#the beat of dead silence before it sinks in

[sea-buns]

[Aabria retching]

#matts reaction has been added due to popular demand #yall were right tho idk why i didnt add it before lmao #i would like to join them in the stinking cloud please #the beat of dead silence before it sinks in #priceless #dimension 20 #d20 #trw spoilers #trw #the ravening war #bishop raphaniel charlock #brennan lee mulligan #aabria iyengar #zac oyama #lou wilson #anjali bhimani #matt mercer

[samodivaa]

You Are Art

Request : College!Bucky x Artist!Reader where Bucky is a nude model partner for life drawing.

Warnings - smut, soft sex Words - 2.3k AN - Me personally, would draw Soldat. ;o

All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique—because one eye sees, the other feels. And the human form that you need to draw will include a physiological precondition that is indispensable—intoxication, lust. If you can say your feelings for him in words, there would be no reason to paint him—you wouldn't have asked him to be your model.

Bucky grows pale as death, he gazes into your eyes with a strange, wild, reproachful look as his lips tremble and vainly endeavors to form some words, then his mouth twisted into an incongruous smile. “Should I…undress now?” His face gave evidence of suffering. You are considerably amazed. “Yeah if you are comfortable? Does something worry you?” “I have scars” Bucky says all this perfectly seriously, and without the slightest appearance of joking, indeed, he seems strangely gloomy.

“There is no need to-”you say, seriously and with deference. 

Never judge a work of art by its defects―Washington Allston “I want to, I promised you”

He interrupts suddenly, with a look of weariness, focusing on his lungs, on his ability to take a deep breath, to soothe with oxygen as the word rolls off his tongue. He is a handsome man, rather stout, with a very polite and dignified manner. He is always well dressed, and his clothes are always exquisite. Your conscience very soon informs you that is the proper narrative to tell. You met in the first semester, he is a business major looking to commission an artist for his project. You admit, that among the many silly and thoughtless actions of your life, the memory of that encounter comes prominently forward and reminds you that it lay long like a stone on your heart—ever since that, you stayed friends—it makes sense, doesn't it? For him to return the favor. There are a few seconds of dead silence before he goes to your small coach to undress. You eyes are flashing in a most unmistakable way, lips were all quiver as you observe his back muscles flexing. You try to speak, to reassure him, but can’t form words, a great weight seems to lie upon your breast, suffocating you. He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. You lick your lips, trying to quench the mental thirst for him—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. There is a frightened feeling, which makes him scowl and feel ashamed while removing his jacket and shirt until he is fully naked.

As you sit, your eyes turn to the blank canvas, squinting at it in the dwindling light, trying to concentrate. Then you gaze out the window, study the way snow clings to the spruce beside the building, and wonder how you will manage on your own once you have received your degree. With a sinking heart and a nervous tremor, he finally turns to face you. “So you just want me to sit here?” he whispers at last, drawing his breath with an effort, his nerves are terribly overstrained by now. He is sober, but the excitement of this chaotic situation—the strangest day of his life—has affected him so much that he was in a dazed, wild condition, which almost resembles drunkenness “Okay I will just sit here”

Bucky sits on the bar stool that is next to your canvas and his eyes fall upon yours, stop short, grow white as a sheet, and stares motionless, it is clear that his heart was beating painfully. He is gazing intently, but timidly, for a few seconds. Suddenly, as though bereft of his senses, he moves a bit, putting his hands on his tights. He knows that he won’t get hard—worry empties any dirty thoughts he might have. You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation. In spite of this scornful reflection of his current mental state, he is looking cheerful as though he is suddenly set free from the terrible burden of worry and he gazes round. “Just don’t move I need to start with the sketch” You crack your fingers nervously before picking up the piece of charcoal—you stare at him, mentally measuring the propositions which helps you with the composition and scale. As an artist, you dip your brush in your own soul, you paint him with love—but you love him beyond words, beyond paint. And you hope Bucky will feel that once he sees the finished art. “Just tell me when you need a break” “Yeah, okay” he answers firmly, after a brief pause. Your voice is positively reflecting a sort of radiance on his face. You think, staring at him deliberately, that it is just another life painting, simply that's his body, his face, that are his eyes, his nose, and yet at the same time, It's a miracle, it's an ecstasy. And your only concern is to capture his beauty. “It is turning out amazing” you continue, pursuing the whirling ideas that chases each other in your brain “You are art, Bucky” He feels a hammering in his head and a faint smile shows on his face. His eyes are riveted upon yours, at first reluctantly and, as it is, resentfully, and then more and more intently.

Why isn't he saying anything? Did you need to say that out loud? The one time you try to implement that you like him and… So you torture yourself, fretting with questions, and finding a kind of enjoyment in it. And yet all these questions are not new, but suddenly confronting you, they are old familiar aches—it grips and rends your heart—maybe he just sees you as a friend.

It tortures your heart and mind, clamoring insistently for an answer, but you don’t dare turn your eyes to him for several moments. Bucky’s heart is beating violently, and his brain is in turmoil. At that moment something seems to sting him; in an instant a complete revulsion of feeling comes over him. He suffers passively, realizing that his cock is getting hard, but that he must do something, do it at once, and do it quickly. 

“Can we take a break now?”

“Of course” you are bewildered, and stare at him open-eyed. You spot it, you can’t miss such a big dick. He gets up and goes to sit on the couch, covering his private parts with his jacket. His thoughts stray aimlessly…he finds it hard to fix his mind on anything at that moment. He longs to forget himself altogether, to forget everything, and then to wake up and begin life anew.

“Things like that happen all the time, no need to be embarrassed. It is nature” Bucky ponders and rubs his forehead, strange to say, after long musing, a spontaneous and by chance, a fantastic idea comes to his mind—to be honest with you. “It is not because of nature” he says all at once, calmly, he has reached a final determination. That answer agitates you, but you keep uneasily seeking for some sinister significance. You get up, slowly moving closer to him, standing in front of his sitting form. Bucky looks at you, your yellow dress of some light silky material, but put on strangely awry, not properly hooked up, and torn open at the top of the skirt, full of colorful stains, close to the waist. You stare straight at him. For one instant, the look on your face, in your eyes, has him puzzled— then he recognizes it. Curiosity—you are shocked, stunned, or thrown into a maidenly fluster. You are curious, you want to hear more, searching his eyes, but couldn't read his thoughts beyond the fact that he is considering you, considering what to tell you. “It is because of you” He stills, but his confident smile doesn't waver.

There is no going back as he removes his jacket, inviting you to madness, to sit on his legs. The sight literally steals your breath. His defined body, his creaminess of his forehead and cheeks, and the determined line of his jaw, the soft vulnerability of his lips, slightly parted. You see the scars on his legs, but your gaze is more drawn to the long block stranding out from his pelvis.

The gorgeous curves of your body somehow delineated beneath taut fabric, his eyes wonder shamelessly to your pink lips simply begging to be kissed. Their shape is etched in his mind, he wants the taste to be imprinted on his senses. "Here? You want me to sit here, on your lap?" The word, weak though it is, accurately reflects your disbelief. Your legs feels suddenly heavy, drowsiness comes upon them.

"Right here. Right now.” 

At this time, the setting, his words and the whole picture are so truth-like and filled with details so delicate, so unexpectedly—it leaves a powerful impression on the overwrought and deranged nervous system. You straddle him, knees dug into the couch beneath you, the solid columns of his thighs hard against your soft limbs. Bucky adjusts his hold as his hands slide about your waist, beneath your dress. You gasp desperately, clenching your hands on his shoulders, fingers sinking deep.

Then he lifts one hand, sliding one finger beneath your chin. 

Your sensitive skin comes alive to his touch. He tips your face up so that your eyes lock on his with heavy lids, watching flaring passion light your eyes. Sparks of pure innocence and want flashes in the depths as he gently kneads, then sends his fingers of his other hand to glide over your silken back. Desire heightens, needs escalates—and he is in no rush, you are too important to rush—conquering your senses and body is not all that he wants. He wants you forever and even though he doesn’t have the talent of art, he has the one of love.

He takes possession of your lips, your mouth. His hard lips move on your, and you soften, not just your lips, but every muscle. Slow heat washes through your body. When he pulls back, you swallow, and drag in a desperately needed breath. It is all pleasure, simple love—you become softer—he becomes harder, needy. The touch of his eyes, the touch of his hands. Art. As he is savoring you again, the softness of your mouth is his to enjoy, you feel his desire, the hard, throbbing length pressing against your panties. The softness of your thighs pressing firmly on both sides of his legs as you slowly grind against his cock and you can feel him attempting to buck his hips up to meet yours. The tension, pouring off him in waves, eases, just a little. He sighs, and rests his forehead on yours. Your innocence is addictive, entrancing.

Bucky shivers, eyes shut tight―he lets a low, wickedly teasing laugh. “I love you”

His lips brushes your in an inexpressibly tender caress. You kiss him, sliding your hands up, framing his face, so you can let him know―let him feel―your response to his words.

“Are you okay with doing it like this?”he murmurs, his tone deep. You gaze at his eyes, slowly nodding. "Good" The word is a feral purr then his hand slid lower, to lightly caress, with just the barest touch, the sensitive skin, moving the panties aside and rubbing his fingers along your folds, stroking and sliding slowly into you. Sweet pleasure washes through you, making you moan softly. His thumb presses your clit, moving in slow circles as two fingers slide deeper, finding the spot that makes you tremble. There it is.

“I want you inside me, please” The smile on his face, curving those fascinating lips―you are flushed yet so bold with words. He withdraws his fingers. You lift your hips as he tugs and shifts them until he is aligned, but you don’t wait as you sink on his cock to the hilt. A muffled groan escapes your lips as his length stretches your walls and you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, rocking slowly onto his cock, the head of it hitting your deepest places. Bucky’s hands travel to massage your breast, eliciting unexpected loud moans from you. His eyes locked on your face. “Don’t slow don’t, keep on riding me”

He states, his voice very low, it sends a most peculiar thrill through you, he grabs at your hips, impatiently thrusts up hard into your core, urging you to continue. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the small studio as you keep the moderate pace.

“I will come, Bucky” You keep on hitting your cervix as your trusts become harder, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking. An impossible pleasure goes through you, cumming violently, your throbbing walls milking his cock as he keeps on trusting through your orgasm, moaning before filling you up with his cum. 

“I think that sex is a form of art” You kiss him long and soft, and when you pull yourself away, you touch his mouth with your fingers. “I suggest you not to think more, Bucky”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky imagine #college!bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #request #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut

[charliemwrites]

Part 6 of Nikto's Commandments!

A little angst because... yeah. Comfort next, though! Whenever I get around to it...

So CW for injury

Being shot feels exactly how you expected it would.

You’ve cared for enough bullet wounds, listened to enough agonized soldiers, to imagine it in vivid detail. Asked Nikto once. He didn’t have the words to explain it, just shook his head and ushered you off to the next thing. Mumbled something about not wondering after what wouldn’t come to pass.

Getting dragged bleeding and delirious with pain now, you have the hysterical thought I told you so.

Speaking of Nikto, you don’t know where he is now. You separated on O’Conor’s orders – Nikto needed for stealth, and you needed as support for another squad member. He hadn’t been happy about it, eyes searing into yours. But you had nodded for him to follow orders and ducked away to get the mission over with.

If you live through this, he’s never going to listen to you again.

You’ve got two men dragging your half-dead weight down the hall, another leading the way in front. A smear of crimson follows after your legs like a demented snail. You kick and try to thrash, but it just sends white-hot pain throughout your abdomen and leaves your vision spotty. One of the enemies says something – hard to hear over the beating of your heart, the rush of blood, the thrush of your blood-soaked clothes along the floor. But you hear something about torture and feel your already-ruined stomach sink.

KorTac doesn’t save compromised assets.

You can hear Nikto’s voice in your ear but can’t reach your headset to answer; the men have both your arms. Fuck, fuck.

His face flashes through your panicky mind. Handsome and ruined and still so sensitive to cold air and humid weather. Eyes so startlingly bright but fathomless. It’s like trying to find the bottom of the sky. You love waking up to them.

He’s getting more frantic now, voice hard but brittle. Others chiming in as well, but you hear his above all.

You murmur his name, the one you’ve only hushed in the quiet of a dark car. Wish you could tell him one more time.

There’s a shift in your captors’ gaits. A stairwell. Your body jolts down the first stair and sends spikes of fire straight from your throat. It’s an awful scream, loud and cracking and only serves to make it hurt worse.

But there’s a sudden, deafening silence in the echo of your voice.

Then Nikto.

“Copy.”

The men stop, realizing that your screams are going to be an issue. The one in the lead wrenches your head back, trying to shove some sort of fabric in your mouth. But the knowledge the Nikto is coming, that you just have to hold out, sends the pain to the back of your mind. You twist and struggle, teeth sinking into flesh.

Your boot catches on the corner of the step and you push.

The soldiers lose their grip, and you tumble halfway down the stairs, head bouncing off cement. But your arms are free, and you manage to grab the pistol at your thigh. Fire wildly and hit one in the leg with a ricochet off the wall. All the while trying to scramble out of sight before they can reach for their own weapons.

You hit the landing with a bitten-off yelp. But you’re low on bullets and you’re not confident in your abilities with a knife right now.

And then a blur of black armor slams into one of the men, a knee in his throat, crushing his windpipe. Someone follows just behind – you recognize Konig by height alone. He throws another down the stairs, and the soldier doesn’t hesitate to take the head start he’s been given. Doesn’t even pause to try to use you for leverage, just begins limping away. The third man is quick to turn tail while his comrades are being assaulted.

“Run, bastard,” Nikto laughs, ragged and manic.

He turns as if to follow and your heart turns to ice. “Stop!”

It’s like you’ve physically yanked on his leash. He goes rigid, head whipping around to take in the state of you. You can almost measure the fury that floods him when he realizes how badly you are.

“Nikto, I need you here,” you say, as calm and even as you can. Same voice you use as in medical emergencies – well, technically, you suppose this is a medical emergency. “Leave it to Konig.”

He jerks as if you’ve offended him somehow. Like you’re unjustly punishing him. You struggle up onto one arm, gun forgotten in favor of applying what little pressure you can to your abdomen. Your throat feels tight with repressed fear, struggling to breathe through radiating pain.

“I know you’re angry, I do,” you strain, “but I need your help right now. Revenge can come later. I’m sure Konig can save one for you.”

Understanding seems to dawn through bloodlust. Nikto darts to your side between one ragged breath and the next. He kneels beside you, pupils shrunken to pinpricks.

“Go on, Konig,” you call, “I’ll be alright.”

He nods and disappears. You turn to Nikto and softly call his name; instantly have his attention.

“I need you to apply pressure,” you explain, “I can’t do it myself.”

He does, but you know he’s trying to spare you. Doesn’t want to hurt you. You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug.

“Harder, love,” you whisper, “or it’ll kill me.”

His mask shifts as he grits his teeth and puts his weight into it. You choke on a cry, swallow it down and try to blink through spots.

“G-good. Keep it like that.”

“You’re shaking.”

You hiss out through your teeth. “I might be going into shock.”

“That can kill you too.”

“I said ‘might’.”

“How do I fix?” he demands.

You swallow and lower your arms to your side. “Loosen my vest as much as you can. Radio someone else for help, they can get a blanket. Don’t let up on my side.”

You focus on regulating your breathing while he obeys, murmuring to himself in Russian. You occupy yourself with trying to translate – though it mostly sounds like curses. Still, it’s something for your brain to latch onto other than the severity of your injury. You wish you could risk speaking, but the adrenaline crash is already hitting, and you need to focus on staying conscious for as long as possible.

Soon O’Conor is there, the foil blanket flashing in the shitty stairwell lights. He also comes with a stim that stabilizes you enough for Nikto to scoop you up and get you to exfil. You lose the plot after that, swimming in and out of awareness through triage.

