#sighs as all the papers lie scattered on the ground

[xiaosorbet]

you try to get kaveh to stop working so hard, only to find that he’s not exactly doing work. (kaveh x reader)

1.5k words, no warnings, fluff, reader and kaveh are roommates, written with kind of a college au in mind but nothing specific is mentioned, gender neutral reader

“don’t you need sleep?”

your voice resonated throughout the small bedroom, accompanied only by the scratchy sounds of pencil against paper. your roommate kaveh sat at his desk, focused on some assignment of his.

“no.” his tone was blunt and sure, leaving little room for debate, although the eyebags settling below his tired ruby eyes begged to differ.

you rolled your eyes from your place on his bed. you should’ve expected that answer.

he didn’t look up from his work at all. he was encased in his own little world with his work - although trapped seemed a more fitting word. he spent countless nights just like this: working on a project last minute either because he had scrapped his previous work on the grounds of it being imperfect (to you, everything he came up with seemed fine. amazing, even), or because his inspiration had conveniently only chosen to appear right before a deadline.

a helpless sigh left your lips. you continued to lie on your stomach, watching him with your chin on your palms. he was obviously tired. it seemed the more tired he was, the more stubborn he chose to be about not taking a break.

it was always hard to get through to him on nights like these. bribery, trickery, words of persuasion… none of them worked. each time you tried to coerce him away from his work, seeing him grow more fatigued by the minute, his determination and complete and utter stubbornness won out.

your concern for his wellbeing as his roommate and friend was always clouded by his desire to not only meet expectations, but exceed them and constantly deliver perfection even at the expense of his own health.

but tonight, you would have none of that.

“when is that even due?” you asked him, once more trying to get his attention. if it wasn’t extremely urgent, then you wanted him to get the rest he so sorely deserved, even if he didn’t agree.

a pause. you saw his eyes dart to the side, away from you. “…around this time tomorrow.” he said it haltingly, as if he was a little unsure.

you raised your eyebrow. “will you be busy the whole day tomorrow?”

“well, no… but this is really important. it needs to be perfect,” he turned to you then, resting his cheek on his knuckle. he blew out a small exasperated breath, like a frustrated child would.

and here he was once more trying to justify his simply ungodly working hours with the fact that it needed to be the best. in your ever-changing lives, that was one constant you wished he would break.

feeling somewhat fed-up with his uncompromising will to work himself to death, exhaustion clear as day on his face, you stood up and approached the desk. “let me see it.” you were sure that whatever was on the paper was more than good enough already. he was always too hard on himself.

as you moved closer to his workspace, he sprung into sudden alertness, the hand where his face had been resting moved away, and he covered whatever he had been sketching with both his forearms. you furrowed your brows in clear confusion. he had a sort of deer-in-headlights look on his face.

“kaveh?”

you stared at him, waiting for an explanation. he remained still, arms not budging, eyes looking everywhere but at you.

“come on, i’m sure it’s already amazing. and even if it isn’t, you still have the whole day tomorrow to work on it. you clearly need some rest.”

“but i-” he began. his arms moved towards himself, pulling the scattered bits of paper closer to him, farther from you. you didn’t let him finish speaking.

“tut! no buts. show me.” his behavior wasn’t too unusual; sometimes he’d refrain from showing people the rougher, less coherent of his ideas. but you didn’t care whether it was fully fleshed out and polished or just the messy beginnings of a concept. everything he spun with his mind and fingers seemed to capture you. nothing he did was imperfect to you.

you wished he’d see that, especially during times like this. “i’m sure it’s already amazing, just like everything else you draw.”

“that... that’s not… i…” he stumbled over his words as a faint blush, soft and pink as a flower petal bloomed on his cheeks.

taking advantage of his momentary discomposure, you quickly leaned in and seized a piece of paper from underneath his arms, ready to shower his work with compliments in hopes of convincing him to take a break from pressuring himself so much.

rather than the scribbled words and architectural sketches you were expecting to see, your eyes were met with none other than yourself.

rough sketches of you from the neck up, drawn from different perspectives, this angle and that. all in kaveh’s unmistakable style. you’d know it anywhere, the quick strokes that seemed to move faster than his own train of thought, like his hands knew exactly what to do. except you had never seen it like this, lines moving and curving into each other to form a portrait of a person—of you.

you were speechless. the drawings were beautiful. artful, even. for one thing, you were stunned because you didn’t know he was capable of something like this. and for another, the subject of the art in question was you.

in the time you took to stare at his drawings, kaveh had stood up and watched you silently, waiting for you to say something. you’d expected him to jump up and grab the paper immediately, but it seemed that despite his initial adamance in not letting you see it, he now wanted to see your reaction.

a flurry of emotions flutter around in your chest. mostly bewilderment; the fact that he drew you… and so… beautifully… was this how he saw you? was this really how you appeared to him?

“kaveh… did you do these?” you knew it was stupid to ask, but you wanted him to confirm it nonetheless. when you turned to look at him, he immediately averted his gaze.

“yeah, i did.” his voice was quiet and shy, so unlike the usual confidence he had when talking about his works. he seemed now like a child bracing for judgment.

you tried to move into his line of sight. you wanted him to look at you, to see how you felt about it. to see the astonishment and amazement in your eyes when you spoke. “i love it. why did you try to hide it?”

finally, he met your eyes in earnest. his face reddened once more. his usual loud and bright demeanor was replaced by something softer, more fragile. “isn’t it obvious?”

you shook your head, but it seemed that your body was aware of something your mind hadn’t caught on to yet, a warm flush creeping up your neck and your cheeks. he stepped towards you and held onto one end of the paper. you unwittingly breathed in his scent. you encounter it every single day, every time you pass by him, every time you do the laundry. but in that moment, the smell of him suddenly felt much more intimate.

“look, it’s not finished. they’re just rough sketches.” he glanced at the paper before setting his gaze on your face, looking at you sheepishly. a bittersweet smile played on his lips. “i want to draw you to perfection. i want to capture the way i see you in all of its entirety. these don’t even come close.”

and there it was again, his ever-present perfectionism. it confused you; why would he put so much effort into drawing you?

and suddenly, the answer came as quickly your question had. kaveh’s face inched towards yours, his eyes holding desperate meaning, like he could read your mind and was trying to answer with his expression.

kaveh, he…

“it’s already perfect,” you mumbled. you found yourself in a trance, lost in the emotions held in his gleaming red eyes, yet still wanting to reassure him. “…everything you make is beautiful.”

“not nearly as beautiful as you.”

all of this was to get him to rest… you knew what was happening, but you couldn’t let yourself forget that he needed a break still. eyebags still sunk underneath his eyes.

and yet… while you wanted him to stop working so hard—real work or otherwise—part of you now felt that you just wanted him all to yourself.

and so what you did next was what you’d later call a stroke of genius, a master stratagem to achieve both of your goals. not only that, it was also an expression of what you couldn’t quite put into words just yet.

you leaned in and planted your lips gently against his.

despite the tiredness you knew he was harboring, you felt his lips move to form a little smile as he kissed you back. your heart fluttered in pleasant surprise. you felt kaveh’s grasp on the paper wane before he let go completely to cup the side of your face instead.

after a couple seconds of chaste kiss against smiling lips, you pulled back and he grinned at you, his face lit up with joy, all but forgetting about his earlier discontentment. you smiled back at him before reaching to place the paper back on the desk behind him.

“now… how about a break, hm?”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #kaveh x reader #genshin x you #kaveh genshin impact #kaveh x you #kaveh fluff #kaveh x reader fluff #kaveh #genshin fluff #kaveh x gn reader #kaveh x gender neutral reader

[maxverstappensflatbrim]

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [45]

chapter forty-five, act six: be my mistake

masterlist

December 25th 2017

Sniffling and rubbing her nose with the back of her wrist she pulls herself to stand, still clutching the letter in her left hand she rubs her eyes and makes her way to the door. She pulls her familiar red zip up tighter around herself, covering up the AM shirt she wears as her hand meets the door knob.

The breath is knocked right out of her as she steps back and stars out the front door.

“Hey…”

She doesn’t say anything. Just closes her mouth and swallows the lump rising in her throat.

His eyes cast down to her hand and he nods his head towards the crumpled paper, “You read the letter?”

“I just finished it.”

Matty smiles weakly as he looks at her, “And?”

“And?” She repeats the word right back to him in the same tone.

She can’t stop staring at him. It’s him, it’s really him, it’s her Matty. He looks so much more healthy now. His face has colour again, it’s bitten red from the cold and he’s hiding in his long coat to try and fight off the air. His hair has grown back, she’d seen a photo of him online a few days after he got out. He’d shaved his head. But it’s back a curly mess on top of his head now.

“And,” He says slowly, hands pushing deeper into his pockets, “What did you think?”

“You were right about one thing.” She tells him and he raises one brow, “You’re a dickhead.”

He nods and looks down at his feet as he closes his eyes. Allen nudges at Tommie’s hand, the one still clutching the letter and she looks down at him. 

It’s as if he’s asking her if he can see his owner. Knowing the pain she has been in and that Matty is the one who caused it.

Allen’s ears are down and his tail is between his legs as he looks up at her, she smiles softly causing his tail to wag and then she nods.

As soon as he has her approval he jumps at Matty, his ears perked as he slobbers all over him and almost knocks him to the ground.

“Hey, bud, I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Do you wanna come in?”

He follows her in, hangs his coat on the rack, lines his shoes up against the wall and then lets her lead him to the living room.

His hand fiddles in his pocket for a few moments before he brings out a wrapped gift, “I uh-” He pauses and just slowly holds his hand out, “Merry Christmas-”

“Matt-”

“Please.”

She nods and takes it from him, “Wait,” He reaches out and clasps both of his hands around hers. She freezes, “Don’t open it yet.”

She nods, voice quiet, “Okay…”

Her eyes glance down and he lets go quickly. She realises her mistake and tries to reach out for him but he turns away.

“How-How have you been?” She asks him.

He nods and pushes his hands further into the pockets of his trousers, “Good.”

It’s a lie. They both know it.

“Do you want a drink? Something to-” She curses and then runs into the kitchen, he follows her quickly pursing his lips to try not to laugh when she brings out the burnt pizza.

She sighs, dropping the pan onto the stove and leaning back, “You never were a good cook.”

She hits his arm as he lets out a giggle and allows a smile of her own to show for just a moment. He studies it, from the way her eyes have that special little sparkle to the way her cheeks become rosy as they stretch. 

“How have you been?” He repeats her question back to her and she stands a little straighter.

“Good.”

“Really?”

She nods, giving him another small smile, “I’ve been good.”

“Keeping busy?” She nods, “Adam told me you’ve been helping Phoebe.”

“Her first album came out a few months ago.”

He nods, “I listened. Could see you in a few songs.”

“I helped with guitar.” She tells him, a smile brightens her face for a few seconds as she thinks of Phoebe. Some colour returns to her cheeks. When the smile falls again she looks paler than before.

“I saw what happened with Braun.”

She sighs and stops picking up the dog toys scattered around her living room to fully face him, “You want a drink?”

“Please.”

She walks for the kitchen and he follows after her as she reaches for two cups and sets them down.

She grips the handle of her fridge, “Preference?”

“I’ll have anything.”

She nods and grips a bottle of fanta, he purses his lips. Not his favourite and she knows it.

She pours two cups and passes one to him as she leans against the kitchen island, peering out her back window into the frosty air of Christmas day.

“Jamie and Adam both kept me updated on the court case.” She nods slowly. She knew one of the guys would be telling Matty. Of course they would. “I’m sorry nothing came of it.”

She shrugs, “We came to an agreement. I get half the writing credits and they get to keep the song under their name.” She scoffs, “Doesn’t matter, he still has my book.”

“You were forced to an agreement, there’s a difference.”

“It was either that or be harassed by his American fangirls because of what I did.”

She looks down and Matty blinks at her slowly, “What you did? You say it like you did something wrong.”

“He seems to think I did.”

Matty shakes his head and then moves from where he’s leaning against the wall to grab her hands, he bends his knees to meet her eyes. “Please don’t let him make you feel guilty.”

She refuses to look at him, eyes still staring out the window. 

Tommie has always been full of guilt. It’s one of her biggest issues. Guilt for leaving behind her family. Guilt for never being a good daughter. Guilt that even with all this money and influential power she can’t change issues in the world. Guilt for things out of her control. 

It isn’t a hard task to make her feel guilty about something. She probably already does.

“Baby, look at me please.”

The moment the old name is coming from his mouth her eyes have snapped to meet his. Her brows furrow and her eyes gloss over with stars. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Did you want kids?” She shakes her head and he nods at the same time, “Did you do what you wanted?” She nods and then he shrugs, “Nothing wrong. You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why do I feel so dirty?”

His shoulders deflate, his eyes soften and brows draw together as he quickly shakes his head. “You’re not.”

He can’t believe this. That she’s been alone with these thoughts for so long. Without anyone. Without him.

“Can you do what you said in the letter?”

“What’s that?”

“Hold me.”

His arms are tugging her into his chest the moment the two words leave her lips, one hand on her back the other pressing her head into his chest as his eyes close in bliss.

He has been waiting to feel her touch for months, years. He’s never felt so alive. It’s like there’s oxygen in his lungs once again. Like he can finally breathe.

“Tommie, I just want to say-”

“No.” She shakes her head quickly, her arms tighten around his waist, “It’s Christmas, let’s just be Baby and Roddy today.”

He nods and squeezes her a little tighter when she mumbles, “I missed you.” Her hands grip his shirt, knuckles turning white, “I missed you so much. Will you stay?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“I need you to.”

He nods again, “Then I will. As long as you need me to.”

An hour later Tommie is curled up on her sofa with a knitted blanket thrown over the top of her. Matty relaxes further back into the cushions, her head in his lap. He lets his hands run through her hair, twisting and twirling strands around his long fingers.

He’s missed her hair. He’s missed the way she’d always need to be near him. He’s missed that little crinkle on her nose. And her crows feet in the corner of her eyes. And her one dimple that always shows when she smiles. And her laugh. And her snort when she laughs. He missed the way she’d mouth the words to her favourite films. He’s missed hearing her hum the song stuck in her head all day. Missed feeling her fingers drum a beat on his thigh as she’d try to get inspiration. Missed trying to sneak peeks of her poetry or songwriting when she wasn’t paying attention.

He’s missed touching her. A soft hand on her shoulder, a squeeze of her wrist. Any kind of contact. Matty didn’t think it was physically possible to feel pain from missing someone but he has. An ache deep in his stomach, the pit of his heart. An ache that came from his guilt and loneliness.

“Where are you staying?” She asks, bringing him from his thoughts.

“At home.”

“Alone?” She shifts closer to him, hand curling under his shirt and pressing into his warm stomach.

He gasps at the cold touch but it’s worth it at the mischievous smile she hides into his thigh. There’s five things he’s missed all in that one moment. 

“If you need any help- anything, you’ll come to me, right?” She lifts herself off of him to look at him better, “You won’t suffer in silence. I know I probably won’t understand but I can try to help.”

He wraps his arm around her and pulls her into his shoulder kissing her hairline and letting his lips rest there. He wants to feel her as long as he possibly can, at least until he messes up again.

“You’re already helping.” He promises, “This is the healthiest I’ve felt since leaving.”

“Who picked you up?”

“G.”

“Have you seen the rest of the guys?”

He nods, “I have.”

“Ross?”

“Yup.”

“Ads?”

“Yeah.”

“Jam-”

“I’ve seen them all.” He laughs.

“What about Denise?”

“Last week.”

“You waited until last week?”

He nods, “She wasn’t happy. But I was just so- so scared.” She takes his hand that he's buried into her red locks and holds it between both of hers, turning it over to trace the lines of his palm with her eyes, “She did everything for me to not go down the same path as her. And I did. I did knowing the struggles and the things she had to overcome.”

“Doesn’t matter what you did, as long as you fixed it.”

He scoffs and she rises to sit on her knees. They push into his thigh and she moves his face to look at him, “You’re a good person, Matty.” She lowers her voice and leans so close their foreheads touch, “Please believe in that.”

She closes her eyes as she takes in the feeling of him.

Matty lifts his chin, his nose pushes against hers. Resistance. He should stop. Should think of her nose as a shield. A form of protection against him. He doesn’t stop.

He pushes forward connecting his lips with hers in a soft kiss as he pushes upwards. Her hands fist his curls and just as she lifts one leg ready to straddle his waist he’s stood from the sofa and pushed her aside.

“I-I… Tommie.”

She lands with a quiet ‘oomph’ on the plush cushions of her sofa. Falling between the mountains of pillows and throws.

“Matt, it’s fi-”

He’s shaking his head and begins walking to the hallway. By the time the shock and embarrassment wears off and she forces herself after him he’s got both shoes on, with his hand reaching for his jacket.

“Matt.”

“I have to go.” He tells her as he pulls his long coat over his arms. He tries to fasten the buttons, but his hands shake and she reaches out to stop him. She claps her hands over both of hers, dropping them to his sides and then gripping the coat to keep him close.

This time it’s his hands that cover hers, both of them engulfing hers smaller ones as he pries them from his jacket. He can’t look at her. But he can't tear his eyes away from her face.

“Matt?”

