! He's not evil like Scaramouche but this new version of his s/o is both adorable and fun at the same time. You're so easy to tickle, just one poke using his finger against your hips makes you yelp. Sometimes he twirls your hair or taps your forehead gently despite your protest, he's so handsy like always in an affectionate yet annoying way.

Kaeya picks you up and places you among the fluffy comfort of his feathery scarf. You sneezed, the last time he cleaned it was before he went on a mission with the knights. Though you have to admit, it's the best feeling in the world. It's so soft you might sink deeper into the fabric. He likes to put you in places where he can talk to you easily, sometimes on the table while he downs on his wine. Normally you have to take the bottle away before it gets too much, now you have to push it away which he finds very entertaining at your futile attempts.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you tell him. Since you turned byte-sized, he can't seem to stop playing around. Takes his two fingers and pretends they're legs walking across the surface. You would turn around and he halts, Kaeya sends you his signature grin. When he promises that he wouldn't do anything funny, you would let him hold you. Since hugs are out of the equation, Kaeya gives you his finger instead to wrap your arms around. He can't get enough seeing you like this, things he couldn't do when you were normal-sized. he enjoys your reactions way too much.

His favourite pass time is helping you brush your hair because the hairbursh is too big for you to handle. Kaeya ensure he's handling things delicately but he would love to help style it for you as well. Pretty please? At this point one request turns to another because he's having way too much fun. But it couldn't be helped since you would need his assistance in almost everything so there's really no escaping.

You were so happy when things were normal again but Kaeya would bring this up again during your conversations (how next time he would like to put you in his drinks while you're wearing a swim suit).

Albedo

Legit blurted out if he could put you on a hamster wheel.

What about trying out the little maze he just made?

Or participating in a race against slimes of different elements?

No? Okay, then he'll just turn you back.

Albedo isn't going deal with this as along as he can help it (especially when he remembers what Klee did to him when he turned small.)

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ladywaifuuwrites · 3 years

Text

Pillars reacting to their crush who’s small but strong

Request: male pillars reacting to a really strong female pillar whos like super short like 4′10-5′ and they crush on them.

Pairings: Male pillars x fem! reader

Synopsis: Their crush is a strong smol pillar ^_^

Warnings: manga spoiler

a/n: I smiled at your request since I’m small too. Like I’m 5′0. And I’m kinda scared to do face to face classes since the boys at my school will tease me for not getting taller. Hmph. SO HERE YA GO. You’re the first request! Have a nice day whoever u are!

And I am so sorry this is so long! ASJDAOFHHASK. I got carried away in some of those storylines. I hope this makes sense (wrote this when I was hungry).

This would be a headcanon I assume.

I’m sorry if It’s taking me long to answer requests but don’t worry I’ll write those! I’ll probably upload rules for future requests :)

Giyuu Tomioka

yo this guy is tall not kidding

Giyuu is head over heels for you. He’ll want to protect you since you’re the most precious things he’s ever laid eyes on

Sparkles in his eyes whenever he sees you✨

He doesn’t want to lose you so he’s butting in on all of your missions. You get annoyed and you think he’s looking down on you.

You two get into a fight and doesn’t fix it since Giyuu’s communication is bad. It ends up in you walking away.

Nighttime and demons are lurking around in the forest as you take a stroll to clear your mind. Then a demon launches on you but thanks to your quick reflexes you dodge.

It’s a strong demon, close enough to become one of the lower moons. But nothing you can’t handle.

Giyuu senses a demon nearby and he frantically searches for you. *sim dads reaction when the mother goes into labor lmaooooo*

Lights fill up an area of the forest from the techniques you use. In like 2 strikes the demon dies.

He finally finds you as the demon’s ashes blow away. Your hair is dramatically blowing too.

He’s just staring at you then hugs you “I’m sorry. I’m not underestimating you…I just want to protect you.”

Then all good. He’s amazed by how strong you are despite you’re short stature. You’re going to missions together and sometimes he just watches you finish off the demon. Just happy to see that satisfied smile you have when you kill a demon.

Muichiro Tokito

When he first met you at the pillar meeting, he muttered his thoughts, wondering how could someone be that small? You’re in the same age but you’re small.

Shinobu heard him since she was beside him and said “that’s rude to ask someone”. She’s lowkey offended.

Tengen retorts to Muichiro. “You’re small too…??”

Since it’s rude, he kept his mouth shut. You’re the same age as him when you entered the corps. He thinks you’ll grow up anyway.

Surprise surprise you grew up, 2 inches. But still small.

He gets nervous a bit around you since puberty did you good. Won’t admit it though.

Cue swordsmith village arc

He’s having trouble dealing with Gyokko. (I hate his face. It’s weird and ugly.)

Then minutes later, you show up out of nowhere, giving great damage to the demon.

“Are you okay?” you ask him with concern and you two fight off the fish demon.

He’s in awe because you actually took over the fight. Sure you have injuries but those are minor compared to his and you were very careful.

He’s injured so he couldn’t do much but you saved him and the civilians by defeating the demon. That’s when he realized how amazing you are and you earn his respect.

Days pass by and you two along with the other demon slayers are commended by Oyakata-sama.

He thanks you when the both of you are walking together. He’s very grateful for what you did and you two become closer afterwards.

“Ah young love.” Mitsuri sighs blissfully as she watches you two leave the headquarters.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro knows you’re small and he knows you’re strong. You’re one of his trainees along with Mitsuri, so you’ve known each other for a long time now.

You rose to the ranks of the pillars with Kyojuro’s guidance. And now you’re looked up to by the whole organization because of your excellent swordsmanship despite your small figure.

So you’re tasked to train 20 slayers ranked below Tsuchinoto. You take them to a clearing in the forest where training equipment are already placed. You train them by remembering what Kyojuro has taught you over the years. And you smile, seeing your past self in the struggling slayers.

You gave them a 10 minute break and after 10 minutes, you do a headcount to see if everyone is in your proximity.

“18,19…?????”

Oh no. A slayer is missing.

So you set off to find the missing one and there you found him.

Hanging upside down from the arms of a large demon. The boy is muttering apologies for straying faraway and is begging for you to save him upon seeing you.

You are annoyed at the fact that he has disobeyed your orders and is now at the hands of danger. But this was no time to be blaming someone for a boy’s life is at stake here.

You jump into the air and you take down the demon pretty easily with one strike of your sword. And you catch the falling boy bridal style with your annoyed face.

You put the boy down but suddenly a demon comes attacking you both. You kill it but more of it comes at you. They are easy to take down but it keeps coming, making you tired if you have to do this all night. It just won’t stop multiplying.

You think you’ve killed almost all of it but then the slayer screams “(L/N)-SAN!!!!!”. A monstrous looking demon bares its claws at you, but before you could react a flash of flames appears right in front of your eyes.

“Kyojuro…” You whisper in relief as he slays the final demon. The bright flames sparkle in your eyes as you’re once again amazed at the man.

Kyojuro looks at you and comes over. “You’re so amazing.” You manage to say.

He smiles and says. “No. You’re the amazing one.”. You always manage to face whatever challenge and it always ends up in you winning. Kyojuro knows how hard you proved others wrong by becoming a strong pillar.

Super proud of you cause you’re strong. He actually watched you battle those before jumping in to save you.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He doesn’t really care if you’re short or tall

The important things is that you’re useful to the organization

When someone teases you about your height, you end up feeling down and he’s there to beat that someone’s ass.

He doesn’t like to admit it but he’s a softie when it comes to you. You eventually break down his walls and now you can say you’re friends with the scary wind pillar.

You always tease him though and he’s always annoyed. But everyone thinks you’re both dumb since it’s very clear that you two like each other but you still deny it.

There’s this time where Sanemi is visibly struggling fighting demons as you watch him peacefully on a rooftop. He’s glaring at you and asks you “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”.

You just smile at him sweetly😊

Sanemi pretends his heart didn’t do a flip. But his heart stopped when he saw a demon behind you on the rooftop.

He was about to call your name when another blink and the demon’s head was cut off.

He was surprised since it all happened so fast. You go down to the ground, landing safely as you battle demons that the frozen Sanemi left.

It just took you 10 seconds to eliminate those demons and Sanemi’s mouth is left agape as he watched you.

You weren’t normally like this. So why the sudden surge of power?