But through it all, you keep your hand around Nikto’s.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto's commandments #commandments au

[lixie-phoria]

↳ ♡₊˚. valentine's trouble ꒱

⧽ summary - not everything can be perfect, no matter how hard your boyfriend tries for it to be. he was bound to make mistakes at some point. but as the fates would have it, even his mistakes were perfect - a perfect coincidence!

chan x gn!reader // fluff fluff fluff! // wc - 1250 words // warnings - one sexual joke // happy valentine's day 🫶🏼

"channie?"

you can't find your boyfriend. you can't find your boyfriend in your own house.

"babe! where are you?"

he wasn't in the bathroom. he wasn't in your shared bedroom. he wasn't in the kitchen. he wasn't in any of his usual places.

a trickle of worry rolls into your mind.

"chan where-"

you stop dead, mouth still half open with your words dying at the tip of your tongue.

"what are you doing here?"

one problem solved - your boyfriend was slumped against the wall of your terrace, face contorted with an emotion you couldn't place, head hung low.

"babe? What's the matter?"

second problem uncovered - he avoids your eyes, pocketing his phone before looking away to the side. he's clearly hiding something from you.

"nothing."

"then why do you look so miserable?"

he clicks his tongue, awkwardly shuffling on his feet.

"it's nothing yn."

he wasn't even trying to hide his lie.

"channie-"

"you're going to hate me!"

you startle at his outburst, letting a beat pass in silence.

"why would I hate you?"

the very idea seems ridiculous. you didn't think you were ever capable of harboring any negative feelings towards your boyfriend.

"because i messed up, okay? I-" he breaks off, running a frustrated hand across his face.

"channie will you please tell me what's bothering you?"

when he finally meets your eyes, your heart sinks. he looks so sad a hint of worry creeps into your system.

"did you lose something? break something?"

"no! even worse - I forgot what date it is."

you stare back at him blankly, slowly wrapping your mind around his words. was today supposed to be something special?

"I don't understand Chris. is today an important anniversary or something?"

"it's valentine's week, yn! I was so caught up with work i forgot!"

his voice rings with disappointment, and you watch in confusion as he avoids your eyes when you take a step closer to him.

"yes channie it's valentine's week. what about it? there's nothing special to remember."

"no baby. i forgot that valentine's day is literally next week. i barely have time to plan something!"

and he seems so genuinely distraught you can't help the giggle that escapes your mouth, earning an exasperated glare from him.

"love, you don't have to plan anything for me. why are you so hung up about this?" you gently cup his cheek, urging him to look up.

"i'm barely at home and this is the one day i'm not supposed to miss."

"chan-"

"i remembered only an hour ago, and the restaurant I wanted to reserve for the day got booked out just this morning," he sadly whispers, leaning into your touch but still refusing to look you in the eyes. "i had been planning this for an entire year."

his voice trails off towards the end, and your heart aches as he looks like a kicked puppy.

chan's love language was acts of service. he did everything for you as far as he could - picking you up from work, looking after your health when you got too busy, never missing a date night, making sure you ate and rested well. there was nothing that he didn't do. and you loved him for it. so much. and you could only imagine how he felt upon forgetting a seemingly insignificant date.

"oh chan," you whisper, moving your hand from his cheek to his nape, tangling your fingers in his hair. "don't stress it, love. it's fine."

"but-"

"plus," you silence him, bringing your other hand to place a finger against his lips. "i already planned something for us. if anything it's good that the restaurant is booked! or our plans would have clashed."

"but yn," he brings his own hands to cup your wrist, entwining your fingers together. "that place is so pretty. it would have been perfect. and so romantic."

you shake your head, flashing him a small smile.

"channie, i promise we can go there sometime else, yeah?"

he still looks a bit dejected, but he lets a small smile stretch across his lips none the less.

"i suppose."

"see! it isn't that big of a deal."

"so which place did you reserve?"

"that's a secret!"

"hey! not fair!"

"can you at least tell me where it is?"

"nope. that would ruin the surprise."

you hear chan groan in the passenger seat as you drive through the busy streets of Seoul, patting his thigh comfortingly.

"this isn't fair. at least i always tell you where we're going!"

you laugh at his insistence, keeping your eyes trained on the road.

the week passed by so quick you barely realized it, and valentine's day came knocking on your door in the form of chan with your favorite bouquet of flowers, chocolates, and a will to coax the venue of your date for the special day.

"ok at least tell me what letter does it's name start with?"

"chan if you don't stop i will make you sleep on the couch tonight."

"you wouldn't dare deprive me of sex on valentine's day!"

you smack his arm, shaking your head in defeat as he laughs at your reaction.

"just wait for fifteen minutes babe. we're almost there."

you were going to stand your ground firmly.

you would not give in to his puppy eyes.

you even insisted on driving yourself so you wouldn't have to reveal the location.

"you're so mean," he mutters, sliding down in the seat.

but that's the last of his complains that you hear, because the rest of the ride is filled with your usual banter and jokes, and when you finally hit the breaks, and signal him to step out, he all but bounces out of the car in his excitement.

"thank you," you say gratefully as he opens your door, helping you out of the vehicle.

"so this is where - oh."

his mouth drops open, and he freezes in his spot, one arm still around your waist as he gaps at the building before you.

"surprise!" you say, a tinge of nervousness painting your words. "i hope you like it! hyunjin told me about this place a while back."

but you watch in confusion as he just stares at the restaurant with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

did he not like it?

"chan-"

"how did you know?"

you blink at him in confusion as he fully turns to face you.

"how did i know what?"

"this," and he points at the building with one hand, "is where i wanted to take you!"

"what?"

a laugh bubbles from him as he looks between you and the restaurant.

"this is the place i had in mind too! i wanted to take you here."

"you're joking."

"i can't believe it either," he agrees excitedly, finally moving along and pulling you with him.

"when did you reserve our table?"

"i think the morning when you told me you had forgotten it was valentine's week?"

"no way! you're the one who probably booked the last table i was trying to reserve!"

and his excitement is so contagious you can't help but laugh along, shaking your head.

"it worked out for both of us then," he says happily, slipping his hand into yours.

"yeah you were sad for no reason."

"hey! don't be mean!"

and hyunjin had been right.

the place was perfect. just like the man sitting in front of you.

it was a valentine's day well spent.

©lixie-phoria, 2024

permanent taglist - @foxinnie8 @hamburgers101 @starlostlaiba @jiisungllvr @hyunverse (send an ask to be added/removed!)

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan smut #chan smut #bang chan imagines #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #bang chan scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #kpop smut #skz fluff #kpop x reader #bang chan fanfic #skz fanfic

[anantaru]

umm hi i love the safe word ask for haitham ayato and wondering if it's ok to ask for a kaeya and diluc one? 🥺👉👈 only if your ok with it ofc 🫣

cw. saying the safeword, fem! reader

— kaeya

a bone rattling blow crocheted itself into kaeya‘s limbs and muscles faster than in any other occurrences prior.

yet, surrounded by the split second of your breaking utterance, the grueling moment compressed inside his brain the very moment he perceived your cries, kaeya never thought he would ever have to hear it from you— and a freezing coldness washed over him, strong enough to risk him breaking down in front of you.

beyond everything, he works swift to press himself off you and gather a blanket to cover your quivering body, but right now, kaeya doesn't say a single word to you, not before he's certain you're comfortable in your current location.

then, he forces himself to say something, even though his throat was pulling against it, tugging at the twitching limbs, "a-are you okay?"

sticking to the facts, he would love to smack himself in the face right now for a question this idiotic, at least he himself thought it was— you on the other hand nodded frantically while leaving your eyes shut, a mirage of crystallines sticking around your soused lashes but, step by step, fading away.

you sniffle while messily rubbing your eyes, "can you hug me?" and you're hesitant when you speak your sudden needs, although you do not have to. kaeya, your sweet kaeya, was quick to react, quicker then before as he silently plunged himself next to you— lifting his arm before helping you lean into him.

you do not remember the last time you sensed his heart in that manner, as it beat violently in his chest, it shattered your mind, for the first time full on recognizing his own fragility.

"i'm okay." you say, "i'm okay kaeya, i promise." but, you're his love, in his eyes, you are worth his life and all that he had left was you.

nonetheless, you do not see how he was beating himself up internally, all you witnessed was a trembling "I'm so sorry."

an utterance, while quick to spell out, it held a significant meaning to it, over and over he whispered it, sometimes accompanied by tears and cries, until you fell asleep surrounded by his strong arms.

— diluc

a mind numbing silence— one, which had followed the second you proclaimed the hurting safe word, when it emitted beyond the limits of your own voicing.

diluc‘s hips haltered immediately and his eyes blew open wide, dead and buried. you were his fire, producing the scorching hot flames that breathe all the more deeply for being closer together.

sincerely, diluc was ashamed of himself, he begins to doubt himself and if he was even worth it, at all, primarily that he ever let it go that far.

"love.." he whispers, breathing deep through his nose as you felt the weight of his large palms pulling you off him, "take your time, p-please, take your time, okay?"

diluc moves himself away but sinks down next to you, he sees it too, when you flinch at the slight spasm of pain and hurting, a clear suffering he was the sole reason of.

tears befell his eyes, sticking to his flesh, but diluc doesn't show them to you— not because he was embarrassed of it, it's more that he did not want to waver any attention towards him, this was about you and he needed to be here, to console and kiss away all your pain, if you let him of course.

you see, the man does not touch you, not anymore, at least not before you tell him it's alright. boundaries and the ability to listen were a huge cornerstone he never would've even dreamed of crossing, what he does was being content and aiding you to be comfortable within the warm closeness of fresh silken sheets.

"i think I'm fine now." you breathe a transparency out of your mouth, sloping an inch into his chest to signalize that, yes, it was okay again, that he was allowed to place his hands on you now— but your lovers heaves twitch at the mere sensing of your cheek against his chest as diluc feels how a cold sweat runs down the entirety of his spine.

"i apologize, i'm— I'm so sorry." he takes you gently in his arms, "and i will never let it get this far again."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #diluc smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #diluc x you #kaeya x you #genshin impact diluc smut #genshin impact kaeya smut #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact imagines #diluc x y/n #kaeya x y/n

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Dancing in the Dark

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 4)

—

Time written- 5:33 a.m

Titans! Jason Todd/fem!reader fluff/smut

(Tags: Kissing, sort of fingering/dry humping🔞✌️)

—

Jason had woken up with a dead phone around ten in the morning: a small price to pay for talking with his most favorite girl.

A childish giddiness riddled his mind as he put his phone to charge, anxious to call you or see your name pop up with your usual morning text.

However, to his surprise, he was met with a blank screen. No call, no text. For a solid five minutes, he stared up with exhausted eyes at his call history, seeing your name above how long the call lasted.

Three hours, thirty-three minutes, and thirty-five seconds.

A dreadful sinking began in his stomach, a tortuously hot guilt deep in his core. Did he go too far? Did he push you away? This was too soon - No.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, but he pushed it. He just had to push it. Now you’re never gonna talk to him again, are you?

He carried this guilt throughout the dreadfully slow hours of the day. A heavy stir of anxiousness weighed down on his shoulders the longer he went without a call or text from you. He wanted to reach out so damn bad, wanting to call to see if you were okay, then apologize about a hundred thousand times.

He loved talking with you, feeling it as an escape from his troubles of being himself; an outcast in his own supposed home.

He spent a good hour of avoiding his thoughts and emotions by training by himself, beating against his targets and training mannequins until his protected knuckles nearly bruised.

He wasn’t supposed to like you, but you reached out first, saving him an endless amount of self hatred and doubt on his behalf, fueling it up with precarious amounts of happiness.

Now he feels like he made things a whole lot worse by ruining this one special, quite unique friendship he had, pushing past boundaries that weren’t meant to be crossed.

Unless, that’s what you wanted to happen, too.

He had to admit, he was a hypocrite for accusing you of getting off on him last night. He couldn’t help that he found the computer geek attractive when you both first met. Regardless of your indifference towards each other at the time.

He’s spent plenty of late nights and long showers on days he was feeling untroubled enough to think of you, even more so than he was willing to ever admit after getting closer to you.

Time seemed to make his worries grow even worse, especially after a hot shower from his rigorous session. He peeks over at his phone, shoulders nearly coming to a slump at his lack of notifications from you.

A knock comes at his door, breaking the tense chain. Soft taps from none other than your delicate hands.

You stood on the other side after he opens it, looking ever so lovely with an embarrassed glow on your cheeks.

All tension seemed to slip off his shoulders upon seeing you, making a smile grow on Jason’s face. All his worries about your well being, fear of avoidance, and being ghosted dissipated like an ice cube dropped into hot water.

“Hey mama,” he softly greets, attempting to keep his composure.

“Hey.” Your soft tone riddled with enough nervousness and hesitation makes Jason’s guilt slowly return, bubbling dangerously at the bottom of his stomach.

“You busy?” You ask, making him quickly shake his head before further opening his door, silently inviting you into his semi-tidy room.

A pregnant silence surrounded the both of you as you remained standing where you were, glancing around as if to intentionally avoid looking him in the eye.

Jason exhales after a long moment, knowing he needed to break this ice the longer he stared at you. He started it, he had to own up to it.

“Hey, about last night—“

“Yeah,” you softly say to yourself. “Last night.”

“Right,” he nods, swallowing slowly as he maintains his distance, brushing his sweaty hands over his pockets. “Look … I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for it to go that far. I mean it, I’m sorry.”

You stare up at him with doe eyes, a faint aura of surprise coursing through your mind. Jason immediately owned up to his mistake, even if it didn’t exactly feel like one, though it was to be debated. He was taking ownership of it, something you’ve heard the others complain that he didn’t do.

Again, yet another thing the Titans got wrong about Jason Todd.

“I have a question, actually.” You gather the strength to speak up, to Jason’s surprise. Weren’t you going to… walk out on him? Yell at him? He’d stand still so you could hit him with something solid.

Maybe you were, after you understood more of the situation first.

“Sure, what?”

“So, what… what exactly brought it on?”

A short smile involuntarily creeps up on Jason’s face, followed by a measly shrug. He licks his lips before glancing towards the ground, pondering that very thought for a good moment or two.

“I don’t know what to say about it.” Jason goes on to say, smiling a little more towards the ground. “You’re funny, an’ smart. Hella hot, too.”

He goes quiet again, shrugging once more before raising his head. “You’ve put up with me. More than anyone else here bothers to do. So… yeah.”

It just happened. He wanted to finish his sentence by saying, but you understood. Your cheeks blooming from the sentimental compliments.

“So, those roses,” you nervously proceed. “Those weren’t just ‘thank you roses’, were they?”

Jason amusingly scoffs when you mention the flowers, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No. No, they weren’t.”

Again, Jason still wonders if he went too fast. Part of him wanted to take it all back, break the clock to turn back the arms. It was impossible now, and judging from the looks of you here, especially with your choice of meeting him in his room, he had somewhat good reason to believe that you were somewhat okay with it.

“We can still be friends,” Jason suggests, taking a casual step closer. “Maybe.. a lot closer than the usual stereotype.”

“Closer?” You question, watching him do so.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I don’t see a problem with it. As long as you don’t either.”

It would be very, very foolish of you to believe you could avoid Jason by any means after what happened between you both.

Your cheeks flushed from the night before; all the words he said, the things you’ve done in his awareness over the phone. It was incredible on a hardcore crushing girl’s stand point, but absolutely horrible on your friendship record.

You were both friends, supposed to be friends. The reminder of your bond made your hands tremble, but the recollection of what occurred made your core flush with warmth.

Jason slightly clears his throat before lightly scratching the side of his temple, taking his chance to fill the silence with some desperately required humor. “Y’know, I assumed you’d have had me on my ass right about now.”