“I’m sorry.”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora, @procrastinatinglikeapro, @beatr2x, @byyourside28

-let me know if you want to be added :)

#show me yours matty healy #matty healy x oc #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 x oc

[madame-mongoose]

Sun did not like you. You were an insult to his very being. You were clumsy and annoyingly happy all the time and stupidly oblivious to him wanting you out of his daycare. He did not like the way you seemed endlessly eager to please, or the stupid little smile you got when you did something right, or the way you seamlessly interacted with the children.

He did NOT like you. To say otherwise would most definitely be a lie.

He did not like you. But he wasn't heartless. So when you started showing up with progressively darker bags under your eyes after staying late so many shifts, he decided that night he'd talk to Moon about helping with cleaning up the daycare so you could get more sleep.

He did not like you. He just couldn't have his assistant falling asleep on the job. Obviously.

He also saw how exhausted you seemed when you thought nobody was looking, leaning against your mop with a miserable expression. Not just from the lack of sleep, and he refused to acknowledge that he knew perfectly well why that was. He intended to ask you if you were okay, he really did. But there was always something or other that called for his attention.

It was getting to the point where Sun wondered if the world just didn't want him to talk to you that day. Maybe because it knew how stretched thin and close to breaking you were.

As the last child was dropped off, he finally had the time to talk to you. He approached you, watching you struggle to carry a few boxes filled with art supplies from the supply closet. The words to ask if you needed help were on the tip of his metaphorical tongue when your fingers slipped, and the boxes tumbled out of your arms and crashed to the ground, scattering markers and crayons and various other things across the floor.

He didn't think, and before he could swallow them back, the words tumbled out. "Goodness, Sunshine, you really can't seem to do anything right, can you?"

He saw the way your face crumpled in shame, tears flooding your eyes. Guilt flooded him, and before be could apologize, you fled out the Daycare gate, rushing up the stairs and out of the Daycare. Sun wanted to slap himself. He'd made you cry. He kept telling himself he didn't like you, so why did he feel so GUILTY?

He hated the feeling. It squirmed uncomfortably in his chest. He rubbed his faceplate, having a sigh as he stared down at the scattered things. You would come back eventually. You had to. He had to apologize.

You would be back.

In the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to tidy up the place a bit for you... It was the least he could do.

He waited for you to come back, but you didn't. The final hour of your shift came and went, and by that point he'd done everything on your nightly chore list out of guilt stress kindness. You'd be back tomorrow, and then he would apologize.

When the lights turned off and Moon awoke, he was surprised to find the daycare oddly quiet. You were usually stumbling around doing your chores when he woke up. Sun... Where's the assistant?

Sun really didn't want to explain what had happened, but when Moon pushed again, he relented. I... may have said something very insensitive today.

When do you not?

I made them cry. They left and didn't come back for the rest of their shift.

Moon was silent, his own worry starting to seep into his joints. You had been looking rather tired recently, despite his insistence that you sleep and your assurances that you would when you got home. But they could still fix this. When you came back tomorrow, they'd both apologize.

They should make you something. Something nice and genuine. Something appreciative. Moon pulled out a piece of thick, pink-colored paper and carefully selected a crayon from the box on one of the little tables. You would be back tomorrow, Moon told himself as he drew you and him on the card, writing 'I'm sorry' at the top.

Draw me too.

Why should I?

Because they're my assistant! And I want to apologize too.

Make your own card then.

Sun silently fumed. Moon added some glitter glue and gold star stickers, finally seeming satisfied with it after he'd added almost every craft item they had in stock to the thing.

It was messy, but it clearly had a lot of effort put into it, not like Sun would let him know that.

Fine, two could play at that game. He could make a way better card for you than Moon.

When the lights in the Daycare turned on an hour before your shift, Sun wasted no time rushing back to the arts and crafts area to make a card of his own. He also picked the pink construction paper, drawing himself and you smiling side by side. He doodled little flowers in the corners, quietly fretting over his creation as he oh so carefully added glitter glue to it. It still felt too bare, so he added a fake feather, a gold star that he put on drawing-you's chest, and a few mini pom poms. Perfect.

Right on cue, he heard the telltale sounds of the daycare shutter squeaking open fifteen minutes before the start of your shift. He nearly jumped for joy, bounding over to the ball pit and waiting for you to come down. Instead of you sliding down the slide, though, he saw someone else open the gate and go down the stairs.

He resisted the urge to frown at the other staff member as they opened the gates to the daycare, and they did not look thrilled to be here. They were holding a clipboard for some reason, and Sun reluctantly walked over to them. He forced a cheery smile onto his face. "Well heee-llo! My friend, would you happen to know when my dear assistant is coming back?"

They raised a brow, but then shrugged and glanced down at their paper. "That's actually why I'm here. Do you know why they left only partway through their shift?"

"W-well, they, er.... weren't feeling well! So I sent them home early!"

"You don't have authorization to do that."

If he could, his eye would be twitching right now. "Are you saying I should have made them stay here despite them being physically ill?"

"This is their job. They can't just run out when they get a stomach ache."

Irritation flared through Sun. Even though you hadn't been sick, he was appalled Management would make you stay if you were ill. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his tone light. "Oh, well, I just wanted to make sure Fazbear Co didn't get a lawsuit handed to them for neglecting their workers!"

They frowned a little, but didn't say anything to that. "Well, Management sent me to inform you that you no longer need an assistant and you'll go back to your solo act."

Sun didn't have a heart, but he swore something short circuited for a moment. "What??"

"Yeah, apparently Management got a call yesterday from the assistant that said they'd fallen ill from stress and exhaustion, so they reconsidered making you have an assistant and decided you no longer need one, and they've been let go. That's pretty much all they wanted me to say."

They turned and left out the daycare gate again, muttering about how they weren't paid enough to run errands for Management.

Sun sat down heavily on the floor, an overwhelming wave of guilt washing over him as their words echoed in his mind. You wouldn't be coming back. You didn't even still have a job at the Pizzaplex anymore, they'd fired you. He was never going to see you again. He'd never get the chance to properly apologize and make it up to you. Neither of them would.

As the children started coming in, Sun was grateful for the distraction. Through the whole day, he missed the pleasant buzz of your chatter and seeing your smile when you interacted with the children. The day dragged on for what felt like an impossibly long time, and Sun sat on one of the play structures after they'd all left. He couldn't bring himself to clean up. He wallowed in misery until the lights went off, and Moon came out.

He was silent. He'd watched what had happened, heard everything. His chest felt much tighter than normal. Sun.... They have to come back. They have to.

I don't think they will. Not on their own.

If they won't come back on their own, maybe Management will.

Why would Management bring them back?

Because we are going to pester them until they do. If we have to throw the world's angriest animatronic tantrum to see them again, we'll do it.

... Okay.

They'd get you back. They had to. They had to apologize, to fix what they'd done.

No matter the cost.

Oh my god this is so extremely well written @sycopomp look at thisss

#hi i literally JUST woke up #this is such a nice thing to see first thing in the morning #anon i LOVE this #youre super talented #our orbit is elliptical #ooie #monnie answers

[batstorm93672]

Damian sat up from his bed, a good nap did him good a--

"Timothy. What are you doing in my room?"

Tim was watching T.V. and turned around "Hiding out"

"Why?"

"...I thought Jason's helmet was my leftovers from the chicken place and put it in the microwave"

Damian blinked a few times, wondering if what he heard was real or a dream.

"Then the helmet exploded... and so did the microwave"

"I'm going back to sleep. Maybe I'll be lulled to sleep through your screams of agony when Jason finds you"

Before Damian could lie back down, another door opening and closing came. Sitting back up to see Dick looking frantic. "Hey! Timmy, you crashing here?" "Come to join the fun?" "Haha yep" Damian rubbed his eyes, no more sleep it seems "And what did you do Richard?" "...I was swinging on the chandelier in the living room and it crashed..." Tim looked stunned "Bruce might kill you" "I know! That's why I'm hiding"

"Ugh fine, someone pass me my sketchbook and pencils so I can at least keep myself entertained"

Damian sketched many cats, it was fun playing around with their regal elegance on paper-- ...He made a dark line out of where he was drawing from another sound of opening of the door.

Jason walked in and Tim almost leaped up, he managed to compose himself enough "Hey Jaybird! What are you in for?" "I broke a vase" "Which one?" "...yes...one..." "How did you manage that?" "...I thought I saw a rat..." "...and?" "I tried shooting it" Everyone but Jason and Damian (though he was snickering a bit) bust out in laughter. "A RAT!?" "OH MY GOSH THAT'S HYSTERICAL" "I'm disappointed you were planning to shoot such a defenseless rodent whom didn't harm you" "Yeah... I know"

"Now to my real question, why is everyone in my room!"

In unison as if it was a choir.

"It's the last place anyone would look"

Damian groaned and shook his head "Fine, do as you please. Don't come crying back when you all get in trouble"

.

A few moments of a cheesy 80s rom-com and footsteps stormed close. "DICK, TIM, JASON!"

Dick looked at the others in fear "Scatter!"

The three in a blink were gone and Bruce opened the door "Damian. Forgive me for barging in" "Do as you please, I've heard enough amounts of excuses"

Bruce cleared his throat "Dick get out of the dresser. Tim out from under the bed. Jason get back inside and stop hanging from the window" Dick opened the dresser and stepped out, Tim crawled out from the bed and Jason who dangled out from the window climbed back in.

The three got out and looked embarrassed, Bruce crossed his arms "Who did what and what happened?" It became silent and Damian sighed.

"Timothy took Jason's helmet and put it in the microwave thinking it was his meal packaged thus exploding the helmet and the microwave. Richard broke the chandelier climbing on it like a moron. Jason shot numerous vases thinking it was a rodent"

"TIM WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY HELMET!?" "ME!? WHAT ABOUT DICK HANGING AROUND FURNITURE EVEN THOUGH THE RULES STATE NOT TO" "YEAH WELL JASON IS AFRAID OF RATS" Tim, Jason, Bruce and Damian looked at Dick. Dick couldn't contain his snickering "I know it doesn't count into this, but that fact is hysterical"

"Okay. So here's what's gonna happen. I'm not going to ground any of you"

The three looked surprised "You see, I'm not going to because soon Alfred will be back from his visit" They gasped in horror and Damian smirked "This seems fun" "Why did you tattle on us Demon!?" "...You all barged into my room, I couldn't go back to sleep and then my art was messed up. If anything it was only a matter of time before father found out" They all murmured in subtle agreement as Bruce grinned devilishly "Yes. Now you three can just wait for Alfred"

"We're gonna die"

"Jason I'm sorry for accidentally blowing up your helmet"

"It's okay Replacment, I forgive you"

"As the first Robin, I commend you all a great job on making it this far past our issues"

"As the second Robin, I share the sentiment. May we all find peace in the fury of Alfred"

"As the third Robin, I'd like to say that it's been an honor with you all. Let us think fondly on our moments together in joy"

Damian shook his head as Bruce sat down beside him "They are not dramatic at all" "I believe we've obtained it from you and Richard" "Hah I suppose you all did. That's a nice drawing" "It was slightly ruined when Jason opened the door, but I think I can make do. I wonder what Pennyworth will do to them all when he arrives" "3...2...1..." Bruce pointed at the door, right on cue.

"MASTER TIMOTHY, MASTER DICK AND MASTER JASON I REQUEST YOUR PRESENCE THIS INSTANT"

Everyone jumped up, the three looking terrified and pale.

#damian wayne #damian wayne has feelings and he wont admit it #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #three original done messed up #wish them good luck

[ypohcn]

Oh-uh

________________________________

-a story of my Character max

_____________________________

TW: mentioning of alcohol and a small panic attack!

After another rough day of school max left his classroom and headed towards the exit of the school building. As he left through the exit of the school building the cold winter breeze hit him on his face, he felt an shiver run down his spine due the breeze. He cursed himself under his breath as he forgot to bring a jacket with him and let out a annoyed sigh. Soon enough he started to walk out of the school Ground and towards his home, as he reached the sidewalk that immediately lead towards his home, he looked up towards to see that the sun set started to paint the sky In variously warm colours. It was truly beautiful towards him as he saw the red and orange mixing together with a hint of purple. After a bit he decided to look forward again and began to walk again, after a few minutes he reached his home. He took his Key's from his pocket, unlocked the door, yet before he entered the house he took a deep breath. Now je entered the house and the first thing he heard was the typing on a keyboard, Wich meant that his mother was home. He quikly took off his shoes and headed straight towards his room, due he got stopped as his mother called out. "Hey max, can you come?" Great, her tone was annoyed and pissed. Max gave a small 'mhm' before he headed towards her room where she was working, only to see papers being scattered all across the floor and a annoyed expression on roses face. "How come that I find a vodka bottle in your room? Explain it to me." Her tone was demanding it only had a small hint of worry yet it got hidden my her demanding tone. It took a few seconds before max Responded; "I found it outside and I liked the bottle" he lied towards her, tho the lie was easy to tell for rose "oh is that so? How come your room smelling like it or that I found more Bottles of various alcohol that only god know what they are." Her tone serious while she looked at him with Pissed expression. max face dropped as he realized that he forgot to hide the other bottles, he remained silent as he started to bite the inside of his cheeks. Rose didn't like the silence of him "answer me Goddammit! Your life can't be that hard that you started to drink be happy your still in school! It's the best time in your life before your in the work life!" She snapped and spat it out with anger in her voice. She clearly didn't care what max had to say as she only got silent, "you know, I don't even know why I asked you. I'm dissapointed in you max, I thought your stronger then this but in reality your weak. go up to your room and I don't wanna hear ANYTHING from you for the rest of the day" is all what she said before she glared at him one more time and back towards her paper. Max didn't miss a second and turned around, feeling his throat tightened while he walked towards his room. As he reached his room he closed his door and slid down to the floor while he tried to calm down. Hes breath began to rapidly increase such as his heartbeat, tears formed in his eyes while he felt himself begin to panic. The tears soon enough rolled down his face as he had a panic attack He couldn't focus on anything everything seems to get black around him and it continued like that for a few more minutes. After he seemed to calm down abit, or more he didn't feel to much Panicky anymore, yet the tears didn't stop. The previous conversation with his mom kept playing in his head, he wasn't that weak.. was he?. Soon he just accepted the fact that he is is 'weak', yet a part of him didn't want to accept it. The night sky soon enough came and he slowly got up, feeling a bit weak due his small Panic attack and crying, as he reached his bed he flopped on top of it and closed his eyes, not caring to change his clothes as he was too tired. He hoped it would be better and before he fell asleep he let out a small 'im so fucking disgusting' and fell asleep.

Part 2? :3 (Please tell me if that's good or if I should change something?)

#soft angst #YPOHCN owns this! #drinking #alcohol #alcoholism #mentsl health #bad mouthing #family problems

[moonbaycitydetectives]

~Moon Bay City Detectives~

Chapter 1: Seagulls, Pancakes, and a Bad First Impression

Jackson Trace heads off to work, like any other day, only to find another high-stakes case waiting for him. Oh well, at least the pay is good.

can also be read on ao3

[?????, ??:??]

"Trace…" a voice whispered. "Wake up..." 

Jackson's eyelids fluttered open as he began to gain consciousness. His head was pounding and his vision was fuzzy. He sluggishly sat up to get a good look at his surroundings—an endless void, sitting on a grainy floor, the midnight color making it nearly impossible to make out what exactly was underneath him.

"That's better, I was beginning to think you finally reached your limit."

Jackson turned to see the voice speaking behind him. A tall, slender man with long, oily black hair was standing over him. He wore simple rags and had chains around his wrists that led into the pitch-black dirt beneath them. 

"Mizuchi? What do you want?" Jackson sneered.  

"How rude," he replied, his tone viciously teasing, "Am I not allowed to come by and say hello?"

"Don't lie," Jackson said, pushing his messy black hair away from his face, "You wouldn't bother showing up without a reason." 

Mizuchi sighed. "Very well, I will admit that I have a few things to say." 

"Save it", Jackson snapped, "I already know what you want. I'm not going to help you.”

"It would do you well to at least hear me out." he sighed, clearly restraining his anger. "You've been ignoring me for far too long. I only spared you this long because you've helped me before… but your time is running out, and soon you will have to pay." 

"Go to hell." 

The man laughed, the ground beginning to shake beneath them. "Where I am is far worse! And one day…" He leaned forward, tilting Jackson’s face up by the chin, making him forcibly meet his eyes. 

"...You'll join me." 

He closed his fist, crushing Jackson's head. 

~~

[Jackson’s Apartment, March 4th, 1995, 8:00 AM]

Jackson jolted awake, his hand clutching his chest. He struggled to catch his breath and stop his hands from trembling. 

Dammit, another nightmare…

This was the second time this month he had trouble sleeping. He checked his alarm clock: 8:00 AM. He rubbed his eye and dragged himself out of his dark, messy room. 

His apartment was small, with only two bedrooms. The living room stood at the center, connecting the rest of the house, one that looked the same as it did every morning. Sunlight illuminated the area, giving the room a soft orange glow; Chef Wars reruns playing on the TV; the smell of maple and warm fruit lingered in the air; dozens of papers scattered over the coffee table—some were recipes, some were research notes. 

Wenna…

Jackson carefully picked up the research notes and walked them over to his sister's room. Upon spotting the steam seeping out from under the door across from her room, he pounded on the door.