“Sanemi hun. Close your mouth.” You say to him with a blank face, but before you could go past him, he gripped your wrist tightly and placed your small body in front of him.

He dragged you so easily lol.

He hugged you with your faced buried on his chest.

It was the comforting kind of silence. Sanemi was scared losing you to that demon but deep inside he knows that you’re strong.

Won’t admit that your moves are amazing.

Gyomei Himejima

This man is the strongest in the demon slayer corps and the tallest

Lmaoooo you would be like a mushroom beside him💀🍄

Gyomei actually gets out of tricky situations easily because he’s that strong

You’re a fairly new pillar who earned her spot 3 months ago. You two were assigned on a mission together. A gigantic demon appeared throughout the village that was between the regions you and the stone pillar were assigned in.

Gyomei knows your capabilities so he trusts you in doing a good job, but he can’t help but worry about you.

He doesn’t care if you’re small, he thinks that height isn’t the basis for an excellent demon slayer. But he’s still worried, so he looks for you. I don’t know how he looks but he looks.

Then he sees you fighting off demons very easily. A determined look is seen across your face. Gyomei feels he’s tearing up because he’s so proud of you. Proud boyfriend here somethin.

You were just a weak mizunoto years ago and now you’re a strong pillar who can fight with him side by side.

When you finish off the demons, you look to see Gyomei smiling at you. This were the fruits of the harsh trainings you went through, it made an excellent swordswoman.

Among the pillars, you stand beside Gyomei in rankings. So you’re powerful like wow. O_O

Obanai Iguro

He’s small but have you seen him fight? He’s a demon slayer with remarkable speed and you won’t know he’s attacking you because his moves slithers secretly like a snake.

You’ve always admired Obanai even you’re now both pillars. And that admiration bloomed into something more.

He’s a strong pillar despite his small stature and that’s what you aim for to be like.

You’re trying to show off your moves to him every time you’re in battle together, to show him what you can do. To which he’s just “meh”.

So you give up on trying to show off and just do it for the sake of the people you’re saving.

You really gave up on showing off, but you can’t help it cause your breathing forms are flashy. Obanai doesn’t show it but he loves that display of power you have when you’re fighting.

Poor man doesn’t realize he’s in love with you even though others point it out.

He’s having trouble dividing his attention on protecting the civilians or fighting the demons. Luckily you were near the area so you came to his aid.

You slay the demons with your sharp and precise movements in just a short amount of time.

He’s like 😲 but when you turn he’s back to 😐😷

He’s one of the guys who won’t admit that you’re amazing and won’t admit that he likes you. You force him to confess though.

Tengen Uzui

If Obanai doesn’t admit he likes you, this guy would shout that he likes you

Would openly flirt with you because why not? There’s nothing to be shy about.

Always takes the chance to compliment and flirt with you.

“You’re cute (y/n)” “Thanks” Tengen finds your height cute because the height difference is HUGE.

Another mushroom like moment💀🍄

He knows you’re strong so he likes to train with you. Always ends up letting you win because he just likes it when he’s pinned down by your smaller figure.

When a demon invasion came in your area,, you fight them off while Tengen is called for backup.

He slays the lesser demons easily and found you fighting a stronger demon while protecting some children behind your back.

He smirks and leans against a tree, arms folded while watching you fight off the demon.

You did it so easily making Tengen’s eyebrows rise.

Then you see him and ask him “what are you doing?”.

“watching you.” He finds you hot and sexy when you have that focused look in the middle of a battle. He won’t say it out loud because you might smack him in the face.

Super amazed at the fact that you’re stronger than the other pillars despite your small figure.(he thinks you’re stronger than him but dismisses that because pshhhhhh).

Will throw you over his shoulder at random times. Thinking that his antics will make you fall in love with him.

And it did…

#kny headcanons #kny #demon slayer #giyuu x reader #muichiro x reader #sanemi x reader #kyojuro x reader #obanai x reader #gyomei x reader #tengen x reader #uzui x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #iguro obanai x reader #gyomei himejima x reader #uzui tengen x reader #muichiro tokito x reader

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yanderechuu · 3 years

Text

Shower Thoughts

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[3.2K]

Summary: Momo wasn’t as trustable as you had presumed.

Warning: Larceny, nonconsensual touching, masturbation

│

You used to spend roughly ten minutes in the shower, only ever needing to soak your body in the water, apply shampoo and body wash before rinsing all the foam of products from your skin and scalp. Shower thoughts simply consisted of the day’s agenda or any special occurrence that had happened the past week, never really drifting off to existential questions and dark notions that would keep you from leaving the bathroom later than usual. You neither necessarily liked taking a shower nor did you dread it, as to you it was only ever a mandatory routine of the day which you handled with a neutral mind.

But now, ten minutes were already a slow thirty, and majority of the time you bothered not to move your arms to make work of your hair, or lather your skin with soap as you normally would do had it not been for the questions plaguing your mind like how your classmates would terrorize your time and space.

Right, your classmates - who would spend every hour of the day with you as if they didn’t have anything better to do. As if you were an important subject of matter next to hero training. You never appreciated it, because from the start, you did not want to have anything do to with them. They smothered and coddled you as if air wasn’t that important to you, disregarding the way you felt about personal space, how it was very significant to you. Rare were the moments of peace as a few of them were always by your side, ‘ensuring your safety’ as they would like to quote it. Why ensure your safety? You had not been a prominent figure in the sports festival, neither did you have a quirk that could be of great utility for the villains unlike Bakugou or Tokoyami. You weren’t a problem child, either. Their justification of following you around like you were some sort of high-maintenance prisoner made no sturdy sense to you.

“There’s this new package of green tea my mother had sent me this week! Would you like to try it, (y/n)?”

“Sure.”

But if you had to choose among your classmates one whom you would tolerate for the following years you’d be in U.A., that would be Yaoyorozu Momo. She was kind and considerate, often determining your feelings before you could voice it out (not that you really had the courage to, most of the time). She was organized and pristine and never had you met someone more befitting for the definition of ‘mom friend’ than her. She was perfect in nearly every way, and even though you’d have the occasional pang of jealousy at some times her perfectionism was displayed (gender envy, isn’t it, (y/n)?), she never seemed to bear mal intent, so you would let the emotions slide. You’d see the galaxy in her eyes if you would stare long enough. Her tea was best substitute for coffee, too.

You never considered her more than a very great friend, though, and to her, that was a problem.

As you sauntered your way over to your dorm with her, you shuffled your bag to take your room key buried in the side pockets. “I’ll go down in a while, but you better make sure you’re in the common room before me.”

You wouldn’t allow your classmates to take advantage of your lone self simply because Momo wasn’t there to fend them off.

“Mhm! Lemon green tea as usual, correct?”

“Yeah. Thanks again, YaoMomo.”

Your use of sotto voce tone on her nickname gave a pleasant shiver down her spine; her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head had she not restrained herself. Having been always kept to yourself, you never felt the need to adjust your volume for others to hear properly, so oftentimes your voice came out in a whisper - not that she minded, of course. You sounded more sensual that way.

“Are you going to take a while or will I have to brew tea right away?”

“Training was more strenuous than usual, and my muscles can’t seem to relax,” you explained, “so I’m going to take a quick shower.”

From your peripheral vision as you were focused on your bag to fish out the key, you saw Momo’s jaw slack upon hearing your plan to take a bath. It was odd, but you didn’t give particular attention to it when you finally took out your desired item. You failed to notice the way she abruptly settled her gaze on the key, inspecting it as if she was deliberating its shape, form, and material, and installing it to memory.

“Oh- oh!” She exclaimed. “I do remember having some body wash that help soothe muscle strains and body aches. I can hand them to you if you want.”

You shook your head, smiling lightly. “You’re too kind, YaoMomo. But I think just hot water will do for me.”

She watched as you opened the door to your room, giving her one more smile before disappearing inside and locking the door with a distinct click. As soon as you did so, she pulled the sleeve of her wrist up, developing with her body lipids a key the exact copy of the one you had held.

You certainly lied when you had said you were going to take a ‘quick’ shower. Already ten minutes into it did you only decide to sleek yourself with liquid body soap, initially absentmindedly rubbing it on your body, before you gradually got rougher with your movements and soon you found yourself scuffing your own flesh with vehement motion.