“I mean, I totally would’ve,” you sarcastically boast, crossing your arms. “Don’t get me wrong. I just wanted to put all these pieces together first, see if what had happened… if it meant something.”

“It won’t mean anything if you don’t see it like that.” He pitches, his gaze unable to tear away from your rosy cheeks.

God, you’re so pretty. So cute, and quite brave to put yourself in this position.

“Did it mean something to you, mama?” Jason questions before cautiously stepping past your personal bubble, slimming the distance between you both. “You can tell me, I won’t get mad.”

Apprehension steals your nerves, making your throat run dry. You couldn’t help but crave the Jason you talked to over the phone, murmuring such filthy words into your ear through a screen. Things you’ve never considered him saying before, wanting him just as much as you wanted your friend.

Again, another border presented itself to you. This time, with a door behind held open in the center, beckoning you to walk through it.

You’re cute when you’re figuring out what to say. Jason’s smile subtly grew, his eyes scanning every adorable feature of your face.

“It meant a lot,” you finally admit, making him nod slowly after some thought.

“Good,” Jason murmurs, his nose merely inches away from yours, eyes repeatedly flickering down towards your lips with a slow, attractive desire.

His hands ever so carefully caress your sides, giving enough room and chance to slap them away if you needed to. You didn’t want to.

“That’s good, babe.”

His lips slowly settle along yours before you know it, melding against your own with a patient pause, silently pleading for you to accept. You gladly did so, remembering your use of hands as you guide them up to cradle his shoulders.

- -

You both still continued on with this friendship, even if that label was practically meaningless now, quickly washing away with water.

The late night calls and endlessly amusing texts continued, now with the addition of some particularly interesting additions. Full on flirts, pet names, nothing past what you weren’t comfortable with.

Jason kissed you plenty of more times since then, all of which were in precariously different scenarios, randomly falling along the scale of surprise.

During your chances of downtime in private during television commercials, Jason built a habit of catching you off guard via tickling your vulnerable spots, playing into your laughing spell before leaning close, sealing your giggles with a short kiss.

You had to admit to yourself, you often indulged in playing into his interests just for the sole fact of adoring his attention. Which resulted in his boldness shining through in ways you weren’t expecting.

Or, when he simply felt like it.

Most of the time, he just felt like it.

Riskier moments involved him noticing you ‘absentmindedly’ applying lip oil after a few occasional sips of water during your work on the Batcomputer.

You’d catch his gaze from the corner of your eye before giving him an innocent smile, lips glistening with a rosy tint before focusing back towards the screen.

During your work, he’d break your concentration by squeezing along your shoulders. Warm lips graze along your ear, encouraging you to take a break and go on a walk with him, to clear both your heads.

“Jason - Oh my god.” A breathless giggle leaves your lips as your back meets a chilly surface, combating his warm upper torso pressed against your front. A quiet, gloomy, secluded corner in the tower, just shy out of any camera range.

What can he say? He liked the risk, the excitement of sneaking off to steal a few kisses from his favorite girl. Regardless of what you were supposed to be doing.

“Jay, I mean it,” you exhale, your fingers grasping along the back of his hoodie while his lips tease along your soft neck, inhaling your sweet perfume.

“Dick needs me to—“

“Fuck Dick,” he mutters out with venom in his tone, the tightening clutch of his hands on your hips giving a hard squeeze. “Don’t care ‘bout what he wants. You’re mine right now.”

You’ve never seen him so giddy with attraction before. His smiles growing broader, a pleasant flush of color on the apples of his high cheeks. All he had on his mind was you, his pleasant little distraction from his dreadful hours of therapy every week.

Sometimes, that wouldn’t always be the case.

- -

“Babe.” His quivering exhale over the phone worried you to the very bone one night as you tidied up your apartment, getting a semi-unexpected call from Jason in the midst of a late storm.

He wouldn’t say what was going on, too distressed to comprehend anything over the phone, hiding his painfully obvious sobs on his end. Your aching heart couldn’t handle it, encouraging him to come to your apartment, insisting on staying up to meet him at the front door.

After twenty-five minutes, Jason could barely get a hold on hitting his third knock on the door before it pulled out of reach, your warm arms instantly enveloping his rain soaked body at your doorstep.

He clung to you instantly, sniffling nose breathing in the scent of clean, cozy vanilla and fresh laundry. The scents he associated with comfort, with safety.

“I just needed to get away from it all,” his muffled whimper catches along your shoulder, his voice broken and defeated in a way you rarely hear him.

It takes a while for Jason to calm down, but for him, you’d give him all the time he needed. The two of you sit on the ground, backs settled against the couch with mugs of hot drinks in hand, a comfortable silence bathing both your minds as the rain relentlessly batters along your windows.

Bruce, Dick, Hank, the rest of the Titans. His past even, coming back to haunt him in the worst ways. The reasons varied, but he didn’t voice them. You didn’t need him to voice them, you only needed to understand.

His phone rings, slicing through his settling anxieties until he peeked at the caller ID. He hands you his phone, his gaze pleading with you to answer Gar’s concerned phone call, in which you gladly did so. You soothe both your friend’s worries, telling him that Jason was alright, which was the biggest concern on Gar’s mind.

“I don’t feel comfortable going back,” Jason admits after you hang up, his eyes too focused on the liquid in his coffee cup. “Not now. Not for a while, I think.”

You express your agreement by settling your hand along the back of his palm, giving a gentle squeeze.

“That’s okay,” you reply, watching his gaze linger over towards your hand. “It’s gonna be okay, Jason. You don’t have to go back, not right now.”

He stares on quietly, his head nodding in thanks while pondering over various ideas. Your head turns over your shoulder to peer at the couch. No, not the couch. Not for him.

“Y’know, My bed has two pillows.” You proceed to say, attempting to wind up some awful humor to get the tiniest response of amusement out of him.

Jason glanced at you with a puzzled expression, nearly making you stumble on your words.

“Two.” He repeats, still visibly riddled with confusion.

“Well, more like five,” you shrug after quickly sipping some of your tea, trying to save yourself from further embarrassment. “But one of them just might have your name on it.”

His lips slightly curls into a tired smile, accepting your offer within that very moment.

- -

It made the most logical sense to assume that after a hot shower, Jason didn’t intend to go straight to sleep with you in your bed.

He found you in mid process pulling back the blankets and adjusting pillows, bent over along hands and knees over your bed.

You failed to register Jason’s presence behind you after you slip off, turning around with a sudden gasp from the scare.

He smirks, quietly watching your eyes immediately gaze along his shirtless figure, down to where he had slid on some sweatpants.

There it was; those tiny embers of arousal in your eyes that formed when you returned his gaze. A flame whirring to life in your innocent little head, tainted with memories of words he’s told you in confidence, leaving you aching for more.

His towel dried hair clung to beads of water like gemstones, residual droplets rippling down his toned arms and chest.

The front of your sleep shirt grew damp with water when Jason clutches you close by your hips, his lips meeting yours without a second longer of wait.

The height difference, coupled with his physique looming over when he kissed you had you leaning back, your hands slowly bracing against the mattress before you suffer a clumsy fall.

Jason’s forearms braced along the spaces beside your head at first, shadowing over your body like a broad, protective layer once you laid down. A hand grasps along your hip, tips of his fingers lightly trailing along the seam of your shorts before grasping your thigh, raising it up along his side.

“Don’t worry,” he rasps along your ear, picking up on the nervous shudder in your breathing. “I’ll be easy. Just been dyin’ to taste you.”

Your hand quickly grasps hold of his, painfully tense fingers wanting to pry them away from your hip. He paused, his head looming over yours with a noticeably concerned expression.

Feeling guilty, you prepare to say it’s accidental, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Jason, I—“ You open your mouth to testify, but he gently shushes you.

“No - shit. It’s my bad,” he exhales. “You don’t feel ready. That’s okay, we don’t gotta do anything.”

Damn him for tainting your mind with such erotic promises all before. Your arousal proceeded to get the better of you, despite his consideration on your behalf.

“Is their anything we can do?” Your pleading eyes made him groan a curse out from under his breath. Damn him for his waning control.

He kisses you again, trying really hard to hide his growing smile. Right, you’re his little eager girl, mentally ruined by his never subtle advances.

“We can try something, if you up to it.” He proposes, gazing down on you with a warm, hungry glimmer in his eyes.

“Like what?”

“Something that doesn’t require taking clothes off, but you gotta trust me.”

Chaste kisses lead towards a passionately drawn out make out, bodies shifting in between the blankets. An arm settles around your torso, slow fingers cupping and squeezing your breasts through your shirt.

Your breathing settles from soothing words whispered against your ear, but nothing could settle your raging heart from the fingers that slipped underneath your shorts, teasing along your damp underwear before easing them aside.

Warm slick quickly coats his fingers, a pleased little hum leaving Jason’s throat shortly after.

“Almost feel a little sorry for you. Havin’ to use a toy to get yourself off, babe.” He mumbled between your little whimpers.

His middle finger lightly brushes over your swollen clit, making you wince. Smirking, he repeats the action a few more times, watching your hips slightly tense and jolt.

It was nothing like when you touched yourself, barely managing to stroke along your own clit for a few seconds before the sensitivity grew too much. Jason was relentless, leaving you completely at his mercy to touch you how he pleased.

His fingers pry your smooth, velvety lips open before dipping a finger inside, groaning lustfully against your neck as your virgin walls eagerly squeeze around his digit.

All you could do as his victim was whimper and take it, too embarrassed to beg for more, too shy to reach behind and take him in hand, urging him to fill you.

Jason's restraint on his own vocals grows thinner by the minute, his ragged groans vibrating along your skin as he listens to your eager little virgin hole cry out for something more, begging to be fucked and stretched to the limit. An unabashed excitement at seeing you fall apart from his doing alone was the perfect distraction, muddling his frustrations into dying whispers.

Seeing you as you are, sprawled along Jason's spread legs, hitching pitiful whimpers as he fucks a second finger into your sopping cunt had him seething with arousal. His cock painfully begging to be free from his sweats.

“I bet your tiny hands can’t reach like mine can, but I know my cock will,” he mumbled before kissing you. His thumb draws relentless circles on your little nub while fantasizing about what he’d do to your pussy.

You writhe in his lap, moaning freely against his lips as his fingers buck further into you. Your inconsistent grinding of your ass forced some much needed friction on his cock, angrily throbbing in his sweats.

“Y’think this little pussy is ready to take me yet?” he coos at you, as though his fingers aren’t digging into your cunt and rubbing along your heated walls, crooking them just right as his palm relentlessly stimulates your nub.

“D-Don’t say that,” you pitifully whine, your nails digging into the skin of his forearm.

“Shhh, just prepping you, babe. That’s all we’re doin’ tonight.”

Your hips twitching, your head pressing back against his shoulder.

Jason only chuckled at those pretty, teary lashes flutter when he thrusts his fingers faster, grunting along with your choked moan when your hips buck once more.

“Jason, fuck- oh my God. Please don’t stop.”

He felt himself aching during his slurred words, but he set himself aside. Right now, his main priority was his sweet little Princess getting exactly what she deserves.

“I’m not stoppin’, mama. Y’can count on that.”

#Jason Todd smut #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader smut #titans jason todd #jason todd x reader #titans dc #titans #jason todd #idk what I’m doing girl #it’s just happening #titans Jason Todd x reader #titans Jason Todd x reader smut

[saetoshi]

itoshi sae hates laundry day ever since your dryer broke.

(he broke it. neither of you know what he did, but he broke it and he hasn’t bought a new one since.)

he especially hates when it rains. it means he’s stuck with a pile of wet clothes and no place to dry them in.

it also means he’s stuck sitting in front of the doors to your balcony, glaring at the sky when he realizes the rain isn’t going to let up soon.

he hears the front door open, signaling your arrival. he makes no move to look at you, but he greets you back when you call out to him.

“it’s raining.”

“i know,” he sighs in annoyance.

“do we have a bucket?”

“i think so,” he gets up from his spot on the floor with a groan, “why?”

he turns his head in your direction, eyes widening in panic when he sees you standing by the door, soaking wet.

you point at the clothes clinging to your body, “it’s raining hard.”

“i know,” he rushes to you, “why’re you drenched?”

“i could’ve sworn i packed your umbrella,” he clicks his tongue, lifting up your arms to get you out of your shirt.

you kick your pants off, “it broke.”

he picks up your clothes, dragging you to the bathroom. he tosses your clothes in the sink, gently pushing you into the shower.

he takes his phone out to check the weather, slightly frowning when he realizes it won’t let up for at least another hour.

he relaxes when he hears the shower head running. “i made food.”

the corners of his lips quirk up when you groan in disgust.

“couldn’t you have ordered delivery or something?” he can hear the distress on your voice.

“it would’ve taken too long to arrive,” he bites back his smile, “plus, i was starving.”

you whine. he laughs, “eating my food once won’t kill you.”

“last time you cooked,” the shower head turns off, “we had to rush to the hospital because you gave me food poisoning.”

you stick your arm out of the shower door.

“first off,” he hands you a towel. “you were already sick.”

“and,” he grins when you step out of the shower, towel snug around your shivering frame, “if my food had, in fact, poisoned you as you say, then why was i completely fine?”

you glare, averting your gaze from his, a soft huff slipping past your lips. “you tell me.”

you perk up, turning your head towards the sink. “why are my clothes in the sink?”

“the washer’s full with our laundry.”

you turn to look at him, blinking curiously. “why didn’t you throw them in there, then?”

“the clothes in the washer are already clean.”

“oh.” you sway on your feet, “you haven’t dried them?”

sae shakes his head, a dry smile on his lips, “it’s raining really hard.”

and amused hum leaves your lips, “you really need to buy a new dryer.”

“i know,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “i’ll do it tomorrow.”

there’s a beat of silence.

“sae.”

he looks at you.

you point at the sink, “those were the only clean clothes i had left.”

he blinks. you blink back, a sheepish smile on your lips. he sighs before taking off his shirt and offering it to you.

“that’s the only clean shirt you have left too, isn’t it?” you tentatively reach out to grab it, motioning for him to turn around.

“how’d you know?”

you slip the shirt over your head, smiling at his curious tone, “it’s the only big shirt you have.”

“you also said you’d be caught dead before wearing it out in public,” you laugh in amusement.

(he did say that. the very first day you saw him in it, actually. it’s officially become his ‘i’ve got nothing else left to wear’ shirt.)

“whatever,” his ears flush, “can i turn around now?”

you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he does. he kisses your forehead in return.

“c’mon.” sae tugs you out of the bathroom.

“where are we going?”

“kitchen.” he turns to look at you, a mischievous smile on his face, “you haven’t eaten yet.”

a horrified expression paints your face. he laughs at you. you try to wriggle out of his grasp, “i’m not hungry!”

“oh, please,” he rolls his eyes, “you’ll be fine.”

“itoshi sae,” you cry, “if i die i’m leaving everything i own to your little brother!”

“you don’t even know him.”

you sulk, “he still deserves it more than you!”

he scoffs, “it’s not like i’m the one doing your laundry or anything.”

“you broke my dryer.”

“i’ll buy you a new one.” he glances out the window. it’s not raining as hard. (he hopes it stops soon.)

“it better be a good one.”

he looks back at you, a smile tugs at his lips to return the one on your face. you both fall silent, the soft pitter patter of the rain against your windows being the only sound in the apartment.

you stay like that for a bit, the sound of rain soothing both of you. until you hear a thunderclap. sae’s eyes widen at the same time yours do. you stare at each other for a few seconds.

your lips form into a fine line, “we should order a dryer.”

“yeah,” he sounds breathless.

“we should do it now.”

“yeah.” he dumbly nods his head. “we should.”