"Wenna! Hurry up, I'm gonna be late for work!" he yelled. 

"Too bad!” She called out. “Not my fault you woke up late!” 

Jackson heaved a sigh. Admitting defeat, he left to peek inside the kitchen. As he approached the room, the smell of flour and maple grew stronger. In front of the stove, a little girl stood on a box. She was pouring pancake batter onto a hot pan, dripping a bit onto the hot surface, joining the mess of flour and eggshells scattered all over the kitchen counter. Her short black hair was loosely tied back with a red bandana, hardly standing out against a baggy yellow T-shirt, short pink skirt, and the dark blue apron faded from being washed over the years. She picked up a nearby spatula and flipped one of the pancakes, revealing a perfect golden brown color. 

Jackson softly knocked on the nearby door frame. "May I come in?" he asked, his tone gentle to avoid startling the girl. 

She placed the finished pancake on a plate and turned around. "Papa!" she exclaimed. "You woke up late again!" 

"Sorry about that, sweetheart. What'cha make for breakfast?"

"Pancakes!" she says, holding up a finished plate of golden brown pancakes smothered in syrup and raspberries. 

"That looks delicious, Maiko," He remarks, reaching over to grab one, only to be met with her gently smacking his hand away. 

"Don't eat with your hands!" she scolded. 

"Alright, alright. Just pack it up for me and I'll eat it at work." He turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks. "Hey, could you make some for Charlie?" 

Maiko smiled and held up a nicely wrapped orange lunch container. "I already did!" she says, giggling to herself. "Now go get ready while I wrap up yours!"

Behind them, a door bursts open, filling the hallway with steam. A short young lady trudged out from the cloudy doorway, her dark hair dripping onto the hardwood floor. She wore a dark blue hoodie, pink tank top, and denim shorts. A small towel was lazily draped over her head. 

"Shower’s free," Wenna said, rubbing her hair with the towel before draping it around her neck. "You know, you really need to wake up earlier.” 

He rolls his eyes. "It's not like I'm not doing this on purpose,” he muttered, heading over to take a shower. 

The apartment only had one small bathroom. A shower was tucked away in the side behind a blurry glass door. On the other side, a simple toilet faced a small sink that sat below a fogged-up mirror, joined by a radio that sat on a small shelf beside it.  Jackson turns it on and adjusts the dial until the static dies down. He then turns the shower on and steps inside. 

A young voice pipes up from the radio. "Breaking news: Archibald Pellegrini, local philanthropist and owner of the Pelligrini estate, was missing from yesterday night's town hall meeting. Reports say that he did not give any prior notice to his absence. His reasoning and whereabouts are still unknown." 

"Pellegrini? A no-show?" He mumbled to himself, "That's not like him… Shit, wait, what time is it?" 

Realizing he was still late, Jackson haphazardly got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and ran out of the bathroom. Wenna was by the front door holding Maiko's backpack while she put on her shoes. 

"Jack, I'm taking the car today,” his sister called out to him. 

"What?! No, I need to get to work on time!" 

“Too bad! I gotta take Maiko to school and go shopping after work. Just take the train.”

“Fine!” he groaned, running off to get dressed. 

“Papa!” Maiko piped up. “You forgot something.”

He stopped right in front of his bedroom door.  “Ah! My bad!" he said as he spun around to walk towards her. He knelt down, held her face with both hands, and kissed her forehead. "Have a good day at school, okay?" 

Maiko beamed with joy. “I will! See you later!" She exclaimed, bouncing out the door with Wenna. 

~~

[Train Station, 8:47 AM]

The brisk, early spring morning breeze chilled the air. Sunlight crept through the narrow windows, illuminating the train station from afar. Rush hour had passed, and the station was almost empty; it was silent, save for the sound of Jackson’s foot tapping the floor as his leg bounced impatiently. He glanced again at the electric sign above him. It read: 

"INBOUND SUBWAY TRAINS. RED LINE: 5 MIN. BLUE LINE: 10 MINUTES. ORANGE LINE: 15 MINUTES. YELLOW LINE: 2 MINUTES." 

He sighed and sank back onto the bench. His stomach rumbles in protest; he still hadn't eaten. 

After a few more minutes of waiting, a sleek yellow subway train arrived at the platform. An old lady stepped out with her chihuahua on a leash. Spotting Jackson’s bright green button-down shirt, it craned its body towards him and barked aggressively. Jackson jumped back in shock, barely keeping his breakfast from dropping. 

The senior woman pauses in her tracks, picking up the dog and stroking its fur gently. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry. He’s not usually like this…” she apologized. 

“Don’t worry, ma’am, it’s not your fault,” he replies with a sigh, “Dogs have never liked me very much.” 

A jingle played on the P.A system, signaling the train’s departure. Before the woman could reply, he bolted inside, barely making it before the door closed. The train began to move, making its way above ground and emerging out of the tunnel, sunlight pouring into the train car. The skies were clear, aside from some stray clouds scattered around the horizon. The streets were lined with small shops, ranging from tailors to butchers to CD stores. Office buildings towered over the city like pillars holding up the heavens. In the distance, the bay could be seen glistening with the sun's rays. 

The train zoomed across the city, passing by several billboards for upcoming performances and auditions. Moon Bay City was a simple port town known for its bustling streets and talented artists. It was the most popular tourist destination in all of Shinkai Island—performers from all over would come here to try and make it big. Jackson sighed wistfully, remembering his childhood dreams of becoming a singer. All those years of practice and training, dreaming of the day he’d make his debut on the big stage. The train signaled his stop, cutting off his daydreaming.  It pulled up to his stop and he got off, walking over to his office. 

Ah well, he thought to himself, being a detective isn’t so bad.

The Moon Bay Detective Agency was run in a small office at the bottom of a small apartment building. Aside from the hand-painted sign above the door, it blended in with the rest of the block. Jackson pulled his keys out of his pocket and opened the door carefully, making sure he wouldn't drop his food. 

The office had one main room, akin to a messy, repurposed lounge area, with case files and documents scattered all over. There were two desks, one just a bit smaller than the other, sitting on opposite sides of the room. In one of the chairs was the fat cat sprawled out across, clearly in the middle of her morning nap.

A young man sat at the larger desk, frantically talking on the phone. His soft brown hair was messy, the sleep still visible in his simple appearance. He wore a white shirt, a knitted dark blue vest, and an untied orange tie.

"Yes ma'am, I understand— Ma'am please listen, I— yes yes I know but I can't help you if—" He sighed in defeat. Jackson could hear the lady’s voice from where he stood, and she was loud. He could only imagine what his co-worker had been up to all morning. The man waved at Jackson and gave him a tired smile. 

Good morning Charlie, Jackson mouthed silently. For a moment, Charlie’s exhaustion was washed away as he grinned and waved at his boss. Jackson gestured to take the phone from him and trades it for the containers of pancakes Maiko made.  

"Moon Bay Detective Agency, this is Jackson Trace, how can I help you?" He cheerfully announced, leaning against the desk. 

"Oh thank heavens, a real detective," an old woman said between sniffles. "I need your help! My dear Archie is… He's... Oh no—" And with that, she began to sob once more, her voice shaking as she drew out her words.

"Madam please, we can't help you if you don't stop crying." 

Charlie sighed, chewing and swallowing his bite of the pancakes. "It's no use, she's been like this all morning." 

Jackson opened up his breakfast, gave a quick prayer, and started eating. "Well then... If trying to reason with her won't work, then we need a different approach." He hung up the phone. 

"Sir! You can't hang up on a client!" Charlie exclaimed, his brown eyes widening in shock. 

"Oh don't worry, Charlie. She just needs a little shock to bring her back to her senses. Just watch," he hums nonchalantly, pointing to the phone. 

Moments later, the phone rang. Jackson picked it up and said once again, with all the politeness in his voice of a customer service worker: "Moon Bay Detective Agency, this is Jackson Trace. How can I help you?" 

"How dare you hang up on me! Do you have any idea who I am?" 

"As a matter of fact, I don't know who you are. In fact, you never introduced yourself or told us what you need our help with." 

The old woman went silent for a moment, giving Jackson the opportunity to glance over at Charlie with a look that seemed to say I told you so. Then, she cleared her throat. "Where are my manners…! I am Gertrude Pellegrini, and my husband has gone missing!" 

"Ah yes, Archibald Pellegrini. I heard about him in the news this morning. They said he didn't attend the town hall meeting last night." 

"Yes, and hasn’t come home either. He's gone! Oh dearie me!" She wailed, clearly distressed.

"Madam, that's enough. Where did you see him last?"

"Yesterday morning, when he left to go run some errands and such. He mentioned going down to the pier to speak with the fishermen there."

“Really?” He says, jotting that down on a notepad, “ Don't worry Madam Pellegrini, we will take care of everything. If you remember anything else that might help us, please give us a call.” 

“Oh, thank you so much! How could I ever repay you?” Her cries began to grow intense once more, earning a silent, exasperated sigh from Jackson. 

“We take cash or checks. Payment is per day of investigation.” He hung up and groaned, placing the phone on the table. He’d just gotten here, and things already seemed busy. The usual, he supposed. He turned to the side, facing his assistant properly with a grin. “Good morning Charlie! Sorry about all that.”

“Good morning, sir.” Charlie’s worn out smile remained.  “It's all right… I just wish she didn’t call so early.”

He raised his eyebrow apprehensively. “When did she call?”

“Two hours ago,” he answered, sinking into his chair. 

“Two hours?!” Jackson repeated. “Charlie, you should’ve hung up and let me call back later.” 

“I didn’t want to upset her,” he mumbled between bites of his pancakes. 

Jackson rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’ll start investigating at the pier and see if anyone knows where he went. If that doesn’t work, then maybe his secretary knows what other errands he was planning to do.” 

The two kept eating their breakfasts, chatting about trivial things when the phone rang again. Jackson picked up and leisurely said, “Moon Bay Detective Agency, how—”

“Trace, it's me,” a stern young woman’s voice interrupted. “Are you busy?”

“Sadiyah!” Jackson shouted, immediately straightening up. He could see Charlie side-eyeing him, clearly confused. He stammered for a few moments, trying to find his words.“To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Quit worrying Jackson, you’re not in trouble. I want to know if you spoke to Ms. Pellegrini today.” 

Well, that was a relief. Jackson relaxed his shoulders at the clarification. “What a coincidence, she just called us; her husband went missing last night. He didn’t show up to the town hall meeting, so I’ve heard.”

“I’m well aware of Mr. Pellegrini’s disappearance,” Sadiyah said, irritation seeping through her words, “Who do you think was running the meeting?”

“Oh, right… I forgot you’re the mayor,” he chuckled. “So what happened at the meeting?”

“We were supposed to discuss next year’s budget, but it’s hard to plan when 10% of your funding doesn’t show up.” 

“Wait… you’re telling me that Pellegrini is ten percent of the city’s funding?!” Jackson raised his voice, eyebrows furrowing. 

Sadiyah groaned. He didn’t have to see her to know she was scowling. “It’s been a hard year, Jackson. The state gives us less and less money each year. We take what we can get and don’t complain… If you don’t find Archibald Pellegrini, this city will suffer greatly. Don’t. Mess. Up.”

“Don’t worry Mayor, we’ll bring him back safe and sound. Just leave it to us!” He exclaimed and hung up. 

“Sir… This is bigger than we thought. Do you think we’ll find him?” Charlie asked. 

“Oh, don’t worry, Charlie. I’m sure we’ll find him, one way or another,” Jackson winked, flashing a bold and mischievous grin. “Now, let’s head out before the police flood the scene!”

~~

[Northside Pier, 10:12 AM]

When the two arrived at the scene, it was just as they feared. The streets were closed off with caution tape and police cars lined the sidewalks. Police detectives were wandering the scene looking for any potential evidence. 

“Looks like they beat us to it,” Charlie remarked. 

“Now that I think about it, Mrs. Pellegrini would logically call the police before asking for our help,” Jackson said. “Still, we need to figure this out before them if we want to get paid.”

The duo stepped over the caution tape and walked around the scene. Giant storage containers lined the harbor. A few small fishing boats were docked, all of which were rusty and weathered down. Seagulls sat atop the boats, police cars, and fences. A few scattered police detectives were searching around the trash carefully trying not to disturb the birds. 

Two men were standing off to the side, having a discussion. One was a tall older man wearing a yellow raincoat and worn-out fishing pants. The other was a short man wearing a police hat and a light blue short-sleeved button-up shirt. 

"Detective Ridge!" Jackson called out. "Is Cunningham here?" 

The shorter man turned around to face them. He was a relatively young, lean man with dark brown skin. A small tuft of curly hair peeked out from the brim of his hat. He was holding a tape recorder in his left hand, and his right arm was amputated right above the elbow. 

"Mr. Trace!" he exclaimed. "What are you two doing here?!"

"Pellegrini's wife and the mayor asked us to take the case. Is that a problem?" he said sternly. 

"No sir, it's just that Madam Pellegrini already asked us to take the case… I don't know why she'd ask you too."

"Well, I guess she just wanted to be extra careful. So where's Cunningham?" 

"Boss? Hmm, I'm not sure, actually," he scratched his head and readjusted his hat. "He said he had a very important errand to run."

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Charlie asked. 

Detective Ridge shook his head. "He said to run the investigation without him for now." 

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Typical of Brian to run off in the middle of a case," he mumbled to Charlie, who seemed to shrug in defeat. "Well, what've you found so far?" He asked the detective. 

"Not much… All we know so far is that Archibald Pellegrini came here yesterday at around two in the afternoon to speak with someone. We don't know who it was, what they were discussing, or where he went afterward." 

Jackson frowned. "His wife said that he was speaking to one of the fishermen." 

"I can assure you that whoever he was with didn't work here," the old man chimed in. 

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "How do you know?"

The fisherman huffed and crossed his arms. "I was unloading at the dock when those two showed up. They stuck out like a sore thumb, all dressed in fancy suits and whatnot. Don't know why they came to this dump to have their meeting. If ya ask me, they were up to something suspicious." 

"You didn't see where they went afterward?" Jackson asked.

"Of course not! I have work to do, ya know!" the old man snapped. 

"Was there anything notable about Pellegrini or the person he was with?" Charlie asked. “Aside from the fancy suits and whatnot.”

"Hmm… Nothing really. One was wearing a big black coat, and the other had a business suit." Suddenly, the fisherman exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Ah! There was one thing I noticed. I think I saw 'em drop something as they were leaving. I went over to check it out, but those darn birds took it before I could get a good look at it." 

"H-Hey!" Detective Ridge sputtered in anger. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?!" 

The fisherman shrugged. "Sorry lad, didn't think much of it until now. Besides, you'll never get your hands on it anyway." 

"Why's that?" Jackson asked.

"Nothing ever escapes the gulls, boy. They're as fierce as wolves and as fast as mice. If they find anything they like, they take it to their nest."

The old man pointed further down the pier, where an abandoned ship rested against the harbor. The glass was broken, and bird poop covered most of the top. Large holes punctured the hull, letting water inside. Dozens of seagulls flew in and out of the crevices. 

"That's their nest…?" Charlie gulped. 

"Aye. They've taken over the carcass of the S.S. Wilma." 

"So you're telling me that the mystery item that Pellegrini's acquaintance dropped should be in there?" Jackson inquired as he stared at the remains of the ship, the gears in his head beginning t

"Oi, you're not thinkin' of going inside that thing, are you, lad?" The old man asked. 

"Sir, I don't think that's a good idea…" Charlie chimed in. His cautious nature wouldn’t get them anywhere, so he was ignored. 

"Look, this is the only lead we have. I don't have any better options." Jackson stated, beginning to tread over to the infested ship.

"Good luck with that. I have to interview the rest of the witnesses before the boss comes back," Detective Ridge sighed and went back to work. 

The duo, now accompanied by the old fisherman, carefully approached the seagulls' nest. The front of the ship had been completely destroyed, serving as an entrance to the hollow interior. The inside was littered with moss, discarded food, and various trinkets, ranging from broken telephones to plastic water bottles. 

"Over there!" The old man whispered. "That's the thing I saw!" 

He pointed to the center of the nest, where a wooden cabinet fell and had since been smothered in moss and bird poop. A black square with a long silver rope sat on top, next to a sleeping seagull. Jackson wrinkled his nose at the horrible smell emanating from the abandoned ship. 

"What is that?" Charlie asked, scowling in disgust. "And how are we going to get it? If we wake up that seagull, they’ll all probably start attacking us." 

"Leave it to me," Jackson whispered as he slowly crept towards the ship. Once he reached the end of the dock, he stuck one foot inside the ship, testing to see if it could hold his weight. Once it was deemed safe, he slowly stepped inside. 

As soon as pressed his full weight against the wood, the birds turned to look at him. They all stopped leaving and stayed perfectly still, watching his every move. Jackson swallowed his fear and kept creeping over to the broken cabinet, not daring to look away from the seagulls. If he let his guard down, maybe, just maybe, they’d all attack him without a moment’s notice. He carefully reached over for the silver chain, slowly pulling it away from the resting bird. He then noticed that part of the chain was underneath the seagull. There was no other option; he had to wake it up. 