They were excessively touchy again, your classmates. Denki got too close to your face while delivering a pick-up line that made you wish you didn’t exist in order to hear it, and upon nearing you did Bakugou pull you away from him, cursing at him to buzz off. He took his time feeling up your waist - the part he used to grab you - while at it. During lunch, as you were once again coerced into joining his group to the cafeteria, Izuku refused to let go of your hand as you walked, and Uraraka as adamant with hugging you by the hips with one arm. It was what girlfriends did, she said, and you were not entirely sure whether or not she referred to that word romantically.

And if not, then did girlfriends also normally touch the parts of which you did not want to be touched on? You felt, clear as day, a bare hand resting on your thigh when you sat on your usual spot, dangerously close to lifting your skirt for everyone to see, and when you gave Hagakure’s faceless face a questioning look, she asked you what was wrong. Her uniform sleeve was literally floating on top of your lap, and still she had the gall to pretend as if she was not touching you with lacking consent.

You were not safe from Shoto, either, when he offered to readjust your uniform tie and you were in no place to decline (you had the right to, but they just stripped you off of it), his breath hitching in ecstasy as his fingers brushed your chest; he was, audaciously enough, not hiding his bliss. Then he rubbed your shoulders to ‘warm you up,’ when all he really intended to do was motivate his own fantasy that you were his and he was simply scenting you like some fucking alpha to his omega.

You turned no blind eye to their gesticulations. You never once found it endearing, and wished they would stop with whatever the hell this was called, because you were quite sure this was past the border of molestation and could already be rendered a form of bullying.

But not once did you consider the possibility of having a class obsessed with your quaint self.

So you supposed that until you’d find a way to deduce their idiosyncratic actions and tendencies then you would have to make do with your own bathroom as your safe space. Momo was the only classmate you could confide to, so at least she was there.

Unfortunately, you had yet to see the other side of her coin.

Because as she was just right outside your bathroom door, obsessively taking in every bit of item you owned inside your dorm room like a madman, you were left with the impression that she was all you could ever ask for in a friend. You didn’t know how she was not any better than the rest of your classmates, adoring your very existence to the extent of insanity; how she’d crave for you so often and so terribly that she’d feel herself clench when you do so much as merely spare her a glance. And you had done that a lot today - she would have to relieve herself for it.

She spotted the heap of clothes right by your bed; it became apparent that you had stripped yourself off of it before entering the bathroom and taking a shower. Walking towards it, a portion of your seamless underwear came to view, and she resisted the urge to render into a mound of horniness in order to pick it up and inspect it closely.

It was a lighter color of (s/c). A plain, simple, modest undergarment item, still it evoked a particular feeling on the bottom center of Momo’s hips. The heat came rushing along her midriff and instigated the muscle of her legs to falter, and as soon as she felt it, a hand of hers drifted past her skirt, feeling up the slick accumulated on the fabric of her own panties only with the knowledge that your panties were currently in her possession. She needed release, but you were nearly finished with your bath, and she was still inside your room.

You walked out of the shower the moment she shut the door of your bedroom. You saw it closed, but you didn’t catch the culprit.

This unnerved you to no end. Undoubtedly, you thought, this had to be one of your classmates. Who else was it supposed to be? Aizawa-sensei (...)? You had yet to know their ultimatum, but you were sure this occurrence was another one of their schemes. You had assumed that all their weird, unappreciated antics were just to get you to socialize with them, but now you didn’t understand why it had gotten to the point of entering your room without permission.

You couldn’t keep this to yourself.

So you planned to bring it up to Momo, a representative of your class and someone whom you deemed trustable enough to share it with. Quickly, you dressed into your casual indoor attire, and rushed outside your room to head to the kitchen, where you presumed she’d be in the process of making your tea. But she wasn’t there.

Instead, she was in her own room, your panties muzzled right into her face and her own fingers buried deeply inside her cunt.

“Oh- oh, god- Ah! (Y/n)!”

Oh god, your panties. Oh god, your panties. The object most intimate to your parts of intimacy, soaking every bit of womanly secretion from your genitalia. Of all the masturbation sessions she had done to the thought of you, this was the hottest. She wasn’t quite sure whether to imagine your cunt on her lips in a position of mutual cunnilingus or your fingers thrusting into her in place of hers. She wanted both.

A whine slipped past her lips. To think that moments ago, she was in the same space as you were nude. Oh, to join you in the bathroom, doing inenarrable things to each other with the use of the showerhead. To touch your skin selfishly rather than only watch as she would do during class hours.

She came with a squeal, falling face-down to bite the duvet of her large bed. Gone in her hazy mind was her promise to you of lemon green tea, and as she still basked in the pathological euphoria of getting off, you were in the common room, anxiously waiting for her return.

But just as you had expected, someone was bound to spot you alone and take this as an opportunity to be with you, and they just so happened to be-

Oh. Aoyama.

He offered you a slice of cheese with his usual grin before settling down a few feet beside you, enough to leave you be in your personal bubble. You gave him occasional glances, unwrapping the cheese from its casing and he just sat there, eating his. He was alright, you guessed - another tolerable classmate of yours next to Momo. Perhaps it was because you used to always be alone in the classroom with him during break time that you were at ease with his presence. Or maybe he just seemed so gay and that, for some reason, comforted you. One gay presence could comfort another lol.

“It’s delicious.” Your comment came out inadvertently.

“Oui. Only the best quality for the best person.” He flaunted.

You weren’t exactly sure whether he was referring to you or to himself, but you paid little attention to that as the cheese was certainly delicious; you were not lying.

“It’s odd how your chose to take a bath at this time of the day.” He spoke.

You stopped chewing.

He meant to refer to your damp hair, but having just suspected your class of breaking and entering your room, you thought otherwise.

“I-” You choked on the cheese, ending up needing to gulp it like liquid content instead of breaking it down to fit your throat.

Immediately, he sprang up in concern, stepping over to you to gently thump you on the back. “Are you alright?”

“No- I mean- I just-!” You wheezed, occasionally having to clear your throat. You swatted his hand away from you; you hadn’t meant to appear rude, but you did. You stood up in a rush. “L-look, I have to go.”

“Don’t you want to drink water?”

“I’m- fine,”

With your words, you took off from the common room area and headed back to your room. There were two sets of emotions that mixed to form the bile in your throat. One was wrath and humiliation upon the discovery of Aoyama’s actions. The other was betrayal and confusion from Momo’s absence when she had said she’d be brewing tea for you, and it wasn’t the tea that disheartened you. She knew of your issue with the class, and if she were busy, couldn’t she have texted you a heads-up?

She shouldn’t be surprised when at the next time she saw you, you interacted with her less. Your intention to distance yourself from her was most prominent, and it didn’t help that your classmates took notice of this, because now they were taking advantage of the situation, tagging you along with them in spite of your futile attempts to decline now that Momo was nowhere to tell them off. When she’d talk to you, you would answer, though your voice was back to speaking to her like she was a stranger.

Resentment was stronger than ruing the lack of intimacy between you two. It was as if she had received your panties in exchange for the time she’d be spending with you, oddly enough. After much deliberation, she came to realize that this was your little ‘tantrum’ after not being able to meet with her the other day.

It was pretty cute, she thought, that you’d try and make her acknowledge the fault on her part by ignoring her.

You didn’t walk with her back to dorms as per usual that dismissal. Instead, just like what you had used to do before finding consolation in her, you walked alone, accomplishing being able to avoid your classmates as you did. By the time she reached the dorms, you were in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water to satiate your throat. She took a hold of your wrist before you went back to your room.

“(Y/n),” she pleaded, “tell me what’s wrong.”

You looked at her with a reluctant expression. Perhaps you should. After the short while that you had been hanging out with her, her presence turned into something you came to miss. You wanted her back, but not in the way she wanted you.

“I-it’s just,” you stammered out, “y-you know how I feel being alone in the common room without you. I... I’m not comfortable with our classmates when you’re not around.” She took pride in this. “I don’t take it lightly how you left me alone the other day...”

Your voice faltered out the longer you spoke.

So she was correct; you were certainly having your little ‘tantrum.’ With a guilty smile, she left your wrist to hold your hand tenderly, and suddenly it dawned upon you the feeling of whenever Bakugou held your waist, Shoto nuzzled his face on your neck or Izuku invaded your personal space.

Fear and apprehension.

Before you could preach your objection to whatever she had planned ahead for you, she dragged you along with her and you both reached her dorm room before you could comprehend where she was taking you.

“I’ll make it up to you.” She said, making you sit on her large bed.

Then she proceeded to make you tea, boiling water with an electric kettle situated on top of her study desk; there also laid a tea set next to her three books, which you assumed were those of which would aid her in the utility of her quirk, like encyclopedias. Beside those was a piece of cloth, unfolded, unkept - a (s/c)-colored silk fabric.

Your face drained of color.

She pushed the books towards the cloth, completely obscuring it from your view and leaving the table disorganized. You knew Momo, neat and orderly as much as possible; she wouldn’t do that without reason.

Now that you thought about it, the same day someone had barged in your room, your underwear had been missing from your set of laundry garments. You spent the next whole day actively avoiding Aoyama, thinking he was the culprit to this felony. At the present moment you were reconsidering your allegation.

“U-um, Momo, I need to go-”

“Here!”

She yelled it so giddily, so uncharacteristically, as she pushed the cup of tea towards your way. How she did so was very quick that you had not the time to take it properly, and steaming liquid fell to your décolletage, past the cotton of your uniform and streaming down the valley of your breasts. It was a moist mess. She loved every bit of it.

“Oh! Oh, my bad. I’ll- I’ll clean you up!” She exclaimed, all flushed and excited.

You didn’t find it in you to push her back when she began to do exactly what she had said, taking your blazer off, loosening your school tie and unbuttoning the dress shirt underneath, only ever being able to stare at her with eyes that evinced betrayal, because it slowly occurred to you that she was satiating her own selfish obsession with you all under the ruse of maintaining a decent friendship.

“(Y/n),” She breathed out, “I adore you.”

She was no different than the rest of your classmates, and you were a fool to think otherwise.

#bnha x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere class 1a #class 1a x reader #reader insert #x reader #yandere bnha #momo yaoyorozu x reader #momo x reader #momo x y/n #yandere #yandere momo yaoyorozu #yandere momo #yanderechuu

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enchantestuff · 3 years

Text

miscommunication - charles leclerc

in which your Pierres little sister and reap the consequences after an eventful night in Monaco with his best friend

I think I'm going to make this into a series, like 3 more parts maybe??

part two

GIF NOT MINE!!!

warnings: smut, my failed attempt at angst (I tried), language, em yeah

3k words (I have no idea how that happened)

You had known Charles for years, which wasn't particularly surprising considering you were Pierres little sister.

When you were little you envied their friendship, constantly trying to insert yourself in their games and conversations. You had lost count of the amount of times they slammed a door in your face, demanding you to leave them alone. You hadn’t realised how annoying you were being as you followed them around everywhere, even if Pierre had scolded you for it each day.

When you were a teenager, Pierre purposely kept Charles away from you, telling him that if he even looked in your direction he wouldn't hesitate to end their friendship. You, of course, had no idea of the threat not that it mattered as you didn't paid any attention to the infamous duo during those few years, living in your own little world full of clothes , friends and different boys.

Now, however, you were an adult and all you wanted to do was support your brother throughout his career. In recent years you had gone to as many races as you physically could, but of course you had your own job and unfortunately didn’t have the time to attend any race this season.

Pierre was disappointed, he loved having you there to support him, but he understood that you had your own life and never placed any blame on you. After years of the two of you constantly ignoring each other and bickering, you had finally begun to act like siblings and all he wanted to do was make up for lost time.

You had thankfully gotten three weeks off work - well they weren’t necessarily weeks off as you still had to do your job, but your boss insisted that there was no need for you to trek to the office everyday when you were perfectly capable of doing the work at home on your laptop. The timing couldn't have been better with the triple header just around the corner, it almost seemed like a miracle and you were gonna enjoy every minute of it.

You grinned as you texted your brother.

Any spare tickets to the race :)

He replied almost immediately.

You're kidding, which one?

All of them?

Your texting was cut off by Pierres contact photo appearing on your phone. You answered instantly only to hear Pierre screaming through your speakers, he also slipped in a few delighted curse words before finally letting you talk.

“My boss gave me the next three weeks off so I’m going to go support my favourite brother” you grinned.

“Your only brother” he remarked and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

You spent the next few hours catching up and retelling pointless stories. You had gone to sleep with a lazy smile on your face and woke up the next morning to a text from Pierre, telling you that he had organized your passes for the three weekends as well as the flights, all you had to do was find a hotel. He slipped in the name of the hotel that he was staying at, and to your luck there was still room available. Now all that was left to do was wait.

You grinned giddy as you stepped off the plane and walked toward the baggage collection area, excited to finally get back to watching races in person. You rubbed your eyes in surprise when you spotted your brother waiting for you. “Pierre?” you screamed delightly, running up to him and pushing his body into a bone crushing hug. It felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever even if it was only a few months.

“Bonjour,” he laughed as he hugged you back.

“I thought you were busy all day today” you exclaimed once you pulled away from him.

He sheepishly shrugged at you with a lazy grin on his face. “I may have lied, are you ready to go?”

You nodded your head at him and for the first time in a long time your mind drifted towards your brother's best friend, Charles, who you hadn’t spoken to since an eventful night in Monaco a few months ago.

You cursed yourself as you thought back to that very moment.

Charles was having a party at his lovely home, you can't remember now what you were celebrating but everyone was ecstatic. You could hear the music from across the street and you knew before you even entered the house that it was going to be a night to remember.

The moment you stepped foot inside you were surrounded by multiple drunk people, all with large grins and hooded eyes plastered on them and you laughed as almost everyone stumbled around the house.

You spotted your brother in the middle of the room dancing with a pretty blonde, he had a goofy smile on his face and you knew from that sight of him alone that he was wasted. You were the only sober person there, at least that's what you thought until Charles had made his way to you with two cups in his hand, alcohol for you and water for him.

“I thought you were celebrating,” you mused as you took a sip of the dark liquor.

“Someone needs to keep these drunk idiots in check,” he joked.

“Well in that case” you said as you handed your drink to a stranger and took a sip of his water instead. You laughed at the bewildered look he threw your way before continuing, “I'm not going to let you tackle this party alone.” The smile that formed on Charles was genuine and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight.

You surprisingly enjoyed yourself the whole night, maybe that was because you knew everyone there, but most likely it was because you spent the whole night with Charles.

A few hours into the party he turned to you asking to dance, you didn't even hesitate to say yes, nerves surrounded you immediately and they only got worse when his hands dipped dangerously low on your hips. Your eyes automatically searched for Pierre and you left out a sigh of relief when you couldn't find him anywhere.

The thought of getting caught fueled both you and Charles, so when he spun you around to face him neither of you hesitated to connect your lips. You considered yourself lucky that everyone around you was too drunk to notice your heated make out and used it to your advantage. You pulled him even closer to you, moaning in his ear when he grabbed your bum and giggling at the whimper he let out.

You felt dizzy. The fact that you were both sober made your first kiss even more real.

You were anxious when he asked you if you wanted to go somewhere more private but agreed nevertheless, hoping that maybe he had wanted you for as long as you had wanted him.

He had tenderly kissed you again once he closed the door behind him.

“God, you have no idea how long i've waited to do this,” he moaned in your ear and although you knew that was just something people said in the heat of the moment, you let yourself believe it. You let yourself believe every single word that left his lips and got even more attached to the moment.

You revealed a piece of yourself to him that night, not only a physical part, but a part of your heart as you admitted your deepest secrets to him. “Fuck, Charles, I’ve always wanted you,” you moaned when he gently placed you on the bed.

You attached yourself to the kisses he placed all over your body, you paid attention to every bit of affection that he showed you, never once wanting him to stop. When he positioned himself next to you and asked if you were sure you told him there was nothing you've ever been more sure about.

You had both simultaneously moaned when he entered you, laughing at each other afterwards, which made your heart flutter. He was Charles, your brothers best friend and yet sex with him felt so natural.

He placed a tender kiss to your chest before he started moving and you couldn't help but hold him close to you, he didn't seem to mind however as he nested his head in the crook of your neck, letting you hear all the soft gasps and grunts that left his mouth.

You arched your back in pleasure when he reached the deepest parts inside you, your toes curled and your eyes rolled back and all you could think was God why didn't we do this sooner?