#this man has a fucking DEATH GRIP ON ME I CANNOT #ITOSHI SAE LET ME BE FREE !!!!!!!!! #failwife sae #i think it’s so funny how he canonically does not know anything besides soccer !!!!! #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock x you #bllk fluff #bllk scenarios #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae #blue lock sae #sae x you

[seraphiism]

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ┊ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ;

characters : xiao / alhaitham / ayato fandom : genshin impact

↬ xiao ࿐ ࿔

you imagined this would have gone differently. you imagined xiao would be frantic, furious-- not at you, but at those who dared bring you harm. you imagined he'd be scolding you endlessly for such acts of recklessness, but he does not. instead, he chooses silence, expression stoic, almost unreadable, and it makes the heart sink into uncertainties.

it is silent.

there is a heaviness that lingers in the air as he tends to your wounds, fresh cuts stinging and irritated by the balm he applies in the gentlest of ways. you imagined this would be so much more different, and you almost wish it was, because you can feel his hurt like it is your own, and you know that he believes your pain is his, always and forever.

the salve is cool against your skin ; it tingles, the back of your hand, but a warmth replaces the sensation as his fingers dance across the injuries. he doesn't look at you, but instead, chooses to displace his anxiety and frustration in the way he takes care of you.

you tilt your head the slightest bit, force your gazes to meet as you smile faintly. it is a guilty smile, he notices, and he does not return it, nor can he bring himself to look away.

"i am still here, xiao."

then, he speaks for the first time tonight.

"you should have called me. you know you cannot face dangers greater than yourself alone."

there is something in his words-- a grief, the thought of what could have been, a preemptive readiness for the loss of a loved one-- and your smile turns somber. he is right. you should have asked for help. you are lucky to have survived the night, and you both are well aware of that.

you grab his hand, squeeze it gently despite the pain. you can see that small flicker of surprise in his eyes as you pull him towards you, and in the way your lips meet his, there is the quiet seeking of forgiveness and a known gratitude.

"i'm sorry, xiao." you murmur against his lips. "i will be sure to speak your name when the time arises."

↬ alhaitham ࿐ ࿔

"be honest. you're pissed."

alhaitham is quick to care for your wounds, but he is not quick to panic. not a surprise, really, and it's also not really a surprise as to how he's acting.

"i'm not angry". he states, a blunt brutality in his words. "i'm just disappointed."

you don't say anything initially, your expression deadpan as it meets his before you throw him a half-hearted glare. there's a slightly teasing tone in his response, though you know he means them. had you been a stranger, you would have thought he was dead serious.

"i'm sorry," you start, "i almost thought i was being grounded for a second."

alhaitham doesn't say anything at first, simply stares at you-- and it's a long while of just looking at each other until the first person breaks. he's almost certain you will be the first to lose in this battle of resilience-- you always are, albeit through his own means. so he scoots a little closer to you, leans forward until all you can see or think about is him. he cups your face with his hand, touch gentle, almost too warm, and how steady it is that he holds your gaze.

"you are." he murmurs, and you almost think you see a hint of a smile when you finally look away, begrudgingly leaning back the slightest bit in silent admit of defeat.

"shut up."

"i won't." he answers. "now come back to me. you have a scratch on your face, you know."

"oh. is that why you were getting so close?"

"yes," alhaitham chuckles, and you are unsure what makes your heart beat faster : the love in it, or the way he closes the distance between you once more, "but i also happen to like you, too."

↬ ayato ࿐ ࿔

"beloved, you wound me so."

there's a faint curve that settles on ayato's lips, but there's worry in that smile, and you know that no amount of words can ease it. you let out a quiet laugh, your hands in his as he squeezes them gently in comfort to both you and him : to you, in means of letting you know that he is there for you, and to him, in means of reassurance that you are still here, still alive and breathing.

there's bandages all over your body-- no serious injuries, thankfully, but there are still so many, and how they adorn you terribly so.

"and i thought i was the only one who was wounded." you respond, a lighthearted tone in your words. you do not wish to see him sad, nor do you wish to add any additional stress to his already hectic routine. ayato has experienced much loss in his life -- and even now, he must be on guard for those who wish to harm him through means of hurting those he cares for. you squeeze his hand twice : a quiet apology, an i'm sorry, and he hears it loud and clear.

"in spirit, i'm hurt, too."

your laughter grows a little louder. he's always been so cheesy and theatrical when it came to romance. the worry in his smile dissipates, turns into something of genuine relief at your reaction. though you may be littered in wounds, it's clear that you are alright.

"well, we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, pressing a kiss to his forehead in yet another means of apology. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to worry you." you whisper, and you press your forehead against his. "i'm alright, love. thank you for taking care of me."

#xiao x reader #alhaitham x reader #ayato x reader #favoniuslibrary #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #i havent written one of these multis for genshin in forever i am So rusty .......... #.: multi

[ohraicodoll]

Be Still

(Gif Credit Joel-Miller) Joel Miller x fem!reader The Last of Us (Show/Game) 1.4k Words (3rd POV) Summary: It takes her a while to see what’s happening to him. Joel is having a panic attack.  (I’ve never written so fast but had to after watching ep 6!!)

It happened twice before she realized what it was.

At first she worried it was a heart attack. That Joel was having a heart attack in the middle of the forest and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. It wasn’t a knife wound or gunshot, nothing she could patch up and stitch together. She hadn’t been a doctor in any life, was more skilled in killing than healing, and they didn't have medicine to give him. His age had never been a thing she cared about or was too concerned with. The world wore them down equally, harshly, and he always seemed to defy the number. Was stronger than anyone his age like through his rage he could defy his body. It wasn’t a heart attack though. She could see the bright whites of his eyes, the way they unfocused and his breath would hitch under the press of his hand against his chest. The shallow breaths coming in and out in frantic off-kilter beats. It wasn’t the cold like he tried to play it off as, wasn’t his age or at least not entirely. Panic attack. Joel Miller was having panic attacks and was trying his best to hide them. They’d started after a few close calls. Ellie getting hit or her almost getting her head shot off. Running from a small horde that had built up inside a locked shop they’d inadvertently let loose. The more close calls they had, the more she could see his anxiety build up. And now it was flooding over, manifesting in a way she was startled to see in the man who always seemed like an impenetrable fortress. He was never afraid. But that was fear in his eyes as he rubbed his hand over and over against his chest, staring at the infected at her feet sporting a new bullet hole. So close. It’d been so close to her. Had dropped out of the second floor window of the cabin they stood outside of. And she hadn’t reacted fast enough but he had. Her eyes took in the way he stared, the hollow blank gaze, the twisting of his lips as they shook. Panic. There was panic and fear there. “Ellie, go clear out that shack and start laying out camp for the night,” she ordered and tried to keep her voice steady, not wanting to give away that anything was up, “We’ll clean this up and patrol the grounds real fast.” The teen sighed audibly and tucked her gun away into her pocket overdramatically, not noticing Joel’s silence as she walked towards the small open shack a dozen yards away. The house the infected had come from was dilapidated, all the windows broken and looking like it was sinking in on itself. Not the safest. As soon as the girl was a good distance away and out of direct view, she walked towards Joel slowly as if approaching a skittish animal. His breath was a wheeze in the silence and he almost jumped when her hands reached out and touched his cheek. “Sit, come on. Nice and slow, just sit on the ground,” she coaxed him, cupping his face and drawing his attention away from the dead body. His eyes were glazed but he sank to his knees, hard and crunching the dried leaves. He was still upright, not allowing himself to fall onto his heels and sit completely, so she followed his lead. Knees to knees, her breath mingled with his and one hand went over the ones clutched to his chest, “Come on, Miller, I need you to take deep breaths in and deep breaths out. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” He was shaking, fingers digging into his shirt like he wanted to try and claw his heart out. His beard was rough against her palm, the silver hairs catching the dying light. Joel looked so lost. He never looked like that, was a constant pillar of confidence against the world. Unshakeable. To see him look that way, scared for the first time in a long while, had something twist inside her. His breaths were still shallow, lips quivering, so she mimicked the routine. Loud breaths in, deep sighs out, “You gotta breathe for me, Joel. In and out, real steady.” Awareness was slowly seeping into his eyes and her fingers slipped between his, clutched in his grasp. He focused on her and started to breathe, swallowing heavily. They were broken, stuttered gasps but he was trying. Her hand stayed on his cheek and she could feel each attempt, see the color and life come back to him. “There you are,” she whispered with a gentle smile, one that was usually reserved for Ellie. Joel never liked things gentle, rejected softness, so she had never offered it. Everything between them was rough, brutal, from the way they fought to how he would smash his mouth against hers during those tiny moments of privacy. 

They had hated each other and then…they didn’t. But it was never gentle, wasn’t love or even affection. 

She didn’t expect to be the one to keep him from breaking apart. His breathing was getting steadier, more confident. She almost smiled wider, “Okay. Go over the supplies we have in the first aid kit.” A furrow appeared between his brows, the first hint of Joel coming back, “What?” “Just do it, Tex,” it was a command but stayed coaxing, soft even as his fingers gripped her own so hard her bones protested. His eyes flickered all over while he struggled to think and her forehead came to rest against his, “Five things then in the kit.” Their matched breathing warmed her and with a stutter, Joel started listing things. Gauze. Tape. Needle and thread. Scissors. Tweezers. “Technically, that’s six,” she smirked and was pleased that by the end of the list, his breathing was back to normal and he was no longer shaking. “You can’t have a needle without thread. It’s one item,” Joel huffed roughly, not much humor in the comment. Silence took them over and neither moved. She knew his knees had to be hurting against the cold hard ground because hers were starting to, but she didn’t want to be the first one to pull away. She’d stay kneeling there all night if it was what he needed because somewhere along the lines of months they’d all been traveling, Joel had become one of hers. Not only Ellie, but this gruff older man who bit off her head yet gave her the bigger pieces of jerky and would sometimes stop her to kneel and tie her shoes for her. He took care of them both. In the dark he shared his favorite bands growing up and in the light acted like the sight of her made him angry. And now holding him after seeing him deal with a panic attack, she wondered how much of what he felt was hidden under layers and layers. If she’d ever actually get to know Joel and not only what he wanted her to see. Because he wasn’t unstoppable, wasn’t fearless. He was petrified. Slowly, she leaned forward and grazed his nose with her own. The prickle of his mustache and beard against her skin drove tingles across her skin, his breath warm against her lips. He didn’t stop her, didn’t shove her away and walk off even after she’d witnessed a vulnerability. Instead he leaned forward and met her lips with his, the barest of touches. More a press than an actual kiss. It was the gentlest thing she ever felt from the man and it seemed to do more than all the times he tasted her skin and pressed his tongue against her. She pressed harder, kissed him deeper, and tried to pour out everything she knew he would reject out loud. You’re okay. I’m okay. I’ve got you. His hand gripped hers but softened in answer. They wouldn’t talk about it. She knew as much not to push that. But he didn’t try to play it off and instead let her keep that secret of his and take on its burden. It was one of the few things they shared and she would guard it, guard him as fiercely as that little girl.

Even after she broke their kiss, gave him a small smile and helped him get to his feet so they could go check on Ellie, he didn’t let go of her hand.

#raicodoll writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #tlou #the last of us #tlou spoilers #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x feral reader #series: feral #oc: red #this stuck in my mind hard #def as someone that deals with panic attacks

[k-atsukibakugou]

w/c: 1.2k tw: second year bakugou x reader, uh a touch self-inserty, i need to be a comforting presence or ill cry; unedited i just had some brainworms, spoilers a lil for the manga, blood mentions, kinda mutual pining-y

picking at the small plant beside your bed, you plucked another dead leaf off its stem, a small, light yellow one beneath it ready to unfurl and take its place. with a small frown, you think of how the plant was abandoned at the end of your first year, stuck unwatered in the dorms, the small pot the last on anyone's mind after the year you'd all gone through.

you stroked through the leaves once more, all of them begging to be hydrated. glancing at the time, 2:30 flashed back at you, your first night back already becoming your second morning.

sighing, you give up on trying to quiet your thoughts for tonight, accepting the plant's plea to be watered, taking your bottle with you, tiptoeing out of your room towards the common area, looking nearly like a zombie with your arms ahead of you in the dark, guiding your way in the dark.

you were nearing the sink, about three feet from it when you connected with another body, solid and stationary even at your crash into them, a grunt and an arm coming up to catch you before you slipped backward the only evidence you hadn't run into a wall.

"the fuck are you doin'?" even in the dark, dead of the night you'd recognise bakugou's voice, thick and gruff but somewhat hushed in the kitchen. adjusting to the lowlight, you finally could make out his silhouette, the spike of his hair, the square shape of his fist still hooked around your arm keeping you steady. with your hand to your beating heart, you breathed out a laugh, the spike of adrenaline waking you up more than you already had been.

"i could ask you the same, aren't you usually sleeping like a baby by 8?" you teased, wiggling out of his loose hold to lean against the counter, your new angle lighting his face in the cool moonlight. the red scars looked black in the pale light, your sure the one at his chest is worse, despite that, all you can focus on is his bitten fingernails, red, jagged, cuticles peeling away from the skin; the darkness around his eyes looking like bruising, looking only darker when his hair fell over his eyes. ever perceptive, his scarlet irises scanned your face, too, finding the same dark circles as his own around your eyes, your fingertips anxiously picking at a hangnail, his eyes almost soft when they meet yours again.

"can't sleep?" your tone softens, both of you like a mirror for the other, exhausted but determined. determined for your second year not to end like the first. to be normal 17 year olds, normal second years, as close to normal as you could get at u.a.

you almost don't catch his nod, if it could even be called that, mostly just katsuki tensing his jaw and jutting his chin out, "you?"

its the quietest you've ever heard him, you try not to stare too wide-eyed at him, nodding in response, awkwardly gesturing to your water bottle, "i'm watering my plants."

you glance back down to the bottle in your arms, worrying about your plant feeling useless standing here with him, the boy who died, the boy who survived while you fretted over rotting leaves.

you study him in silence, setting the water bottle down gently, the silence broken by the soft clanking of the metal against the counter; you desperately wanted to tear through the silence with comfort, advice, something to help your stubborn classmate. instead of anything of substance, your voice cuts through the silence to whisper, "i have a little playlist for when i can't get to sleep."

"i don't need fuckin' lullabies." i need something that'll work.

you knew all that was unsaid, he needed something to help him rest, to keep the dreams away, the memories of the war, the memory of how he died, to sleep and see nothing instead of blood.

katsuki glares with the heat of the sun hearing you click your tongue at him, his lips curling in an ugly snarl that didn't match his sleep deprived eyes, "it's not lullabies, idiot."

your teasing is soft, a gentle hand reaching for his wrist, fingertips brushing over his warm skin before you whispered again, "it's soothing, to have something fill the silence...helps me think less, i can show you?"

again, he hardly nods, the defeat in his eyes foreign to you, his insomnia wearing him down long before your second year started, working himself to exhaustion no longer working, warm showers keeping him up instead of soothing his skin, even evening stretches ending with him just as drained as he was when he first woke back up. what harm could your lullabies do?

you don't take his hand, looping your fingers around his wrist instead, the intimacy of guiding him by his hand somehow where you drew the line instead of the heart to heart in the pitch dark kitchen, dropping your grip only when your dorm door quietly latched behind him.

under the warm wash of your lamp, katsuki looked even worse, his face different than when you met him, more grown up, determination still lighting up his eyes, even as they flashed around your room weakly, his eyelids dragging with every blink. as if on autopilot, he sits in the centre of your bed, his fingers fiddling with the sheets, smoothing over the creases from where you laid before, pausing to rest where they were warmest from you.

the soft sounds were already playing from your phone, a gentle rain tapping against your balcony window only adding to the ambience, you smile inwardly at the imagery of katsuki like this, stiff at a sleepover, frowning even in his sleep.

"this shit really gets you to sleep? doesn't sound like anything" his bleary eyes find you again, his voice gravelly with sleep even as he scoffed. you laugh softly again, airy in your room, it catches katsuki's attention, too tired to think of acting indifferent to the spike in his heart rate hearing your joy.