Jackson took a deep breath and yanked the chain out front underneath the bird. It screamed and squawked in anger, alerting its brethren of the intruder. Jackson bolted out of the ship, grabbed Charlie's hand, and fleeing the scene of the crime. The hundreds of seagulls loitering on the harbor were all giving chase, seeking vengeance on the thieves. The police investigators all ducked for cover, but the birds were luckily not after them.

 "DETECTIVE TRACE!!!"  Detective Ridge called out, but they were already too far away. 

The duo raced out of the pier, running down the busy city streets to seek any shelter they could find. Cars honked at the swarm of birds blocking their vision. Luckily, they were both swift runners, but Charlie struggled a bit to keep up with his boss's spontaneous dodges.  Jackson made a sharp turn at the next street corner, hoping to trick the flock. He immediately fell over, crashing into the pavement. He struggled a bit to get up, his right arm soaked in hot coffee. He turned around and saw a well-dressed man collapsed on the floor next to him. 

"Ow!" the man exclaimed. "Please watch where you're going next time…!" 

"Sorry about that!" Jackson replied before continuing his escape. He briefly turned back around to see that Charlie had finally caught up, along with the vengeful swarm of seagulls. Jackson bolted over to Charlie, picked him up, and sprinted as fast as he could. 

This better be worth it, he thought to himself, for he knew this was going to be a long day. 

#moon bay city detectives #mbcd

[whatawonderfulexistence--blog]

Band of Sisters, Band of Thieves (Medieval! Powerwolf x Fem! Princess! Reader) - Part V

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of stab wounds, injury, blood, mostly fluff

(A/N: AHHH ALL THE INTRODUCTION CHAPTERS ARE DONE!! Thank you so much for being here and reading my silly little story about my silly little knights, I have a lot of fun things planned for this story, thank you for reading!)

*Eendje - Duckling

Part IV - Part VI

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your sister makes a startled sound when you all but crash into her as you round a corner in the neverending maze of hallways. The front of your skirt balled up in your hands as you continued jogging through the castle. "Ducky, where in God's name are you going in such a rush?"

"Sir Roel is supposed to return this morning!" You call over your shoulder through labored breaths. "He said he would bring me something home!" You continue excitedly before continuing to hurry down to the main gate. You sat on one of the stone benches just inside of the entryway, fanning yourself to try and stay cool in the rapidly increasing morning heat. Before you knew it the sun was high in the sky. "That's odd, Roel always returns before noon." You state out loud to yourself. You stood, smoothing your dress before calmly walking inside. You couldn't lie, the fact he had yet to return to the castle made you a bit anxious. Roel was nothing if not punctual.

"Princess, good afternoon." Matthew greets you with a nod.

"Matthew, was Roel's return delayed?" He pauses, giving you a confused look.

"No, we figured he was with you. Has he not come back yet?" You shook your head. Matthew sighs, pondering over what to do for a moment. He offers you a reassuring smile in an attempt to quell your anxieties. "I'm going to go get Falk and Charles, we'll ride out and look for him. I'm sure he just had to take a small detour." You nod, informing him to let you know immediately once they return. You spent your day wandering aimlessly around the castle, trying to find anything at all to help calm your mind. You found yourself wandering down to the garden, singing a Dutch nursery rhyme Roel had taught you as you carefully braided some flowers together to make a headpiece. You perked up slightly, the sound of armor clanking suddenly became noticeable. Your eyes darted in its direction only to see Roel barely able to stand as he limped his way into the garden.

His eyes landed on you, a weak smile finding its way to his lips. "Princess." His voice came out weak and raspy. He collapsed to his knees, the rest of his body crumpling to the ground immediately after.

"Roel!" You cry out, rushing to his side. You carefully move his head to your lap, his forehead drenched in sweat. You didn't have the faintest idea what to do, your main focus on trying not to panic. You sighed, setting a hand on his chest, your eyes widening slightly at the warm wetness that immediately spread over your palm. You raised your hand, deep crimson blood now coating your skin. He had been stabbed in the chest.

"Ducky!" Your eyes flash back to see your sisters rushing to your side.

"Help me get his armor off, we need to get him to the infirmary, he's hurt." Your voice cracked as you spoke, sobs threatening to tear free from your throat at any moment. You tugged at the straps of his leather chest plate, your sisters assisting you in removing whatever weight you could before one of them helped you hoist him up over your shoulders. The two of you struggled to lug him inside, somehow managing to get down to where your sister's physician resided within the castle. You kicked open the door causing the poor man to jump. "Mr. Hunt, please, it's Roel." Between the fact you were so out of breath and that you were still trying to hold your composure you had trouble getting your words out. He cleared off his desk, papers and trinkets alike scattering across the floor as you laid Roel down as gently as possible.

"I'll take good care of him, Your Highness, you have my word." Your sister took your hand, trying to guide you from the room, but you stood firm.

"I can't leave him." You could only muster a whisper. Mr. Hunt sighs, offering you a patient smile. He nods to the door, a signal you understood. He needed to work, you would only serve as a distraction. "Please… don't let my friend die." With one more tug from your sister you reluctantly exited the room. "You two go ahead, I'm going to wait."

"Ducky, you can't-"

"I'm not leaving him." You cut her off, your voice firm and unwavering. She pulls you into a tight hug.

"He's in very capable hands with Mr. Hunt, try not to worry too much." You waited for them to turn the corner before you let the first tears fall from your eyes. You leaned against the wall, feverishly wiping your tears away with the heels of your hands. You sat yourself on the floor outside of Mr. Hunt's office, refusing to leave until you knew he was going to be okay at the very least. You didn't know how many hours had passed, it felt like you were waiting for years when Mr. Hunt finally emerged from the room. You scrambled to your feet.

"How is he? Is he alright?" He nods.

"He's just fine, Your Highness, not to worry. At the moment he's more tired and sore than anything else." He reassures you, all the tension you were holding in your shoulders finally relaxing.

"Can I see him?" He nodded, moving aside so you could enter his room. Mr. Hunt shut the door behind you to give the both of you some privacy. The second your eyes landed on him you felt like you were going to start crying all over again. Despite the bandages that wrapped around his chest, by some miracle he appeared to be completely fine.

"Eendje*." His voice hoarse as he greets you, holding out his hand to signal it was okay for you to come closer. You had to fight the urge to throw yourself into his arms, not wanting to risk hurting him.

"Where have you been?" You whisper through gritted teeth as you try to hold back tears. "I had to wait forever for you to come." You sit down on the edge of his bed. 

He chuckles, patting the top of your head. "That's what she said." He mumbles. Your laughter quickly turns into crying, relieved that he was still alive. "I'm sorry I worried you." His arm slides around your small, shaking form, pulling you to him. You bury your face against his shoulder, allowing you to shield yourself as you finally release all of the worry you had been holding onto. Roel quietly hushed you, crushing you in his embrace until you finally relaxed. You pulled back from him, wiping away your remaining tears.

"Roel Van Helden, so help me, if you ever scare me like that again I will personally kick your ass." He laughs at your serious tone. 

"Would a gift make up for it?" He asks with a toothy grin.

"You actually brought me something?" You were honestly kind of shocked. He always jokes about bringing you home a present from one of his expeditions, but up until now he had never followed through. He nods to the table at his side, a small leather pouch catching your attention. You reach for it, giving him a perplexed smile. You carefully undid the cord that held it shut, dumping the contents into your palm. A thin gold chair with a tiny carved pendant. You couldn't suppress a giggle as you held it up in front of you. "It's a little duck!" You exclaim excitedly.

"A duck for my duckling, seems fitting." Both of your attention was drawn to the door as Roel's fellow mercenaries burst into the room.

"Look at what you did, you made the poor girl cry!" Charles barks at him.

"Do you have any idea how worried we were?" Falk pushes past Charles to get his turn yelling at Roel.

He chuckled, groaning slightly as he adjusted his sitting position. "To be fair, I didn't have much of a choice. Those assholes made me miss the Princess's Dutch lesson." He glances over at you, giving you a sly smile. Falk sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair.

"Well… rest up for now. We can get into the details of what happened later. Your Highness, if you'll excuse me." He dismisses himself with a bow, followed immediately after by the other two.

"Roel, would you be able to help me put this on?" You ask with a coy smile, holding up the necklace he had given you.

"Of course." You turn, trying your best to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine as you felt his fingers ghost over the nape of your neck. Your fingers flew up to the unfamiliar weight as it fell against your chest. Roel fumbled with the clasp for a moment, "there, that should do it." You turned to face him.

"What do you think?" You ask with a small smile.

"Beautiful, as always." You couldn't help but blush at his response. "(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for waiting for me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List!: @ramblingoak @kissingghouls @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @rabidghoul @canarycolemine @belnovacaine @iamsarahsaysso @angellayercake @moss-the-moth @herripinkle

#if you like ghost youll probably like this #band of sisters band of theives #powerwolf fan fiction #powerwolf x reader #powerwolf band #powerwolf #powerwolf roel #roel van helden #powerwolf roel van helden #roel van helden powerwolf #roel van helden x reader #powerwolf x reader fluff #medieval au #knight au #knights au #princess au #royal au #fantasy au #fan fic writing #fan fiction #fanfic #powerwolf fan fic #powerwolf fluff #my writing

[makibeni]

Ch. 29- Our Little Secret

Makima's door handle jostled half way before abruptly snapping back into place. A knock followed a brief pause.

"Come in"

Her head was buried in a small stack of paperwork that she was diligently scribbling her way through. Makima spoke without moving her eyes from the page, finishing the document as her unscheduled appointment made her way through the door.

"I've g-got those um... reports you w-wanted..."

The slight breeze in the hallway was enough to slam the door behind Kobeni more firmly than she was expecting, prompting some papers to fly from her hands. She scrambled, darting a hand to try and catch them, forgetting she was currently using said hand to hold the rest of the documents in place, scattering more to the floor. The sinking feeling in her chest was starting to overwhelm her thoughts as she dropped to her knees with a series of squeaked apologies and tried to pick up all the pages.

"Here"

Makima had knelt down beside her, helping her with the cleanup and handing her some of the ones she'd collected.

"You don't have to pretend when you're in here you know, no one is listening."

Kobeni blushed, stuck for a moment on Makima's reassuring smile, before remembering to breathe again and letting out a tired sigh.

"R-right... sorry..."

"Sorry because you keep trying to keep us a secret? Or because you're not very good at it."

There was a playful tone to Makima's voice, though it did little to soften the blow. Her words cut like a knife. Kobeni did her best to put up a fake smile and laugh it off but the slump in her shoulders wasn't hard for Makima to spot. The girl practically wilted back into herself, a gloomy shadow cast across her eyes as her head refused to stay upright.

Makima's finger gently glid across Kobeni's chin, pulling her face up until their eyes met. The sunlight behind her cast her in shadow, the faint glow of her golden rippled eyes twinkled like dancing fireflies for Kobeni, long enough that desire deluded her angst and pulled her towards some sense of normalcy.

"I told you before, didn't I? Being with you is all that matters to me, if keeping this a secret is so painful for you why not just tell them?"

Kobeni winced again, trying to avert her gaze as much as she could while still in the palm of Makima's hand. Dewy teardrops welled in the corners of her eyes as she tried her best to contain her emotions, balling her hand into a tight fist, hoping the strain would let her focus on something long enough to calm herself down again.

"I... I don't know..."

She mumbled out a few words, however much she could without her mouth contorting into a pitiful sob. It wasn't a lie per se, but the full extent of her feelings were too much for her to put into a coherent string of thoughts at the best of times, let alone while Makima was leering over her like this.

Kobeni wasn't good at keeping secrets, her usual defense of being too forgettable for people to pay her any mind had crumbled under the watchful eye of some of her coworkers, who had taken an uncomfortable interest with the goings on in her life. It had lead to her coming up with increasingly elaborate excuses as she desperately tried to get them to leave her alone. The pressure was suffocating, deep down Kobeni knew they had probably seen right through her, but she'd committed to it for so long it felt like admitting to it would mean having to explain herself. Having to tell them everything, about her and Makima, and about why she'd been hiding it for so long, the thought alone filled Kobeni with enough anxiety to make her nauseous.

Makima's hands slid under Kobeni's palms, pushing the stack of papers to the ground and pulling them both up. She was soft and warm, her touch was as graceful and comforting as ever, and as she moved forward to embrace Kobeni she opened the gates to her sanctuary, where the girl could find her moment of respite. The pair stood there, entwined in each others arms for several moments, as Makima waited for her to pull back, letting her stay as long as she needed.

"If you're worried about someone, anyone, doing something to you because of us, tell me, I'll take care of it"

She spoke matter-of-factly, as though dealing with a person was as simple as replacing unwanted furniture to her. Had the words come from anyone else it might have been alarming to her, but Kobeni was too preoccupied to consider the implications, merely thinking to respond to her prompt. The trouble was when she was actually pressed to come up with a reason as to why she was keeping this all secret the answers quickly fell from her grasp. She glumly pushed herself out of Makima's embrace, solemnly slumping her head towards the ground once more.

"It's not that... I just..."

She pressed a hand into her shoulder, trying to hide herself away and find shelter somewhere else, believing herself unworthy of Makima's presence when such dour thoughts filled her mind.

"I'm scared... of it becoming real"

Makima held back her own feelings while she helped Kobeni process her own, regardless of how much that hurt to hear.

"Are we not real to you?"

The girl jumped, eager to tend the wound her careless tongue had just inflicted.

"N-NO! I mean... yes I... I mean... I-I..."

Makima took her hand and counted with her, five fingers on the inhale, slow deep breath. She was patient with her, her desire to nurture Kobeni giving her enough to push past whatever was troubling her and simply care for the girl. Kobeni blushed, but did her best to compose herself as quickly as she could for Makima's sake.

"I'm just... scared. What if... what if I'm not good enough for you?"

An uncomfortable look washed over Makima's face, she wanted to interject but Kobeni's insecurities began spilling out before she had the chance.

"The more people that know... the more obvious it gets. You're just so... amazing, and confident, and your eyes are so magical, and your skin is so soft and perfect and... I'm... I'm just..."

Makima stopped her in her tracks, pressing their lips together and grasping at Kobeni's heart. She held her there, in their interlocked embrace, until the squirming girl in her arms relented to her urges, then long enough to sate her own needs, before finally letting go.

"You're the one I fell in love with, the one my heart beats for, the one I long to be with every day, the only one I cannot be without."

She ran her slender fingers through Kobeni's hair and gazed longingly into her eyes. For a moment it looked like a crack shuddered through the perfect golden glow, and grains of her own insecurities spilled out like grains of sand, twinkling in Makima's rippled eyes. She pushed them down, she could lick her own wounds when all was said and done, for now, the girl in her arms was all that mattered.

"You are good enough, and some day I'll make you see that too."

#makima x kobeni #makima #kobeni #chainsaw man

[waywardstanleys]

The End Is A Lie

Part One: In which our protagonist goes on a journey

"Hello, dear Reader! I apologize, but I don't know your name. Are you perhaps a new player? Or someone else? I'm not sure. No idea if anyone besides me will ever come across these notes. Perhaps I write them for myself..." He tossed his pen aside as he paused for a moment. Sitting on the ground, he rested his head in his hands, lost in his own thoughts. Sheets of paper were scattered chaotically around him, strewn across the floor.

"I know. It's pointless." He resumed writing on a random piece of paper. "When I return, all my notes will disappear. It has happened before, and it will happen again. Maybe next time it will be cardboard boxes instead of papers. It just happens. I don't need so many boxes, but I always order them whenever I get the chance. It doesn't even serve any purpose; the boxes are empty, I've checked. They only get in the way. They often block the door and prevent me from reaching the windows. Yet, for some reason, I keep confirming their delivery. Why? To be honest, sometimes I'm not even sure I understand the meaning behind my own actions. Sometimes—too often—I simply don't understand anything here. I am so confused! I'm tired of trying to comprehend everything that's happening here..."

He let out a heavy sigh and stopped, tossing his pen away once more. His hand slipped under a pile of papers and pulled out a fresh sheet. This time it was a clean new sheet of paper. The man looked at it with mild surprise, then shrugged and returned to his task, completely unaware that the ink in his pen was rapidly running out.

"Stanley, are you listening?" The Narrator's voice echoed in his ears. "Are you still writing? I don't recall you ever having any writing skills. As far as I know, you are only talented at pushing buttons and nothing more. Oh, what terrible handwriting you have, Stanley! Even I can't read it! So, what are you writing, Stanley? A story about our adventures? Or perhaps you are attempting to write your own story? No no, of course not. I am the only one who can write stories here. I suppose you have decided to start a diary, Stanley. And right now, you are jotting down your innermost personal secrets... I assume it's something about the Lounge, isn't it? Am I correct? However, you don't need to answer. It would be better if I never found out. Ah, I see your pen is out of ink. What a disappointment! Now, can we finally get back to our Story?"

Stanley stood up and kicked the pile of papers in frustration. Letting out a sigh, he glanced one last time at his pen, which lay discarded on the ground. Of course, it would be easy to find another one, but Stanley wasn't certain if his notes would be safe. In the end, he knew that almost all of them would disappear with the next restart.

"When Stanley reached the two open doors, he entered the door on his left."

Ignoring the familiar words of the Narrator, Stanley turned and, without any hesitation, headed towards the right door, leading to a massive warehouse. The Narrator fell silent, seemingly deciding to let events unfold naturally. Or perhaps he was growing tired of repeating the same thing, Stanley thought to himself. How many times have I been here? Five? Eight? Ten? Maybe even more? I can't remember...