“Don't stop, please Charles, don't stop” you moaned in his ear, and if you weren't in a completely different world you would have noticed the shiver than ran down his entire body at your words.

“Trust me, mon amour, i never want to stop”

You weren't even aware of the moans the left your lips until Charles had grabbed your chin and looked at you with desperation written all over his face, “Merde, Y/N, i want more than anything to make this moment last but If you keep making those pretty little sounds you're gonna make me cum”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words “Shut me up then”

And he did, he grunted as he reconnected your lips, swallowing your moans and letting out his own in the process. From the kissing, to Charles’ moans and the rolling of his hips it didn't take you long to release the knot in your stomach.

You regretted it now, thinking back on it, it had completely ruined your friendship with Charles. Your daily silly texts to each other had ceased to exist, your weekly facetime calls had died and a piece of you had broken.

You didn’t expect any less, he was your brother's best friend and even though you always found him insanely attractive, you knew deep down he would have found your little crush on him weird. You always had the suspicion that he saw you as a little sister, and the way he completely ignored you after your hookup had proven them to be true.

You couldn't hate him, or even place the blame of your failed friendship on him as you also went out of your way to ignore him, something that you really regretted but couldn’t change.

“You alright?” Pierre asked as he grabbed your suitcase in his hand.

“Yeah sorry i - i don't know what happened to me there,” you choked out, walking alongside Pierre to his car.

“It's free practice tomorrow, you coming?” he asked once you were both sitting comfortably in his car.

“Yeah, of course” you nodded as you watched the tall buildings pass by in the window.

“Everyones misses you, you know?” he quickly glanced over at you while he drove, wondering what the hell you were thinking so hard about.

“Yep” you sighed, “Me too,” but all you could think about was the Ferrari driver and how awkward it would be to see him again

You had shut yourself in your hotel room for the rest of the night, the flight and overly long check in had taken all the remaining energy out of you and all you wanted to do was curl into the hotel bed and sleep for as long as you possibly could. So that's what you did, until Pierre rang your phone, telling you that he was leaving for free practice in half an hour, wondering if you needed lift, which of course you did you had mumbled to him while scrabbling out of the bed and running to your bathroom to take the quickest shower of your life.

You had somehow gotten ready in time and before you knew it you were walking around the paddock with Pierre next to you, basking in the glorious sun.

Pierre whistled in excitement when he spotted Charles walking out of the Ferrari motorhome. The brunette quickly turned at the sound, a smile forming on his face when he spotted Pierre, his eyebrows raising soon after as he finally noticed you next to him. Your heart beat loudly in your chest as he got closer and closer to you.

You stood firmly in your spot, uncertain if a hug would be too big of an action after months of silence between you both, quite frankly you didn’t even want to touch him, the pain that he had caused you cutting too deep. Unfortunately, he beamed at you and grabbed your hips, pulling you into his chest and rocking you both side to side.

“Hi,” you laughed, unwilling to cause a scene in front of your brother, you moved your arms to wrap around his neck.

“It's great to see you” he admitted when he pulled away and you felt your throat close up at his words. “I’ve missed you”

“I missed you too,” you smiled and although it wasn’t a lie, the words felt dirty leaving your lips. You shouldnt have missed him, not when he left you lying alone in his bed after you both had sex.

“God, you're acting like you haven't spoken to each other in months,” Pierre laughed, and you and Charles shared an awkward look with each other. The silence that followed was unbearable.

You cleared your throat as you looked around the paddock. “I'm going to get some water” you quickly spilled out and abruptly turned in the other direction, ignoring the confused look that Pierre shot in your direction. You had only taken a few steps when Charles grabbed your arm and pulled you behind a random building.

“Shh it's me” he flinched as you pushed yourself away from him, “it's me” he repeated looking at the bewildered expression on your face.

“You couldn’t have just talked to me like a normal human being?” you argued, “Did you really have to drag me behind a building?”

“I couldn't talk about you know what around you know who” he threw back and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Oh! You dont want to talk about us having sex infronf of Pierre” you snapped and he covered your mouth with his hand. You bit his hand and he gasped in response.

“You bit me!” he half shouted.

“You didn’t seem to mind last time” you commented , relishing in how flustered Charles had gotten.

“We need to talk about that” he choked out, looking absolutely anywhere except your eyes.

“Oh so now you want to talk about it?” you asked with an accusing tone to your voice, surpringing not only Charles but also yourself.

“I know it was a dick move, I just” he sighed “I didn’t know how to bring it up”

“How about maybe not leaving straight away? How about sending me a text explaining how you felt instead of leaving me in the dark for months? If you thought it was a mistake you could have just-”

“I didn't think it was a mistake”

You couldn't help the effect those words had on your heart, but suddenly you were even more furious, he was unintentionally playing with your heart and you didn't know how much more of it you could take.

“Then why didn't you tell me!”

You were frustrated and he wasn’t helping one bit. He had left it too late, the damage was done, you had spent months regretting your decision to climb into bed with him and a few words lazily strung together to form a sentence wasn't going to erase the emotional damage he caused you. It didn't matter anymore whether it was intentional or not

“I didn't want to ruin our friendship”

“That is the dumbest excuse I've ever heard!”

You could feel tears pricking your eyes and all you wanted to do was sob your heart out, but you refused to cry in front of him, you didn't want him to know the effect he had on you. “Look your late and i - i need to breathe”

You didn't give him a chance to reply as you ran away, unable to face the boy who broke your heart: the boy who had given you everything you could possibly want, only to snatch it out of your grasp.

You cursed yourself for getting attached to that moment because now, every time you closed your eyes, all you see was him panting on top of you and all you could feel was his lips on your skin. It was a memory that used to delight you but now all it brought was sadness and pain.

You knew your attachment issues would bring you pain one day, but only now as you crouched down next to some random building, did you realise it would be physical pain. You clawed at your neck in desperation. You couldn't breathe. Your tears were practically suffocating you and you couldn't help but think Charles' hands ripping your heart from your chest was the cause.

Unknowingly to you, Charles watched your retreating figure with tears forming behind his eyes. It had finally hit him how much he fucked things up. He thought he was doing the right thing, he thought maybe you needed space, maybe you would have regretted it.

He wore his heart on his sleeve that day, everything that he told you was true, he was just so scared. So scared that he would be left heartbroken, that his feelings were unrequited, that maybe, just maybe, you would be disgusted with yourself for what you two did.

He left early the next morning to hype himself up, to finally tell you about his feelings for you that had been bubbling around in his stomach for years, but when he returned to his bedroom you were gone.

He didn't realise how much waking up to an empty bed would affect you, just as much as you didnt realise how much leaving would affect him.

He was never good at communication, but it was so easy with you, so why didn't he pick up the phone? He had no excuse except that he was scared.

It was his fear that hurt him the most. It was his fear that broke your heart and that had hurt him so much more than he thought was possible.

#Charles leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc x reader #forumla 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #angst #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #Charles Leclerc smut #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 smut

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candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 2 years

Text

Got No One To Blame || Jungkook x Reader

“I think I messed things up, I’m not in love with her, I’m in love with (Y/N)”

Genre: College AU

Word count: 1.4k because it appears I am physically incapable of keeping things under 1k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, Jungkook being bad at feelings, fratboy!Jungkook, implied fuckboy!Jungkook, open ending

N/A: This one is for @gookiebts! I hope you’ll enjoy it and that it’ll be angsty enough for your taste 😊

Jungkook should have known better. There are so many steps he should have taken differently, so many things he should have considered, so many times where he should have just stopped and just thought about what was happening. But instead, he’d just barreled through everything, like he’d done ever since getting into college, and trusted that things would turn out fine, like they always did.

It had worked for a while, after all.

It had worked, somehow, the night where he’d first met you, out at club, which was very clearly not your element. Even if he’d hit on you while drunk, and even if, based on his vague recollections of the night, you’d mostly looked sympathetic and a little worried for him. You had escorted him out and tied his then shoulder-length hair with a scrunchie you had in your bag while he was vomiting in the back alley.

Yeah. That was a really romantic first encounter.

It had worked again, kinda, when he’d asked you for help on an assignment for a class the two of you had. You had rolled your eyes and shaken your head, in an endeared way. He’d had the really weird thought that you were basically a female version of Namjoon, though shorter and less muscular, and that he was kinda into that. You’d agreed on helping him, but the glare you’d given him when he started to negotiate you doing the work for him had discouraged him from even trying.

And, well, he thought it had worked when he’d invited to the party organized by his fraternity. By this point, he’d spent what he’d usually consider to be a ridiculous amount of time around a girl he wasn’t even fucking with you. Fuck, he’d been at your place a number of time by now. He’d watched movies with you. On one occasion, you were only wearing a very big hoodie and ridiculously small shorts, leaving the entirety of your legs on display. You’d sat next to him, and normally, he wouldn’t have thought twice about, well, starting something.

But instead, he’d felt paralyzed. Terrified of your proximity, of how you smelled after coming out of the shower, of the bright smile you gave him when you let yourself fall on the couch next to him, of the feeling of your body pressed against him. Terrified of fucking things up. He’d carefully put an arm around your shoulders, just the tip of his fingers touching your shoulder, and he hadn’t been able to relax for the entirety of the movie. You’d given him a hug when he had left, one that he thinks lasted a little longer than necessary, and his entire body had tingled for the whole walk home.

Even when he’d asked you to come to the party, his heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he’d wanted to slap himself for turning back into the dumb, lovestruck teenager he used to be. He hadn’t done that in a while.

Oh, he had dated, and he certainly hadn’t stayed celibate, but those feelings? Nah. He hadn’t fucked with those feelings since getting his heart broken during his freshman year.

It had seemed like a good idea, to drink a little before you got there. Liquid courage or something. Maybe then he’d finally have the guts to make a move.

When he wakes up the next morning with the first fucking hangover of his entire life, he knows it was a bad idea.

When memories start coming back, slowly, it gets so much fucking worse.

He remembers you walking in, wearing a tight black dress, a fucking sight to behold. He remembers you coming over to him, and worrying about him being drunk, though he wasn’t even close to that by then. But you were cute when you were worried. He remembers leaning towards you, having you pressed against the kitchen counter, eyes wide, as he teases you. He remembers seeing you having to catch your breath, and the feeling of your hand closing around his arm, definitely not to push him away.

He doesn’t remember what distracts him then, and that’s probably better for everyone involved. He does remember that when he comes back, and he swears it’s only been two seconds, Hoseok snatched you away to dance. It pisses him off, sure, but not enough to get into a fight with his friend. It’s fine. He has the whole night in front of him.

He remembers Jiwon coming up to him. She’s as close to a fuckbuddy as he ever has — he’s usually lacking in the ‘buddy’ department. He doesn’t think much of it, really. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the general frustration, maybe it’s the lack of fucking common sense, c’mon, Jeon, what the fuck?, but either way it’s not long before he’s hungrily making out with her, with his back pressed against a wall and her standing between his legs.

He remembers Hoseok accidentally bumping into them on his way to the kitchen, and Jiwon pulling away long enough to curse at him.

He remembers the look you gave him from where you were, right behind Hoseok. The way your eyes went wide and filled with tears. The small scoff that left your mouth as your eyes fell to your feet.

“What was I thinking?” you said, voice low, words clearly intended only for yourself.

He remembers calling your name, and how it came out slurred.

He remembers you biting your bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

“I should go,” you mumble, quickly wiping off a traitorous tear. “Sorry. I’m not feeling very good.”

He tries to follow you. He does. But you just vanish, and you don’t pick up his calls, and he doesn’t know what to do, and his brain just isn’t working right.

And then, he gets drunker than he ever has before.

He winces when he gets under the cold shower, but resists the urge to turn the temperature up. He deserves this.

He does not deserve the hangover soup Yoongi’s making him when he comes down from his room, in such a shitty mood that Jimin immediately leaves the room when he enters, sensing trouble.

“You wanna talk about it?” Yoongi asks, with his back turned to him.

No, he doesn’t.

“I fucked up so bad last night,” he still groans in answer.

It almost makes him want to cry, thinking back on it. The look in your eyes. It wasn’t even betrayal, he could handle it if you thought of him as a traitor, he thinks. It was sadness. Pain. Disappointment — in yourself. He knows the thoughts that are probably twirling in your mind right now. You’d told him about how you hate getting your hopes up, about how stupid you always feel afterwards.

Fuck, he’d told you that if anyone was stupid, it was whoever was treating you that way.

And now he had made you feel like that.

He wishes the floor could open under his feet and swallow him whole.

Instead, Yoongi pushes the bowl in front of him.

“So, why’s Namjoon going to want to kill you?”

“Not that kind of fucking up,” Jungkook snaps immediately, harsher than he should. “I just— Fuck. I made out with Jiwon last night.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

“So?”

“So I’m not in love with Jiwon, I’m in love with (Y/N)!”

The outburst comes out louder and angrier than he’d meant to.

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud.

Fuck. He’s so fucked. He doesn’t even know where to begin, he doesn’t know if he should run to you or in the other direction, he has no idea what to do with himself, he has no idea how to apologize and to convince you to trust him, he’s terrified he’ll hurt you again, terrified he’s not good enough for you, terrified by how badly he wants to be with you despite all of that. It would be the better choice to let things go, for your sake and for his, because he’s promised himself he’d never be in this situation again. His shoulders fall, and when he finally looks up at Yoongi, who hasn’t said a word this whole time and has just been looking at him this whole time, he’s lost all confidence. He’s just desperate for an answer, desperate for some guidance.

“Hyung,” he says, voice trembling and with a pleading edge, “what should I do?”

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jjk #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts #bts imagine #jungkook angst #candywrites

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lenissa · 3 years

Text

(Not So) Obvious (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

masterlist

warnings: none

summary: Bucky almost gives up asking you the most important question of your life when you seem to just not get it.

word count: 1.5K

happy reading!

————

James Buchanan Barnes.

The man of your dreams. The man of your reality. Of your past, present and future. So how come you were so bad at recognizing his plans for a shared future?

It all started when you heard of the engagement of your friends Hope and Scott - Bucky was so happy for them… but the whole time the couple told him the story about how Scott asked Hope to marry him, he could only imagine your possible answer if he would ask you that question. He decided that he was ready for the next step. Were you though?

There was only one way to find out.

Well, or in your case: five.

Bucky, the old romantic he was, wanted everything to be perfect. So, when you returned from a mission that took longer than expected, he created a romantic candlelight dinner. Or at least that was what he was trying to.

After you got back, you went to have a shower real quick and then went to spend the evening with Bucky. You were really exhausted but you saw how excited your boyfriend was at you returning, so you kept it together and tried to not fall asleep on the table.

Tho when he noticed that you were leaning against your fork and your eyes were already close to sinking, he took your hand and looked at you with worried eyes. “Hey honey, are you okay?”

“Tired…that‘s all”, you mumbled and Bucky noticed your inability to keep your eyes open for more than ten seconds.

“Why don‘t we postpone that dinner to another evening?” Bucky sighed and squeezed your hand.

“You‘re not mad?”

“Of course I‘m not mad, you just came home from a long, exhausting mission. Now come on, I‘m gonna take you to bed.” He stood up and pulled you with him, and then put his arms around your shoulder to steady you.

“I could just marry you, man of my dreams.” You uttered tiredly under your breath.

Bucky gulped, the weight of the engagement ring in his jeans pocket doubled at the hint.

The next time he tried to ask you the question, he went for a special walk with you on a late autumn evening. It was perfect: september sun was shining, leaves started to change colours, and a fresh breeze was in the air.

When he took the corner that leads to the place you first met, an old kickboxing studio, he realized that he could discard his plans all over again.

“w-what? why?” You pouted at the now empty place where some of your favorite memories together were made.

He turned around at the sound of you sounding sad and smiled apologetically. “I‘m so sorry. I thought it was cute, I didn‘t know it got knocked down.”

You stepped forward and hugged him, leaning against his chest, and hummed faintly. “You couldn‘t know, darling. It was a cute idea.” You kissed him and the only thing he could think about was how you hopefully would kiss him much stormier if you knew the real reason for your walk to this place.

Bucky wouldn‘t give up though. He organized everything again for a special occasion: the 4th anniversary of your relationship.

He booked a luxury hotel a bit away from the town, so you two could relax and enjoy some time without agents or fellow Avengers buzzing around.

Bucky put your suitcases in the car, drove the first bit, and when you parked on a public layby, he was checking if he had the ring with him.

Yes, he had the ring, but he found something different too. Your car had a flat tyre.

Bucky got so angry that he dropped his coffee and kicked against the tyre when you came out of the bathroom and saw his tantrum. You hastily walked to him and tried to grab him by his shoulders, of no avail of course, but at least your touch seemed to calm him.

“What is it??” You put your hands on his cheeks, looking him deep in his eyes, scared to find a dark part of his personality shining through.

“Everything is going wrong.“

“That‘s not true. We both had coffee, and we listened to great music. We are both here together and we love each other. What do we want more?”

“A promise for the future.” He mumbled ununderstandable to you while melting in your touch.

“I love you, you grump.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, so close you could even hear his breathing calm down. You sighed in relief that he was better, though you still worried about his sudden change of mood.

“You would talk to me if there was something else?” You asked him with expectant eyes, trying to understand his behaviour. But he nodded and smiled, and assured you that he was okay.

Bucky was annoyed. And he lost his patience. And he wanted to be more obvious from now on.

So when he wore a T-shirt saying “Marry Me?” and you asked him if that was an old shirt of Scott, he almost got insane.

“No - uhm, actually it‘s mi-”

“Bucky!! Have you noticed that Redwing changed colours?” Peter walked in the living room of the compound, completely clueless that he interrupted a very important moment. “Oh! Nice shirt. Scott has the same, right?”

Bucky blushed and went back to his shy self. He couldn‘t ask you the question while wearing a shirt your friend had already worn some time ago.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He plopped onto the couch next to you and put his arms around you, for you to snuggle into him. “I probably mixed it up when I took down the wash.”

Your boyfriend began to ask himself if that all was some crazy sign from the universe. Maybe you two just were not meant to get married? So, he swore to himself that he will try one last time before giving up.

You were reading in your bedroom when you suddenly noticed an unevenness in the paper. Confused, you turned to the next page and found a small silver ring stuck.

Bucky was just returning from training with Steve as you grabbed the ring and touched it carefully. He saw that you found it and immediately stopped walking, red cheeks forming and his heartbeat faster than ever.

“Look Bucky, there was a ring in my book!”

He sighed and started walking to the bathroom again, closing the door with a loud noise. You didn‘t think too much about it, maybe he just had a not so nice training with Steve or got a new mission he didn‘t like.

Then, he finished showering, laid down on the bed next to you and you asked him if he wanted to watch a series. He nodded and you turned the tv on, grabbed some snacks and cuddled up with him.

When a episode of the sitcom played in which the main characters got engaged, he rolled his eyes and eyed you tensed. But you just sat there, eating popcorn and staring at the tv screen. The scene ended and Bucky knew he was done with the whole marrying thing.

Though suddenly, you jumped up at the engaged couple telling the story of their engagement to their families and spilled the whole popcorn. Bucky startled and looked at you worried, but you just fluttered your hands and stared at him.

“Oh. My. God.”

“What is it, honey??” He frowned and tried to come closer to you, but he had to get the snacks away from the bed first.

“Oh my god, James!” You laughed and started pacing around the whole room. “Of course, yes!”

He chuckled and got out of bed, walked to you and put his hands on your shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you-” your expression faltered when you realized you were just guessing the reason for his behaviour lately, “I thought you were asking me to marry you?”

“What?!” His eyes widened and he took a step back. You cursed under your breath and turned away, closing your eyes in embarrassment. “This is weird. I thought all the trips and dinners were times you were trying to ask me to marry you but nevermind just forge-”

“Yeah, I uhm- I was.” He laughed nervously and rubbed his neck with his hand. “I thought you don‘t want to marry me cause you never seemed to get it and ignored even the obvious tries.”

You turned to him again and shook your head. “Oh god. This is so embarrassing. I just- i don‘t know…something clicked while watching", you gestured to the tv screen, "that. I never thought about your intentions too much, god, I‘m so sorry.”

Bucky stepped closer again and took your hands in his. “You‘re all good, babe.” You squeezed one of his hands and he pulled you closer, a smile on his face.

“So?”

“So?” You bit your lip to contain your smile as you looked lovingly into his blue eyes.

“Yes or No?”

“No if you‘re not asking me the full question now.” He gasped as you laughed and lightly pushed you.

He sunk to his knees and you gasped, hands coming up to cover your mouth. The brunette took the box (that he always carried around) with the ring in it out of his breast pocket and took a deep breath.

“Will you marry me, my love?”

————

Tagging: @bisexual-chupacabra @mrs-avenger3000 @musicinourlips @yeetus-thyself (please let me know if you wanna be tagged for specific characters only)

#bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader #marvel imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan imagine #marvel imagines #mcu x reader #sebastian stan x you

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dabifixation · 3 years

Text

the importance of knocking

dabi x fem!reader

summary: When Dabi told you to wait at the bar because he was going to "Take care of things" you shouldn't have humored him. You shouldn't have gotten drunk on a mission. And most of all you shouldn't have ignored your gut feeling by looking for the blue flame user and discovering exactly what he meant by taking care of things.

warnings: nsfw, smut, voyeurism, unprotected sex, squirting, MINORS DNI

word count: 2.4k

You really didn't like villains. They were temperamental bigots who were hard to work with and cared very little about their environment.

Blue eyed, flame wielding, two-toned nuisances were not the exception to this.

If anything, having Dabi tag along on your mission didn't really help with your dwindling impression of the man.

Said mission was going downhill very fast, losing your chance to achieve funds from your organization's formidable benefactors, all because somebody thought it was funny to set Mr Park's hair on fire after the man passed a comment on somebody's unprofessional attire.

You hated him for that. Truly hated him. However you knew he wasn't just messing up your mission for his own amusement. You weren't stupid, you knew a field test when you saw one. This mission was set up to see how well you'd do now that the Meta Liberation Army was under siege from the League of Villains. Dabi was your examiner.

And you failed the test.

So it came as a surprise to you when the bane of your existence suggested that he'd take care of things, which made you wonder if he was a comedian in his past life cause what could he possibly do to fix things.

You spent the next hour by yourself with an endless supply of whisky in hopes of coming up with a good plan in order to leave Japan undetected.

When the next hour passed by you began to wonder where your flame wielding partner went and how long he'd be. You were convinced that he was just hunting down one of the benefactor's and stole their suitcase filled with money. But you doubt killing someone took a full two hours, so you began to worry.

Not for him of course. That would be out of character for you. You were just worried about disappointing Shigaraki by coming empty handed and not on time. At the end of the day, you were a sucker for praise and didn't mind getting it from someone who ruined the goals and reputation of the Meta Liberation Army.

You had a serious problem.

Checking your wristwatch one last time, you decided now was a good time to phone Dabi. Snickering to yourself when you saw his contact was saved under 'If Menstruational Pain Was A Person'. You clicked on his contact, hoping he wouldn't be those annoying people who answered after the fifth ring on purpose.

He wasn't.

"Whoever this is, it better be important. I'm in the middle of something." He sounded slightly out of breath, and from the soft rustling of something in the background you could tell he wasn't in any danger. It made you sigh in relief.

"Where the fuck are you?"

"Oh it's you. Miss me already?" You didn't need to see him smirking on the other end, cause you knew he was.

You ignored his question, "Where are you?"

There was pause that lasted long enough for you to hear a muffled cry in the background and an unknown squelching sound. You didn't take him for someone that tortured his victims.

You learn new things everyday.

"Room 3406." You heard a groan this time, making you frown. Why was he dragging his torture session out so long, the least he could do was put the poor person out of their misery and take their money.

Wait.

"You're still in the hotel. You damn asshole I thought you were dead in a ditch!" You raised your voice, not caring that people passing by gave you concerning looks.

"Didn't realize you cared so much about little old me." He let out a sound crossed between surprise and a laugh, which caught you off guard.

He hung up before you could give a response.

That was weird.

You looked down at your naked arms, noticing the goosebumps.

Yeah, very weird.

❦

It didn't take you long to find the hotel room, thanking your lucky stars when you found out the room was unlocked and didn't require a key card.

Once you entered the room, you glanced around noticing that nothing was out of place or broken. There was no signs of struggle, which was a good thing. It made cleaning up easier.

Your eyes landed on a pair of familiar boots placed adjacent to a pair of red bottom heels that were laying on its side.

You picked the heel up, examining it to see if there was any blood on it. There wasn't.

That's strange.

"Uhnnnggg~"

Your head snapped in the direction of the main bedroom when you heard the sounds of someone whimpering in pain. The warning bells in your head grew louder when you decided to check out what was going on.

The bedroom door was slightly ajar but not enough for you to see what was on the other side. You heard a deep groan as your fingers brushed the doorframe, your heart in your throat at what you'd find. So you pushed forward expecting everything but what was in front of you.

You didn't dare move.

There Dabi was, hands gripping tightly on some woman's hips. The muscle in his arms flexing, and his legs out stretched beneath her. Her hands were buried in his obsidian locks as he set the pace for her, bouncing her up and down his cock. Each time he brought her down, she'd let out a R-rated moan. She swiveled her hips as best as she could, but from the way her thighs trembled from the pleasure, you could tell it was too much for her.

Dabi's eyes were shut in bliss, letting out a breathy moan when she opted for grounding on his cock instead. From her quick movements, you could tell she was close.

"Yes, yes, yes –oh fuck!"

Dabi immediately flipped her over, preventing her from reaching her climax. His heavy cock slapped against his abdomen, smearing moisture against his defined stomach. You quickly looked away, focusing on the woman instead.

It immediately clicked in. You knew who she was.

Yui Murukami, the 34 year old heiress and CEO to the company that supplied our friends in capes with support items. She was a rich and powerful woman known throughout Japan, and one of the benefactor's that pulled out their sponsorship after finding out that the Meta Liberation Army was infiltrated with "heretics."

The same heretic that's narrow hips she currently had her long milky legs wrapped around.

What a hypocrite.

You got a good look at Dabi for the first time tonight. Your eyes traveled down his lean form. What he lacked in muscle, he made up for in flexibility. The position he was in was a testimony to that.

The subtle red hair trailing down towards his impressive length caught your attention. So he was a natural redhead? That or he had some weird hobby of dyeing his pubes.

It made you shudder.

He pumped at his veiny cock, gathering the pre-come dripping from the pink and angry head, and used it to lubricate himself further. The golden piercings keeping his two skin types together stretched as he did so.

You thanked whatever God was out there for Dabi not noticing you. They surely had your back. Now was the perfect time to escape. Dabi was clearly lost in the throes of pleasure. But just as you stepped back, the floor beneath your feet decided now was a good time to announce your presence.

Dabi's eyes immediately snapped open in your direction.

Those ocean blues stared at you intensely without a hint of shame. You were frozen in place as you held his heated gaze, eyes falling to his lips when his tongue jotted out to lick them. It had you entranced and you almost missed the way his lips broke out into a full grin when he knew exactly what position he had you in.

Hook, line and sinker.

He was taunting you, waiting on you to storm out of this room in embarrassment and anger. Dabi was a sick individual who'd take any and every opportunity to test you and your loyalty to the Paranormal Liberation Front. If you walked out now, despite how badly you really wanted to, that would be the same as failing. You weren't about to fail twice in one night.

He raised an eyebrow when you didn't barge at his challenge. Shrugging, he guided his cock back inside the woman with a soft sigh. He broke eye contact first, looking down at where their bodies joined and bottomed out into her. She let out a ridiculously high-pitched moan.

He kept her thighs far apart as he continued his ministrations despite knowing you were watching.

Your face was hot as you clenched your fists tightly.

Slapping and squelching sounds filled the room as their movements picked up. The air growing heavy with the smell of sex. Dabi was rutting into her in a way that had her breasts bouncing in a particular rhythm.

There was something so enticing about the way she pushed herself back onto him every time he gave short deep thrusts. She clawed at his chest, trying to push him away but he wasn't having it. Instead he drove into her faster and more ruthlessly as a warning.

This moment was too intimate and private, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away either.

It was intoxicating.

Suddenly a long keening sound left her lips, hands digging into the once pristine sheets, almost tearing them apart. Dabi hit a special spot inside of her that neither of you could see.

Heat rushed to your belly in an all too familiar feeling.

He continued hitting that spot, her body violently shaking and writhing. The way his hips were angled, it brushed against the little button at the top of her mound perfectly.

That was the last straw.

She came so hard, no doubt clamping tightly around his cock. Causing him to throw his head back in eye rolling pleasure with a deep throaty groan. His movements began to filter in order to prolong the feeling, but he quickly regained his composure and picked up where he left off. Triggering her into squirting all over his abdomen. Not once, twice but thrice.

His abdomen glistened with her juices and his added sweat. The way his hair fell into his eyes and clung to his neck had your heart skipping a beat.

"Does this make you feel good?" He asked her as his hips bucked up. Voice deep, too deep.

Fuck yes.

She responded in a tired moan.

"I could have you like this underneath me every night if you just–" he snapped his hips into hers to accentuate his point, "–begged nicely."

Jesus.

She continued to mewl, clawing into the sheets as she neared her second orgasm.

"All you got to —fuck— say is please and I'll be scratching every itch inside of you that those fingers can't reach." He toppled over her, dropping both hands on either side of the her head.

"Uh huh." She let out, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

"I don't like being ignored." He looked at you this time, making you jolt. One of his hands reached out to grip around her throat, making her gasp as he controlled her airway.

When she responded in a broken moan, he ignored her and kept his eyes focused on you instead. He narrowed his eyes, something dark flashing in them before he looked back down at her. A deep growl in his throat.

Oh.

He was talking to you the entire time.

You rubbed your thighs together to ease the aching between your legs.

It didn't go by unnoticed, as much as you hoped. Dabi gave you a look that made him seem so vulnerable at that moment. All his walls came crashing down and for once you could read his facial expression. He desperately wanted you to be the one underneath him.

"Touch yourself." He commanded, hips bucking in urgency.

He was close.

Yui was long forgotten as it felt like it was just the two of you in the room. You did as he said, ignoring the voice in your head that was calling you a 'fucking idiot.'

You unzipped your pants, enough to give him a view of the shape of your pussy and the increasing wet patch at the center of your lace panties. You pushed your hand into your pants, while the other bunched your shirt up. The moment your fingers brushed against your drenched folds through your panties, you closed your eyes and let out a silent moan. Everything felt hypersensitive. You didn't care that this wasn't enough to send you over the edge, all you cared about was imagining it was him touching you like this, rubbing your clit in tight circles as he fucked you into next week.

"Fuck." He let out after a long time of being silent. "Good girl, just like that–"

A loud groan ripped out of his throat before he could finish his rambling.

Not too long and the rhythm Dabi started with began to stutter when his hips bucked up irregularly. The woman underneath him putting on a whole performance but he continued to ignore her in favor of you.

He gave you a needy look as he gave one last sloppy thrust, waves of pleasure being sent to your pussy.

Dabi let out a moan that was so guttural and so deep as he came inside of her wishing it was you instead. He chased his high in quick juvenile thrusts, making sure every last drop was emptied inside of her.

His hips continued to twitch from his intense climax, a pained hiss leaving his lips. The oversensitivity finally catching up to him.

He gave her a slow open mouthed kiss after they regained their breaths. Pulling his softening cock out of her with a wet pop. He nuzzled his face into her neck, causing her to giggle and hug his form closer to hers. And he allowed it.

He looked back up at you, an indescribable look passing through his eyes. It was quickly gone as it had come, being replaced by a smirk and knowing wink that said everything you needed to know.

Bastard

Dabi was an incredible actor and you were just another one of his victims.

You left just as Dabi started getting hard again, obviously he could go for another round, a round you wanted no part in witnessing.

You weren't going to be used by him again in order for him to find a quick release. To hell with him and his twisted version of testing someone's loyalty. You felt utterly humiliated and dirty. All you wanted was to go back to the PLF hideout and crawl into your bed and forget this all happened.

How could you be so stupid. He had this all planned out from the start. No wonder he was so quick to help you when the mission started going downhill.

You hated him so much.

You wanted to scream when you realized he told you the room number on purpose despite being in the middle of that. He wanted you come up and catch him in the act, and that's why he had no problem in you watching him do those things to her. He wanted to see what you'd do in that situation. This was all one big joke to him.

Yet you couldn't understand why you were still so horny and soaking wet.

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki #touya x reader #dabi smut #dabi fanfiction #mha smut #dabi scenarios #dabi x you #bnha smut #unprotected sex #dabi is a little shit

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