"you normally sleep sitting up?" you ignore his grumbling, sliding into the bed beside him, both of you sitting atop the covers, the sheets crinkling and creasing underneath your bodies, again the line of intimacy blurred; under the blankets far too close for this, even as you tug him to follow you when you lie your head onto the pillow.

still, he lies beside you, on his side, only an inch of space between your faces, your knees nearly knocking as he got comfortable, a slow sigh escaping him. katsuki's eyes stayed trained on your face, his body fighting the exhaustion just to watch you, your lamp washing you in a glow that he'd gladly lose sleep just to admire.

"better?" katsuki thinks your voice is softer than a mouse's, although not as soft as your touch at his hairline, his eyelids drooping at your barely-there touch, a hum in his throat all he was capable of anymore, the intense tired he felt catching up to him here with you. you kept your fingers in his hair, gently scratching at his scalp when he sighed again.

you stare at him as you plant tender touches over his head, his neck, down to his shoulders until his breathing evens, not another word shared between you, not a single word needed as you slipped into your own slumber beside him.

for once plagued only by memories of your giggle instead of threats and villains.

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost or recommend my work on other platforms or translate my works, i do not give permission for my works to be bound and sold. 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

#idk what this is but i had to get her out #「mercury thoughts」 #dividers by me #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #「kat <3」 #tw: blood #bnha spoilers

[tsukasalvr]

# BLACK HAIR (DARK CONTENT, DEAD DOVE:DO NOT EAT)

“It’s just what you did, don’t hang up the phone, I love you to death” — ALEX G:BLACK HAIR

Scaramouche x reader

AN: Very much vent post, everything’s getting worse and my friends and family are becoming worried for my safety bc of my sh and my past attempt and I refuse to get help rn but maybe soon so here’s a vent ff cus it’s late and my fav guy character in the game

Warnings!: DARK CONTENT, DEAD DOVE:DO NOT EAT, suicide, cannibalism, self harm, describing of cannibalism and organs, slight description of self harm, slight yandere!Scaramouche, captive/kidnapped reader, don’t like this? don’t interact, this is my vent post, was actually dozing off while writing so might make changes in the future

SYNOPSIS: Each day you feel colder and colder in his arms, and it irritates him every time he’s next to you.

He was never one to stay focus on one thing for too long—being stuck in the past can be messy.

But even then he always went back to you, always going back to the room you were kept in. The pristine white walls and floors so clean you could see your reflection, even now after weeks he still made sure the room was tidy. The large bed in the middle of the room with silk sheets, the softest pillows that you could sink your head in with a mattress that you could just die in from how comfortable you would feel to go with.

A thick blanket over you, he pulled it ever so slightly up to make sure you wouldn’t get cold but it only seemed to stick onto your bruised oozing body being glued onto the bed from the blood-containing foam leaks. But even then all he could feel when he rubbed your cheekbones in his delicate hands was cold. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make you warm.

It irritated him.

No matter how many times he stayed in bed beside you and held you in his arms, you were still cold. Every night he would fall into a routine, lay beside you, and watch for any movement but the only movement and sounds he could detect was the maggots crawling in and out of a large cavity in your chest. He didn’t care enough to clean it up, not when the sounds were the only thing keeping him from spiraling in the silence of the room.

Gently rubbing his fingers back and down your wrist, watching the skin the tighten then loosen again around the white and purple scars. Feeling the bumps every time he did. He pitied you, every time he would visit your room, he would see your trembling figure with a new blazing red scar each time in your wrists and legs, and each time he would scold you for it. Maybe that’s why he carved into your chest a week after it happened, he pitied you, maybe that’s why he took your heart from your chest to feel the damp and spongy organ in his hand, feeling the still cold blood running through his hand and dripping onto his clothes. He pitied you, that’s why he took your heart, to protect you, you were too weak and needed protecting. That’s why you did what you did.

But still, why did it bother him? Why did it bother him that you were still so cold in his hands, he pitied you is all so why does it still bother him after these six weeks.

Why did it make him feel so alone the moment he saw you dangling figure on the ceiling, swaying slightly as if it was recent. Hanging from many clothes wrapped and tied tightly—clothes he bought you. The brushing around your neck was the only thing there, no irritation—no signs of struggle or regret. It’s like you actually wanted to do this and he couldn’t believe it.

You really did need him by your side after all, is what he would tell himself. You were so weak willed that you had the audacity to take your own life, it only meant that you had a weak spirit since before you met him. It wasn’t his fault.

He had no part in this and he should still feel the same after, so why does it still bother him, why does he feel so empty now that your gone. He just feels even more of an empty vessel.

Carefully holding the non-beating heart in his hand, the rich red color contrasting from his ghostly pale slim hands as he sat down on the bed beside you. Feeling the maggots crawling around near his feet. He brought the heart to his face, inhaling and hoping for any sort of the warm sweet smell you had—but all he could smell was rot and decay. The gas was foul, your corpse emitting a rotting-flesh and shit like odor—and Scaramouche had no doubt that any agents who passed by could detect the smell and would hurl from it. He wonders what they would think if they walked in and saw the sight. The sight of him looking dazed sitting next to your decomposing body, your disgusting rotting body.

Bringing the cold organ to his lips, he pressed a light kiss onto it, red smearing his lips slightly. He sat there with one knee touching your cold-naked blemished leg, watching the heart as the glow of the moon came in from the locked window in the room, through the think durable glass panes with hand smudges. Emotionless, he stared for a bit…

And a bit longer…

And even more longer he stared…

Until he opened his mouth and bit into the wet organ. He always imagined it would be difficult to eat like this… but it felt so natural. It was chewy and had a bitter taste but it left an aftertaste that left thinking of you, as if you were still there shaking and crying beside him. It was difficult to chew at times, it was tough, he could feel the lumpy-grained texture as it swirled around his mouth trying to get chewed apart by his teeth.

So he took another bite, and then another before deciding he had enough and put the heart down onto the white blanket, making sure it was away from the maggots slowly crawling.

He didn’t even realize the smile that appeared until his face started to hurt from the stretch. It was like both you and him were one and it made him feel happy.

He took the duvet and wrapped the heart in it with ease despite the size of the cover, and placed it carefully on the floor next to the bed.

l could live like this he thinks, he won’t feel so alone anymore and you won’t feel so cold to him no longer he thinks, as he smiles and shifts closer to your sluggish body, despite the absence of a blanket, he doesn’t feel so cold and alone anymore, and gets close enough to place his head on top of yours, right on top of the dirty-matted hair.

Was dozing off and falling asleep at times while making this, so I’ll rewrite a couple things in the future

#READ WARNINGS #dark content #dead dove do not eat #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer x y/n #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche

[kamesama]

the character ai got my thoughts running. anyway, i've been on a tōji brainrot for a while soooo. enjoy this slow-burn. note: fem! reader; some suggestive moments but nothing n/sfw.

arranged marriage with zenin tōji ( a slow-burn )

it's neither of you being overjoyed by the prospect. puppets to your families, you found yourselves in a dead end. sure, you could have dug and crawled your way out of it, but it was easier to bite your cheeks and nod your heads. you fill your mouths up all the way to the roof, to the back of your teeth and clench your jaws until the time comes to break that thick silence between just the two of you.

the wedding night is everything save for the typical fantasy involving butterflies-in-your-gut kind of intimacy, joyous smiles, happy tears and sweet promises that chain you for life. there is none of that. there is only silence, so heavy that it sits on your shoulders and an unimpressed look on your faces as irritation eats you up.

tōji scoffs and scowls, but he doesn't care. he has no interest in tending to a spouse he didn't choose, let alone one that was handpicked solely to spite him and stomp on his pride. his voice is flat, his shoulders relaxed and his gaze indifferent. he doesn't love you, and he is not going to act like he does. he might just break the spiteful silence with a comment of, well, this sucks, doesn't it, because he knows that you're not beaming with joy, either.

it's not sharing the bed, or sleeping back-to-back with a pillow wall between the two of you. it's complaining about the snoring, tossing and turning, or sleeping so damn quietly that one could think they're sharing a bed with a fresh corpse. it's getting irritated with the way tōji's toothpaste drips into the sink never to be washed off the smooth surface, or with the clothes draped over the chair and mattress. it's the bite in your voice and furrow of tōji's brows as the skin right beneath his eye twitches.

it takes time. god, it takes time. but eventually, there comes a ritual of sitting in the living room with a cup of hot beverage in front of you, or a bowl of instant noodles with hard-boiled eggs on top. tōji's eyes boring through the plot of whatever tv show you occupied yourself with before you converse about the most mundane things with bitter smiles, lamenting your fates underneath a breath of sarcasm. conversations drag themselves through transformation into something deeper, more sincere and one day both of you might just laugh cordially. it's like having a weirdly close friend at home, a roommate that you don't know how to look at rather than a spouse, but soon enough you chatter about your high school crush, tōji's type of woman and whether or not lacy lingerie looks better than smooth. soon enough you have your fair share of inside jokes and soon enough you realise that you share a favourite candy.

it's using one another to scratch that itch, to satiate that desire, to bite one another's lips out of pure utter frustration and lust. you still fall asleep back-to-back, but at least you got something out of it; a hickey. a high. a hint of relief as that tension evaporates from your muscles before your head smashes into the pillow and fatigue overwhelms you.

or it's practicing small touches that feel more awkward than a teenager's first kiss. starting to rest your cheek against tōji's shoulder when you watch a movie. tōji leaning in just a little too close to the side of your face while you cook something or tend to your hobbies. putting your cold hand in his pocket while you stroll as if it's the most natural thing to do, and your heart just barely skipping a beat. it's gentle pondering over little things; you asking about his scar as you dare trace your digit across the edge of his lip and him commenting about your mole in the most curious of places.

having a wife at home starts to sink in into tōji's mind and, regardless of how much he cannot stand your collection of skin-care products conquering the shelf in the bathroom, or how much your attitude irks him from time to time, his eyes will pierce and cut through whoever looks at you the wrong way or dares to utter anything tasteless about how you walk your walk or talk your talk. the word 'wife' drips off his tongue with such intensity that it paints him as the most devoted man to have walked upon the face of the earth.

likewise, a small smile seems to start gracing your lips as the word 'husband' leaves your mouth, no longer coated in some sense of loathing and rather resembling the way schoolgirls talk about their sweethearts with a dose of virginal shyness. just a little bit.

the ups and downs are heavy and intense, and the fingers your families dip into your life doesn't help in extinguishing any flames of irritation and displeasure. it's a process to talk things through and step over ego and pride, but you've also become one another's routine at this point. the bed feels a little too empty without another person on the opposite side of the pillow barrier. you might as well join hands and live to spite the zenins and all others. it's a promise made in the middle of the night, under the doorframe to the bedroom.

it's slowly but surely coming to tolerate one another, despite the clothes still hanging over the chair and the toothpaste still sticking to the sink. it's learning that tōji seems to melt as soon as his head is in your lap and your fingers in his hair, or that you love that specific type of hug that feels just right. it's becoming friends and lovers, it's fuelling the passion with those embers of frustration that never seems to fully leave you, it's removing the pillow between the two of you so that you can talk about little nothings and whisper how you may just try to find life's meaning together, along the way.

thank you for reading!

— kamesama.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk toji #toji #zenin toji #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #jjk headcanons #headcanons #toji headcanons #kamesama

[cupidsyndrome]

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ STILL INTO YOU.

🏹 FLUFF, COMEDY. 634 WORDS. 💌 meeting hanma was one of the worst things that ever happened to you-- it also happens to be one of the best. 🩷 cw. suggestive. hanma needs his own warning.

shuji hanma is a piece of shit. 

that much you’re sure of– the rest, not so much.

you meet him at eighteen, freshly graduated from high school. you’re on your way to glory– future written in gold ink, college was merely another stepping stone before falling into the comfort of adult life. the cliché of it all is laughable at best. to celebrate, someone– a friend of a friend, you think– throws a party. it doesn’t take much to convince you to go; to let all the stress for the exams out. the celebration isn’t much, but it’s still enough for a kid like you. 

laughter and chatter fill the space with rhythmic beats making your heart feel funny. an odd sound mixes into the music– you remember it all too well from the way it made you frown (“hey, that’s not a part of the song.”, you had dumbly stated to someone). 

then, he was there.

ominous harbinger of chaos– his mere presence making the whole world stop. you’ve heard about him in hushed tones, sacred whispers echoing in the locker room. while his lanky figure didn’t strike you as particularly frightening, the insolent grin etched on his face told a different story– what the fuck ? was the first thought that came to mind. the crowd parted like the red sea, watching him with a mix of curiosity and discomfort as he navigated through his own self-made path– predatory gaze searching for a prey that’ll serve him as tonight’s feast.

someone steps on your foot and you gasp.

it’s a small gasp, really– but in the deadly silence of the party, it makes you stand out like a sore thumb. everyone turns to the sound– you– and you seriously think about dropping dead on the spot. his eyes catch yours, sealing your fate. that’s when you know you’re done for. he smiles. you’ve had plenty of people smile at you before– you’ve seen it all, truly. the polite smiles, the awkward ones. all of it. 

you’ve never seen one like his. 

carnivorous smile glinting in the light. just for you. it’s unsettling– you can’t help but wonder if that’s how those poor deers you’ve seen on tv feel when going against the big ol’ lion. it freaks you out and before you even think about getting away– a rough hand grabs you by the chin; mindlessly moving your head to the light, to see you better. everyone slowly but surely gets back to their own lives, now that his victim for the evening has been chosen. 

“pretty,” he whistles, his breath uncomfortably close to your face. “got a boyfriend ?” a wave of warmth washes over you. the idea of lying crosses your mind; about answering yes, but what good would it make ? you’re sure one of your classmates would shamelessly throw you under the bus if you do, anyway. you shake your head, lips trembling– from fear or anticipation, you don’t know.

“good.”

while he lets you have your space for the rest of the party– he’s always there, looming behind you; mouth hovering over your neck, as if ready to bite any moment. shots pile up as conversations unfold between the two of you. he does most of it, actually– you end up finding him more interesting than what you thought.

(a moment or so later, you’re bending over for him– hands desperately gripping onto the sink of a stranger’s bathroom.)

fast forward to now, you’re a few years older and unable to sleep, eyes twitching because of the very same man. it’s almost four in the morning, you’ve got work in about three hours– and as your boyfriend continues to snore without a care in the world, you’ve realized you’ve got fucked in more ways than ever anticipated.

what a piece of shit.

© CUPIDSYNDROME, all rights reserved.

#cupid's arrows #hanma shuji #hanma x reader #hanma shuuji x reader #hanma smut #tokrev x reader #tokrev smut #tokrev scenarios #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers x reader

[imaginedanvrs]

my demon gave me everything

part 6 l masterlist

summary: dark!natasha romanoff x reader. Natasha Romanoff saves the world. Morals, lifestyle and past aside, the fact is that she puts her life on the line for everyone else. And for this, she believes she’s owed something. She saves billions of lives on the regular, so why not take the occasional one for herself?

word count: 3.6k

warnings: established kidnapping, extreme abuse, power dynamics, manipulation, gaslighting, drugging, rape, developing stockholm syndrone

“You got a clock,” you noted as you admired the basic clock hanging just above the cabinets in the kitchen. You had been pouring yourself a bowl of cereal when you noticed it but pushed it aside to gaze up at the instrument that read late morning.

  “I did,” Natasha confirmed as she came up beside you to look at the clock. You stood in silence for a minute and you were grateful that the clock didn’t have a consistent ticking sound emanating off it. 

  “Thank you,” you said sincerely. The redhead nodded simply and went to grab her own breakfast but stopped dead in her tracks when her phone chimed with a sound you had become familiar with as some kind of work emergency. Natasha’s eyes scanned her screen like a hawk before she whizzed around and headed for the stairs without a beat. 