After crossing the iron bridge and arriving at the location with the Red and Blue doors, Stanley came to a halt. He stared down at his feet, his eyes widening in surprise. A long yellow line™ was crawling along the gray concrete floor, coming from all sorts of various angles.

"What are you staring at, Stanley?" The Narrator asked. "... Ah, I see. Curious, I don't recall The Adventure Line™ being here. Why is it™ here? Do you remember, Stanley? Hmm?.."

Silently, Stanley moved forward, following the Line™. Today, he hadn't yet taken the elevator to reach the Confusion Ending, so it™ shouldn't be present in this area. However, one couldn't deny the fact that the Game was changing on its own. Even the Narrator couldn't control it.

"Stanley went to the Red door. Good. I am glad you are listening to me, but I am worried about this Line™. Don’t follow it™, Stanley. It™'s up to no good, I am sure of that. Stop for a minute, please. Why are you in such a hurry all the time?"

Stanley humbly stopped in a long corridor, and from the air, doors appeared. Many doors. And they all were open hospitably.

"I think I overdid it a bit, my apologies," the Narrator said indifferently. "Don't pay attention to them, Stanley. They all lead to the same place anyway."

Perhaps they are all leading to the room with stars. But you forgot about the Line™! Stanley thought and dove into the door where the yellow line™ lay.

#Stanley #the Narrator #the end is a lie #drabble #dont mind me

[faunandfl0ra]

TIMING: A couple weeks ago LOCATION: inflorescence PARTIES: Conor & Karen SUMMARY: Conor tries to explain to a stubborn woman that he doesn't have the roses she's searching for. He's no jedi but he knows how to get rid of a nuisance. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

“There’s no need to raise your voice,” you fucking moron. The words remained stuck in his throat. Keeping it inside certainly couldn’t count as lying, but it hurt him anyway not to tell that woman his truths. 

She had walked in already 10 minutes ago, with the hopes, the dreams, that he made a bouquet of pitch black roses for her. He didn’t like roses. People always wanted roses. He didn’t like monochrome, monotype bouquets either. Nothing about the bouquets already made and sitting on shelves made one think that this was the place for those. He preferred to work with locally grown flowers, with seasonal flowers too. Black roses were technically possible to find, in the middle of summer, in Turkey. He had told her this. He had told her this four, maybe five times already. 

 Still, she persisted. 

“You’re lying,” she finally spat. The faun sighed, his shoulders dropping as he stared at a piece of lint on her shoulder. Her outfit was otherwise spotless, curated to look flawless. The urge to pick at it was repressed, and he picked up a pen from the cup on the counter, making it turn on the edge of his middle finger. “I’m lying?” He replied, his expression remaining the same, jaded one he sported most days. “I sell flowers for a living, I won’t make a lot of money if I lie to -” She cut him off then, shouting LIES, LIES, LIES. He didn’t like when people did that. Why did people do that ? “I saw my friend’s Facebook story,” she spat, pointing her finger in his direction. Again, why did people do that ? “She had a dozen black roses delivered to her, and she tagged your shop in the post.” Though he understood only half of the words she said, something about her story didn’t sit right with the faun, who would have been aware if his shop had a Facebook page. 

“I want my fucking flowers,” her voice kept on getting more shrill. He pushed the heels of his hands against his eyeballs, in an attempt to contain himself. He didn’t see her get the pen cup on the counter and throw it on the floor. He just heard it fall and shatter, the pens scatter around, and the sound of her voice as she shouted : “Look at me and give me my FUCKIN-” he should have seen this one coming. “Shut the fuck up,” he didn’t scream often, he cherished his quiet too much. Conor’s eyes locked with hers for the first time. She opened her mouth to say something, but like a fish, wasn’t able to produce a sound. If he’d known a bit more about his species, he would have known that the havoc she was causing was the perfect ground for chaotic energy like the one he exuded naturally. When was the last time he had fed anyway? “Why don’t we go look at the flowers in the back?” She nodded her head with enthusiasm. This was disgusting. To think that some fae did it all for fun. Taping a paper on the front door Back in 10 minutes, it read, Conor walked after her, picking up his violin’s case from the backroom. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t forget to give her back her voice once he was done. 

#wickedswriting #faun and flora | threads #might as well post my app solo

[leetheshakesperian]

another short story.

The door opened silently.

The young man raised his head from behind the piles of old books and papers that were scattered across his desk. He wasn’t ready for a visit.

Especially not from her.

As his eyes finally focused on the woman in front of him, he slammed his pen onto the table, standing up rapidly, kicking his chair back. His expression, previously surprised, couldn’t hide the panic that was plastered across his face. He hadn’t readied his speech yet.

“You...” he breathed you, before catching himself. His lips forcefully tugged into a grin, and the woman in the doorway could clearly see the despair behind the confident posture. The facade was slowly crumbling away.

“Oh! How glad I am that you finally arrived. I know I’ve sent you a letter to come by, but I didn’t think you’d come here so soon.” he exclaimed, spreading his arms, a nervous chuckle following. The woman didn’t react to this warm greeting.

“I didn’t receive any letter. I came here by myself.” she cut off curtly.

“Oh... sure, of course.”  Small drops of sweat were trickling down his pale neck. He realized that he was not at all ready for the talk that was about to come up.

“You know, I was actually about to clean this place, so I’d appreciate if you’d come back later.” With that, he turned around, waving off, making the biggest effort to make it seem like he was busy ordering the mess on the wooden desk. Unfortunately for him, the woman didn’t care to follow his instructions.

She looked at the man. How he has changed, the man whom she trusted, who she loved, whom she gave her whole soul to. The man, who was now scared to look her in the eye.

The man felt the gaze that seemed to drill right through his whole body. His shaking hands refused to obey him, loosing a stack of papers, them flying to the ground. He instantly bowed down, the panic rising inside him, eating up his whole mind, and started to pick up the sheets hurriedly. How come, that the first time in his life, he didn’t have control over the situation now?

“Apollo.”

“Oh, let me just pick this up quickly. I’ve gotten so clumsy these days, you wouldn’t believe it!”

“Apollo.”

“I already broke a cup today. Oh, by the way, would you be so kind and-”

“Apollo!” The man flinched at the sudden harsh tone of the voice that has charmed him all the times before. Finally, he put all his courage together, looking up. His eyes met hers instantly.

“We need to sort things out.” The woman spoke calmly, though the determination and impotence could be heard in the notes of her melodic voice.

“T-That’s exactly what I thought too!” Apollo added, his grin he held up the whole time now turning into a simple mask of despair. The woman didn’t even need to put up effort to see right through him.

After a long moment of choking silence, the man finally stood up, clutching the stack of papers in his hands, as if wanting to protect himself from the conversation that was about to evolve. But it was useless. He couldn’t run away. His eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at her. She looked so beautiful today, too. Her golden hair, that was falling down her shoulders in gentle waves, her striking blue eyes ever so clear.

“Listen. I... don’t think I can continue like this anymore. Every morning I wake up to a single lie. There’s no truth in this life we have, you know? And that is what is killing me. I can’t play along to this game of yours anymore, Apollo. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, that’s not what it is. The problem is, that I simply can’t be with you.” She started, looking down at her soft hands. The ring was squeezing her finger tightly, like the chains, holding a prisoner with no way to escape. She looked up.

Apollo’s eyes were wide, the hazel orbs now stopped to search for an exit, now fixed only on her. The young woman sighed.

“It’s over.”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. The knot in his throat was blocking the way for the oxygen to seep into his lungs, his heart beating rapidly, it’s thumping filling his ears.

“No...No. No! We can figure it all out! Listen, I did it all just to protect you! To protect us!” He spoke. It was like he woke up from a dream, now having to face the cruel reality. He knew this would come, but turns out he wasn’t ready for this. He made a desperate step forward, the woman instinctively flinching back. He looked just like he looked back then...

The woman shook her head.

“I’m sorry. I will tell William to pack my things.” She said, already turning around.

“Please don’t leave! I- Give me another chance! I promise-”

“No! You already promised me once. I gave you a second chance, and you didn’t grasp it. I’m leaving.” The woman spoke, her voice breaking midsentence. How much he looked like the child she once knew. Tears were glistening in his bright, ever so hopeful eyes.

“No... No you won’t leave. You can’t! I... I will forbid you to leave! You are supposed to stay by my side! You hear me?!” but the door was already about to close, the woman leaving through the door she came in.

“I need you! I’m sorry! Please... Please stay...” He screamed, now sobbing uncontrollably, turned into a simple desperate mess, falling onto his knees.

She didn’t turn around.

“You should have said that sooner. Maybe then, it wouldn’t been too late.” She smiled, a tear rolling down her rosy cheek, before the door closed forever with a soft click.

#da #darkacademia #shortstories #love #romanticacademia #drama #scenes #dramaticbreakup #openend #sad #imagine

[theunmarked88]

Chapter 1

Levi didn't have much of an opinion about high school. He didn't have much of an opinion about anything that forced him to interact with other people. He kept his head down as he strode across campus toward the library, one hand clenched in the pocket of his sweater while the other clutched the books he carried. The sun beat down on him, but he didn't dare remove his sweater, no matter how hot it got. It didn’t matter that he might pass out from the heat. It was better than revealing what he was.

He glanced to the side as voices reached his ears, gritting his teeth. He quickened his pace, working to stay away from the group heading toward him. If he could reach the library, they wouldn't be able to touch him. Sure, they might sit near him and make snide comments, but that was better than the bruises.

"Where you going, freak?" one of the young men shouted. "Come on, we just want to talk!"

Other people were one of the biggest reasons Levi missed being homeschooled. Sure, it had only been because his parents were too ashamed to admit their child was Unmarked, but at least it meant he didn’t have to interact with morons like his fellow seniors.

Levi ignored him as he hurried toward the large wooden doors. Just as he reached out to open the door, it burst open, and a body came flying at him. Levi didn't have a chance to react as they crashed, papers and books scattering everywhere. Levi fell back, catching himself with his hands on the concrete.

“Shit, he’s with her,” he heard one of the jerks mutter. “Com on, let’s get out of here…” Well, at least that was one plus to getting knocked to the ground.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" The smaller figure scurried around, collecting books and papers.

"It's fine," Levi muttered, shifting to his knees so he could collect the books he'd been carrying.

"Here, let me help you. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault." She reached for a stack of papers, muttering a soft curse as her finger slid along the edge of one of the sheets.

"Is that blood?" he croaked out as a small red droplet began to well up on her finger. He didn't hear her answer as his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled forward to topple on the floor.

~-~-~

Fayth blinked, staring at the young man now lying in a crumpled heap in front of her and the doors to the library. "Um... Okay." She set the papers she'd gathered and placed a book on top of them before getting to her feet. "This is gonna be interesting," she muttered, grabbing his arms and pulling him upright before dragging him a little ways away from the doors so he wouldn't get stepped on. She wrestled his backpack off of him to lie him on his back.

She ran back for the papers and books before returning to his side and kneeling beside him. She sucked on her finger, the bleeding stopping quickly. She eyed the cement, glanced up at the sky, then sighed and reached out to unzip his sweater. She slid it off his arms and gently tucked it under his head.

"Don't know why you'd want to wear a sweater on a day like today," she muttered to herself as she finished tucking the sweater under his head. "It's such a beautiful - " The last word died on her lips as she looked back at his arms. "Hey..."

She gently lifted his left arm, examining every inch of it. Then she lifted the right and examined it. No, her first glimpse had been right. He bore no Mark, just like her.

~-~-~

Levi groaned, a splitting headache being the first thing to greet him when he regained consciousness. He pressed a hand to the side of his head, muttering curses. The tenderness he felt was evident of him face-planting into the cement. Then his eyes flew open and he snapped upright, trying to ignore the lightheadedness that struck him as he moved too quickly. Where was his backpack and sweater?

The young woman that had caused all this was kneeling beside him, grinning. "Welcome back to the conscious world! Feeling better?"

"Where's my sweater?!" he said, glancing around him. He realized that had been the soft thing his head had been resting on and grabbed it, pulling it back on. He kept his movements slow, knowing he would pass out again if he moved too quickly.

"Oh, come on. It's such a beautiful day! You can't possibly need that."

"It's none of your business," he muttered, zipping it up and reaching for his backpack.

"Is it because you're Unmarked?"

His cheeks flushed, and he gritted his teeth, lifting his head to tell her off. The words died on his lips. She wore no sweater, no long sleeves. Her arms were bare. And Markless. She smiled at him, almost as if she knew what he had expected to see.

He lowered his chin to his chest and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart. He'd never met another Unmarked before. And she didn't hide it. How could this be? Why was she so calm and collected? Didn't she care what people thought? Didn't she feel the burn of their mocking gazes or feel the icy sting of their pity?

“You okay?” she asked.

He reached for his books and struggled to his feet, pulling on his backpack.

"Hey! You really shouldn’t move too quickly after that!"

But he didn't stop, wobbling away from her and managing to make it into the library. He weaved his way through the rows of books as quickly as he dared. Already the tunnel vision was developing from getting up too soon. His body was begging him to stop or at least slow down, but he didn’t until he’d found the bathroom.

He pushed open the door and made his way to the last sink in the line, using the sinks he passed as support on his way. He let the books drop from his limp fingers as he sat against the wall of the bathroom, dropping his head between his knees. He took slow, deep breaths as he tried to will himself to stay conscious. The lightheadedness and tunnel vision began to fade, leaving him in a cold, clammy sweat.

With a sigh, he slowly rose to his feet and stood before the sink. He stared at the mirror as his mind raced, a strange tingling washing over his body. His thoughts were still fuzzy; he didn't even know how to process what he'd just seen.

He turned on the cold water and ran his hands under the tap before pressing them to the back of his neck. Well, he'd probably never see her again. It was a pretty big school, after all.

He wasn't sure if the heavy feeling in his stomach meant relief or despair at the idea. Shaking his head, he dried off his hands and picked up his books. Then he headed for the circulation desk.

#story writing #my writing #creative writing #the unmarked #rough draft

[isleofancients]

their soul sinks, suddenly certain that this had been the wrong answer to give. but- 'you're so gentle with your patients, and with us. please, be gentle with yourself too.'

'good night, doc.'

but as much as they want him to know that they won't lie to spare his feelings, when he asks for the truth, maybe that was too much truth at once.

Blue puts the phone away, closes their eyes, and rests their head against their mate's shoulder. they need sleep. they all need sleep.

loving people was never meant to always be easy, but sometimes it's hard to remember that. still, as sleep comes, they hope something in their words, at least, offered balm...

and so both sleep, and try their best to rest, while they wait for day...

Finally.

Umbra sneaks out once his family is asleep.

Slipping out as chunks of shadow, magic too weak still to fully liquify, he slinks from his mate’s arms, under the door down the stairs and out into the cool night.

The sea air is heavy on his lungs and he breathes deep, searching through the dark. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to observe, with his face pressed into Huitzi’s chest.

He has to give it to the ink, his home is certainly beautiful.

There’s a shadow on the beach, facing the sea. Umbra sighs and makes his way down to shore.

“Hey, you.” He says brusquely as he thumps onto the bench, scraping some scattered sand from his tentacles, a grumpy bat of one sending the cane previously resting in his seat clattering to the ground. “What’s got you out so late?”

“I had an, ah, inkling you might want to talk.” Rasse says, wincing only slightly from the man now pressed uncomfortably close to his side despite the expanse of bench available. There’s something on his lap, clutched protectively in his grip.

“That’s a stupid fucking pun.” Umbra remarks with an arm now thrown around his shoulders, a pleased tendril wagging maliciously as it snakes around his other side.

Rasse shudders and Umbra grins, slight. He might not be able to feed off the weirdly blank bastard, but he can still have some negativity anyway. As a treat.

“Th’ fuck is this?” The thickly bound book is harshly snatched from the ink’s lap, prompting a full-bodied flinch.

Something precious then? It does seem delicate, possibly old?

The pages are snapped open, covers tugged at with just enough strain to slightly tear, the nightmare delighting at the bastard’s brief look of dismay.

“Evidence.” Rasse says, still infuriatingly smooth despite how his hands clench in his lap.

“Of what? You tricking my family?” The front page is turned harsh enough to slightly pull from its bindings, Umbra scowling at the daintily written dedication, making sure to brush one of his wandering tentacles over it. Aww, all gooped! So clumsy.

“Of my life in this world.” If the treatment of his presumed treasure bothers him, he doesn’t show it.

Umbra snorts and rolls his eyes.

Next page is an old watercolor. Island landscape, a pirate ship in the distance. Boring. Another slight page tear, easy mistake with the warped paper. Whoopsy daisy. A few more landscapes, barren black soil slowly growing with greenery and trees. There are notes at the bottom, antiquated Spanish, some shapes he faintly remembers Huitzi tracing against his skin once. Different handwriting.

Umbra growls under his breath. So, splatterface made this place, huh? Lured them all onto his turf. Where he’s strongest. A plotting strategist, just like Glaze.

He hisses.

Typical.

The tendril at Rasse’s side lifts up to coil punishingly tight around his waist. The ink whimpers under his breath but when Umbra glances over his face is as blank as ever.

Fucking inks. Probably deadened his emotions just for this.

Another page turned. A portrait of another man, a skeleton, smiling at him soft with Huitzi’s face.

That must be Huitzi’s brother. Alright, so they knew each other, so what?

…but the opposite page has the same man, his arm around Rasse, a shy smile on the humans lips compared to the bitty’s boisterous grin, their cheeks nuzzled affectionately together.

The skeleton’s illustrated face seems to hold his gaze judgingly.

He doesn’t want to look at it.

Another splap of a tendril and its gone.

Umbra sneers as Rasse looks away. Paintings? Is that it? That’s his ‘proof’?

“I put a bookmark where the photographs start.” Rasse says, quiet, a waver in his voice. “There are some videos too but, ah, that’s a bit farther.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Umbra mutters, roughly squeezing his shoulder, still skipping to the page.

Well, yep. Photos. Similar, Rasse and a bigger bitty, face the same but bones mottled with corruption. He seems relaxed in his presence…

Stars, that is definitely judgement.

More pages, the corruption progresses further. There are still paintings, sure. Writings. Building on the island looks to be progressing well. A burgeoning civilization, a new home for both of them. For all of bittykind.

He comes across a video. A flat panel in the page, surprisingly sophisticated despite the yellow paper surrounding it. The image on it isn’t the best either. Grainy, black and white. No sound. Before talkies, presumably.

It’s the same man and the same skeleton, shoving each other as they have a snowball fight, the ink silently shrieking as his companion shoves half melted slush down his shirt. He gets him back for it fairly quickly thought, tackling him into a snowdrift, both laughing as a female skeleton watches them fondly in the background, faint glitches buzzing along her bones.

“That’s his wife.” Rasse says, quiet.

Oh. He was married? Did Huitzi know? Had he met her?

“Name?” Umbra asks.

“Olalla Doss.”

“Where she from?”

“Spain, I believe. Born in the 1450’s.”

Umbra just grunts and continues, arm tightening around the ink’s shoulders. Just to see him squirm.

Which he still, infuriatingly, does not.

Umbra flicks through the pages, photos and videos in better and better quality and eventually in color, the skeleton corrupting further and further. Growing too. Proud and bold, a grin that lights up the room and bones wired with muscle, his body always summoned for some reason, rarely covered by a shirt.

He lets a faint smile flicker on his face.

Definitely Huitzi’s brother.

He continues to look, and as he progresses, it fades.

They seem… close. Too close.

“What was he to you?” He asks, startling the human out of his thoughts.

“My closest friend.” Rasse answers after a moment, quiet. “My only confidante. He knew me better than I knew myself.”

“You guys ever fuck?”

That gets a reaction.

“W-What?!” Rasse sputters, face flushed black. “W- No! We never- Why would you-?”

“It’s a reasonable question.” Umbra sniggers with obnoxious delight. He knew he’d get to him eventually. “You said you were close.”

“Huitzi-”

Umbra growls lowly as the name slips from his lips. How dare he. How dare he speak of him. How dare he even look at him. He shouldn’t be allowed in even the same omniverse as his beloved mate. Not after what he’s done.

Rasse pauses and continues on, softer, soothing like to a beaten animal. A concept Umbra thoroughly resents, even more so when he feels himself start to relax.

“He clocked it fairly accurately, when he declared we were brothers.”

Umbra rolls his eyes.

“Although I never confirmed it when he was alive.”

“Sounds like you’d make a pretty shitty sibling then.” Umbra grins internally. This should hurt. “Especially since he died on your hands.”

To his delight, Rasse simply hangs his head. With his long ears drooped like that, big eyes turned downward, he looks kind of like a kicked puppy.

The wagging of Umbra’s tentacles still.

That… that didn’t feel as good as he thought it would.

Fuck this.

He stands and grunts, tossing the book back to Rasse’s lap.

“We’re done here.” He growls as the ink clutches the tome to his chest.

His eye twitches as he purrs into the book, nuzzling it with loving care, like its, its his actual ‘brother’ and not just evidence of his loss and his miserable failure to keep him alive.

His tentacles spasm. The fucker is smiling-

A tendril reaches down and snaps the fallen cane in two, dangling the pieces in Rasse’s face before violently chucking it into the ocean.

“I don’t see why you’d even fucking need that thing.” He hisses, looking to him only to watch in silent shock as the man delicately places the book to the side and leans down, rolling up the legs of his pants.

Metal.

“I am an amputee.” Rasse says, his shoulders slumped, the shimmering metal on his fingers offered to his sight as well, exhaustion leaking into his voice. “It hurts to walk sometimes, and the cane is- was, a great relief.”

Umbra doesn’t feel bad. No, he doesn’t.

But he still can’t stop himself from asking…

“What… happened, to you?”

“After Tecocoa’s death, my magic was taken from me.” The ink says quiet, pained. “An… acquaintance, took advantage. Spent the next eight years using me as he pleased.”

He pulls the jacket down his shoulder, just a tank top underneath.

Umbra pales.

So many scars- that must’ve been a huge bitemark- oh. Oh no, oh no, fuck, was that why he kept flinching-?

A heavy weight settles in his chest.

“W-Why?” He finds himself asking, throat clenching at the unwitting stutter.

“In my grief, I lost control of my magic. Severely.” Rasse leaves the sleeve where it lay. He forces himself to meet Umbra’s eyes.

His eyes are dark, deep and endlessly old. He’s tired. So, so tired.

“I accidentally took total control of this world.” There is regret in his gaze. Self-loathing, guilt, pained resignation.

Uncertainty.

That’s the most emotion he’s seen from him yet…

“All the minds in it.”

Much, much quieter, even with his superior hearing Umbra has to strain to hear it.

“I am… likely the reason the askers left.”

His blood goes absolutely cold. But…

“Did you mean to?” Slips from his lips.

Rasse looks up, faintly surprised.

“No.” He answers back, hesitant. “I didn’t even know I could do it. Any of it.”

“Then- then I don’t see how you were to blame.” He finds himself saying to both of their shock.

They lock eyes for a moment before Umbra growls, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I won’t tell them.” He says after a moment, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just. Just watch yourself. I still don’t trust you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Rasse says, his voice back to that grating smoothness. Once soothing over the phone, a balm to his fretful soul, like he had the solution to every problem, knew exactly how to calm him as he agonized over his mate. Would offer gentle counsel as he described his problems and purring into the phone as he gave him tips on how to get his cooking just right, to get his garden to bloom the brightest. Recommended him a book. Patiently listened to him complain about his father. Was there, in the depths of night while his mate snored away, just to chat.

He almost wishes he had that ignorance back. He could really use it now.

“When were you going to tell me?” He asks, breath hitching, a little bit of true pain seeping into his voice.

Rasse’s expression is pinched.

“When I was sure you'd still be stable after I’d gone.”

Umbra’s lips are pursed, fists clenched full of fabric.

“Go the fuck to bed.” Umbra grunts finally, making his way back up the beach.

Rasse sits silently for a long moment, watching the waves crash. Pity about his cane, his legs truly had been bothering him recently, his prosthetics uncomfortable ever since his legs started healing. And even worse was the phantom pain once they stopped after his-

He sighs, hand massaging his temples.

…reckless exertion from earlier. Stars, he really was an idiot.

Rasse shrieks in surprise as something nails him in the back of his head, quickly reaching back to grab it before it can fall down the back of his seat.

It’s… a branch? Reasonably long, fairly thick, a faint curve near the top to lean on.

About the same size as his cane.

Rasse allows himself a glance back up to the town, Umbra’s silhouette quickly retreating, tentacles waving in annoyance.

Rasse smiles, standing with a grunt, the branch easily able to handle his weight.

Well, he thinks to himself, making the trek back up to his home. That certainly could’ve gone worse.

Umbra slips back under the doors, emotions roiling.

He… doesn’t really know what to think.

This man… Who he is? Is he telling the truth? What happened to him? Who did that? Why didn’t he fight back? He knew how strong they were, even with his magic gone he still should’ve been able to-

He approaches the bed, freezing when that warm golden glow meets his eyes. His mate, his lovely, wonderful, forgiving, selfless, gullible, beautiful mate just smiles, holding out his arms and purring as Umbra gratefully slinks over, nestling back into him.

“I hope you weren’t too hard on him.” He murmurs, nuzzling into his hair, sleepily nipping at an elvish ear and chuckling as it twitches away from him.

“Nothing more than he deserved.” Umbra huffs into his chest.

“Moonbeam…” Huizti sighs.

“Shush, sleep time.” Umbra mumbles, his face hidden. No, that’s not guilt, no, he didn’t do anything wrong, he was just protecting his family. That’s all, nothing more, he definitely, definitely isn’t ashamed of himself or anything.

Even if… if he doesn’t like letting giving the corruption that much control. Letting loose his crueler side.

“Alright.” Huitzi rumbles, hugging him close, feathered warmth swept all around him. Safe.

Home.

“I love you.” The dream murmurs into his scalp, warm touch chasing away his anxiety, their burgeoning bond settling the buzzing of his soul.

“I love you too.” His nightmare responds, yawning sleepily, slipping easily into restless sleep as sunset wings blanket them both.

[touyaz]

fascination.

pairing todoroki shouto x fem reader

word count 3,824

notes for my 100 followers event (closed). big thank you to @hoefortodo​ for making fanart for this! please give it some love, it’s amazing!! +link

WARNINGS smut, fingering, finger-sucking, squirting.

MINORS, AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.

+

The fascination starts one day when you're studying together in your final year at UA. You're cramming in study sessions for your written exams with Shouto, spending late nights in his room with your heads buried in your notebooks, learning and memorising different medical procedures and support items and other fanciful heroic terms. You're hunching over his low table, your cheek flat against the papers scattered all over, as you watch his brows furrow in concentration, his lips pursing in a cute pout as he writes notes diligently.

You watch his hand glide over the paper with each word, the smooth plane of his hand interrupted by the slight veins protruding from his skin, faint blue and grey lines running over the back of his hand, up his forearms and beyond his rolled up sleeves. His skin is flushed from writing and rewriting for hours on end, but the hard grip he has on his pen whitens his skin around the tool, as if the harder he holds the pen, the quicker the words will transfer to the paper.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, eyes unmoving from the lines of his flashcard. You hum in response and he continues, gaze flickering to yours momentarily. "You're staring. Did you want my notes?"

"Nope, just admiring the view."

He stops scribing, raising a curious brow. "What view?"

He's so precious, you think, stifling a grin when he peeks at his closed curtains.

"You."

"Oh." He blinks slowly before nodding. "Thank you."

You snort, sitting up and cracking the aches out of your back as he watches, twirling his pen with those nimble fingers of his.

"You're welcome." Your gaze drops to the way the pen quickly flits around his hand as he absentmindedly plays with it, watching the way it moves between each finger agiley, twisting like a spinning top. You know how good he is with his fingers and your core thrums with the thought of what else his fingers could be playing with, but you focus on the way the pen pivots around his digits. You almost groan when it stops, perfectly poised between his index and thumb, as though he's going to continue studying.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

You pluck the pen from his hand, lacing your own with his and he gives a gentle squeeze.

"Let's take a break, I'm tired."

"Would you like food?"

"Nope," you sigh, immediately collapsing to the ground, softened by the tatami mats beneath you. Shouto easily follows you, stretching out his legs beneath the low table as he stares at the ceiling from beside you. "Just wanna lie here for a bit."

He nods, content with the tranquility that fills the room, listening to the gentle exhales that leave you as you lift his hand, comparing the size of his to your own before you trace over the vague lines over the back; his fingers flex as you tickle his skin, gently drawing lines up and down the length of his fingers, circling over the curves of his knuckles, brushing against the palm of his hand.

He gapes, blinking owlishly at the ceiling when you bring his hand down to press a gentle kiss to the back of it. You've never done this before — paid so much attention to his hand (other body parts, like his shoulders, his abs, and lower, sure, but never his hands) — and he doesn't know how to feel about it. The care you take when caressing his skin is wonderful, treating his hand like a delicate, fragile piece of china when you both know of the destruction it can wreak; he bathes in the admiration, the fondness, you bestow upon his hands for a moment longer, until you bring it down to your lips once more and bite.

Instantly, his mouth curls into a childish pout and he pulls his hand away, cradling it to his chest like you've actually hurt him. You snicker when he turns to face you, looking cross and stern with his furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

"What was that for?"

"What was what for?" You feign innocence, but Shouto's not so naïve to dismiss the way your lips pull at the corner.

"You bit me."

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know." He almost sounds exasperated, like he's truly trying to decipher what was going through your mind, and the thought makes you laugh, placing a hand on his face and rubbing over his cheekbone with your thumb.

"Just wanted a little taste. You're very nice. Absolutely exquisite."

"Thank you," he grumbles, placing his hand atop your own, lightly brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

Before you know it, he's lifting your hand, singling out your index finger and dragging it to his own mouth so he can nibble at the tip. The way his teeth sink into your skin in small nips is ticklish, reminding you of a bunny chewing on a carrot. He looks so serious doing something so silly, and it makes you giggle as he pulls back. He purses his lips, contemplating what to say next.

“Salty,” he says, with a self-assured nod, and you gasp in mock offense, wiping your now-wet finger against the smirk growing on his face.

“I hate you,” you grouse, flicking his jawline, but he simply chuckles in response, holding your hand flat against his face once more.

“I’m only kidding,” he replies, and suddenly you fear your hand really is turning clammy beneath his; his palm, rough and hot to the touch, spans across your hand, and you can feel the warmth that simmers beneath his skin, slowly heating you up the longer he grazes his thumb across your knuckles lightly. “You were very nice.”

“How kind of you to say.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips at his sincerity. “We should get back to work.”

He closes his eyes, turning his face the few necessary degrees to plant a fleeting kiss to the heel of your palm. “Let’s stay like this for a bit longer.”

There’s no way you can say no to him when he looks so serene before you, long lashes resting against the slope of his cheekbones, lips the slightest bit parted to air out soft breaths; like the calm after a storm, he stays idle, washing away the fatigue that endless hours of training bring about, the weariness that comes from hunching over desks day after day. You feel your own exhaustion catch up to you, wanting to be at peace just like Shouto, and so you mirror his tranquility, letting yourself forget about any future worries and obstacles just for this moment; you feel your anxiety dissipate slowly, easily, until all you know are the quiet exhales that warm your lips and the sweet caresses of his hand on yours.

+

The next time you spend more than a second looking at his hands, the lithe digits are adorned in silver. Criss-crossed metal, weaved to resemble twisted branches and leaves, twine around his fingers in various bands, some thick, with black designs engraved onto the surface, others slim and dainty, like the small ring wrapped around his little finger, plain and smooth as the lights above glint off of its veneer.

You can’t peel your eyes away from his hands, the way the rings accentuate his lissom fingers, the way the bright, neon lights cast a rainbow over his skin — and you know exactly where the pot of gold at the end of it is.

You’ve never seen him put so much thought into an outfit — gone is his usual attire of a plain white tee and some fancy jumper over it; tonight, he's decked out in designer clothes, black slacks and a fitted blazer to match, with a perfectly crisp white shirt beneath it, graciously unbuttoned at the top to reveal a delicious slice of his pecs. The cherry on top is the thin silver chain that dangles around his neck, highlighting the dip of his collarbones that peek out. He looks good. More than that, he looks so tempting, and if you had your wits about you, you wouldn't be pressing yourself to his side so keenly, dreaming about tearing his shirt in two and letting him have his way with you.

"Shouto, let's go out," you suggest, dropping your hand from where it was teasing the sliver of uncovered skin on his chest, to reach for his own hand, pulling him to the closest exit.

He hums in response, holding you still with his other hand on your waist. "But we just got here. I think Kaminari will be cutting his cake soon."

"Yeah, yeah," you sigh, letting him tug you closer until you're leaning against him, and he sways you gently despite the upbeat, edm music playing in the background. "Just for a bit, I mean. To get some air."

He nods, following you out to the balcony of the apartment, shutting the patio door behind himself. He leans against the railing, eyes pouring over you as you fan yourself, staring out at the late night sky, watching as cars flicker down the streets, as people flit about different restaurants below.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, holding out a hand, and you can see the faint, icy mist that fumes from it. You shuffle in front of him, moving his hand to the nap of your neck, and you instantly slump into his body when it cools you down.

"Just felt hot," you mumble, and beneath your cheek you feel his chest purr when he hums in understanding. His hand moves in slow, rhythmic motions, just cold enough to cool you down, but all you can focus on is the way the freezing metal rings sink into your skin as he massages your neck. You're sure they'll leave little creases in your skin that you'd be more than proud to show off.

His chest rumbles with laughter when you let out a happy sigh. "Is it that nice?"

"It's heavenly."

There's a lull in conversation then, both of you more than content with simply basking in one another's presence, enjoying the quiet intimacy, until you speak up once more.

"You look really good."

"You always look beautiful," he replies easily, "I think that's the fifth time you've said that tonight."

"Really good," you repeat, grinning against him when he shakes his head fondly.

"Kaminari said he wouldn't let me in today if I was dressed like his grandfather."

You snort at that. "You do dress like an old man sometimes."

The hand holding your waist gives a little squeeze in retaliation and he narrows his eyes at you playfully.

"I'm kidding," you giggle, pecking his pursed lips. "But you do have white hair...."

He rolls his eyes, huffing out a grumbled, "I'm not old," as if you don't already know that.

With one hand, you play with the chain around his neck, twisting it around the tip of your finger before you trace over its joints, following along the smooth curve of his collarbones, and he shudders every time the pad of your finger brushes against his skin.

"I like the rings," you murmur, so quietly Shouto almost misses it.

"Tokoyami helped me pick them," he says, briefly pulling his hand away from your shoulders to show you them more closely, and you admire the way the rings curl around his slender fingers, shining in the silver moonlight.

"They look pretty," you reply, running your finger along the ridges of the band before he interlocks his hands with yours; the contrast is pleasant, the rings on his left hand are warm to the touch, where the ones on his right feel like snowflakes on your hands. He smooths his hands along your arms, and goosebumps raise along your skin as he drags his hands up and down your body, setting your nerves alight in a hot and cold dance.

As he does so, he tips his head to yours, grazing his nose against your own before slanting his mouth across yours in a gentle kiss. His lips are soft, like delicate petals fluttering in the wind against your lips, as he focuses on the swell of your bottom lip, on licking off the cherry gloss that coats your skin. It's sweet, he thinks, and he can't help but dive in for more, sinking his teeth into the plush skin as if he's taking a bite of fruit, near salivating at the taste of you and your syrupy lips. His tongue swoops into your mouth just as his palms curve over your rear, fingers squeezing at the plump flesh, digging into your fat and yanking you closer, until you're flushed against his body, melting beneath his touch.

When he parts from your mouth, a line of spit hangs between your mouths, and the wicked glint in his eyes rivals the sparkles shimmering across his wet lips. Before you can reel him back into another trembling kiss, his right hand is slipping into your gaping mouth, two fingers messily smearing the saliva in your mouth around, coating themselves in your wetness before you even wrap your tongue around them. He hums, a small smirk forming on his face when you hollow your cheeks around the digits; he doesn't miss the way your tongue seems enamoured by his rings, fixated on swirling around the silver bands, savouring the cold, metallic taste in your mouth.

He pulls back with a shudder, the cold night air cooling the spit on his fingers, and just before he can slip his fingers beneath your clothes, have you falling apart on his fingers, soaking the rings with a different kind of wetness, the patio door is sliding open.

"Ah, there you both are!" Midoriya calls, gleaming as if he hasn't just interrupted the two of you. Luckily for him, your body covers Shouto's messy hands, so he can't steal a glimpse of what you had just been doing. "We're about to cut the cake."

Shouto nods, telling him that you'll both be there, and he leaves just as quickly as he came. He scrunches his nose at the loss, wiping off your spit on his clothes rather unceremoniously, and you giggle at his forlorn expression.

"Maybe some other time, Sho," you say, lacing your hand with his cleaner one after you'd fix yourself up. You use your free hand to brush away some of the sparkles on his lips, but it doesn't help much. Hopefully no one would look that closely at either of your lips.

He sighs, wanting nothing more than to continue what you had been doing.

"Tonight," he says vehemently, already thinking about all the ways he'll make you fall apart on his fingers. "Right after the party."

+

Shouto's hands seem to have their own magnetic field, reeling you in impossibly close, until any hopes of escaping are nothing but pipe dreams. His hands are the only things occupying your mind, the only things that make any semblance of sense in your mind as you feel them curl and stretch you to your limits.

True to his word, when the party had died down and it was acceptable to leave, Shouto was dragging you out the front door and straight to his car. He threw open the door to the backseat, unceremoniously pushed you inside and then followed, hastily shutting the door behind him before he swooped in for a kiss, more teeth and tongue and rawness as he was more focused on ridding you of your clothes and having his way with you.

Your body is warm from the layers you were wearing, but Shouto is quick to change that; an icy hand with cold rings to match slides up your inner thigh, teasing the soft skin with pinches and scratches before his fingers graze against your folds. He's done away with your underwear already, and it leaves you exposed to the frosty air and his snowy hands; he circles your clit and it feels like ice pinpointing your nerves, cooling them until you're numbly dripping all over his leather seats, unaware of just how much you're soaking the fabric as he continues his ministrations. Your legs quiver from the cold, breath coming out in cloudy puffs as you moan for him to give you more, and he wastes no time sinking two of his fingers into your cunt.

The difference is overwhelming for both of you: your tight heat sucks his fingers in, clenching around them so he can barely pull back to keep pumping them in, and the rings around his fingers scrape against your velvety walls with each thrust, stretching you out until you toe the line of pain and pleasure. Each time he crooks his fingers, the rings curl against your insides, knocking against your weak spots to elicit filthy squeals from your lips, making you careen up in his grasp for him to do it again, please, Sho, please—

"Like this?" he asks, swirling his fingers in firm, mindless shapes before he pulls out, dragging his digits through the slick coating your lips until you can hear the lewd squelches, the obscenely wet sounds of your arousal dirtying your thighs, his car, his hands.

You're dripping all over them, palm puddling with slick, rings slathered and shimmering with your essence, but he can't bring himself to care about the mess when you're moaning and sobbing for him to put his fingers back in, to fuck you properly.

Instead, Shouto's icy hand slithers its way up your body, easily slinking into your open mouth as your saliva joins the mess already coating it. He can feel the way your tongue rushes to lick the slick, sliding his rings this way and that, the tip of your wet muscle slipping into the gaps when his rings come loose. You don't seem to care too much about possibly choking on the metal when you suck at his fingers like they're doused in an elixir of desire, but he pulls back and fixes the rings, admiring the drool that gleams all over.

He doesn't even notice your hand moving until it's wrapped around his wrist, yanking his fingers back into your mouth to slurp at them as if they're covered in honey and you're his pretty, starving, bumbling bee. He's stunned, mouth gaping and utterly enamoured by the way your cheeks hollow and your eyes roll back as you gag around his fingers; when he finally becomes aware of the way you're rutting up against his hips in time with each lick, he decides to move, bringing a heated hand down to your bundle of nerves and rubbing harsh, unyielding circles over it.

Your groan against his fingers, grinding your hips with each swirl over your clit, and Shouto's capitvated by how debased you look, frothing at the mouth for a taste of his fingers, getting all hot and bothered and turned on just by licking at his hands.

After being touched by a frozen hand for so long, the sudden heat that comes from Shouto's left hand is a blessing; it sends thrills up your spine, quickly heating up every icy inch of your skin as he shoves it into your soaking heat. Your back arches painfully when the hot rings kindle your insides, but you can't seem to care too much when he curls them against your walls so deliciously, using your own dripping arousal to slide in and out noisily.

His gaze flits between your mouth — still sucking on his fingers so messily, so eagerly — and your legs, twitching around his body, when you finally let go of his hand. He looks up at you, eyes wild and burning with curiosity and impatience at the hazy look in your eyes.

"Please," you murmur, panting against his fingers where they sit on your chin, skimming over your wet lips. "Want your— hands, Sho, please— want it so bad."

He nods, immediately taking his right hand and dropping it to your clit to circle your bud when you whine, shaking your head.

"Left— Left hand," you moan, and he spots your eyes beginning to water in desperation. He curls his fingers as he pulls his left hand out of your cunt, and your hands float in the air as you attempt to grab it, yanking it down to your mouth once more.

"Fuck," he groans, as your eyes close in satisfaction and you focus on lapping up his fingers like they're the sweetest candies you've ever had, like you’re being paid to moan wantonly around the digits as you lick them clean. "Oh god, you look so, so beautiful like this."

His right hand plows into your cunt once more, pounding against all the places you’re sensitive with practised ease; his pace is unwavering, unfaltering as he siphons more arousal from you, drawing out those dulcet whines of yours, slightly muffled with his fingers still shoved down your throat. Your mind is reeling, floundering between focusing on the way Shouto’s cold hands curl in your heat, the way he grinds his rings against your swollen clit, and the warm fingers that play with your tongue, making your drool run like a waterfall down your chin. It doesn’t take long for your legs to grow tense, for your back to bow in an excruciating curve as you climax; stars sparkle in the darkness that overtakes your mind, and all you can concentrate on is the way Shouto’s hot, sticky hand comes down to rub swiftly over your puffy clit, dragging out your orgasm for as long as he can. Slick, wet noises fill the car — they’re so lewd, so filthy, but Shouto’s eyes are glued to the way your arousal squirts out of you, absolutely drenching his hands in your release.

As if you’ve just run a marathon, your breaths come out in short gasps, but your body feels like liquid, melting into the seats as a sense of gratification washes over you. Your legs are numb when you finally come to, but shuffling just the slightest bit makes an obscenely damp sound echo in the car and you wince at the thought of the mess you’re currently laying in.

When you finally open your eyes, Shouto is just staring down at his hands; you don’t even need to see them to know that they’ll be dripping, soaked down to the bone. He looks up at you, though, with a sharp, adamant gleam in his eyes as he demands, “Again.”

Both hands drop to your overstimulated cunt, working it over intently, pressing his rings into your even more purposefully, and you sink into the seats once more, eyes rolling back as you feel yourself clench around him.

You don’t think you’re the only one with a fascination for Shouto’s hands.

#someone teach me how to end a fic??? #mha x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shoto x reader #shouto x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #todoroki smut #todoroki shoto smut #todoroki shouto smut #shouto smut #shoto smut #mine #mine.bnha #.100

[bunkerbucky]

Casual Sabotage *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Reader is hit with sex pollen. Except she doesn't crave her boyfriend, Steve Rogers. No, it's his best friend, Bucky Barnes, that she wants inside of her. Bucky, in the beginning, is a good bro and refuses. But due to the fact she sucks his dick so good he kinda, sorta, loses that restraint and just fucks her regardless of who she belongs to.

Rating: Explicit [+18]

Warnings: Sex pollen= Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Rough blow-job, rough oral-sex, vaginal sex, praise kink, breeding kink, size kink- Bucky has a big dick in this lmao, choking and biting kink, infidelity; Reader cheats on Steve. 

TW: Dub-con- Reader is under sex pollen, so she actually cannot give consent and also because Bucky is so resistant in the beginning. It turns consensual on Bucky's part, he gives in to the temptation. But, obviously, reader is still influenced so... the lines are blurred.

Yourself and Bucky had searched the Hydra base from tippy-top to bottom. There was nothing out of the ordinary, which infuriated you a little. With the amount of recon work you both had to do, the long nights of watching the agents coming and going, you felt like you both deserved a small win, at least.

A long sigh escaped from your lips as Bucky's fingers typed furiously on the computers keyboard, a USB stick in hand just in case he found something exciting. Your arms were crossed over your chest, eyes scanning around the bases' security room, roaming the shelves and cabinets that held nothing of importance. A week of nothing, you wanted to cry.

"Hmm," Bucky low hum attracted your attention, "It says there's a basement to this building, we haven't checked that out." His steel eyes look over the screen and at you, you respond with a shrug of your shoulders. "We've got two hours before the cavalry arrives to pick us up, let's explore and see if we can obtain something to keep from Rogers from complainin'"

You giggle slightly at Bucky's comment, nodding in agreement with him. Steve would have a lot to say if you went back empty-handed, especially since he sent you both rather than himself. But you couldn't lie and say the thought of seeing Steve after so long didn't excite you. You had missed your boyfriend dearly, you weren't allowed on missions together since finally making things official. Work ethics and all that jazz.

Instead, you and Bucky had started to partner up, Steve didn't trust anyone but himself, and Bucky, to keep an eye out for you. Who better to watch over his best girl than his best friend, plus Bucky was your friend before you got with Steve.

"What if we go down there and there's a great, big monster waiting for us?" Sliding into the small elevator beside Barnes.

Bucky looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, "Then I'll be throwing you out as a distraction, so I can press the elevator door button to leave."

You both ended up laughing at his response, although when the doors finally did open and reveal a darkened basement layer... there was a moment of silence, you both side-eyeing one another at the lack of sound and movement.

Bucky stepped off first and the automatic lighting triggered him to pull his gun from its holster, his reflexes sharp and fast. You step off and follow Bucky down the hall towards double doors, the room through those doors was abandoned and huge. Desks with old computers, all smashed and out of use. Stacks of files and paper scattered on desks and the floor. Despite the mess, it all looks really promising, there had to be something amongst the chaos.

You both separate to cover more ground, you only had a limited time before you had to leave. You looked through paper and files, shuffling through stacks of meaningless bullshit. Hydra certainly kept a record of everything, including all the worthless crap. You wondered if they actually printed this stuff to lead you guys on wild goose chases like this, to make sure you were distracted with searching for something important amongst all their bullshit.

You ended up in the far back of the room, a small desk area had random empty vials littered across it. Files labelled in Russian, that you couldn't translate very well.

"Hey, Buck," You called over your shoulder as you lifted an empty vial, a cork tightly shoved in the top; curious. "Think I might've found something."

The vial itself was black, not black liquid, the vial was just black. It didn't feel weighted, it didn't feel like anything was moving inside of it. So, curiosity got the best of you because you yanked the cork off the vial. Black smoke puffed out and into your face causing you to inhale and go into a coughing fit. Waving your arms in front of your face, coughing at the inhalation of whatever was inside that vial.

It smelt like... old leather, peppermint toothpaste and...something else, like a deep musk. Odd.

"Hey, are you okay?" Bucky suddenly appeared at your side, a hand placed on your back and eyeing you with concern. He then grabbed the vial from your hand, it was clear and no longer black. "What happened?"

Your coughing had subsided, you felt fine. "I think there was some kind of smoke or whatever in there, I don't know. The black stuff just burst out, I was stupid-"

"Damn, right." Bucky looked mad, which was a given. "Hydra is known for making gas poisons, Y/N. That was a rookie move, never open strange vials." He didn't sound too mad at you, a little more concerned and worried.

You nodded, frowning when feeling the back of your neck sweating. You felt... hot. A sweat was taking over your body, your mouth was getting dry and your mind was going fuzzy. Bucky hadn't noticed, his eyes cast down to the Russian files on the desk, his hand flipping through the old pages and taking the information in with wide eyes. You briefly wondered if whatever is written in that file had anything to do with that vial.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered.

"What?" Your throat was scratchy, your breathing was becoming laboured and your palms were sweaty.

You didn't feel hot, though. You didn't feel sick either.

"Well, I'm guessing whatever was in that vial was... to put it plainly, sex pollen. It makes the patient unable to think of anything but sex, all they want and all they feel is lust. It's basically either used to breed or on prisoners- the pain of not getting off thoroughly enough can lead to the patient taking extreme measures: death." He shakes his head, you don't notice the horrified look In his eyes at the thought of maybe it being used on him when under Hydra's control. "You're likely fine, though."

"I wouldn't be so sure," You managed to gasp out, your thighs squeezing together and eyes closed, you wanted to feel embarrassed but you couldn't. "My head is spinning and, fuck, I need to get this off. I feel too hot, I'm burnin' up." Clawing at the collar of your own tact suit, your hands were shaking and you couldn't bring yourself to look at Bucky.

You wanted to look at him though. You knew he was standing close to you because you could smell him, he smelt like the black smoke did. He smelt delicious, intoxicating in the best way. God, you wanted him so badly. You needed him.

"It's going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, we'll get you back to Steve and he can-"

You shook your head and finally pulled the zipper down of your jacket, shrugging the bulletproof material off your shoulders.

"Need you." You managed to mumble out, lifting your gaze to Bucky, who was frowning and shaking his head. "Please, Buck. I need you! I can feel my skin crawling and-I'm in so much pain, please." Your voice a mix between a whine and beg.

"I can't- you're not thinking properly. Steve will be here soon and he can help you, he's your boyfriend, remember?"

You pulled the black, tight sleeved henley from your body and let it drop to the floor, it covered in sweat. You're standing in a sports bra and tact pants, chest heaving as you try to intake gulps of oxygen from your panting. Even with half your clothes off you still felt sweat bead and drip down your skin.

"I can't wait that long," You sniffled but no tears forming. "Please, I want you-I've always wanted you. You read the file, I'm going to die!"

Bucky continued to shake his head. "I won't do that Steve. It says that it took a couple of hours till that point, Steve'll be here soon and I'll explain to him what happened."

You groaned painfully, shaking your own head now. Not understanding why he couldn't just help you now. You were in immense pain and the throbbing heat in your core wasn't letting up.

You didn't want Steve to help you. You didn't need Steve to help you, it wasn't just because he wasn't here. You wanted Bucky. The smell of him, the heat radiating off his body when it was close to yours. You craved for him to touch you, to fuck you. You were sure the moment he touched you that the pain would ease, the flames that were consuming you would simmer down.

And you were certain that he wanted you too.

Taking the initiative you moved closer to Bucky, the short hairs on the back of your neck were drenched in sweat, you could feel it drip down your back. You placed a hand softly on his metal arm, the cool vibranium instantly cooling you down. Bucky let out a shaky breath and looked at you, eyebrows furrowing together as he took in your features. You were sure you could see the fight in his eyes, he wanted to help you. To touch you.

It was frustrating that he wasn't giving in. That he wasn't falling to his desires.

"I won't tell Steve, I promise." You whispered and pressed a kiss to his collar, inhaling his scent and shuddering when it filled your senses. He wasn't pushing you away, but he also wasn't giving in to touching you back. "It can be our little secret. I know you'll make me feel really good, he won't be able to help me like you can."

Her other hand trailed down his chest and stopped at his belt, Bucky was too busy telling her everything he had already been saying. Telling you how you love Steve and Steve loves you. It would break Steve's heart if he found out about this talk from you if he knew what you were saying to Buck. You didn't care, not right now anyway. You had always found Bucky attractive and before getting with Steve you had entertained the thought of Bucky, but he was just getting back his life. A relationship seemed too much for him, well that's what you thought.

You didn't settle for Steve, that was never the case. You love Steve, you know that. But, right now, here with Bucky, you knew that he'd be able to help you with this- more than Steve could. Steve was a peaceful lover, an attentive one. You needed this illness fucked out of you- at least, that's what your hazy brain was telling you.

Your hand slipped under his belt, a wide grin taking over your face at Bucky's shock, words choking out as you wrapped a hand around his dick. A sense of pride coming over you as he began to get hard in your hand, a few quick jerks as started to undo his pants with your free hand. Bucky was stunned into silence and compliance, unable to stop you just from the fact he hadn't been touched like this in a while.

He came to his senses when you noticed you get to your knees, his pants undone and pulled down his muscular thighs. Bucky slapped your hands away and tries to pull his pants back up, but you were putting up quite the fight. You roughly pushed him back, he ended up falling to the ground due to his pants restricting his movements. In the moments he fell down and was trying to figure out what happened, you had pulled down his boxers and gulped dryly at his semi-hard length.

"You're so big," You mumbled before wrapping your lips around the tip, a loud groan echoed through the room from Bucky.

You could feel him growing inside of your mouth as you tried to take more of him down, slobbering up his dick and licking around the shaft. Pulling off to run your tongue around the veins and down to his balls, gently suckling them into your mouth as you jerked his length till it was fully standing erect. You smirked to yourself at all of the noises Bucky was making, a hand being placed on your hair- which normally you hated Steve's hand in your hair, but you'd allow Bucky this time.

"Fuck my throat," spit was around your mouth and down your chin, "fuck my throat with your big cock."

Bucky's eyes were wide and lust-filled, there was still a hesitancy from him. A dilemma going on in that head of his, so you wrapped your lips around his cock again and started to slowly take him down. He was bigger than Steve, so much bigger, but that only spurred you on. You wanted him to roughly fuck your throat, you wanted to feel him at the back of your throat even after this.

You felt both his hands on your head... he started to push your head further down, the tip hit the back of your throat and you still hadn't taken all of him. He started to ease past your limitations, your eyes filled with tears as he stuffed your mouth impossibly full. Your lips stretched wide around his girth, he could feel your throat constrict around him and the slight gag you couldn't help because of how far he was down your throat.

"Fuck, so good." Bucky groaned lowly, eyes completely black and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. You knew your panties were soaking, a slickness collecting on your thighs as you rubbed them together, the flimsy material of your underwear was sticking to you and making you rub yourself just to alleviate the friction. "I'll deal with your pussy in second, right now I'm going to fill this hole up."

It was like Bucky snapped, the trepidation he was feeling before was long gone. It was now replaced with this new Bucky, and you loved him.

He wasn't merciful when he started to thrust in and out of your mouth, his balls were slapping against your chin harshly. The grip in your hair was harsh as he pushed and pulled your head to meet his hard thrusts, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as he basically skull fucked you. Loud gagging sounds, your throat squeezing his cock as you fought for air, he only eased up when you looked like you were going to pass out. It was seconded worth of air before he repeated his onslaught, spit and cum was dribbling down your chin and onto your chest and sportsbra. Bucky kept his eyes on you, it made you shiver how he was looking at you.

Bucky didn't warn you when he was about to cum, instead, he held your head down, almost shoving his entire cock down your throat as loads of his cum spurted out and shot straight down your throat into your tummy. You hardly tasted his cum because of how far he was down your throat. He groaned as he came, swallowing thrusting his hips into your mouth as he milked his orgasm. He pulled you off his cock, it was still hard, thankfully.

He helped pull you to your feet then undressed you, roughly pulling the sports bra off your chest and yanking your pants down your legs. He ripped your panties to shreds and let the tattered pieces fall to the floor, his hungry gaze took in your shaking, naked form. Your thighs were glistening from your arousal and it was still leaking from your pussy, hardly any attention to it made you needy and wishing to be stuffed full.

"Turn around." The authority in his voice made you shiver.

You turned around and felt Bucky place a hand on your shoulder, bending you over the desk where you found the vial. The pieces of paper clinging to your sweaty skin and making you keen into his touch more. He kicked your feet further apart, a hand tickling the insides of your thighs and collecting your sweet juices. Expecting to feel fingers prodding around your entrance, instead, you felt a firm tongue lick from clit to fluttering hole, it dipping inside and collecting the juices wanting to leak out of you.

Your mouth fell open into a silent scream, his tongue was exploring so far into your pussy, his hands gripped your cheeks apart so he could push further inside of you. Tongue fucking you so roughly and expertly, your eyes almost went crossed out from the feeling. You didn't know you could be tongue fucked this good, but Bucky just lived to prove you wrong. The slurping sounds and moans from the man behind you, he lifted and bent your knee to rest on the table; opening you up further for his trained tongue.

"You're gonna have to let me have a taste of this everyday from now on, baby." Bucky groaned against your pussy, mouth closing around your clit as he sucked harshly, your mouths drowning out his own. "Taste so good," the tip of his tongue running figure eights on your engorged clit.

Bucky must've stayed between your legs for minutes, but it felt like hours. He pulled two back-to-back orgasms from you, only using his tongue. When he was done eating your pussy, he stood up and draped himself over your back, an arm wrapping around your neck as he breathed heavily into your ear. You could feel his cock nudge up against your pussy, sliding and coating himself in your juices.

"You ready for me?" You whined your response, trying to push yourself back against him but his arm tightened around your throat- not restricting your airflow. "Think your little pussy can take my dick, dolly?" You nodded in a rush, needing it inside of you otherwise you was going to die. "I've got you," The tip nudges against your entrance and began to push inside, the stretch was painful but welcoming. "Daddy's got you."

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the more he pushed his thick length in the more you moaned. He wasn't even half-way in when you started to babble about how he was too big for you, how he wouldn't fit inside of you. That only made Bucky want to prove you wrong, want to prove that you were made to take him. He started to thrust shallowly, rocking his length in and out of you, impaling you on him more whenever he pushed forward.

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he stopped and remained inside of your tight, heat for a moment. Relishing in the way you were split open around his cock, your walls were spasming around him and he was having a hard time not cumming on the spot. You felt so tight, so warm and wet around him, suddenly envious that Steve got to have you all the time. But he was planning on ruining you, to make sure the next time you fucked Steve it wouldn't feel as good.

He was going to fuck you so hard, so deep that you'd be wishing Steve was this big.

"Hang on, baby." That was the only warning you got.

Bucky started to pummel inside of you, his thrusts were hard and fast, his cock was kissing your cervix. You really could only just lay there and take it, your mouth open as moans were ripped from you, eyes rolling back as he kept impaling his girth inside of you. He was hitting spots so deep you knew you'd be feeling him for days afterwards, you'd be walking with limp and sore, it was worth it.

The way he was fucking you, it was as if he had something to prove.

The sound of skin slapping skin, his grunts and groans right beside your ear. His arm around your neck, clenching and cutting your airflow off at times, had you cumming within seconds and he still didn't let up. He didn't stop and fucked you through your third orgasm.

Your mind was starting to come down from the pollen, the pain and fever you were feeling had gone. Replaced now with pleasure and pain, a mix you didn't think you were into but now couldn't get enough of. All you could think and feel was Bucky Barnes. This was no longer the effects of the pollen anymore, this was pure you and riding on the afterglow of Bucky fucking you like you needed.

"Harder." You mumbled through heavy pants, tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder.

A smirk crossed his features, metal arm holding your hip in a bruising grip. Complying with your order and snapping his hips hard into your heat, grinding his hips against yours before pulling back out and repeating. It causes your back to arch, pressing your pussy back against his thrusts with little mewls leaving your lips.

"Kiss me." You plead breathlessly.

Bucky doesn't falter with that demand either. Draping himself over your body again and pressing his plump lips against yours, the kiss is far more gentle than his thrusts, but it still has you moaning against him. He was kissing you like you was fragile, yet fucking you like you were some kind of sex toy that he was using just to jerk off into. It was making your head spin and your pussy needy for more.

"You gonna come again?" Bucky chuckled against your ear, you nodded sharply and cried in pleasure when he bit your shoulder, cumming on the spot when his teeth dug into your flesh. "Mm'good girl." He mumbled as he licked at the tender spot, you could feel his hips stuttering their pace.

"Cum in me." You grinned and he cursed lowly, eyes squeezing shut. "Want you to fill me up, daddy. Fuckin' fuck a baby into me, fill me up."

The arm around your neck was pulled away, hand splaying across your back as he started to thrust into you in tight, fast and hard thrusts. Using your body to seek his own pleasure now, you were biting your lip at the thought of him filling you up. Not even caring if he actually did knock you up, you needed his cum inside of you.

Bucky found his end after a few careful thrusts, warm ropes of his seed filling you up and then some, he filled you up so much that it started to seep out around his cock. He groaned at the mess he made inside of you, he carefully pulled out of your abused cunt to see your hole clenching, trying to keep his creamy load inside of yourself. He had to look away because if he kept staring he'd get hard again, he didn't think you could take another round or load.

You remained bent over the desk and trying to catch your breath, his human hand was rubbing comforting circles on your back. Before you or Bucky could say something a buzzing sound captured both of your attention, it was coming from Bucky's pant pocket. He left you to retrieve his phone, eyes scanning over the device for a moment before he looked at you.

"Steve is waiting at the extraction point for us," You nodded mutely and you both got dressed in mutual silence.

He helped you to look presentable, ignoring the fingerprint bruise on your hip and the obvious bite mark on your shoulder. You were unsure how to explain any of that to Steve, you were also unsure how to explain what happened to Bucky. Obviously, you had still had those feelings for him, right? Otherwise, you would have been able to wait for Steve, it was like all sense of self-control had left you and only Bucky remained in your mind.

As you both left the base in awkward silence, treking the five miles towards the extraction zone, you wondered if you would have craved for Bucky if you was with Steve. If after all this time it was Bucky and not Steve you wanted.

All you knew was that Bucky had ruined you. You could still feel the impression of him inside of you, the way he had so deliciously stretched you open and impaled you on him. The way he had roughly fucked your throat like it was nothing but a hole to get off into. He had fucked you, in more ways than one.

(Please, let me know what you think! I’m also taking requests too! Honestly, kinda wanna write a part 2 where Reader tries to have sex with Steve but fakes her orgasm just to go to Bucky... I’m a bad person, I just think Bucky would be better than Steve tbh lol~ Lilith)

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #steve rogers x reader

[persphonesorchid]

Hierarchy - PantherHybrid!Yoongi x BunnyHybrid!Reader || TEASER ||

Requested by Anon: Saw you were looking for requests so I come nearing gifts!! I’d like to request an panther hybrid yoongi x bunny hybrid reader enemies to lovers college au!! yn goes to a uni where most of the students are preds, yoongi hates her for some reason despite her being really nice, ANGST PLEASE!!

Notes: The amount of time I spent trying to figure out how to go about writing this is ridiculous! As usual, the Teaser is three scenes that happen in no specific order! I hope you guys enjoy it, and I'm really excited for it! I'm currently working on this and all the other requests! But it's taking me a while as I'm dealing with some family stuff, so I'm not sure when everything will be out, but hopefull it'll be soon! I hope you guys are well! Let me know what you think!

Just in case someone stumbles across this, the full fic has been posted - Read

"Wait, really?" Hoseok was loud, as he usually was, eyes wide and sunshine smile all but gone. He sat on your bed, amongst the scattered papers and his notes, looking all soft in his sun yellow sweater and stolen fuzzy socks. The soft swish of his tail silent now as he ponders, "Are they crazy?"

"It's mandatory, it's a social experiment. We're all being paired up." Namjoon sighs, picking a dust bunny out of your hair, fingers tickling the soft fur of your ears. He leans back against the couch, palm warm against the back of your neck. Not in anyway domineering, but the contact you needed to ground you, your natural skittish behaviour had gone to new heights in the past two hours. "I don't think it's a good idea either. Some of us are totally okay with hanging around prey hybrids, but that's not the same for everyone. This isn't going to end well."

"I think it all depends on who we get pared up with." You mumble, shifting your legs so that they laid thrown over Namjoon's lap. "I heard Jungkook got paired with Nora..."

"He's a dead man." Hoseok laughs, eyes sparkling. He pauses, stuffing his mouth with a bite of cinnamon roll and shakes his head, "Too bad I'm not taking your class though, Y/n. Would've pulled some strings so we could get paired up."

"You can't just wag your tail and get everything you want, Hobi." Namjoon rolls his eyes, ear twitching, "Your charm doesn't work on everyone."

"The pairings are random," You sigh, closing your book, turning your head to look at the wolf hybrid. "I got paired with Yoongi."

Hoseok promptly chokes, coughing as he swallowed and sucked in a breath of air at the same time. He's red in the face and struggling to reach his water bottle, and you surrender your own.

"Min?" Namjoon asks, strong brows disappearing under his bangs, concern dancing in his eyes.

"Is there another Yoongi in this academy?" You laugh, and lift your shoulder in a shrug, "It's fine really,"

"No it's not." Namjoon interjects, shaking his head, "Do these people think? Why would they pair you with him of all people?"

::

"Jungkook what are you doing?" You peek under the desk where you're pretty sure you saw Jungkook's ears disappear. He's huddled in the corner, looking at you with eyes that seem too big for his face.

"Go away Y/n, you're gonna sell me out." He whispers harshly, waving his hand at you, "I'm hiding from Nora."

Before you can ask why, the sound of the library door opening makes you look up, spotting Nora scanning the rows of desks with her cat like eyes. She sends you a wave and a smile, red tail dipped in white swishing lightly behind her as she skips over to you.

"Y/n Darling!" Her voice was almost too loud, as she stops next to you, "Have you seen Jungkook? We're supposed to report today."

"Uh..." You smile, unsure if she could tell you're about to lie with the twitching of your nose. You can feel Jungkook staring at you, doe eyes wide and pleading. You're not exactly sure why he wanted to get away from her, but you are sure that you'd be hiding too if you were paired with her. "Haven't seen him. You could try the gym though, he lives in there."

You have to protect your own, after all.

Nora stares at you for a moment, enough to make you nervous. Slowly, a smile slips back onto her face, "Okay! Well if you see him let me know!" And with that she takes herself and her excited energy out of the library, the doors clicking shut behind her.

You wait a couple moments, before you snicker, looking at Jungkook who was crawling from under the table. "I thought you had a crush on her?"

"That was before I found out she was crazy. She's been trying to pin a fox tail on me all morning." Jungkook groans as he drops into the chair opposite you, ears flopping at the sides of his head. "Hey... Aren't you supposed to be with that Yoongi guy right now?"

"Oh, yeah..." You fiddle with your pen, your own ears flopping like Jungkook's with the drop of your mood. "He didn't show, again."

"Yeah, he does that. Doesn't show up to much mixed classes either. I honestly don't know how he passes

anything." Jungkook looks past you, suddenly sitting up straight, ears following suit as they fly up into the air, "Ah, well, anyway. I'll see you later, Bun. I'm gonna go hide in my dorm." And as quickly as he dashed into the library, he was gone, through the doors as quick as his feet could carry him.

You sit, blinking at the spot he left so quickly.

"Bad mouthing me already?"

::

"Why do you hate me?"

Yoongi pauses, twitching ear stops still, as well as the fidgeting of his fingers. His eyebrows draw together with his frown, silent, tongue poking his cheek.

"I..I don't hate you, I just..." Yoongi flounders, fishing for his words, eyes scanning the high ceilings as though they could give him what he was looking for. He sighs, loudly in the silence of the library, and you sit patiently waiting. The longer he stays quiet avoiding your gaze, the more you regret asking.

"Right." You sigh, focusing on your notes of Hybrid History, not really reading, just staring at the words. You tried your best to not be bothered by it, at least you know he doesn't hate you, not exactly, but he also can't give a reason as to why he's always so standoffish with you.

You've seen him with his friends, on many occasions before the Academy thought this experiment was a good idea. You've seen him direct his smile and the sound of his laugh at others, but never at you, and it shouldn't bother you. It really shouldn't. You thought you were going well, he's started speaking to you at least, intsead of coming and staring at anything but you for thirty minutes before he goes off to God knows where.

"Psst! Yoongi!"

Yoongi looks over your shoulder, waving his hand in greeting with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He sighs, lip caught between his teeth. You didn't need to turn around to know that Park Jimin was sauntering his way over. His fingers brush your ears before he speaks, "Your ears are really soft," he practically purrs and you shift away from him.

"I'll see you next week." Yoongi says, gathering his books and shoving them into his bag in a haste. You can only hum, not looking at him. "Come on, go flirt somewhere else." He shoos Jimin with a wave of his hand, and follows after him not after.

Tagging: @allhobbitstoisengard @xpeachesncream @jinpanman @

#bts #bts fic #min yoongi #Yoongi X reader #Hybrid!Yoongi #Hybrid!Reader #Upcoming fic #Teaser #Persephonesorchid #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #jeon jeongkook