  “I’ll be back in a few hours,” she called back over her shoulder as she ran the steps three at a time. You nodded back unbothered despite her not seeing you and grabbed some milk from the fridge and a spoon, bringing them over to the kitchen island where you sat and continued to look at the new addition to the apartment. 

  It was only when you were half way through your cereal that you realised you had never heard a beep indicating that the door by the stairs had locked behind Natasha. It was loud enough that even when you weren’t listening out for it, you could hear it even from the bathroom. You frowned and leaned back in your seat to see if the Avenger was still lingering around the apartment but you couldn’t see her. You shovelled down a couple more tablespoons of your cereal before placing the bowl in the sink and wandering out into the main space and towards the stairs. 

  You froze when you saw the door slightly ajar. You didn’t dare take a step any closer at first, assuming that the redhead was standing just behind the door waiting for you to take the bait. You swallowed a lump in your throat and strained your eyes to see that something was wedging the door open, as though catching just as Natasha had run out. It would make some sense if it had happened so quickly that the redhead hadn’t even noticed, still, you were cautious. 

  You eyed up the door for a while, playing different scenarios over in your head of what could greet you behind the barrier. If it really was an opportunity to leave, you needed to take it. You were all too aware of how complacent you were becoming in the apartment and as much as you wanted to stop it you couldn’t seem to. There in front of you was a chance to put an end to it all. So you started up the stairs. 

  Your feet felt heavy as you trudged up each step, as though you were on your way to the gallows. You kept your eyes trained on the door, waiting for the redhead to jump out and even lingered on the final step to see if anything would happen. Seconds passed in a deafening silence so you pushed the door open slightly to see that it had been wedged over by a metal pencil holder and multiple fountain pens on the floor. You ignored them and continued on, taking in your surroundings as best you could. 

  The space in front of you seemed to be an open planned office. There was a considerably large desk with multiple monitors placed precisely with numerous other tech you didn’t quite recognise placed across the workspace. There were also several shelves placed near the desk that kept numerous ornaments on display that you didn’t have time to examine. 

  You continued down as the space turned into a large corridor with two sizable rooms either side of a divot. The doors were shut and there was no indicator of what was inside but you didn’t much care about them, you only wanted to find the main door that you discovered to be within the divot. It wasn’t quite what you were preparing for. Given the state of the apartment’s other devices, you figured the main door would have even more extravagant technology to it, instead, it was just a simple handle for the doors that always opened from the inside but always locked from the outside. 

  You grabbed the handle and swung the door open in a flurry of movement then haltered before your feet could step over the threshold. You were scared. 

  Ahead of you was a lobby perhaps two hundred square feet wide. There was a small white sofa against the far wall that looked as though it had never been sat on and reminded me of the ones in dentist practices. There was no other input of interior design or decoration to the room, leaving you to stare directly ahead at the elevator in front of you. There was only one button to the side, one button that could take you back outside. Strangely, you felt your chest tighten at the thought. 

  What would you even do when you got out? You didn’t know New York at all, you had no idea where you actually were, not to mention you had no money or a phone. If you explained to a stranger or the police what had happened, would they even believe you? Perhaps if you left out the fact that it was an Avenger that kidnapped you it would be more believable. But what was to stop Natasha from finding you again, she would surely know what your first move would be. 

  Besides…did you even really want to go? It was hard supporting myself, working non stop just to pay rent and have food on my plate. You were exhausted and it seemed like there was never going to be an end in sight. What did you even have to show for any of it? You barely had anyone to share it all with either. You had started to think you never would, that you wouldn’t ever attain the company you so desperately desired because no one would ever desire it from you. Everything was hopeless. At least the hopelessness you felt with Natasha was a secure one, at least that’s what you thought. You were always too preoccupied with fearing she was going to hurt you than fearing she would kick you out, because that’s what you thought you wanted. 

  Your head pounded as you attempted to process it all. You were there against your will. You had spent so much time thinking of ways you could get out, yet when you were given the opportunity, you just couldn’t. But you had to. 

  You took a tentative step over the doorway and out into the harsh lighting of the lobby and froze again. You hated it. You hated weighing up such a decision in your head, you needed someone to make the decision for you, to lead you away or push you back in. You didn’t know what was best for you. 

  You took another step so that both feet were beyond the apartment when all of a sudden you were being hauled back in by your hair and slammed against the nearest wall. You cried out and struggled against the crushing weight of the redhead as your mind raced with what had just happened. She was still in the apartment? 

  Natasha slammed the door shut with her foot, the obnoxious bang making you jump and cower further into the wall. “You fucking bitch,” she spat and pressed something solid into your back. You whimpered when you realised it was a handgun and felt bile rise in your throat. “You really thought I was so stupid that I’d leave the fucking door open?” She demanded. 

  “No! No, that’s not-” you tried desperately to defend yourself but Natasha didn’t want to hear a word of it, instead hitting the back of your head with the weapon with a dull thud you didn’t truly feel till a few moments after. “Please don’t kill me,” you begged, completely at the redhead’s mercy. 

  “Oh, detka. I’m not gonna kill you,” she cooed, condescending dripping from her voice. “You’re not worth the trouble.” You exhaled shakily and screwed your eyes shut as much as you could, awaiting an explanation. 

  “You know, in Iran, they still cut off the fingers of thieves. Sometimes even their whole hands,” Natasha explained with a storyteller air. You began to panic as you immediately recognised where she was going. You squirmed against her but stopped when she put the gun back against your back. “They make sure the low life that tried it won’t even think of doing such a thing again, it works perfectly. I always admired how they think and I reckon I can use that right now,” she explained slowly. 

  “No, please!” You whimpered but she immediately shushed you. 

  “You tried to run away, malysh, from the home I was so generous to let you into. So now I have to make sure you won’t ever try that again.” Without a pause, Natasha drew back her heavy boot, this time alerting you to the metal cover on the toes, and kicked your ankle with what felt like all the strength in her body. You cried again and would have toppled to the floor if it wasn’t for the redhead holding you up.

  “I’m sorry!” You sobbed. Unfortunately the redhead wasn’t done and pulled her foot back to strike you again, impossibly harder than the first. You screamed as your whole leg erupted into a blaze of pain, as though every single nerve ending had been subjected to Natasha’s anger. You think she kicked again, but you blacked out too quickly to know for sure. 

  Natasha stepped back when you passed out and let your limp body drop to the floor in a heap. She stared down at you, anger continued to course through her veins fiercely. There had been a point when she watched you that she genuinely thought you wouldn’t leave, that you would close the door and pretend you hadn’t seen it open. She was foolish. You had made her think foolishly. You weren’t any different to the others and the fact she had believed you were, even for a minute, made her furious. They all tried to leave, every single one of them. Even with your conflicting emotions you were ultimately no different. 

  The redhead didn’t wait for you to come back around before she held you by the back of your shirt and dragged your unconscious body across the floor to the stairs with ease. It was only once you got to the landing that you started to come to. You were merely confused at first as the room and floor moved beneath you but once you reached the first step you were immediately alerted to what was happening and your ankle flared up once more, this time along with your back as the redhead dragged you down the unforgiving steps.

  You made a futile attempt to squirm out of Natasha’s grasp but it was to no avail and you continued to be dragged down, each step hitting as much of you as possible. It felt like it was never ending and eventually the flat floor was a welcome relief although the burning in your ankle never let up. You knew straight away it was broken. You had never broken a bone before. 

  Natasha flung you across the bedroom floor where you lay like an abandoned mutt then hauled you up onto the bed. You made eye contact for a moment and you were struck by just how furious the redhead was. She looked as though she was using all her self restraint to stop herself pulling out the gun lodged in her waistband and putting it to your skull. You cowered back, unable to bear another second of those piercing green eyes and sobbed into the bed. You didn’t care how weak you appeared. You had fucked up so you had to face the consequences. 

  You thought Natasha was going to hit you, beat you, kick you, strangle you, anything like that. Instead, she walked away, leaving you in a defeated heap where you stayed for days.

*

  You didn’t understand what Natasha wanted. You didn’t understand what you wanted. You didn’t know what you were expected to do or what you should do. You were paralysed under the uncertainty of it all, always spending so much time figuring out how to even react to something that it was over before you even got half way to figuring it out. 

  When Natasha fucked you she made it clear she was frustrated by your constant lack of response. Your body felt too heavy to provide any kind of physical reaction to the redhead and you were too tired to be at all verbal. Luckily, Natasha’s touch still made you wet, even if it took a little more to get there, but you rarely came, too caught up in your head to be able to follow through for that long. It certainly didn’t help that you were in constant intense pain as the redhead gave you nothing for your ankle, not that you would have been capable of taking a tablet anyway. It constantly felt like your bones around your foot had been shattered and the skin around it mangled. Although you refrained from looking at it, you could feel that it was getting more and more swollen too. You would be concerned if you weren’t more worried about how to please Natasha again.

  As the days went on, the Russian only grew more irritated by your mental absence, of course not taking any blame in the slightest. At times, she wondered if you had reached your breaking point and if she should just put you both out of your misery, but something told her not to do it yet and instead see if there was anything else you had left to offer. 

  Little did either of you know that you shared a unique sense of betrayal. You had believed things were turning around, that Natasha was very gradually becoming more sincere. But her test had left you back where you started: unsure what to make of the redhead but knowing she wasn’t good news. 

  Meanwhile, Natasha felt betrayed that you had led her to believe you were different, that you would be the first one not to leave and that something new would finally happen. You had both been feeding yourselves lies about the other under the illusion of wanting something better. You were both fools, the only difference was that while you accepted the feeling, Natasha was adamant to get it out of her system the only way she knew how, to make you look worse. 

  It was by no means hard for the Avenger to get ahold of the muscle relaxant drugs, nor was it to administer it. You didn’t even flinch when she pushed the fine needle into your arm and let the fluid seep into your body. It was quick working, but you hadn’t even realised what you were feeling until Natasha’s hands were on you in an all too familiar way. Except when you tried to tilt your head down to watch her spread your legs, you discovered that you couldn’t. 

  Immediately panicked, you parted your lips to tell the redhead that you were unable to move but was terrified to discover that it extended to your mouth and you were only able to make a small sound of distress. It was enough to get Natasha’s attention although when you saw the small smirk on her own lips, your panic only grew. 

  You tried with all your might to move your arms or legs or anything but to your dismay, you were completely paralysed. It wasn’t that your body felt heavy or stiff, more that it simply wasn’t there. Soon, you had lost all sensation entirely, even that of Natasha’s. You watched on in horror as she put her hand to your cheek but felt no contact. 

  “What’s the matter, detka? You don’t like it like this?” She asked with a pout. You made another small noise in the back of your throat that only amused the redhead more. “Well I didn’t like how you were being before,” the Russian said simply. “You didn’t react to anything I did and yet you were still wet, so I thought it wouldn’t make much difference if I made sure you really couldn’t move,” she continued as she leaned closer to you. “Besides, at the end of the day, it’s really not your call,” she shrugged and took two fingers in her mouth before dropping them between your legs to touch you in a way you would never know. 

  Natasha took her time in exploring you. She knew your body well but was interested in the new way you lay sprawled out for her with no way of denying her. It wasn’t exactly how she liked it, there was no fight for her to win or control for her to gain. Not to mention there was no way to make you cum in such a state, but it was making you scared, and that was enough for the redhead to make her point clear enough that she was sure she wouldn’t have to return to the method. 

  Soon enough, tears were rolling down your cheeks for the spy to wipe away with a satisfied hum. You stared up at her pleadingly, knowing she knew you hated the position she had put you in and praying she would stop. “Oh this still isn’t fun for you?” She frowned mockingly. “It’s not the best for me either, detka,” she continued though her voice took a threatening edge. “But this is just how it’s gonna have to be from now on unless you start giving me what I want again,” Natasha explained slowly, prying herself away from you and undoing her belt buckle to display the sizable strap on she was packing. It was the same one that under normal circumstances you whined and cried when Natasha fucked you with it, at least it didn’t hurt that time. 

  The redhead crawled on top of you again and shushed your insistent noises, giving you some time to bathe in the anticipation before she was driving herself forwards. She dug her fingers into the sheets around your head and used them as leveredge as she buried her head into your neck. You wondered if she was leaving marks there. You hadn’t missed the occasional sound of her dragging her nails across your skin and knew you would find red streaks there as soon as you could look again. 

  By the time the redhead finally grew either tired or disinterested, the unknown chemicals in your body were starting to wear off. You had your nerves back and felt all the small touches and brushes from Natasha, even finding a faint voice, but your limbs felt too heavy to move so you continued to stay where you were next to the spy with her running her hands through your slightly tangled hair. 

  You lay in silence for a good while, neither of you attempted to sleep or make conversation, but just being content to lay still. You didn’t like what she did. You had never felt so helpless in your life and you had feared it was going to continue for a much longer period of time. However the aftermath was something you were more comfortable with. You enjoyed it on the rare occasions Natasha went as far as to play with your hair, it would have lulled any other time. It was almost enough to make you forgive her so soon as well. Knowing how pathetic that was, you forced yourself to hold the grudge for longer, trying to hold onto those fears. 

  “Why don’t you fight me anymore?” Natasha asked suddenly. Her voice made me jump a little. 

  “I don’t…” you frowned, trying to clear the fog in your brain, “I don’t know what you mean?”

  “I thought you had a lot of fight in you,” the redhead said plainly. You were too muddled to take the insult for what it was. 

  “I did fight. A lot,” you pointed out, thinking back on your attempts. 

  “I wouldn’t say a lot,” Natasha replied. “You did give it some good attempts, but then you stopped. Why?” You gathered as much strength as you could to peer up at the spy who looked at you expectantly. 

  “I did it yesterday.” 

  “No, you walked through an open door and I broke your ankle. You didn’t try to fight at all,” Natasha pointed out and at the very mention of it your ankle started to throb. “You only fought me in the first few days but then nothing for weeks,” you frowned again and put your head back on the spy’s chest, getting too tired to understand what she was getting at. “So why?” Natasha pushed again.

  “I just didn’t want to,” you said simply. 

  “But why?” The redhead could tell you were close to telling her what she needed to know to better understand your character but she could also see you were close to sleep and it would be hard to get you this loose tongue again unless she pumped you more full of drugs, something she didn’t fancy doing. 

  “I think…” you started, trying to piece together your thoughts. “I think I don’t want to go.” Your answer hung in the air. 

  “Have I broken you?” Natasha asked outright. She didn’t know the answer herself and wanted to know if you did. She was surprised to hear a faint, sleepy chuckle from you.   “I was starting to think you might complete me,” you said then fell asleep, leaving the redhead more confused about you than she had been the entire time you had been there. Now that was new.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dark!fic #dark!marvel #dark!natasha x reader #natasha x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff smut

[kayesfanfics]

The Vampires Handmaiden

Pairing: Hector x Fem! Reader

A/N: The ending is a bit rushed, but I wasn’t about to write out a whole episode lol. But Hector is absolutely my fav character and there isn’t nearly enough fanfic about him. Also AU where Hector DIDNT FALL IN LOVE WITH HIS ABUSER AND FELL FOR SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY LOVED HIM.

Warnings: Abuse, blood, swearing/vulgar language, some Stockholm syndrome, Carmilla being mommy except in a toxic abusive way

You shivered in the freezing cold, following your mistresses down to greet your other mistress, Carmilla. You stood behind Striga and Lenore, keeping your head down and eyes on the ground, hoping not to draw any attention towards yourself. You listened as the sisters greeted each other and Carmilla complained and complained about the long journey she had, her soldiers marching past her into the castle. You noticed at the very end, a man with silver hair was being dragged along by a chain on his neck, his hands tied in front of him and his boots missing. He looked extremely battered and exhausted, and your stomach churned, knowing the feeling all too well. He made eye contact with you as he passed, until he was tugged harshly to continue following the soldiers down to the dungeons.

“Y/N, go warm some water for my bath. And make it a good one.” Carmilla ordered you. “It better be ready after I have a drink with my sisters.”

“Yes, mistress.” You bowed, before heading to collect frozen water to heat up for her bath. You carried the frozen buckets of water to the fireplace to warm them up, dripping Carmilla’s specific combination of essential oils into her bath. You lit candles as normal, and kept the water warm until she arrived, immediately stripping naked and getting in the tub. You kneeled down and began to scrub her aching feet, as she sighed contently in the warm water.

“Your Kind is so despicable, Y/N. I don’t know HOW you survived all those years without me.” Carmilla grumbled, still agitated from her long march in the freezing tundras.

“Me neither, mistress. Thank you for saving me.” You said without a thought, used to thanking her for kidnapping you and beating you into submission until you complied with her and her sisters’ every order. She often spoke about how lucky you were that she found you, and how you’d be dead in a ditch without her.

“Oh, get out. I need time alone. You’re dismissed for the night.” She waved her hand in your face, before sinking into the water. You bowed to her, before quickly leaving her to relax for the night. Sunrise would thankfully be soon, your time to roam as you wished and do as you pleased.

You thought about the poor man they had dragged in, how pathetic he looked, bags under his pretty blue eyes and cuts scattered across his face and hands. His feet were probably frozen numb, and you knew the guards probably stripped him of his clothing, along with his humanity. You found yourself wandering to the kitchen, grabbing bread and a fresh apple and stuffing them into your pockets. You walked down to the dungeons, giving the guard a few coins for his silence before looking around for the man. You finally spotted him in a cell, huddled in the corner and embracing himself. He was shivering, and you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but you wouldn’t blame him if he was. You approached his cell, kneeling down and taking out the food from your pockets.

“I brought you some food.” You spoke, and he slowly looked up at you. His face was strong, but his eyes were soft and filled with fear. He was trying to mask it and remain tough, but you could see right through that facade.

“Why would you do that? Don’t you work for them?” He asked, spatting the word ‘them’.

“I do. But only for fun.” You joked, holding the food out to him, reaching into his cell. He looked at the guard in worry, but eventually crawled towards you, taking the food and immediately digging in. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you clothing or a blanket. They would notice. My name is Y/N, what is yours?”

“Hector.” He said simply between bites, scarfing down the food like he hadn’t eaten in days, which, he probably hasn’t.

“Well, Hector, I also brought you this.” You duh into your pocket and grabbed a small bottle. “It’s an ointment, for your wounds. There is much disease in these cells.”

He carefully took the bottle from you, finishing his food quickly and leaning against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest to hide his nude body from you.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked, looking down at the ground.

“Because I know what it’s like to be treated like this by them. I know how cruel and careless they are.” You admitted, sitting down fully.

“You do?” He looked up at you, gazing into your eyes.

“Yes. I’m a human, like you. They took me a couple of years ago, maybe longer. I’m now their lady-in-waiting.”

“How come they haven’t turned you, then? I thought they hated humans.”

“They do, which is why they don’t turn me. They want me to know I’m below them. Weaker than them.” You explained, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. “They treated me like they do you. They broke me down years ago. Kept me around for their amusement, and so I could serve them and they don’t lift a finger. Why did they take you, Hector?”

“I’m a forgemaster. Carmilla wants me to make night creatures for her.” He sighed. “I should’ve run away when I had the chance. I can’t believe I trusted her.”

“Don’t blame yourself. They’re expert manipulators.”

“Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU, GIRL?” You jumped when you heard the booming voice of Striga, calling for you.

“I must leave. I will try to bring you more food tomorrow. Rotten meat with maggots isn’t exactly sustaining.”

“I quite like the maggots, actually. They add a nice crunch.” He smiled playfully, despite his situation. It made you smile back, at least until you heard your name being shouted again, and you bolted off so you wouldn’t get in trouble for speaking to the prisoner.

You continued to visit Hector while the vampiresses were asleep, providing him with fresh food and what comfort you brought him. You asked about his occupation as a forgemaster, curious as to why Carmilla needed one so bad. He often had fresh injuries when you visited, and you would reach through the bars of the cell to rub ointment into the ones he couldn’t reach on his back. One day, he wasn’t in his cell, and when you asked the guard (and gave him some coins), he told you he had been moved into the “luxurious cells”. You scoffed at that. A cage was still a cage, no matter how nice it looked. But you made your way to the other cells, ducking behind the wall when you saw Lenore standing at Hector’s cell. You peeked around it, watching her tug on a leash attached to Hector’s neck, forcing him forward, taking it off of him. You felt a pang of both jealousy and disgust when she called him a ‘good boy’, possession and venom dripping from her words. You hid again as she turned to leave, and once she was gone, you rushed over to his cell.

“Are you alright?” You asked, heart sinking when you saw a blush on his cheeks.

“I’m fine.”

“Hector, she’s tricking you. She doesn’t care about you.” You grabbed his cell bars, trying to make him listen. “Lenore is a-“

“Is a what?”

Your blood went cold when you heard her voice, right behind you. You shivered in fear, eyes wide and body frozen in terror as you felt her cold hand harshly grab your shoulder, her claws digging in and drawing blood.

“Lenore, don’t harm her.” Hector warned her.

“Or what? What exactly will you do?” She asked, before throwing you across the room with her superhuman strength, hitting the wall and falling to the floor.

“Lenore! She was helping me! Leave her be!” Hector grabbed the bars this time, now trying to make her listen to him.

“Helping you?” She laughed bitterly as she walked over to you, grabbing your hair to make you look up at her. “Well, Carmilla is not going to be pleased that her pet was playing with mine now, will she?”

“Mistress, please don’t-“

“I am not the one to beg mercy from, Y/N. You should know this by now.”

Hector yelled at Lenore and for you as Lenore dragged you away, up to Carmilla’s grand study, throwing you onto her table.

“Can I help you?” Carmilla asked Lenore, glaring down at you with disgust.

“It appears our pets have been getting friendly with each other. She’s been helping Hector this whole time.”

“Oh really?” Carmilla glowered down at you, grabbing your hair harshly and holding you up by it, lifting you off her table.

“M-Mistress, I’m sorry! Please, mercy!” You begged, clenching your jaw at the pain of being held off the floor by your hair. “I-I just wanted to help!”

“Well, my dear sweet Y/N, you helped the wrong person.” Carmilla bared her teeth. “I gave you free roam of the castle, I saved your life, and this is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please!” You cried, feeling your scalp starting to bleed.

“I’ll leave you to it. I should probably discipline Hector as well.” Lenore said smugly, grinning at you before exiting her sisters study, leaving you alone with the merciless vampire.

Hours later, you stood beside Carmilla in the sister’s meeting room. She held a leash attached to your neck, the collar on too tight and dried blood coating your face and shoulders from the beating you endured from her. Your hands were folded politely in front of you, eyes fixed on the ground below as you didn’t dare move an inch from your mistress. They talked and bickered about their plan, various maps set out on the table with their wine glasses filled with blood. Carmilla had already drank from your neck, pure virgins blood remained her favorite to drain out of you until you went pale, but not enough to kill you. You didn’t move when you heard the door open behind you, but knew Hector was there when Carmilla complained about a man being in their quarters. You looked at him out of the corner of his eye, seeing he was confused and hurt by Lenore in some way you didn’t know yet. He looked at the collar tightened around your neck, guilt flashing in his eyes when he saw all the blood and bruises littering your face.

You listened in horror as Lenore boasted to her sisters about what she did to Hector, binding him to her through deceit and manipulation. You felt sick when she asked for a large bed in his room so she could “train him”, and silenced Hector when he tried to say something.

“Hm. Do you think you could make one for Y/N? She’s been disobedient, so I tethered her to myself to make sure she can’t do things behind my back anymore. But this ring would be so much easier, then I don’t have to keep her around me all the time.” Carmilla asked her sister, ignoring your look of horror you gave her at the idea.

“I’m already a step ahead of you, sister.” Lenore smiled, tossing her two rings for the both of you.

You fell to your knees, hands gripping Carmilla’s thighs, tears streaming down your face.

“Mistress, please! I’ll be good, I promise! Please don’t do this! I beg of you!” You pleaded, glossy eyes looking up at her with desperation.

“Oh, I love it when you do that, Y/N.” She smiled, one hand holding your chin. “But if you hadn’t betrayed me, I wouldn’t have to do this. Now would I? This is your fault, I’m only doing this because I have to, dear.”

You whimpered as she grabbed your wrist, shoving the ring onto your finger.

“Now, be a good girl and pledge your loyalty to me.” She said, running a hand through your hair, scrapping your sore and bloody scalp.

“I-I…I p-pledge my loyalty to y-you.” You cried out in pain as soon as those words left your mouth, feeling the magic piercing your skin and binding you to Carmilla. She pet your hair and shushed you, letting you cry into her lap as your body trembled pathetically.

“Good girl.” She smiled, before turning to Lenore. “You really are a genius, sister.”

“I know.” Lenore said cockily, before jumping off the table and grabbing Hectors arm, dragging him with her. His gaze lingered onto you, feeling as if it was his fault for this to be done to you as well. But you knew it was inevitable, Carmilla would’ve done this even if you hadn’t helped him, she liked the power over you too much.

“Now, darling, you are not to speak to Hector again. Do you understand me?” Carmilla asked you as you calmed down, sobs slowly dissolving into silent tears.

“Yes, mistress.” You said numbly, but sighed in relief when she took the collar that choked you off.

“Good. Now, off you go. Go clean yourself up, you look dreadful.”

You staggered out of the room, clutching your dress in your hands as you willed yourself to stop crying. Any freedom and humanity you had left was just stripped away, taken from you without a second thought or care in the world. You now felt empty and numb, the hopelessness overtaking your mind as you made your way to gather water for your own bath. You sank into the warm water, letting it comfort you like an embrace would, gently washing the blood out of your hair and off of your body. You wished you could wash the spell away, but no matter how hard you scrubbed, it wouldn’t leave you. You headed to bed soon after, curling into yourself and crying yourself to sleep.

The next few days went about as normal, Carmilla ordering you to do random chores and bring her glasses of blood, sometimes making you drain your own blood for her. You did as you were asked, it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. You were still allowed to roam as you wished in the daytime, but if you went too close to Hector, your ring burned like fire and it felt as if swords were piercing your body. You felt incredibly lonely like you had before he arrived, but even more afraid than before. You constantly worried about what Lenore was doing to Hector behind closed doors, and unbeknownst to you, he too was worried about what Carmilla was doing to you. Lenore treated you more harshly than she ever had, making it known to you that she was not pleased with you befriending Hector. After she saw you watch as Hector walked past the room you were in, she approached you, grabbing your neck and hoisting you up to be level with her face.

“I know exactly what you are thinking. I suggest you cease those impure thoughts about what is mine.” She warned, smile still soft but eyes filled with hatred.

“I-I don’t know what you mean, mistress-“ you stammered, yelping when she slapped you across the face.

“Lie to me again, I dare you.” She hissed. “Hector is mine, do you understand? He will never love you, he doesn’t even look you in the eye anymore. So quit wasting your time filling your pretty little head with such delusions. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nodded as best you could, coughing when she finally let you go. She turned to leave, looking back at you with a devious grin.

“I understand your desire for him, of course. I know you saw that cock of his. It feels better than it looks.” She cackled at you, before finally leaving you alone. You choked back tears, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to you. You rushed to your room to cry in peace, instead seeing a letter resting on your pillow. You picked it up and opened it, reading the name at the bottom and seeing it was from Hector.

‘Y/N. I know you’re being forced to keep away from me, I am not angry with you, I’ve been avoiding you too so that I don’t get you into anymore trouble because of me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about Lenore, I thought she truly cared about me. How wrong I was. But I’ve been alone with my thoughts for awhile now, and I’ve come to conclusion that I want to help you. I care for you as you cared for me when I arrived, and I don’t want you to suffer on my behalf anymore. You don’t deserve this treatment, and neither do I. I have a plan for escape for us both, I will help you gain your complete freedom back. Wait for another letter from me, but in the meantime, avoid me at all costs. They can’t know we’re speaking again.

Burn this so that they don’t know I’ve reached out. -Hector’

You held the letter to your chest, tears dripping onto your bedding. Nobody had ever wanted to help you before, and if they did it was out of their own self interest. It had been so long since someone showed you any compassion or kindness, and him wanting to help you escape this life gave you a new sense of hope. You did as instructed and burned the letter, and checked your bed often for the next letter. You didn’t see much of Hector for the next week, only catching glimpses of him in the library , and you didn’t dare wander near his work place upstairs. You received a letter with the details of his plan later in the week, with detail of what you needed to do to stay out of danger. He told you about how he would trap Lenore, and allow her to be killed by the sunlight in the morning. Due to her manipulation and his messy feelings towards her, he didn’t have the heart to kill her himself. But Hector wasn’t a killer in the first place, he gave beings life and showed them kindness and empathy, something those vampires lacked.

The plan would be carried out that night, before the sun would rise. You did your chores as usual, not showing any unusual behavior or giving them any reason to be suspicious. You served Carmilla her chalice of blood for her study session, before bowing and leaving her to her work. Striga and Morana were away, all you had to worry about now was Lenore, arguably the worst. You wandered the castle with caution, trying to pinpoint where she was, and when you couldn’t find her, you came to the conclusion she was up at Hector’s workshop. You were supposed to meet him up there, but you didn’t want to risk Lenore hurting either one of you.

A shiver ran up your spine when you heard the screech of night creatures, and in your panic, you feet took you straight to safety; to Hector. It took you a few tries to find his workshop, stumbling up stairs as the castle shook from the attacks of the night creatures. When you finally saw him, a blue magic cage was blocking the doorway, holding Lenore inside of it.

“Hector!” You shouted, his eyes immediately finding yours.

“Y/N! You’re okay!” He smiled getting close to the cage as he could. You ignored the pain from the ring, face contouring in pain, but your smile remained.

“What is this?! Hector!” Lenore raged, glaring daggers at you. “How have you two been conspiring? The rings wouldn’t allow you two to speak!”

“We haven’t said a word to each other in weeks.” Hector said, facial expression stiffening into anger. “We didn’t see each other at all. But I have other ways of communication that you missed, along with the devices I’ve put about the castle. There’s a lot you didn’t see.”

You turned around when you heard the screeching and growls of night creatures, coming up the stairs towards you. You backed up against the cage as much as you could as the creatures approached you, and dark man in capes leading them. You looked at them with fear, knowing night creatures to eat and tear apart anything they wished.

“I do not mean you harm.” The man told you, stepping up to you. “But if you would mind moving, that would be appreciated.”

You stepped aside and he opened the cage with his enchanted sword, allowing you through as well. Lenore had half a mind to tackle you right then and there, but with the man between you she didn’t, instead just glaring. Hector stepped back as you entered the room, not wanting to cause you any pain from the ring. You wanted so desperately to touch him and be near him, but he didn’t want to hurt you any more, keeping his distance as he spoke with his colleague. You watched as he suddenly asked for his friends knife, and you tilted your head in confusion until you saw him bring it to his finger, cutting the ring off of him. His severed finger and ring clattered to the floor, blood dripping and sweat beading on his forehead as he allowed his friend to cauterize the wound with the same knife. Hector took the knife back, giving you a look that asked for your permission. You nodded, hissing in pain as he stepped closer, and crying when he took your hand in his, quickly slicing your own finger off. As soon as the ring fell off, it was like taking a breath of fresh air. You didn’t feel that weight on your shoulders or the fear in the back of your mind anymore, and the physical pain melted away immediately.

“Thank you, Isaac.” Hector said as he handed the knife back to him.

“Of course. Now, I’m off to slay Carmilla. See you on the other side, my friend.” Isaac said, taking the amulet Hector made for him and leaving the room. Hector turned back to you, a soft smile adorning his pretty face.

“Let’s wrap that up, sit.” He gestured to a chair, going to his supplies and finding bandages for the both of you. He wrapped your hand up first worrying about his own only after he asked if your bandage was too tight.

“May I hug you?” You asked suddenly. The adrenaline had made your walls come down, too full of a new hope for life that you didn’t even think to be embarrassed. Hector smiled at you, opening his arms for you to embrace him. Your arms immediately wrapped around him, the first time you’d ever been able to truly touch him since you had met all those weeks ago. You savored the feeling of his own arms wrapped around your body, his chin resting on your shoulder and your face buried in his chest.

“This is nice.” Hector grinned, pulling away slightly to look at you. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything you did for me. You were the first person to show me genuine kindness.” He smiled, before looking at Lenore, who simply glared at the both of you.

“I knew I needed to help you as soon as I laid my eyes upon your face.” You said, leaning in slightly towards his face. “You too were the first person to show me kindness in a very long time, Hector. I…I love you.”

His eyes widened slightly at that, a blush creeping up to his cheeks.

“Oh, please!” Lenore shouted from her cage. “The two of you barely know each other! This is ridiculous!”

“Yes, because you know me so well.” Hector rolled his eyes at her. “Let me put her on the balcony so we can have a real conversation, okay?”

You nodded and let go of him, letting him argue with Lenore and move her somewhere else so she didn’t bother you. You gasped when a force exploded somewhere in the castle, shaking the whole structure with such force. But you felt something else as well…freedom. That man Isaac really did it and killed Carmilla, you could feel it. It immediately brought tears to your eyes, and you began weeping. It had been so long being under Carmilla’s hold, the feeling of her hands being pried off your shoulders was overwhelming. You hadn’t felt like this in years, it almost scared you. You never thought you had a future away from this castle, away from your mistresses. You’d assumed you’d be serving them until the day you died, and probably by their own hands. The relief washed over you, overwhelming you.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Hector asked as he reentered the room, kneeling down in front of you.

“Nothing…nothing at all.” You smiled at him through tears, continuing to sob from the feeling. “I just…I really do love you, Hector.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” He wiped your face with his thumbs as he cupped your face, before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to yours in a perfectly sweet, loving kiss.

#castlevania hector #castlevania #castlevania x reader #hector x reader

[banquetwriter]

hey !! I’d like to request a Johnnie x reader that has to do with you guys getting into some kind of fight and it’s just super bad so you leave and you guys go without talking and eventually Johnnie comes and apologizes to you and you guys talk it out

୨୧ Puffy eyes ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ screaming, arguing, lots of crying, Johnnie being desperate lol, not edited

summary: ʚ Johnnie and you fight and the makeup that happens after • fluff/angst ɞ

Words: 2891

An: Tara is my #1 and NO ONE can change that, the I'm doing my requests out of order bc i had more inspo for this one lol

You hadn't had ANYTHING to eat today. You were helping a friend out by watching her kid so obviously you couldn't leave the kid unattended. After a few exhausting hours, you had to help your different friend go shopping at a formal event they had coming up.

It was safe to say your brain was fried and scrambled. You set your bag down on the counter and fill up a glass of water. You took a second to let yourself sit in your misery before placing the empty cup in the sink and making your way to your shared room with Johnnie.

You slowly creaked open the door, he was sitting on his phone in his editing chair. You didn't even say anything, just sat your bag down and flopped onto the bed. But to your surprise, Johnnie doesn't say a thing, he just continues to type away on his phone.

Realistically it wasn't a big deal, sure it was annoying but texting people made him nervous so he was a slow texter. You rolled over onto your back looking up at the ceiling, then to your boyfriend.

You stared at him for at least a minute before you were fed up. “Johnnie?” you asked in a small voice. He silently looked up at you, not even putting his phone away. “What?” he asks after a beat of silence. You try to speak by opening your mouth but nothing comes out.

You get tears well up in your eyes, how embarrassing, you eventually managed to stutter out your thoughts. “N-nothing i-i just wanted to m-make sure you were ok.”

“Yeah. I'm fine,” he said looking back down at His phone. You wanted to cry, your annoying day wasn't getting any better. “OK, good. Let me know if you aren't,” you said, but your words seemed to fall on deaf ears. He didn't react, just continuing to text.

You inhaled sharply trying to prevent the tears threatening to spill from leaving your eyes. “What's wrong with you?” he asks in a bored tone.

The phrase takes you by surprise. He didn't ask what was wrong or if you were ok he asked what was wrong with you. Like it was some sick joke. “What?” you ask, staring at him, your eyes were already droopy, and could barely hold steady.

“You're just all whiny and bitchy right now,” he said, shrugging. You were taken aback. Never in your time dating Johnnie has he EVER said anything like this to you. “I’m-” you started trying to compose yourself from blowing over.

You're interrupted by the sounds of a digital keyboard clacking away. You look back at him to see he is no longer looking at you or paying any sort of attention to you but is instead texting again. Your sadness and pain turned to anger in a second.

“Who are you texting?” you ask in the most level-headed voice you can muster. “What?” he asked looking up again. “I asked ‘Who are you texting?’” you repeated. He stared at You blankly like it was a joke you were pulling on him.

But there was no joke, you were dead serious. “Just work stuff,” he muttered, continuing to type. Jealousy and suspension ran through your body, curious as to why he was acting so angry. He was also hiding who he was talking to.

Was he cheating?

You cursed yourself as soon as you thought about it. No. Johnnie would never. But would he? “No I get that but who?” you asked, sitting up. He eyed you in a funny manner, “Someone I'm trying to collab with.” he said, for once in this whole conversation not looking down at His phone.

“Cool. But who is it?” you ask again your suspicion growing tenfold. “Just this girl I-” You don't let him finish before you cut him off. “Girl?” you ask in a loud voice. His phone turns off automatically from inactivity. “Yeah. Is there a problem with me having female friends?” he asks, turning his chair towards you.

You squint your eyes at him as if to ask ‘Are you serious?’. “No, I have no issue with you having female friends. I am in what I thought was a very secure relationship. What I have issues with is you treating me like a little bitch and then hiding who you're texting, when it's some girl you're gonna “collab” with.” you say adding air quotes around your words.

The tension was thick, laced with the mallace your words held. “Woah. ‘What you thought was?’” he quotes sitting forward in your chair. “Hey, you listened to me for once! Good job!” you replied in a mocking cheery voice.

“So you're just gonna fucking dump me over what I do for work?” he said standing up. Your world felt like it was spinning. ‘Dump him?’ you hadn't mentioned breaking up with him but… if that's the first thing he thought of maybe he wanted that.

“Dump you?” you ask. “When have I said anything about that? I'm just upset with you,” you said, your tiredness gone. “Yeah upset at me for doing work!” he shouts at you. Johnnie hasn't yelled at you this whole time you've been dating.

You can't hold your tears in anymore. His loud demeanor cuts through your already fragile heart like a razor blade. You don't say anything letting your tears fall. Johnnie's face contours with regret at his words. “Y/n I-” he begins but you cut him off.

“I was never upset at you for doing your work. You treated me like shit and ignored me to text another girl, one you won't even tell me the name of.” your voice was calm but filled with anger. You slowly stood up reaching for your bag.

Johnnie followed suit trying to hold you. You smacked his contact away from you, his arms still outstretched as he slowly took a step back from you. Your eyes had turned into faucets, leaking all your sadness out. “Don't call me. Don't text me. If you think I am going to break up with you over a tiny argument, maybe we shouldn't talk at all.” you spat between your tears.

“Y/n no! I didn't mean-” but the rest of his words don't register as you grab your bag and run out of the room without bothering to close the door. He follows you, saying things your brain doesn't let you pick up. You practically ran downstairs where Jake was walking into the house.

He noticed something was clearly wrong and started to say something that you again couldn't hear. You brushed right past him leaving your house and getting into your car. You didn't know what or where you were going; you just drove.

You found yourself heading towards Tara’s house. You didn't know if she was even home or could have people over. You say in your car resting your forehead against your steering wheel. You reluctantly picked up your phone and dialed Tara’s number.

“Heyy girl,” Tara said. You tried to keep your voice level but failed. “Um, Tara? Are you home?” you asked, your voice breaking. You peeked in her driveway not seeing her flashy pink car. “Omg y/n I'm not no are you ok? What happened?” she asked quickly.

“Me and Johnnie got into a fight and he-” your voice broke with a sob. “I'm shopping right now but give me 15 I can be at my house! Where are you right now? Are you still there?” she asked in a panicked voice. “No, I left, I'm at your house,” you said, your voice creaking.

“Ok hang tight I will be right there,” she said before hanging the phone up. You put your phone on Do Not Disturb not having time to deal with anyone's bullshit right now. You stayed in your car just sobbing your eyes out.

It wasn't like you and Johnnie hadn't had arguments before but they weren't like this at all. He hadn't ever yelled. They usually get resolved quickly. But that was all gone now. You two probably weren't even dating anymore.

The idea just made you cry harder, you could see through bleary eyes that Tara had pulled in. She hastily got out of her car and ran to yours. You undid your seatbelt and opened the door. Tara’s arms were on you in an instant.

You continued to cry as she pulled you out of the car and helped you into her house. All you could do was bawl your eyes out on her couch. Tara ran around her house finding you some tissues then a cup of water then some vegan chocolate (better than nothing right) and eventually, she door-dashed you some Taco Bell.

By this point, your blubbering had cooled down and you were able to recount the argument to your loving friend. “He yelled at you? I don't think I've ever heard his voice get loud enough to register a yell.” Tara mumbles while taking a bite of her food.

You wipe your tears away nodding your head in agreement. “I don't even think we are together anymore,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. It's crazy how life can be so perfect then it comes crashing down out of nowhere.

“I don't think that's right y/n,” Tara says looking at you opening a sauce packet. You just shrug in response, how could this happen to you? You two felt so perfect. It was all broken now huh?

After a moment of silence, Taras's phone goes off. “Oh god, it's a call from Johnnie,” she mutters while picking it up. “Hello?” she asks, standing up and waking to the other side of the room.

You could tell she was trying to not let you hear the conversation. Fortunately or unfortunately you did hear. “Johnnie I don't think we should be really-” she stops for a second, you can't hear what he is saying but you know it's something long as for the next several seconds you hear nothing.

“Johnnie Johnnie calm down please,” Tara said, her voice much calmer than it was when she answered the phone. “I'm not going to tell you where they are-” Tara was cut off again. You can't hear him clearly but you can't tell he is hysterical.

She lets out a deep sigh, “Yes Johnnie they are safe I promise I'm looking at them right now.” she mutters, turning around to look at you. She looks at you for a little before you can hear the hysterical sounds again and she rolls her eyes looking back at the backdoor.

“You sniffle slightly looking down at the table before Tara comes pattering back over to you. “You need to talk to that boy soon,” she comments with an exaggerated look on her face.

You take a deep sigh and check your phone. Since you still had DND on you couldn't see any of your motifs, you unlock the phone to see that Johnnie had called you 48 times in a row. With several voicemails.

You turned on the first one to listen, checking the timestamp that was minutes after you left the house. “Hey, y/n please I'm sorry I didn't mean to make a big deal I was just upset earlier.” the voicemail clicked signaling it was the end. The next one was 30 minutes later.

“Hey, y/n please I'm getting really worried about you calling me back as soon as you can.” your heart burned as you heard his worried voice.

The next few voicemails were minutes apart.

“Y/n please I'm sorry where are you? Are you safe? Call me back, I'm sorry.” his voice was breaking and high-pitched.

“Y/n you have to call me back I'm so worried about you. Please I'm so sorry I promise we can work this out just call me.”

“Y/n, please! I never meant to hurt you. I swear that girl didn't even mean shit I didn't even wanna collab with her please.” he was sobbing now.

“Y/n please I'm gonna keep calling you until you answer.”

You checked and he had called you so much apparently he needed to call Tara to make sure you were ok. You felt your heart pinging after him wanted to just hear his voice again.

Just then your phone goes off with a call from Jake. Taras's eyes shoot up trying to see who it was. “It's just Jake,” you mutter before answering the phone. “Hello?” you ask.

There is silence before Jake answers back surprised, “Hey sorry I didn't think you would answer me um, look I know you're totally pissed at Johnnie which you have every right to be but do you think you could call him back? Uhh, I am not exaggerating when I say he is having a full-blown freakout right now.” Jake spoke the last part quietly.

Johnnie presumably was in the room with him so you took a deep breath. “Yeah, I can call him just tell him it will be a few ok? I didn't ignore his calls on purpose I had Do Not Disturb turned on,” you said looking at Tara while you spoke.

“Ok gotcha no worries just soon please he is freaking out right now,” Jake said again. “Bye Jake,” you muttered, hanging up the call. You took the phone from your ear and scrolled around till you found Johnnie’s contact. You took a deep breath before you called him.

He picked up instantly,“Y/n? Oh my god, you don't know how happy I was when you called. Are you ok? I mean I know you aren't ‘ok’ but are you safe?” he rambled for a second.

“Johnnie?” you asked quietly. There was silence on the other side. “Yes?” he croaked out quietly. “One question at a time, please calm down,” you said sadly. “Are you safe?” you took a deep breath. This was the Johnnie you fell in love with. The one who cared about you.

“Yes I'm safe at Taras,” you Said which did not make Tara happy, as she quickly made a cutting motion at her throat. “Ok. Ok good,” he said quietly. There wasn't any noise for a second. Both of you feel like kicked puppies.

“Can we talk in person? Please? I miss you.” he said, his voice filled with sadness. You would love to but you feared what would happen so close after the argument. “Yeah, we can just not today,” you promise him. He stays quiet over the line, you can feel his heart breaking.

“Yeah of course whenever you feel comfortable, ok?” He was trying and failing to sound very positive. You hung up the phone and spent the next few hours trying everything Tara thought would make you feel better. It was a sweet attempt but there wasn't much that could cheer your mood up.

Eventually, you made a makeshift bed on her couch and fell asleep. In the morning you borrowed Taras's bathroom and got ready. You hugged her goodbye and promised her that if you needed anything else you wouldn't hesitate to call.

Full of nerves you made your way to your own house. You stepped out of the car and unlocked your front door. You walked into the usually lively space that was now empty and sad. You gripped your bag tightly and made your way upstairs.

You opened the door to your room, and the sight you saw nearly shattered your heart into two. Johnnie, still wearing his clothes from yesterday, was clutching one of your sweatshirts. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Dark circles sat under his eyes.

He looked up at you as you entered the room. He didn't move, he just stayed on the bed. “Sweetheart-” you began dropping your bag and going to his side. He quickly wrapped his arms around you, nearly suffocating you with the force of holding you.

“I'm so sorry, I was upset because my computer crashed while I was editing and so I lost the footage and- it doesn't matter I'm sorry,” he mumbled into your shirt. Wet hot tears slowly slid down his face and made their way to your clothes.

“Johnnie, did you sleep last night?” you whispered towards him. He just shook his head no. “I forgive you. I promise. It was a stupid fight. I promise you I didn't and don't want to break up ok?” you said finally playing with his hair slightly.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he cried to you pulling away and meeting your eyes. “I don't know but it has to be something pretty good.” you joked. He laughed, wiping a few tears from his eyes. You assisted him with wiping them away by placing small kisses under his eyes.

You silently pulled him into the bathroom, getting him situated on the counter. You stood in between his legs cleaning off his day-old make-up. He sat silently as you tenderly cared for him. Eventually, you got him to drink a glass of water and helped him change into comfy clothes.

You lay down with him, being a big spoon of course. He made a million promises to you before dozing off. Your argument wasn't finished but it could take the back seat.

#johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert angst #johnnie x you #johnnie #jake and johnnie #johnnie x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert #j