#(ANYWAY I TIMED IT SO the EXACT frame where he opens his eyes suddenly the full color is there ;;;;)

[s0urw00lf]

Our future is in our hands

Pairing: pre!college Sam Winchester x reader

Summary: you and Sam go from talking about the your dreams of going to college to actually going. Together.

Warnings: none

An: I'd kill to see how pre college Sam acted also in this readers mom and john are NOT together, they are just people who met just years after loosing their S/O

Dean left for the bar about ten minutes ago claiming that he ‘needed to get laid’ despite being only twenty years old and not yet old enough to get into a bar legally and your mom and John left a little over a day ago on a hunt that luckily didn’t call for you, Dean and Sam to tag along.

So that left you and Sam alone in the motel. Somehow John had found a place that had bedrooms in the motel two to be exact one with two twins (the boy's room) and one with a queen (your room). Which is where you currently sat doing some schoolwork that had been assigned to you by your mother. She was eager to keep you in school and by the grace of god you and your mother were able to talk John into letting Sam attend dean decided against it because he wouldn’t need it for much longer.

You groaned at the growing headache you’d started to get from staring at the workbook for too long. “You got a headache too?” The voice led you to look to see Sam’s tall frame standing in the doorway with a bottle of water. You rolled over on your back “I’ve been re-reading the same paragraph for thirty minutes” you groaned, accepting the water when he reached out to hug it to you. Sam gave you a small smile “I told you to take a break like an hour ago” he said.

You sighed “I know but I don’t have much left I just wanted to get it over with” you replied, sitting up so you wouldn’t choke while drinking the water. He looked down at your paper trying to see if he’d completed the part you were on, he hadn’t but he still offered his help. You declined “I need a break, I think my attention span has run dry,” you said. He nodded letting out a laugh, “Well what do you wanna do?” He asked. You shrugged, “Anything but that” You pointed to the pile of open workbooks and notepaper. “Wanna help me clean the guns?” He asked. You nodded, expecting that that’s what he was doing before he came into the room because John had told them two days ago to have it done by the time he was back.

The two of you sat beside working in silence disassembling the guns before Sam’s soft voice interrupted the silence. “Are you gonna go to college?” He asked suddenly. You looked up from the gun you had in your hands to Sam who kept his eyes trained on the gun he was cleaning. You thought for a second “I'd like to, more than anything.” You answered pausing “But do you think people like us get to do things like that?” You questioned.

He finally looked up from the gun in his hands and made eye contact with you, his expression was soft and his green eyes looked so vulnerable. “I think to hell with everybody else, since when do we play but the ‘hunter 101’ ruled anyway” he joked but you could tell he was deadly serious. You nodded at his statement, he was right.

The both of you had never been fully on board with the way your future was headed, hence the hours of hard work and studying. “Then yeah I'd love to go, but not by myself,” you said, hoping he’d catch the hint you were throwing at him. And he did, a blissful smile crossed his face “You wouldn’t be by yourself, we could go together, and share a dorm or apartment or whatever” he said.

Your smile matched his at the thought, sharing an apartment with Sammy sounded great but you’d rather share a room. You nodded “We could go furniture shopping and to parties. We could be normal,” you said, imagining the whole scenario. Sam agreed with a smile still plastered on his face “You’d do that with me?” He asked slowly. You looked at him completely baffled. “Sam i'd do anything with you” you confessed to him. “Even if i told you i want to be with you when it happens” he asked “even more so then” you replied with a small smile.

A little over two years later

You and Sam had left your parents and Dean a couple of hours ago. Somehow you both had been granted a full ride at Stanford and while your mom was happy about it, John had raised hell and to make a long story short he’d told you “If you walk out that door, don’t come back.” And you did. Sam drove with a clenched jaw and white knuckles, and you couldn’t keep yourself from crying. Silence filled the car as both of you registered the events that had taken place just hours ago. You didn’t know if you could live without talking to your family. Not your mom, or Dean. John… maybe. Your thoughts were interrupted when Sam grabbed your hand intertwining it with his and holding on tight. You have him a teary smile and his tense expression relaxed.

‘We’re gonna be fine’

When you arrived at Stanford you both gaped at the apartment on campus you’d been granted, you’d never lived in such a nice space. You walked further into the apartment and made eye contact with Sam who was still standing at the door and the biggest smiles crossed your faces. You let out an excited squeal running to hug him, he caught you picking you up and twirling you, making you let out a laugh.

He placed you gently back on the ground with a dopey smile locking you into his loving stare. “I can’t believe it” you muttered in disbelief looking up into his green eyes. “We did it,” he said. You were trapped, unable to look away from his eyes, and your face heated making your heartbeat rise. Since that day you and Sam talked about college you’d grown closer than friends but not yet a couple and you had yet to have your first kiss, praying that someday it’d be him, and it seems your prayers were answered when he began to lean down, playing a hand on your hip to bring you closer.

“Sam,” you said softly and you weren’t sure why. “Can I?” He breathily asked tugging you even closer if possible. You nodded not breaking eye contact. You could feel his breath on your lips as he leaned closer. When your lips connected you’d let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He hummed softly into the kiss. His lips were soft and the tip of his nose was still cold from when he was blasting the AC in the car. He pulled away from the kiss with a smile “I’m so glad I finally did that” he whispered. You laughed “I wish you’d done it sooner” you replied with a smirk. You pulled away from his warm embrace and turned back towards the living space of the apartment. “Where do we go from here?” You asked softly.

“We’ve got years to figure that out, let’s just focus on now” he answered. You smiled looking up at him. You had the man you’d dreamed about (literally) and the life you wished for and for right now that was all you needed.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Until We Get Home

Title: Until We Get Home

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Verbal harassment and threats, language,  mentions of alcohol and drinking

Summary: It’s 2am and you should be in bed, but you’re on the subway instead. Unfortunately, so is your ex.

A/N: This is based on the song “Another New York Love Story” from the musical “In Pieces”. As always, thanks for supporting me in all the ways you do. Lots of love, and thank you for reading!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Tara had promised you that dinner wouldn’t be more than a few hours, especially since you’d worked all day and you have work again tomorrow. It would be a few drinks, some food, and then maybe a little bit of catching up if the restaurant wasn’t too packed. The restaurant is packed, but it’s packed when you get there, so your college friend makes the executive decision to move your shindig to the bar across the street. That bar turns out to be a club that’s equally as packed as the restaurant, but clubs are supposed to be packed, so no one complains. You don’t complain either, considering you haven’t seen Tara and the others for almost four years.

I should’ve complained, you think. Maybe only a little, though.

The stairs down to the station seem to be moving as you climb down in your suddenly precarious heels, and it takes you a second at the bottom to right yourself. Maybe you had one drink too many. Despite your giddiness at spending so much time with your friends, you’re exhausted. It’ll be okay, though, because it’s two in the morning. There’s bound to be plenty of open seats on the train, meaning that you won’t have to stand for a little while—fourteen stops, to be exact. You’ve got some time to sober up.

You swipe your metrocard and board the train as soon as it arrives, then plop yourself down into a seat. It’s one of the cars with two long rows of chairs separated by an aisle, and the rest of your row is empty. Only three other people are in the car, and all of them ignore you as you get on. The older woman down the way continues to knit in silence, and you spy an airpod tucked behind her hair. It looks like she’s making some kind of underwear, if you’re being honest. You try not to stare. 

A man a few seats down from you on the other side of the aisle stands grasping one of the metal poles. There’s nothing particularly interesting about him, but he looks about as tired as you feel. He stares out the window behind you at the station, then at the passing bricks and darkness when the train lurches into motion. The man sways a little as you move through the tunnels.

I’ll bet we all look like zombies right now. You half-heartedly try to fix your hair a little, but give up a minute later. It doesn’t really matter this early in the morning, anyway.

The third person is a young girl, young enough that your protective instincts kick. She’s hunched over in her seat with her bag in her lap, the picture-perfect vision of a girl who’s never ridden late at night before. She’s hyper vigilant and glances over when she feels your eyes on her. A pang of sympathy goes through you at the sight, and you make a mental note to make sure she stays unbothered while you’re riding.

Fourteen stops. No one gets on or off.

Thirteen stops. Still, no one gets on or off.

A few minutes later, the train slows to a stop at the next station. You look up from where you’ve been shuffling through the music on your phone, despite the fact that you’re just going to listen to the same song on repeat, then freeze as a new man enters the train. His stature is large, big enough to stand out in a crowd, but here on the train he seems like a behemoth.

Steve doesn’t take the subway, you think, but it’s definitely him. He’s wearing the same brown jacket and blue t-shirt that he wore on the first time he took you to Brooklyn, and though his golden hair is covered with a baseball cap and he’s got those stupid black-framed glasses on again, you’d know him anywhere.

The doors hiss shut as Steve takes one of the empty seats. He’s across the aisle from you, a few seats down but not as far as the woman knitting. Though he doesn’t look around, you know that he’s taking in his surroundings. He’s always hyper-aware of what’s around him.

There’s a book in his hand and you’re too far away to read the title, but you recognize the cover. It’s the one that you bought him from your favorite bookstore, the one that you still have a hard time going into because it makes you think of all the afternoons the two of you had spent wandering the aisles together.

Steve always said that New York was his city. It’s his home, his safe place, and his beating heart. Once, he’d told you that you were his beating heart. It’s hard to be in a city that reminds you so much of him. The pain never quite leaves, an ever-present ache in your chest as you go about your day. If you could break your lease, you’d leave, but that isn’t an option, at least right now. Instead, you’ve changed as much as you can. You don’t take the same routes to and from work anymore. You shop at a different grocery store, and you don’t eat Thai takeout from the place around the corner that he loves, no matter how many menus and coupons they put in the mailroom. Memories of him are in every monument, every crosswalk, and every tucked-away apartment. They come in on whispers of wind and the crash of trash cans outside your building, and they break your heart every single time.

As subtly as possible, you shift until you’re sitting at an angle, facing away from him. If you’re lucky, Steve won’t see your face and try to start a conversation. The two of you haven’t talked since he broke up with you in the lobby of the Avengers Tower months ago.

You’d come to bring him some lunch. He’d been on his way to tell you that he wasn’t ready for a relationship. While five months had been enough to make you certain that you could spend the rest of your life with him, it wasn’t enough for him. Steve’s words had cut deeper than any knife ever could. A small part of you wants to hit him in retaliation for the way he ended things, though you know your punch wouldn’t do much at all to him.

Only twelve stops, you tell yourself. You can do this. You can totally go unnoticed for twelve stops. Just sit very, very quietly.

The train starts moving again and you close your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Thankfully, this car doesn’t smell as bad as some of the others you’ve been in. There’s movement in the aisle and you open your eyes to see the man approaching you. He’s leering, something between a creepy smile and sneer on his face, and you tense. You only have one earbud in, but even if you didn’t, you still would have been able to hear everything he says as he creeps towards you. It’s disgusting and your stomach churns. The girl down the way is watching with wide eyes and while you’re thankful it’s you and not her, you still don’t want to be in this situation.

He keeps his distance, thankfully, but he’s shouting at you in a way that makes you want to curl up and hide. His eyes are crazed as they look you up and down. 

“You whore! You can go back to wherever you came from! You’re not gonna get my money! You’re not going to get anything from me, not until the boss tells me you’re dead!”

You try your best to ignore him, fidgeting with the cord to your portable charger and clutching your bag in your lap. There’s pepper spray inside, but you’re not sure if that would help. You refuse the instinct to curl in on yourself. The best thing to do is to stay strong, to look tough.

“I’ll bet you’re gonna go home to the boss and tell him all the nasty things we did together! That’s right, tell him all the things you want to do to me. I’ll bet you're ready for a good lay, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Steve’s closing the distance between you now. His book has disappeared from his hand and his posture is undoubtedly less casual than when he’d been sitting in his seat. You hadn’t even realized that he was watching you, but you suppose that outbursts on an almost empty subway are hard to miss. Part of you is grateful that he’s stepping in, but a small part of you rises up, indignant, and insists that you could’ve handled it yourself. You’ve handled worse.

“That’s enough,” Steve firmly tells him, positioning himself between you and the man. He’s like a brick wall, and you relax a little in his shadow. You can’t even see past Steve’s figure, and if you’re being honest, you’re trying not to look. His ass is right in your face, and if you look too much, you’re bound to say something utterly embarrassing about it when this is all over.

“You should leave her alone.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?” the man taunts.

Steve draws himself up a little taller and you peek up to watch him remove the baseball cap and glasses. It only takes a second before the man retreats.

Captain America saves the day again.

Once the man is back on the other side of the train, Steve turns to you and you quickly look down before he can catch your eye. The screen of your phone is black now and your earbud has fallen out, sliding from your shoulder to your lap. Miraculously, it hasn’t fallen onto the floor of the train. You tuck it into your palm and make a fist.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentler. When you don’t answer, he tries again. “Y/N? Please just let me know if you’re okay.”

I don’t want to talk to you.

“I’m fine,” you finally respond. You force yourself to look up, unsure if you’re more grateful that he’s helped you or if you should roll your eyes at his inability to let someone else take over. Steve never was one to back down from a fight, even when it’s not his own.

He nods. “Good. I’m glad.” Steve pauses, grabbing onto one of the horizontal bars for balance as the train sways. “How have you been?”

You hold back a groan. Of course he wants to small talk. 

“Okay. How about you?” you ask, not really wanting to hear his answer.

Please don’t say that you’ve been good, you tell him in your head.

He holds your gaze for a second before looking away, nodding a little bit more than necessary. “Good. I’ve, uh, I’m okay, too.”

He replaces his glasses and the hat before grabbing onto the bar again. You shift awkwardly in your seat and glance over at the girl. She’s watching the man warily, but the train stops again and he makes a quick escape. The girl relaxes, and so do you.

You glance up at the map as the announcements play in the car. Eight more stops to go. 

“Why are you out this late?” Steve’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you look up at him from your seat. “You’re usually in bed at this time of night.”

“I went out for dinner with some friends,” you answer.

“Not Natasha?” Steve replies, like he already knows the answer, and you shake your head.

“Tara,” you tell him. “Lindsay and Mallory were there, too. Lizzy was supposed to come, but she got sick and decided to stay back at the hotel.”

Steve looks surprised. “You haven’t seen them in years. Why are they in town? Did you get to meet Mallory’s daughter?”

He remembers that she had a baby?

It takes you a second to process his questions. While Steve remembers a lot, it’s strange that he’d remember such specific details about your friends, especially after so long. It’s not important information. You’re certain that you only mentioned them a few times in the months you dated. You and your college friends don’t keep up except to send each other funny posts and videos.

“Um, no,” you stammer after a second, knowing that it’s been a little too long of a pause. You’ve made things awkward. “No, her husband stayed home with the baby while she’s in town. They have concert tickets for tomorrow, but they all flew in a day early to do some sightseeing. They asked if I wanted to go out to dinner after I got off work.”

Nodding, Steve searches your face, and you feel your cheeks warm under his steady gaze. You shift in your seat again, adjusting your grip on the earphone in your hand just to give yourself something to do.

“You look good, Y/N. Work’s going okay?”

You nod back and glance at the floor. There’s gum everywhere. Someone’s left a styrofoam takeout container underneath a seat.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good. Yours is good too, from what I hear.”

His expression is neutral when you finally look up again. “I’m not dead yet,” he tells you. “That’s normally a good sign.”

You could get lost in his eyes. How is it that it’s been months and you’re still able to be drawn in so quickly? Steve has the kind of face that comforts, that reassures. You love that about him. It soothes your soul a little and washes away the last dredges of fear the man’s harassment had brought on.

You’ve been staring too long, your brain helpfully chimes. He’s just being friendly. Small talk and public relations are a part of his job.

You blink, then look back over at the map above the windows opposite you. “So where are you headed?” you ask. 

“Manhattan,” Steve answers. When you look back at him, you get the answer to your next questions without even having to ask. You’re both getting off at the same stop, just like you always used to when he came to pick you up from work.

Clearing your throat, you look back down at your locked phone. “Right.”

Only three more stops. That’s not as long as it feels like.

Down the train, the girl grabs her backpack and exits the train. The doors hiss shut a moment later, and when you look up, you realize that the other woman has left, too. It’s just you and Steve on the train in the early hours of the day.

You swallow thickly and wrack your brain for something else to say. All you can come up with is, “It’s been pretty cold lately.”

Steve is quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I think Nat said something about it snowing this weekend.”

You nod and try not to fidget, try not to look nervous. Why is he still standing so close?

“She’ll like that,” you reply.

He nods again. “Yeah.” Steve pauses. “Tony won’t, though. He hates the snow.”

You nod again, then curse yourself for nodding so much. How many times has that been? You haven’t looked up in a while, should you look up again?

“So where did you have dinner tonight?” he asks.

“What?”

“You said you went out to dinner.”

“Oh. Right.” You look up, and when he doesn’t say anything more, you realize he’s still expecting an answer. “Oh. Um, well, we were going to go to this one place—Rio? But it was too busy, so we went to the bar across the street. Well, it’s more of a club than anything.”

Steve leans against the pole next to him, one hand still holding onto the railing above him. “Tuscano, right? I’ve been there.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’ve been to a club?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he answers, though there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks. When your expression doesn’t change, he explains, “It was Tony’s birthday a few weeks ago. He insisted we go to as many clubs as possible in one night—something about him and Pepper taking a break? We were only there for twenty minutes, I think, but it was long enough.”

Nodding, you relax and smile a little at the mental image of Steve standing in Tuscano. “Sounds like a fun night.”

“Something like that. I think I’ve been to Rio, too. It’s not too crowded if you go for lunch.”

Steve carries on the conversation like it’s easy. It probably is. He’s friendly in a way that reminds you a little too much of how he talks with strangers and fans. He doesn’t once ask you anything too personal, nor does he bring up anything about your last interactions or the months you dated. It stings, thinking that you mattered nothing to him in retrospect, but when he glances out the window at the second-to-last stop, you catch a glimpse of something you hadn’t noticed before—sadness.

You recognize it immediately. You’ve seen that same look in your eyes every time you’ve looked in the mirror since Steve broke up with you. You feel it every time you pass by the bookshop or hear about him and the other heroes on the news or in conversation. Every time you pass by the corner deli he likes or the vintage candy store, you think of him, and it twists the knife just a little.

A small part of yourself asks, “What if he misses you just as much as you miss him?,” but you’re too afraid to entertain that thought for long. You want to tell him. You want to tell Steve everything, starting with how much you miss him, but you can’t. That wouldn’t be fair—not to him, and definitely not to you. You’re working hard to recover from being disposed of, and another rejection could be the final blow. You push the thoughts away, willing yourself not to speak up.

The two of you ride in silence until your stop, and you follow Steve off the train and up the stairs without a word. When you reach the sidewalk, you get out of the flow of traffic and stand together, both of you with your hands in your jacket pockets. It’s strange to be standing here with him again, but you don’t want to leave yet, and you busy yourself by glancing at your phone to see if you have any missed calls. You don’t, but your music has been playing this whole time. You wonder if Steve could hear it the whole time.

Silently, you pause the song and unplug the portable charger, then tuck your earphone into its case. Steve watches you as you arrange your belongings.

“Y/N…”

“Whatever you’re about to say,” you say, stopping him before he can go any further, “Please just know that you… I’m having a really hard time with this.” You gesture between the two of you and break eye contact, knowing that you won’t be able to hold his gaze while you say this. You inhale deeply through your nose and close your eyes for a second before focusing yourself on a building across the street. “I can’t have my heart broken again by you, Steve. It was too hard the first time, and I’m still getting over it.”

Strangers walk past as you blink away tears. The light turns red and cars roll to a stop. Somewhere down the street, a siren wails. Footsteps sound in chorus all around you in the city that never sleeps, though a hush has fallen over the sleeping public, as if the world is holding its breath just for a moment.

“Me too,” Steve says. “And I’m sorry.”

You sniffle. “What?”

“Can I walk you home?” he asks. “It would make me feel better to know you got home safely after what happened on the train.”

You pause, taken aback by the question, but after a few seconds, you nod and wipe your eyes, a little embarrassed. 

Steve moves forward and you turn around, naturally falling into step beside him as he heads towards your apartment building. The sidewalks are less crowded than normal, but you walk together in silence, side-by-side, until you reach the door to the building’s mailroom. It takes all your willpower not to reach out and take his hand as you walk.

”I’m sorry for what I said. I was… I was scared and I panicked, and that’s not an excuse, but I didn’t think I was ready to be in a relationship. I’m in love with you, Y/N, and that scared me. I didn’t think that I should fall as hard and as fast as I did for you. It felt too dangerous, but now I realize that it wasn’t a bad thing. Being with you feels like being home, and that’s something I’ve been searching for for a long time,” Steve says.

You shake your head a little. “What?”

He searches your face, mouth gaping a little, before finally answering with, “I’m in love with you.”

“But you broke up with me,” you say, feeling a bit lost. It’s like he’s taken the script in your head and completely flipped it upside down. What are you supposed to say?

“I know,” he replies. Steve looks down at his shoes and rubs the back of his neck. “Y/N, I— I’m sorry. I don’t think anything I could ever do will make up for what I said and what I did, but I want to try.”

You press your lips together and look over at the glass door that leads inside. You could go. It would be easy to leave him standing outside your building, and you know that if you told Steve to never talk to you again, he’d listen. You’d never hear from him ever again. A tiny voice tells you to do that, to pull away from him before he inflicts even more pain.

He kisses you on the cheek.

Your eyes fly to his, and there’s guilt flooding the blue that’s always been a safe haven to you.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You shake your head. You’re not angry. You’re…

“I love you too.” The words you’ve wanted to say for so long are finally out in the open, hanging between you in the night air.

“You do?” he asks, and you nod.

“I do.”

A smile appears on his face, your heart settles a little in your chest, and then you realize what it is that you’re feeling.

I’m home, you think, and you smile back.

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[pheiral]

Gathered some genazo parco exhibition spoiler crumbs, i read it with MTL..so beware errors caused by lack of understanding of the original language

And rambling about Gegero's voice

Note about character trait that's been said multiple times but I need to write it here:

Mizuki is handsome and Gegero is sexy

GEGERO'S UNDERWEAR IS 半股引

I'm not really sure how it look but i saw people posting this video as reference

(buttock warning ⚠️ because it's showing how to use the thing )

And his height is 185 cm (doesn't include geta)

Mizuki's height is said to be Gegero's eye level..so around 10cm shorter. Which mean he can be 165-170 ish cm

(fyi Sada Keiji, the actor Mizuki's design is based on, height is 173)

Gegero's height once mentioned in light novel of 2018 Kitaro's series to be around 180 cm. So glad we get to know his exact height

Everyone already know Gegero is thin, but they even draw his ribs sticking out. Total opposite of the muscly Mizuki

btw Mizuki's watch is Seiko Marvel

There are talk about storyboard of the story such as what this character feel in this scene such as Mizuki's fast eating habit, Osada's last cut, the meaning of Gegero's line when he said I've waited for you to Mizuki, Gegero entrust his wife to Mizuki scene,..etc

I'm not typing it all because my mind is too filled with Gegero's underwear.

Oh and Kozo is child of concubine

Visitor can choose audio guide for the exhibition. With Mizuki, visitors will be treated as guest and he'll be in work mode. With Gegero, visitors will be treated as someone who lost their way and Mizuki will act differently because visitor isn't his guest now.

The voicelines promotion for parco exhibition at Ikebukuro is pretty good. Mizuki in salesman mode and Gegero suddenly appear. They're pretty casual with each other according to fan's reviews.

Gegero voice is lighter and higher than the tone he use in movie. Jp fans said that's how he sound like in all new voicelines. That make sense if it's his normal voice and the movie one is his much subdued tone because he's been separated with his wife for years.

This Blu-ray DVD promotion ver. Kitaro's father can be used as reference to hear how high and cheery he can be. If the link isn't available anymore it's because they're privated.

Anyway, I think this cheery Gegero isn't strange because in the end he's that cute Medama Oyaji.

I love the contrast between Mizuki deep/heavy voice and Gegero's high/light voice. Mizuki can be pretty brusque while Gegero is much gentler. Gegero's laugh is fufufu (eigamura voiceline) so I think Mizuki's will be louder than him because they're always opposite. Not to mention he's showa man, so the image is he will laugh with mouth wide open

Edit 25/6: Kitaro's mom height including the heels, is around Gegero's eyes. So she's a bit shorter than Mizuki. Her right eye is 潰れ (crushed?)

...QAQ

Edit 27/6: At the last room of exhibition is where sculpt (?) of baby Kitaro birth, visitor can see his hand coming out of the grave. Gegero said he love this place the most, most reviewers pointed out this is his kindest and gentlest voice. And I just discovered this room also has the 6 bonus illustrations framed, it's no wonder Gegero love this place the most...not only it's when Kitaro is born but there's images where.. they're all alive and well, as if they survive the village intact and his wife is still alive. I can't....this is so tear jerking.

Gegero is called 子ゲゲ be the staff

[soulofapatrick]

Family isn’t Always Blood - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Your parents make a surprise appearance, Joel and Tommy arriving to your rescue and a big secret gets revealed

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff; angst; mentions of abuse; someone being punched; fluff

Notes: I don’t know why my stories are suddenly so family orientated angst I promise ill write some fluffy and smutty ones soon

Y/N’s POV

I open the front door, expecting the knocking to be any of the four Millers from across the street. They all have a key to mine but sometimes they forget them so they knock meaning I wasn’t expecting anything unusual. Yet, standing in front of me are two people I never expected to see. Two people who have made my life a living hell and the exact reason I moved to Austin, Texas. They shower me with fake smiles and hugs before pushing past me and into my house, beady eyes looking around as they walk to my kitchen like they own the place. I debate whether leaving them here and going across the street to the Millers, feeling a lot safer if Joel or Tommy were here but it’s almost 4pm so they’re still at work and won’t be back for another hour at least. 

It takes a deep breath for me to close the front door and joining them in the kitchen, my mum holding a photo of Joel, me, Tommy and Joel’s two daughters out in town for the night. It’s one of my favourite photos and she can tell how much it means to me by the way she puts it back down a little too far to the edge of the counter, watching it fall to the floor with a shattering of glass. Silently, I grab my dustpan and brush, sweeping up the glass and putting the broken frame in the drawer so Joel can fix it for me another time. 

“Tea or coffee?” I ask my sorry excuse of parents as I put the kettle on, grabbing three mugs and pouring coffee and sugar into one of them for myself and tea bags into the other two. I don’t know why I asked when I know they’re going to guilt trip me about forgetting or something so I just wait for my mum’s voice.

“Why would we have anything other than tea?” Dad booms instead, voice making me flinch a little, “Have you really forgotten that much about us in the five years since you’ve been gone?” 

“A lot of things happen in five years,” I reply flatly putting the mugs in front of them and staying standing by the counter with my coffee. I refuse to put myself in a position to get trapped by them, knowing from past experiences of having plates thrown at me for making their food slightly wrong. Somehow, I barely flinch when my dad’s mug smashes against the wall behind me, tea sliding down and staining the white surface. 

“You think you can just up and leave?” He stands, anger in his tone as he tries to rile me up and I’m putting my mug down, grabbing my keys and slipping them into my back pocket. I manoeuvre myself away from the wall so I can make a quick exit if things get heated which they no doubt will. Both of the people sat in my kitchen having violent natures and will give into them eventually, the niceness facade dropping, “You think you can just start your own family and not let us see our grandkids?” 

The picture of me and the Millers. They think Sarah and Ellie are mine? Where the fuck is the logic in that? Both girls are sixteen and fifteen respectively, so no way are they biologically mine which means these strangers have no claim to them. I would fight them tooth and nail if they had grandparent rights anyway, years worth of evidence of the abuse in the way of scars and therapy sessions on my side. They can’t do anything towards the Millers and I wouldn’t let them if they tried, “They’re not my family, they’re my friends.” I lie, it hurts but it’s better than getting them involved in this fight. 

“Really?” Mum speaks this time, the card from Ellie in her hand, “Says here you’re their mum. Which means they’re our grandkids.” She snaps putting the card back down and knocking her cup of tea all over it, a lump in my throat as I want to cry and fall to my knees in submission but Joel and Tommy have taught me to stand up for myself over the years so that’s what I’m going to do instead. 

“I think you two should leave,” I tell them, head up and steeling them with a hard look. It takes them aback so I seize the opportunity to carry on, “You have overstayed your welcome and I have things to be doing this evening” 

“How dare you speak to us like that?” Dad snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface as he knocks over the table, shattering everything on it but I hold firm, walking to the front door and opening it. My heart and confidence soars when I see the familiar pick up truck pulling into the driveway with Joel and Tommy bickering in the front seats, “We are your parents!” 

They stalk after me so I step outside, seeing their land rover parked in my driveway and they follow me out, both steaming from the ears and red in the face as I say, “Thank you for visiting, have a safe trip home and don’t visit me again.” 

“You spiteful little bitch!” There’s a sharp sting across my cheek, car doors slamming and suddenly two large and familiar hands are on my waist, chest against my back and breath ghosting my neck as he pulls me away from my mum. Tommy standing to the left of me as mum spits out, “We are your parents, we raised you and this is how you repay us?” 

It’s like something snaps in me, having Joel and Tommy here to protect me if they get physical again so I say what I’ve been bottling up since I left, breaking away from Joel’s safe grip, “You didn’t raise us! Elliott and Charlotte did that! What you did was beat on us until you got bored, why do you think I left? It wasn’t to be spiteful or abandon my siblings! It was because you beat my twin brother nearly to death and then spent that night laughing about it while I held his dying body in my arms! You took the one person from me that-“ 

I’m stumbling back, hands flying to my nose that is now bleeding profusely and tears are welling up in my eyes, the fist connecting to my jaw this time before there’s a flash and arms are wrapping around me while my dad is slammed into the side of his car by a very red in the face Joel. The usually soft man I’ve come to love has murder in his eyes, Dad’s hand being twisted behind his back as Joel hisses out a warning to him. 

‘Wait!” I shake Tommy off but not before squeezing his arm reassuringly, stepping back over to my parents, gently drawing Joel away from them so I can say my final piece, “I might have three children but you,” I point a finger at them, my other resting on my belly instinctively “Will never have any grandparent rights to them. If you even think about coming anywhere near Austin again I’ll call the police and have you done for murder. I should really be calling them now and telling them about Scott so you can shut your fucking mouths and get in your car and never come back!” 

There’s a stunned silence before they’re shuffling to their car and climbing in, not another word spoken to any of us and I stay where I am until I see them disappear around the corner then Joel’s hand is on my shoulder. His honey eyes are wide and voice shaky when he asks, “Three?” Glancing down to my hand on my belly before meeting my gaze again. I’m swallowing thickly before nodding, not knowing how he’ll react as it’s only been two and a half years since we started dating but Joel’s sweeping me off my feet into a hug. Tommy joins in, hugging us both and there’s tears and laughter, as if the last hour hadn’t happened.

“I guess we should tell the girls that they’re gonna have a sister.” Joel steps back holding me at arms length, face contorting from love and happiness to concern and pain when realises my nose is still bleeding, “I think we should clean you up first.”

“Who says it’ll be a sister.” I tease, having a strong feeling it’s gonna be a boy, and knowing that everything will be okay. I made my own family here in Austin that I wouldn’t change the world for and that’s all I need. 

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[ddelline]

wip wednesday (ft traumatic post-canon itafushi)

blurb | yea so this is a thing I never thought I would feel inspired 2 write. turns out that I did, and I do: I think the formula is megumi's inherent canonical misery(*infinity) + yūji's inherent canonical saviorism = ddelline wip

premise | follows canon thru ch256, deviates (obvs lol) after that to explore itafushi in a post-canon setting, centering on shared trauma, shared healing, and all of what may become of 2 boys who've been possessed by a 2000 yr curse and forced to bear witness to its murderous actions all the whilst (but it ends in yaoi. I feel compelled 2 point this out, even though it may count as a spoiler)

ok anyway, a lil prelude bit (spoilers 4 ch252) under the cut! posting for the sake of posting, lol, but when a b*tch hasn't delivered a new ao3 entry since october, that's what happens

25th December, 2018; Shinjuku—

In the zero point two second interval before Okkotsu-senpai snaps his right hand up and signs for the Angel’s technique, Yūji gets in close. In the exact second—same breath, same blink-of-eye—that Okkotsu-senpai intones, “Maximum output: Jacob’s Ladder,” and thrusts the katana through Sukuna’s tricep, Yūji lunges. He steps forward, takes one long step in one dizzying arc, and carves a knife-sharpened elbow into Sukuna’s right oblique. In the split breath that follows the incantation, he heaves back, finds his center of gravity and pitches backwards with everything he’s got.

Yūji screams, hoarse and raspy, desperate with futile hope: “It’s time to wake up, Fushiguro!!”

The battlefield freeze-frames. Suddenly he sees himself, bloodied and bruised and messily reversed-patched whole, land on the balls of his feet outside of the whiteout lance of the Jacob’s Ladder; he sees the splurt of blood in the wake of Okkotsu-senpai’s katana congeal in mid-air; he sees the monstrous outline of Sukuna temporarily undone, silhouette erased within the beam’s radius.

Yūji blinks. The next thing he sees is swirling black and blue nothing—like when you close your eyes and focus on the dark vacuum on the backs of your eyelids. He looks down, catalogs his bloody and ripped sneakers sinking slightly into ground that’s plush, looks sandy.

Darkness swirls. Yūji sinks. In front of him, Fushiguro has collapsed over his own bent knees. His face is turned into the ground, his fists are balled at the ends of where his arms are stretched out long.

“That’s enough. I’ve had enough.”

The composition of the soul—

Viewed from that angle, their plan had no flaws. Calculate: a curse puppeting a human vessel, theorized soul multiplicity, Yūji’s ability to perceive and target the soul, and the Angel’s technique—then solve for X. If the aforementioned conditions are used as variables, then no matter how you scramble them up, X will solve for a window wherein Yūji is able to bully open a sliver of an entryway into Fushiguro’s soul. And they did—it worked.

They’d one-upped the strongest sorcerer of all; when all was said, done and executed, they had outwitted The King of Curses himself.

However. 

“That’s enough,” says Fushiguro’s collapsed body. “I’ve had enough.”

For a moment, Yūji doesn’t understand what he’s hearing. He feels like he’s being asked to interpret a conversation from underwater—goes back over familiarly shaped words, tries his best to turn over the syllables, to pick them apart and put them back together the way they’re supposed to be. His ears ring faintly.

He stares at the crumpled angles of Fushiguro’s back; a vulnerable spot of his neck peeks up visible where his collar creases awkwardly. He feels simultaneously nothing and like he’s very cold.

Yūji attempts to repeat the words, “I don’t—” but the words lodge in the hollow of his throat. His ribs feel suddenly tight over his heart.

What they’d failed to take into account was the possibility that within Fushiguro Megumi’s soul—any will to live had been extinguished.

Comprehension slams into Yūji like a freight train. He stops breathing. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, he thinks. Blood rushes in his ears, squalls and claps like thunder. He wants to repeat himself—it’s time to wake up, Fushiguro; there’s no time actually, we don’t have time for this, so wake up—but when he tries, his throat closes up and his jaw sticks shut. His mind is racing, his heart inches upwards in his throat.

“Fushiguro—” Yūji croaks, but runs out of words. Fuck, but he’s always been better at doing. He takes a step forward, stretches out a hand.

The blue-black vacuum shudders. The sandy ground quakes.

“No!! Fushig—”

“Scale of the Dragon.”

Yūji blinks. His surroundings once more have shape: the sky is a murky dome, the ground craggy rock. The entirety of the landscape—cut through by thousands, maybe countless katanas. A violent shiver shudders through him, makes him stumble slightly forward. Far up the blade-crowded plains, the blinding light of Jacob’s Ladder has winked out; a bleached sand tempest spirals from its impact site.

Fushiguro is gone.

They failed. Yūji failed.

The pale sand whorl shudders and warps. “Recoil.”

Yūji’s mind draws blank. He understands, somehow primally, that he needs to move. His heart races, slams against his too-tight ribs with meaty thunks. Fushiguro is gone. Against all odds, their plan had worked; Yūji had reached him—and he’d failed.

“—tadori!” cuts a voice—cuts Okkotsu-senpai’s voice, tight with nerves, from somewhere ahead and above. It sounds submerged, hindered; or maybe that’s just him.   

Him—who needs to move. He needs to move now.

“Twin Meteors.”

“Itadori!!”

Yūji snaps both arms up in tight guard on knee-jerk instinct. The first reinforced Cleave slashes across his forehead up into his hairline not a second later. Pain cracks through his skull, blinding and breathtaking. In front of him, Okkotsu-senpai’s matte white uniform splits open, blooming a violent red. Rika shrieks. Okkotsu-senpai sinks to one knee with a pained, bitten off grunt. 

“Okkotsu-senpai!!”

Yūji grinds a heel into the solid underfoot, forces his weight into his knees. Don’t move; focus on defense, says a small, rational part of Yūji. Don’t move in any way that might jeopardise the plan, says an amalgamation of their remaining fighting roster.

Move. Move now; a short sprint and you can make it in time, drag Okkotsu out of danger, says his instincts. Yūji bites his lip raw to keep from swearing. Sweat slicks down the small of his back. He remains still.

The next three hits garrote across his hip, stomach, upper thigh; gouges him clean to the bone. Yūji grinds his teeth until his back molars creak and swallows back bile reflexively. Pain, bright and overwhelming, sparks in his chest. He wills himself to lean into it; feels the pain, but not the shock. He repeats, focus, and breathe, says it over and over again, wearing the words down like an old prayer. He’s already failed an assignment once today. He’s not allowed to contribute to another defeat. All that matters is the plan, the painstaking step-by-step—

The greyscale dome of Yūta’s domain cracks and shatters.

Yūji sees Maki-senpai slip the Split Soul Katana home—the tip ruptures bloody through the stretch of skin supposedly guarding a curse’s heart—before he actually sees Maki-senpai.

Sukuna grunts, freezes. His eyes go wide. Slowly he cranes his neck, gaze abandoning Rika and Okkotsu-senpai to dart over and behind the bulk of his right shoulder. 

The plan. The painstaking, convoluted, step-by-step plan, outfitted with so many failsafes and exceptions it can barely be called a plan at this stage. The plan with its end goal—

Fushiguro. For Yūji, he’s both the beginning and the end. 

Behind him, someone is propelled from high above into the pavement with such brute force that it sends violent tremors shocking through the full expanse of the city block.

Step one is getting the hell out of dodge—clear the way for Maki-senpai. 

He wills himself, as the domain collapses into bleak daylight and a ruined cityscape, to move. He sees Ui Ui swoop in from high above, aiming for where Okkotsu-senpai is cradled in the spindly palms of his shikigami. Neither Chōsō nor Kusakabe should be far off, then. Yūji can tag out for now.

He grits his teeth and steels himself, spins on one heel and takes off in a sprint.

The sudden movement strains the gouges in his thigh and hip taut; what did he expect, really? Pain, furious and overwhelming, lashes up his spine, burrows into the lesions; blacks his vision for a split second. He stumbles, swears. The wound across his forehead dribbles steadily into his eyelashes and along his temple. He scrubs the inside of his wrist irately across his face. Taking quick stock, he traces the pain, sparking like a live wire, to three busted ribs, six lacerations at worst: forehead, forearms, torso, left hip and upper left thigh.

He blinks crusting blood and light-headedness out of his eyes; he hones in on the pain he’s feeling—digs in to use it as a focal point, situates himself inside it. It’s physical, he thinks; just physical, it’s fixable. For me it’s fine. Not like—

It’s time to wake up, Fushiguro!!

Cutting a sharp right corner, sprinting down a narrow, partly collapsed alleyway, Yūji imagines Fushiguro before him: beaten down—defeated; kneeling face down in the blue-black vacuum pit of his soul, the expanse of his shoulders pitching into the not-sand of the ground; the skinny stretch of his back long and limp over folded knees.

It’s enough—I’ve had enough.

Yūji scrubs an angry hand across his eyes. “I’m not giving up on you!”

[biblicallyaccuratebunny]

the first time

Wei Wuxian chased him across the muddy water, giggling in whispers so they couldn’t be heard or caught. He leapt toward Jiang Cheng and grabbed him with his skinny arms, digging his fingers into Jiang Cheng’s biceps. He tested the give of his mouth briefly against the side of Jiang Cheng’s jaw, whatever he could reach first, then smashed their lips together as they flailed in the water. 

“What are you doing!” Jiang Cheng asked, ripping himself away from Wei Wuxan. 

“Kissing you.” Wei Wuxian stuck his tongue out and leaned forward as if to lick him directly across his face. 

Jiang Cheng fought him off, but not very well. They ended up wrestling for a while, at least until Jiang Cheng finally gave up and let Wei Wuxian cling to his neck. Wei Wuxian bit experimentally over the entirety of Jiang Cheng’s lips. It hurt a little.

“You’re so bad at this!” he accused, licking at the red teeth marks left behind, “Why are you trying to kiss me, anyway?”

“Why not? Can’t I?”

“Only if you stop being such a loser at it!” Jiang Cheng pinched his side, earning the exact reaction he was hoping for: Wei Wuxian yelped and splashed away. Jiang Cheng took the opportunity to swim back to the dock and pull himself out of the water. Like Wei Wuxian, he was clad only in a pair of pants that he’d rolled up to his knees. He could already see where the skin of his shins were turning darker after an entire day spent bared. 

As usual, Wei Wuxian followed after him. The orange-purple hues of dusk settled around them, and Wei Wuxian looked like some kind of mischievous bog creature cutting a line through the water, glowing strangely with the receding light of the sun behind him. His damp ponytail weighed heavily against his nape, his face framed by wisps of curling black hair. He was smiling.

Jiang Cheng suddenly said, “Try it again.”

When Wei Wuxian got close enough, he wormed himself into the space between Jiang Cheng’s legs and lifted his head up, lips pursed. 

“No. You kiss me this time.”

Jiang Cheng squeezed his thighs tightly, so that Wei Wuxian would be crushed between them. As expected, he made the appropriate amount of whining noises, but otherwise kept his head angled up for Jiang Cheng’s inspection. 

Jiang Cheng reached down and squished his cheeks together. “Why would I want to kiss you?”

“Because I’m handsome,” Wei Wuxian argued, his words distorted. 

Ugh.

Jiang Cheng let go of him and leaned down. 

“Don’t bite this time,” he instructed, looking at Wei Wuxian’s lips. They were glistening from the pond water, a little bit flushed from doing such a poor job at kissing Jiang Cheng the first time. He traced his thumb over the bottom lip, then fitted his own lips against it. It was warm and plump, a bit like freshly made rice cake. Jiang Cheng closed his eyes. 

Wei Wuxian put his hands on Jiang Cheng’s knees and used them as leverage to push himself up higher. He licked at the seam of Jiang Cheng’s lips. 

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth a little and lightly met Wei Wuxian’s slippery tongue with his own. The feeling was so foreign, and yet also terribly exciting. He opened his mouth a bit wider and trapped Wei Wuxian’s tongue between his lips. It softened and tensed in waves, trying to dig itself further into his mouth. Jiang Cheng nipped at it. 

“Ah!” Wei Wuxian pulled back, “You said no biting!”

“I said you couldn’t bite,” Jiang Cheng answered, just to be contrary. 

“Jerk,” Wei Wuxian grinned at him. Then he flung an arm across Jiang Cheng’s shoulders and abruptly pulled him back down into the water. 

They wrestled and chased each other around the pier until the sun fully disappeared below the horizon and it became too dark to swim.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

The Backstabber.

*knock* *knock*

...

*Kyoko nods to Byakuya after everyone hears a knocking on the camper door. He opens it.

Hey. It’s just me.

I noticed. Welcome.

*Rantaro enters the camper van.

...Hey dude.

Hey...is...everything alright?

Everything’s fine. Why?

Because you all look like someone died in here.

Uh...

No one’s died here; not to our knowledge. How’d that search go by the way?

Yeah, did you find a way to get to Katagiri in Central Park?

Before I tell you, I brought you all something.

*Rantaro takes a bag he hung over his shoulder. He starts taking things out and handing them to everyone.

Are these...Hot-Cross Buns?

It’s almost Christmas time, and I felt like getting a tad festive.

Noice! I love these!

Uh, I haven’t buttered them yet. Can I borrow your kitchen?

Um...Sure...

*Rantaro casually goes over to the kitchen area of the camper and searches through the drawers. Everyone keeps a close eye on him.

Thanks...Uh...Sorry, where you keep the knives?

What do you want a knife for?

To...butter the Hot-Cross Bun?

Oh, you mean a kitchen knife...!?

Yeah, what did you think I meant, a butchers knife? Is that how you prepare food?

Wouldn’t put it past Hina.

My knowledge of cooking is better than THAT!

I recently put all the cutlery in the dishwasher. It should be done by now, so you can just take it from there.

*Rantaro opens the dishwasher and looks at the cutlery rack.

...? Do you guys only have 6 sets of cutlery?

Only 6 people lived here originally.

I know but...what if you were gonna have guests around?

Rantaro. We were using this camper to hide from our enemies. Other than you and the Freedom Foundation, we don’t accept any guests.

Ah...touché. Still, I figured you’d be prepared.

Why do you need more knives anyway. Just use one.

...Just trying to break the ice.

Because YOU guys seem very tense. Tell me...What happened when I left?

Ah...that...

Why don’t YOU go first?

You came here to update us on the Katagiri situation, no? Have you managed to pinpoint his exact location.

*Rantaro starts cutting the Hot-Cross Buns, buttering them and handing them out one by one. Everyone begins to feast.

Unfortunately, no, I didn’t. If Katagiri IS hiding in Central Park, he’s hiding very well.

So the bad news is that even though I have a point of reference, I’m still trying to find a needle in a relatively big haystack. Any buildings in the park are being used by other corporations and the government, and Katagiri is nowhere to be seen in them.

I even checked to see if he had a cool treehouse dig, but...I think someone would have noticed that by now anyway.

And the good news?

Well...I found a magnet. And...hm...Now might be a good time to check if this really works...

If WHAT works?

This...Come on baby, please work...

*Rantaro suddenly holds out his arms and makes a frame with his fingers. He widens the frame, and all of a sudden, a hologramic screen appears in the air in front of him.

What the heck!?

How are you-!?

Yes! Haha! That’s one small step forward!

*Everyone stares in amazement at the screen. Komaru waves her hand through it to check if it’s physical or not. 

You just...MADE a projection! How did you pull this off?

ERR0RM3SS4GE did a digital analysis of Katagiri’s hologram tech. We’re still testing it, but we can certainly give it some incredible upgrades if we do it right.

What kind of upgrades?

That’s a secret~ In any case...

*Rantaro flips the screen around to show everyone.

We can build a device that will pinpoint the exact location of Katagiri in Hyde Park, and single out every trap and technological gizmo he’s planted there for safekeeping. 

This comes at a catch though, and this is where I need your help.

Do tell.

In order to create a device that pinpoints LegionTech uh...Tech...I need to use one of the company labs.

Not only would the environment help me make it as effective as I can, but the reason I need LegionTech’s gear is because it will resonate to the familiar signals. Essentially, it’s the most surefire way to make sure this plan works, but it means I’ll have to sneak into the factory.

We do this part, we go to Central Park, and we’re straight-shooting. We’ll take Katagiri and his cronies down by sundown. Sound good?

Sounds great!

Then why do you all STILL look so unsure?

I think it’s YOUR turn to tell me whatever it is YOU turned up. You’ve all been acting weird since I walked through the door.

Kind of like you wanted to pounce on me and tie me up...Ask me a couple questions...y’know?

Wh-What? Aren’t you being a bit paranoid?

Just double-checking. I had thought that we had gained a lot of trust in one another since we started working together. Though, I suppose my group did still help Uchui, so you’ve got reason to doubt me.

That’s not it Rantaro. It’s...

Yes?

...

Alright. Can I ask you one or two questions?

Open fire.

You seem very excited about this mission. Am I wrong in assuming that?

W-Well...I do love New York.

You’ve been here before?

In another life, yes.

What kinda hippie-ass response is that?

You wouldn’t get it even if I explained it. But, despite how much I love all the sights here...Y’know, the Statue of Liberty, Empire State Building, the big tree they put up at this time of year...This is a BUSINESS trip, so I can’t relax and enjoy Christmas until it’s over.

An honest and appreciative answer, but that’s not really what I meant.

I mean...when you finally catch Zen Katagiri...What do you...and ERR0RM3SS4GE plan to DO with him?

...Oh! THAT’S what you meant!

...Well?

...Isn’t that obvious?

*Rantaro goes over to the sink and drops the knife in it with a thud.

I’m going to KILL him.

!!!??

*Everyone freezes in place.

Wh-What did you just say...!?

Well...maybe “KILL” isn’t the right word for it. Put him out of his misery would be more accurate. Not much different than what Akeru did with Seishi.

No, it’s VERY different! Murder and euthanasia are VERY different!

Why are you only mentioning this NOW!? You made NO indication this is what you were planning all along!?

Actually, I DID. Don’t you remember? When I first presented you the special contract?

Toko asked me “Let me get this straight 404…Seishi Yodogawa. HE’S who you want to go after?”

And my response was, “Believe me…If I had the choice, I’d love to do SO much more than that.”

That’s not what I thought you meant!

I had no reason to clarify. I thought you would have been smart enough to realize. I haven’t been dishonest once since we started this partnership.

Even if the cards are in my hand, I prefer to play a fair game. If you didn’t understand my warning at the time...Sorry, but that’s on you.

Nrgh...How could you...!?

I honestly thought you’d be on my side! You want Katagiri to face the music, right?

Not with his LIFE. It’s not how we do things. What do you even have to GAIN from killing Katagiri? Is justice all you want?

Are you seriously asking me that?

Katagiri is the only man who knows how to properly run AETHER! We take him out for good, and the world is safe from his tyranny! You already did it with Emilia Feng, so what’s the problem?

That WASN’T US!

Well...it kinda was.

Yeah, it definitely wasn’t our fault.

Shut up you two! You’re not helping! But...Does this mean the footage Katagiri showed us was true...!?

I’m sorry? What was that...?

Katagiri found and contacted us via virtual hologram. He sent us a threat, and showed us a picture of one of his employee’s bludgeoned to death on the floor.

He says you and your group were responsible.

...

We might have been. But it was in self-defense, I can assure you. We don’t just randomly attack people.

That doesn’t matter! You still killed him!

So what?

“S-So what!?”

I’m sorry...I’m a patient man, but your attitude is testing me.

You assume that ERR0RM3SS4GE and the Future Foundation share the same code of honor, only because we’re allies for now. That’s YOUR mistake. And I’m afraid I’m deathly serious about this.

Wh-What does THAT mean?

It means this...If you don’t help me kill Katagiri...

Then our deal is off. You wouldn’t have held up your end of the bargain, so I have no reason to uphold mine.

You’re saying if we don’t do this, you won’t give us Zetsubou’s location!?

I’m SAYING that I have no obligation to. Well? You gonna make the sacrifice? Or is the deal off?

...

Fine. Deal’s off.

...!?

Wait...just like that...!?

...I’m sorry. But no matter how many losses the Future Foundation have suffered, I refuse to break our code. And I refuse to let any of you do it either.

We’ll have to find another way to save our allies. Thank you Rantaro...It’s been a pleasure knowing you.

...

Fair enough. I guess I’ll take my leave then. Enjoy the Hot-Cross Buns though.

*Everyone quietly watches as Rantaro prepares to leave.

...Unacceptable...

Huh...?What was that...?

This...Is...UNNACEPTABLE!

*SMASH!*

AAGH!? K-KURIPA!?

*Kuripa suddenly jumps up, his face smothered with rage. He pounds the worksurface so hard he cracks it.

How could you do this!? We came so far! We found out all the things we needed to know; we even put Akeru through trauma to get it! We know just how much of a threat Zen Katagiri is! And you’re just gonna ABANDON the mission like this!?

Kuripa! I get how you feel, but we don’t kill!

And you KNOW that! Surely you should have understood that as soon as you signed up for the FF!

Knowing Kuripa, I doubt he does...Or he just doesn’t care.

Yeah, he’s already got two major target kills under his belt!

And I’ll GLADLY take a third!

You ingrate! When are you going to understand how the people around you feel!?

When are YOU going to understand that sacrifices need to be made for a chance at a better tomorrow!? You’ve seen the shit Katagiri’s done! You make it sound like we’re assassinating an innocent!

Innocent or not, Kyoko is right. Future Foundation have a code, and we WILL follow it.

...A code...? Hah! A CODE she says...! Says the one who ABANDONED the FF and it’s code!

Why are you being such a dick!?

Oh, I’M the dick!? I’m not the one hiding from my responsibilities! That’s all you ever do! You even ditched Future Foundation because you couldn’t handle the RESPONSIBILITY you were TRUSTED with!

Kuripa, that’s enough! Don’t you dare antagonize Hina!

You’ve worked with us for years, and you know we don’t accept killing. You’ve had more than a few warnings. Why are you so heavily opposed to the procedure anyway!?

Well, for one thing...If it wasn’t for the stupid code of conduct, and if you had just LET ME KILL KOIME...

MUKURO MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE!!

!!??

*Makoto backs down immediately.

That’s a low blow!

I don’t fight fair, Byakuyasshole.

Even for you, it’s low.

Berate me all you want, but I can’t forgive any of YOU either. I understand the code more than you know. You all see it as a way of keeping yourself sane, and not wanting to go back to the way things were in the past. Killing each other, deceiving each other...I get it.

But the way I see it? This is nothing more than a pathetic form of ESCAPISM! You’re not trying to fix your past, you’re trying to RUN from it!

But YOU CAN’T! YOU CAN’T! RUN FROM THIS!

...

Kuripa...I’m giving one last chance...Hold your tongue. We all agreed on this code. You have an obligation to the Foundation to follow it!

*Kuripa looks around at everyone.

...Then it’s a good thing I never had an obligation to the Foundation in the first place...

*He suddenly turns around to face Rantaro.

You heard it Rantaro. The Future Foundation do not accept your terms and conditions.

But I DO. I WILL kill Zen Katagiri...and I will make it the most painful...agonizing end...he always feared of.

I can’t help but think you might be taking it a bit far. But if that’s how you feel...Who am I to oppose?

GRGH!

*Komaru grabs Kuripa’s shoulder and flips him back around.

You can’t do this!

You wanna stop me? You’re gonna have to KILL me! Aaaaaw, but you wooon’t, will yoou? You’re too hung down by your coooode...

That does it.

Eh?

*Kyoko approaches Kuripa and squares up to him.

Clearly you didn’t listen last time, so I’ll remind you...After you killed Emilia Feng, you’re on thin ice.

One more of these offences, and we’re done with you. You’ll be fired from Branch 14 and left to fend for yourself. Do I make myself clear?

Come on Kuripa. Listen to her. Even if we have our differences, we all value you as an ally. We can’t afford to lose you. And I’m sure you know you need us. 

Please...for me?

...

*Makoto gives Kuripa a reassuring smile.

...Fine...

Good boy. Now then, as we were-

*RIIIIP!* Those terms are FINE...

!!??

*Kyoko is unable to finish her sentence, as Kuripa suddenly rips his Foundation badge off of his vest.

Take your code...Take your Foundation...Take your diplomacy...

AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR AAAASSS!!

*WHAAAMM!*

MPPPRGH! GAGH!

KYOOKOOOOO!!!

*Everyone leaps in horror, as Kuripa reels back and punches his badge into Kyoko’s mouth! She goes flying to the other side of the camper and bashes her head! Hina immediately rushes over to help her.

KYOKO! OH MY GOD!

WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!? APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW-UGH!?

*Kuripa leans in dangerously close to Byakuya. He sparts to unapologetically spit in his face.

Consider that my resignation...! You have no right to order me around anymore...NONE of you do...

!!??

*He shoots a malicious glance at Makoto, turns around and begins to leave the camper with Rantaro. He turns around one final time.

I sacrificed everything for you Boss...Twice! And yet despite everything, you STILL won’t see things from my perspective.

Kuripa...Don’t think you can just attack my wife and walk out without me saying or doing anything!

I apologize really, but I have no sympathy for you OR your wife...Rantaro and ERR0RM3SS4GES “code” is more to my style, but the Future Foundations?

I have NO BUSINESS mingling with people, who are willing to leave their friends to SUFFER at the hands of Organization Zetsubou. Every second we waste, they’re TORTURING them in that base, and I refuse to abandon them...unlike you.

So I will do...what you CAN’T. I will make the sacrifices you refuse to...

*Rantaro quietly leaves the camper. Kuripa follows him out.

See you around... “Boss...”

...!

*He slams the door to the camper shut, never returning.

//KURIPA KURAFTO HAS ABANDONED FUTURE FOUNDATION.//

[izzyizumi]

Digimon Adventure Tri ~ Edit Featuring: Taichi Yagami

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[yuujilogy]

trouble (gojo satoru x reader)

REQUEST:  what do you think about fem reader and gojou sensei having a secret relationship like they’d be sneaking late at night to fuck or smth but they have to keep quiet or else the other students will hear esp with them thin ass walls

| PAIRINGS:  satoru gojo x fem!reader

| WARNINGS: smut, explicit, little bit of degradation, little bit of cum play, breeding kink if you squint, exhibitionism, rough, unportected (be safe), grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: 2,745

A/N: OH FAWWK YEA  some gojo spice to make things more interesting!! kinda went off with this one bc c’mon, we all know gojo is freaky and sexy in bed 😳 anyway i hope this is what you expected !! enjoy !!  ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

Satoru pulled you inside of his room as soon as he opened the door after knocking just once. It was almost as if he couldn’t wait anymore, capturing your lips in a feral kiss as he pushed your back against the door to close it, you both moaning into each other’s mouth as his hand groped your ass to press you against him.

It’s not like you minded these kinds of escapades with rough sessions, where Satoru just threw you over the edge over and over again, showing his stamina off and fucking you stupid.

But right now, you were at the dorms of the Tokyo facility at midnight, where the other students and teacher were probably already sleeping soundly not that far from here. When he called you to this room, you thought he wouldn’t actually take the risk of taking you to bed, considering your relationship was still being kept a secret from your professional lives for two reasons: you were both teachers, and the heads above were just assholes who wouldn’t let Satoru−or you−hear the end of this.

Well, turns out this man is still full of surprises even after two years of dating, revealing at least one to you almost every day.

“S-Satoru…” you said between kisses, your hands flying to his hair that was already styled down due to the absence of his blindfold. He pulled away and looked down at you, smirking. Oh, he knew what was coming. “W-We are at the school right now, Gojo. What if they hear?” Your cheeks were already heating up, flustered by the surprising, wet kiss.

Satoru limited himself to let out a low laugh, his free hand caressing your cheek with slender cold fingers before travelling to the side of your neck. You could barely see the brightness of his blue eyes thanks to the moonlight coming through the windows.

“And what about it?” Satoru said indifferently, the hand previously on your ass making its way to your hip, too slowly it was sending chills down your spine. “You scared everyone will hear how I make this pussy mine the whole night?” his hand cupped your centre, making you jump and gasp. “I can already feel how wet you are just from some sloppy kissing, baby. I wonder if I could just slip my cock inside.”

God, you hated to admit it but he was so right. Satoru was always right and knew the right buttons to push at the right moment. You couldn’t help the grinding of your hips against his hand, already throbbing and clenching around nothing, in need of relief. Your hands grabbed the frame of his shoulders, moaning softly as you tried reaching for his lips once again. Yet he didn’t give you the chance to get what you wanted, pulling farther apart from your face. You complained with a huff, frowning, and he kissed your forehead.

“You’re so whiny tonight, baby. Better keep quiet.” He started making his way towards the bed with you, making you fall over your back, positioning himself on top of you. “Because I sure won’t hold back with you this time.”

With ease, he unbuttoned your jeans with one hand before pulling them down along with your panties. Both of his hands gripped your thighs, opening your legs to feel the chill weather hit your centre, feeling way too exposed. You were so sensitive already for some reason, you had to cover your mouth with your own hand when his fingers started rubbing your clit softly, your hips starting to move involuntarily trying to meet his movements.

You don’t know if it’s the fact you must stay quiet regardless of his sweet torture, or if it was the way he overpowered you so easily, but you were so turned on right now.

“So fucking wet already” Satoru groaned under his breath, more to himself than to you, the friction coming to a stop. Uncovering your hand to complain, you couldn’t help but let out a loud moan when two of his fingers entered your warm core. Talk about timing. The sting of being stretched open feeling so good, arching your back as you bit your lip harshly. He knew your body so well and the fact you liked a little bit of pain from time to time. He chuckled. “You’re such a wet mess, Y/N. This dirty pussy is swallowing my fingers so easily.” Satoru brought his face to the exposed skin in your neck to start sucking softly at your sweet spot behind your ear.

It was too much. The risk, Satoru’s fingers and demeanour, and just overall the situation. All of that was making you feel so aware and sensitive, making it harder to control your whimpers.

“F-Fuck, ‘toru. I need-“ your words were interrupted by his fingers increasing their pace and going deeper, hitting the perfect spot inside of you, and, before you could make another sound, Satoru kissed you roughly, swallowing every single noise. He could feel the way you were tightening around his fingers, letting out small cries, and smiled against your lips before pulling away with a string of saliva between you.

“You naughty slut,” his fingers left your insides, looking at his fingers covered with your slick and then back at you. “You thought you were going to cum with only two fingers, didn’t you?” he guided them towards your mouth, which you gladly accepted by sucking them, tasting yourself, without breaking eye contact with him. “Are you that desperate of letting everyone know who makes you feel this good?”

You could only nod, humming around his fingers with pleasure before releasing them with a pop, your lips coated with a mix of your juices and saliva. Gojo pulled away from your body to get rid of his shirt, unbuttoning his pants afterwards and pulling them down, his throbbing hard cock springing free. Your mouth salivated at the sight of him wrapping a hand around his shaft, pumping it a few times while staring at you.

Satoru totally loved this sight: you spread open for him, your tortured wet cunt in display waiting to be ravaged by him. Only him. Just the thought of it made him eager to finally be inside you, his thumb smearing the pre-cum over the tip of his cock as he bit his lip. God, he wanted to ruin you so badly.

“You’re so lucky I can’t wait to fuck you either” Satoru almost growled as he positioned himself again between your legs, his nails digging in the flesh of your legs to spread them further apart, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You held back a whimper as your small hands rested against his stomach as he was entering you. “Let’s see how quiet you can be.”

And almost too easily, he slides inside of you with a steady pace, his long hand covering your mouth as he bottoms out with just one thrust. You instinctively want to put your legs together, but Satoru’s hands didn’t let you, his nails digging into your flesh. His long cock was rubbing exactly where it had to, your insides pulsating and clenching around him. The feeling of his hips connecting with yours in such rough manner was too much you couldn’t help the heat in the pit of your stomach from appearing, throwing your head back with a muffled sob before you could even stop it.

Fuck. Satoru could cum from this sight alone, watching you tremble around him as his free hand lifted your shirt to reveal your breasts, squeezing them as you tried your best to stop the moans from coming out. You were sinful. Fuck. Fuck.

“Look at you” He started circling his hips still inside you, rubbing your inside walls deliciously. “Fucking losin’ it over some cock” the way he was degrading you this night, in this exact place where anyone could hear was way more pleasurable than you would like to admit.

Satoru didn’t want to hold back anymore, pulling almost completely out before slamming back roughly, even pushing your body back due to the force of his next thrusts, quick and deep. If it wasn’t for his hand still covering your mouth, you were sure your loud moans would be joining the wet, slapping sounds filling the room. Satoru was actually being nice here, helping you stay quiet as he kept hitting your g-spot repeatedly as he growled lowly at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, knowing he went crazy whenever you did that.

Oh, but he wasn’t going to be nice anymore. His hands grabbed your waist tightly, leaving your mouth suddenly uncovered as you looked up to him through hooded eyes, mouth hanging open, drool starting to run down your chin as you gasped for air instead of making any sounds because, god, you were about to break at any point now. Satoru started controlling your movements, impaling you with his cock however he pleased with his own force, as if you were his fuck toy. You threw your head back, grabbing a pillow and biting it harshly because, lord, have mercy, you were about to scream if he kept fuck you so good.

“Yeah, just like that, baby” He was basically using your body as a toy to pleasure himself, looking down at the part you were connected to each other, biting his lip and letting out a sigh of pleasure as he continued his rough thrusts. The sight of his cock disappearing inside of you was so perfect, your juices coating every inch of himself; you were born to take his cock, nobody but him could pleasure you. “Mm, fuck, I’m making such a mess out of this sloppy cunt. You hearing that? So wet it’s almost pathetic.” Your mind was going blank at this point, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your legs started shaking around him as the pillow muffled all your cries of pleasure, feeling that familiar heat in your core.

You were close and Satoru knew it. He was fucking you stupid this early into the night and he could go for hours now that he was actually fired up. He wanted to make you struggle a little more, so he decided that throwing away the pillow you were holding onto with dear life was a good idea. Your eyes opened in surprise, no longer being able to hold your moans at the lowest volume, raising higher in tone as his thrusts went by. He wanted to hear you come apart, secretly wanting the rest of his colleagues to hear how you were falling apart in pleasure because of his ministrations to your pussy. One of Satoru’s hands flew to your cheeks, squeezing them roughly to make you look at him, his thrusts slowing down a notch, but still going deep.

“You wanna cum around my cock, baby?” He asked through heavy pants, a smirk never leaving his face as he watched you struggle to form even a word. You whimpered a little louder this time. “C’mon, say it. You can do it. Tell me how much you want me to fill you up.”

“P-Pleawse.. Nghh… Satoru m- Ahh!” You babbled non-sense through your moans, and you knew it, the pleasure being too much for you to handle right now, the grip in your face making it even harder to speak. God, you were actually pathetic, huh? All you needed to do was answer one single question and you would be seeing stars. But Gojo thought that was enough for this one time. Only this one time.

“Please, Satoru” He mocked, ridiculing you and releasing your face to grab your legs once again, spreading them open as you shook uncontrollably and continued with his fast pace. Tears started forming around the corners of your eyes due to the stimulation and how close you were to bursting, your walls pulsating around his cock so badly as he hit your cervix with every thrust. “You’re allowed to cum, baby, don’t hold back.”

And that was all you needed to throw you over the edge, head falling back with a silent sob once again as you squeezed the sheets into your fists. Satoru chuckled lowly, placing a finger over your mouth to remind you to stay quiet but you were far gone, still shaking for the still ongoing orgasm you were having. You bit Satoru’s finger subconsciously to avoid your whining getting louder. It seems he was also a sucker for pain as he was the one to let out a louder than before moan, bending over to get closer to your body, his face mere inches away from yours.

“F-Fuck, baby, I’m gonna fill you up so good.” The way you were squeezing around him was suffocating and the pain he was feeling from your biting was also bringing him closer to his release, his thrusts becoming sloppier and erratic as his free arm helped him for support when he grabbed your face again as you looked at each other. Everything else was a blur except for his cloudy eyes, foreheads pressing together as he kept groaning all the way through his release. You squeezed with the little force left in you, expecting to push him over already. “Ugh, yeah, just like that. Fuck, yes… Fuck, Y/N!”

He captured your lips into a sloppy kiss, muffling his own groans of pleasure as he stilled inside you, painting your walls white with every spurt as you felt him throb inside you, moaning against his mouth as he grinded against you. Satoru was cumming too much you started feeling it dripping out of you with the small movements of his hips. He pulled away from the kiss, panting heavily as you both were coming down from your highs, and smirked, caressing your cheek and pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time.

“God, baby…” a low chuckle escaped him as he pulled away, pulling out from you as he saw his seed coming out of you. He felt himself throb again at the sight. “We made such a mess.” Satoru gathered some of his cum in his fingers and smearing it in the outside of your walls. You whined hoarsely as you watched him play with his own release with his fingers, his cock still hard for another round.

After all, he was a big fan of sloppy seconds.

“Well, whose fault is that?” You kicked him weakly with your feet, rolling your eyes in annoyance, even if your body was feeling numb. You enjoyed it, of course, but reality was hitting you like a truck right now. It almost seemed as if Satoru made it his goal to actually get you both caught. Oh, girl, if you knew. “You sure are dumb.”

“Oh, c’mon baby, don’t be so mean. There’s no way we were heard.” Satoru pouted, his whole demeanour changing quickly as if he didn’t just fuck you into oblivion a few seconds ago. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the sound of his phone inside of his forgotten jeans interrupted him. “Wait, someone is calling me.” He pressed a kiss in your forehead and stood up quickly, roaming through the room to find his phone to answer it. The light of the screen lighted up his features before bringing it to his ear. “Yeah, my dear director~?”

Oh, no.

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about, hehe~” Satoru laughed sweetly, scratching the back of his head and sparing you a quick glance before a blush creeped up his face. You frowned. You knew the director Yaga wasn’t just calling to talk with your boyfriend at 1am on a Friday. Hell, he wouldn’t call Satoru at all if he could. “Haha! That’s funny because− What? Y/N?”

Oh, no, no. Please, no.

“I mean, yeah but− Yeah. Yeah, I understand” He let out a loud sigh, closing his eyes in frustration. You swore you could hear Yaga’s loud, angry voice all the way to where you were. “Right. Yeah. Goodbye.” Satoru hung up and gulped harshly when he felt your glare piercing through his thick head. He turned to look at you with a sweet but nervous smile, forgetting the fact he was still fully naked. You could almost see the cold sweat running down his face. “Teehee~, we are in trouble.”

You were actually going to kill him.

[penguintransporter]

Say Something (John Stones imagine)

This is angsty, and I wrote it in one sitting while cooking dinner, so if there are any mistakes or something, don’t be too harsh. I will go back and check it once I have more time on my hands. I wanted to write this for a long time, and consider it as a warm up to the next chapter of Forget Me Not which should be posted before Wednesday. Anyway, read, enjoy, and tell me what you think. 

credits to whoever owns this picture. 

—

It’s wet and cold outside; quiet too — the sky grey and heavy with the rain that just waits for the right moment to spat on the sleepy streets of the city. 

From where she sits, at the shiny, marble made kitchen island, she can hear the front doors open at the exact time as every day — the sound echoing throughout the minimally furnished house — something she wasn’t a huge fan of, but it was his bachelor pad before she came along, and she felt bad for disrupting it, so she went along, hoping that she would eventually get used to it. 

She hears him twist the locks, and the familiar dull sound of his backpack as it hits the hardwood floor upon being thrown from his shoulder, followed by the sound of his car keys carelessly hitting the small bowl on the side-table. 

She wants to roll her eyes at his habits, wants to yell out a sarcastic remark; a joke — something that usually makes the two of them laugh at his messiness, but she doesn’t. 

More than anything, she wants to bolt towards him like she did all these months, give him a hug and kiss him welcome — sometimes more than innocently, but she doesn’t. 

Instead, she pulls her quivering bottom lip between her teeth, and keeps her eyes focused on the sad, lifeless garden behind the windows; wet and splattered with rain. 

“Before I forget—,” John calls out as he walks through the corridor, “Jenny called this morning, asking if we are still on for the dinner next week,” he adds — voice still loud before it sinks down to the usual volume as he enters the large living space with adjoined kitchen area, divided with a large dining table. “I said we are, but— oh, what’s this?”

He is not looking at her, but the dining table, set for two — the aroma of his favourite dish filling his nostrils as he approaches the chair where he usually sits. 

“I made food,” she replies, getting up slowly as she wraps both of her hands around the cup of herbal tea she made earlier, hoping that it would calm down her nerves. “I felt like cooking.”

“Oh,” John mouths — the smile spreading across his features as he takes two long strides and wraps his tattooed arms around her shoulders, kissing her forehead. “You know I don’t mind having a toast or something, but I am not saying no to this. This looks amazing.”

She closes her eyes — the realisation of what he has done dawning on her; breaking her heart, and she takes a small intake of breath before stepping away from him and his warm embrace. 

“You’re welcome,” she smiles a little before making her way towards the large staircase that leads to their bedroom on the second floor.

Seemingly not paying attention to her, John sits down — long legs getting comfortable under the table before he starts piling the food on his plate. “Where are you going?” he suddenly asks, stopping — the large serving spoon mid-air. 

“I am not hungry,” she answers, stopping for a second, “just made tea.”

John laughs a little — the laugh that made him fall for him in the first place; the melody that made her realise that she was in love with him some time later. “But you are always hungry,” he comments as he grabs his cutlery. “Come on, I’ll wait for you before I start. It looks delicious.”

“Just eat,” she whispers as she walks upstairs and enters the room, setting the tea on the top of the dresser, next to the framed photograph showing a girl and a guy who only several weeks from that day would be making out against his car in a parking lot in front of her work.

In the picture they are happy; careless even. John, as tall as he was, had one of his arms wrapped around her shoulder, the other ruffling her hair, as they sat next to one another on a plaid, picnic blanket — a goofy smirk on both of their faces. It was thanks to his mate that they met — both of them killing time as their friends tried to chat up one another. A string of sarcastic remarks have been exchanged, followed by sharing food, and before they knew it they were laughing like children, talking about everything and anything. 

That day she fell for him, and so did he for her.

Shaking her head lightly, she opens the dresser in front of her, picking up some of the clothes, neatly folded inside — a couple of t-shirts and a pair of leggings, before crouching down to grab some trousers and a thick jumper. Standing up straight, she makes a move towards the bed before packing the things in her weekender bag she had prepared earlier that day.

“What are you doing?”

It’s his voice that sends a shiver down her spine, and she turns around, looking at his figure filling up the doorway, and she cannot help but feel the love for him break her up, and as much as she tries to resent him for what he did, she just cannot. 

She still wants him to hold her when they watch TV together, she still wants him to kiss her senseless, make her call out his name over and over again late at night, wants to wake up next to him and shut his alarm off on his days off. She still wants to wear his jersey and chant his name when he gives his last breath on the pitch, and wants to sit in the silence of his car in the Etihad garage after the way too many goals were conceded. 

“I will be staying at my mum’s for a few days.”

“”How come?” he asks, leaning away from the doorway and stepping inside the room, “you didn’t mention anything.” She shrugs as she turns around, continuing with her packing. She cannot say for how long they’ve been silent, but she can feel that he is getting impatient by the way he’s barged into the room, stopping behind her back. “Okay!” John raises his voice suddenly, making her jump a little — the quietness of the atmosphere gone and replaced by nerve-cutting tension. “What’s wrong?” he asks, as he walks around to be able to face her. “You’ve barely looked at me since I’ve arrived, the same thing yesterday, and the day before. You are distancing yourself, and now you’re suddenly going to your mum’s.”

She tries to keep her composure steady, but she feels like breaking at any point when she looks at him — eyes focused on his own. 

“When were you planning on telling me about what had happened in Greece this summer? Was it Abby or Leah, or both?” 

The words she was dreading to say come out of her calmly and coherently, despite her nerves, and she watches him and the way his stern face turns into one of worry — eyebrows furrowing; a nervous hand finding its way through his curls. 

He is silent, but he quickly looks away from her, and she knows that everything she had heard is true, no matter how hard she wanted it not to be. 

“How did you find out?”

She wants to laugh at this reaction, but she doesn’t. Instead, she stays quiet as she places the last items in her bag before zipping it up. “It’s funny,” she finally speaks up quietly, “it’s funny how you care about how, and for the three nights straight, I’ve been wondering why it had happened, John?” 

“It happened because I was drunk, please, you have to—,” he keeps talking, but she doesn’t hear a word that comes out of his mouth — her heart breaking into tiny shreds, landing on the floor of their pristine bedroom. John is pacing around the room, both of his hands in his hair before he stops — his face a painting of pain. “Why are you not saying anything?”

“I don’t—,” she stops herself, rubbing at her face with both of her hands, “nothing I say will change the fact that you slept with someone else, John. It won’t change the fact that you cheated on me, so why hurting myself even more...”

“I didn’t mean to, I—it happened…” he whispers, taking a step closer, “here, hit me—” he demands angrily as he grabs both of her arms and pulls them closer to his chest, “tell me I am a bastard, that I deserve to die, do something, just don’t be—don’t be silent. She was a mistake, and I will be ashamed for what I did, but just please...don’t—”

She pulls her arms away sharply, looking up at him — nothing but despair and disappointment written over his handsome features before stepping away and picking up the bag in her dainty hands. She lingers for a second in the doorway — her eyes watering with the tears that she had kept for so long inside. 

It hurts, John. It fucking hurts. — she wants to say, but bites back her words as a small, silent sob leaves her throat, and she finds herself running down the stairs before slipping out of the warm house and under the heavy, grey clouds, slowly spitting the rain on the city.

[userjoel]

[ ♡ morning kisses ♡ ] ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

[ prompt ]

‘‘i’m not going to kiss you.’‘ ‘‘why?’‘ ‘‘because if i do, i don’t think we’re getting out of bed today.’‘ followed by the character placing a playful kiss on their lover’s mouth as they get out of bed (via)

[ pairing ] : tom holland x reader

[ warnings ] : a lot of kissing, they kinda sorta get a little handsy? it’s just very fluffy and i’m still trying to figure out what exactly warrants warnings so some kind feedback would be very appreciated...!

[ word count ] : 1.5k

[ note ] : this is my first ever fic, and it’s been a minute since i wrote...anything really? so i have no idea how this is going to read for others, but!! i had fun writing this, so i hope you guys enjoy!

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You wished every morning could be just like this: eyes coaxed open by the warm rays pouring through the windows, your frame safely tucked against Tom’s body with his arm draped over your waist.

Once you manage to blink away the sleep, you roll over to face him, being careful not to wake him in the process.

And he looks perfect. You lie there and run your eyes over him—it feels a little surreal to take him in this way. Just several hours ago he was on a plane coming back home to you after an excruciating month of being apart. But now, here he was — physically, actually here — lost somewhere deep in his dreams. By a rare stroke of luck you’ve woken up before him. So naturally, you're gonna use those valuable seconds by trying to memorize every little detail of his face.

Nothing has felt more relaxing. A little too relaxing, in fact, but you fight the sleep that threatens to creep back, fixating instead on the way the sunlight licks at the tips of his unruly brown curls, slowly inching down his features. And if the sun were allowed to touch him, weren’t you, too?

You hold your breath as your index finger reaches out and delicately traces along his brow bone.

When it seems clear the action hasn’t stirred him from his sleep, you continue to ghost across the surface of his skin, taking your time as your finger trails down his cheek bone, to the bridge of his nose, and to his lips. Then it lingers there for a second too long.

“I think I quite like this sort of wake up call.” 

Your whip your hand away like it had just touched something hot, eyes blown wide in surprise.

“You’re awake.” The sentence comes out more as an observation than a question, and you can feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“I... may or may not have been up since I felt you turn over earlier.” His eyes, still sanded with sleep and exhaustion, finally open to meet yours. But his ever-present, boyish amusement doesn’t fail to glitter from behind the chocolate orbs.

And it had always been these minor things that made your heart glow with warmth for the boy in front of you. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you,” you mumble, a pout forming at the end of the sentence as you caress his cheek.

Tom hums in reply, leaning into your touch as he shakes his head, as though to tell you not to worry. His arms reach around you to pull you closer to him. “No, I’m glad you did. I reckon I should probably get ready anyway. What time is it?”

“No. Nuh-uh. C’mon, I just got you back!” Your hand comes up to cover his eyes, shielding his vision from the clock by your bed. “Unless by ‘get ready,’ you mean ‘get ready to spend all day with your loving girlfriend and not go to work’?”

“Y/N/N,” he groans playfully, shaking his head side to side to try and remove your hand, but you persist, a grin decorating your features. “The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can wrap up and come back home to you love, hm?” He turns his head slightly, just enough to give the inside of your wrist a quick peck. “Give me my eyes baaaaack.”

Reluctantly you concede, but by parting your fingers just enough so he could peek between the gap. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he finally sees you, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance to give you the first kiss of the day.

It’s deliciously soft and lazy, purposeful and loving. The feeling sends a kind of shock through your veins, reaching down to the tip of your toes. His lips move against yours with ease in the same way they’ve done a thousand times before, effectively bringing all your guards down — your hand comes down too, slipping behind his neck to toy with the hair on his nape. Your leg innocently tangles with his, bringing your bodies even closer together, and you feel his hand delicately moving from the your lower back to your ass, giving it a small squeeze.

You hum against his lips for more; but that’s the exact moment he decides to pull away. And as much as you hated it, you knew as well as he did that one second longer and that would probably mean neither of you'd likely have a very productive morning. Not that that would be so bad for you, necessarily.

Tom rolls you over on your back, peppering your cheeks, neck, and collarbone with feathery kisses that you knew translated into an apology. He nestles his head on your chest with a quiet sigh, consumed by the silence and the rhythmical thump of your heartbeat.

“Wish I didn’t have to go to bloody work.” He mumbles against your skin, cuddling even closer against you as your fingers gently comb through his hair. "Wish I didn't have to leave you again."

But you both knew it went without saying that Tom loved what he did; how he couldn’t imagine being anything else but an actor. The physical and mental demand of his work, the exhausting, erratic hours, the different types of people he had to deal with on a daily basis — he could handle all of that, and then some. But when it came down to being away from you not just in the early hours of the morning but for weeks, and sometimes even months at a time… That was the hard part. Those were the moments when he dared to invite the addictive ‘what-if’s and tempting fantasies of an alternative reality where neither of you had any obligations to tend to, no urgent work messages to check on the phone.

“Duty calls, right?” You can still feel your lips tingle from his kiss. “At least you don’t have anything on your schedule tomorrow. Means I’ll get to have you all to myself.”

At that, you suddenly feel the weight of your boyfriend removed from your body. Tom props himself up a bit to lean over you, hands on the bed by either side of your head. There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, suggesting something both sinister and delightful.

“For once you’re wrong, darling.” He grins. “I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow and a fairly good feeling that you're going to love what I’ve got planned out for you.” 

You raise your brow. “'That right? Thirty-something days apart and suddenly you’re so cocky.” With a teasing smile, you drape your arms around his neck, gaze lingering on his inviting lips for a moment before lifting back up on his eyes. 

“But fine," you begin, your voice just slightly hushed. "What if...you show me a little, tiny sneak peek, baby...and I can tell you...what I think of your little schedule so far?” With each passing syllable you pull him down closer to you –– bit by bit, and sneakily enough, you tell yourself. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating what’s to come, but the kiss never lands. You feel the teasing tickle of skin on skin instead.

“Y’think I don’t know all about your antics, don’t you?”

“‘Antics’?!” Your open your eyes again with a frown. “I think some would call that the art of flirting. Or teasing. Or both. But I guess you wouldn’t know that even if it were right under your nose.” Your finger pokes the tip of Tom’s nose for emphasis.

He tuts and shrugs in acknowledgement. “Well tough luck, babe. I’m still not gonna kiss you.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, one hand leaving your side to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Why not?” You huff.

“Because if I do, I don’t think either of us are ever going to make it out of this bed.”

“But—” Before you can fully protest, you’re caught off-guard with the very kiss you were denied just moments ago. And maybe that was why, but somehow, it feels even better than the last. Your chin cranes up to hold his lips for as long as you possibly can, melting under his touch and savoring what you could.

He reluctantly tears away, much sooner than you’d like. He leaves you with a final peck against the tip of your nose.

“I love you. So much.” He rests his forehead against yours again. “And I’m sorry we can’t spend my first day back together, darling. But I’ll make it up to you, hm? I promise.” 

“Pinky swear?” You hold up your finger between your two frames, and he doesn't think twice before looking down to loop his finger with yours. The pads of your thumbs press together to seal the deal, and he brings your interlocked hands up to gently press it against his lips.

It was a gesture frequently shared between you two — a secret handshake, if you will — but only for private moments like this. 

“Pinky pinky swear.” He reassures, giving your hand a small squeeze before finally removing himself from the bed. “I’m gonna go shower now. Be good.” The mattress echos your groan as your boyfriend disappears from your reach and into the bathroom.

Your eyes glance over at the clock, frowning at the time and blaming it for the outcome of what had been, at one point, your perfect morning. It already felt like a distant memory.

[blackbat05]

Night talks and Dim Sum

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: Hey y’all! This is my first time trying to write a one-shot/fic on tumblr. I have an existing wattpad account where I have some stories published! It’s mainly DC (young justice) combined with hunger games so if you are a fan, do check out @Runnerpottermore! Anyways, I have no idea why I suddenly decided to write a fic after so long - maybe because I wasn’t going through the best of days and also watched the movie recently? I just love the whole cast in general and Mr Simu Liu just killed his role - so yeah! Before I ramble on, I hope you enjoy my fic that I came up with!

Genre: Fluff, PG13, platonic friendship that can maybe turn into something more?

Warning: None? Just maybe broken Mandarin and sweaty people?

Extra Note: Please be kind to me!🥺

‘Bye.’

I take a deep breath, moving the cursor to close the window. Another day was done. Leaning back against the office chair, I stare up into the celling before closing my eyes, taking in the conversation a few hours ago.

‘It’s difficult to change what has already been so ingrained into our childhood. But what you can do is ask - what is the part of yourself that you want to keep?’

Rubbing my temples from the simple yet complex question, I decided that it was time to hit the road and get some fresh air. It was 6pm, Shangqi and Katy were probably still at the hotel.

As dreadful as running sounded to many people, this was one of the days where I could just zone out and mull over the day. The feeling of my shoes pounding into the pavement, body slowly being covered by a sheet of sweat… it felt good. Turning into the last corner of the run, a light tap on my shoulder jolted me out of my little world.

‘Woah is just me!’ My sudden stop had almost resulted me barreling right into Shangqi’s equally sweaty frame. He gives me his signature boyish grin only to earn a smack on his shoulder.

‘干嘛!’ (gànmá) [‘What are you doing!’]

‘吓死我了!’ (xià sǐ wǒ le!) [‘You scared me!’] I retorted back, removing my headphones. ‘What are you doing here, I thought you still had work?’

‘We did, but our shift ended early so I thought I’ll get in a quick run.’

‘10km is quick?’ I look at his phone that was calculating the distance, brows raised. ‘You’re a beast.’

‘Ha ha, very funny. Enough about me, what’s got you out today? I thought you were taking a break?’ We walked side by side, towards the direction of a renowned dim sum stall. ‘Yeah…’ I dragged my words for a while, hesitating to continue. ‘Just needed to think some things through.’ Shangqi nods. That’s the thing I liked about him. He never forced me to tell him things that I didn’t want to. He would wait quietly until I was ready.

‘I don’t know if I’m even going in the right direction. I thought I was doing things right - getting the grades, making sure I understood what was being taught at school… I was so sure that I could help people if I put my mind to it. But these feelings of not being able to do more… I don’t even know my future as a social worker anymore.’ I bit my lips, kicking a stray pebble.

‘Hold up!’ Shangqi steps in front of me, gripping the sides of my shoulders. ‘What did you say?’ He asks me in mock disbelief. ‘I said I’m not a good-‘

‘Nope! The conversation before this has been void! Because the (Y/N) I know is an amazing person and social worker who helps these kids to become the better version of themselves.’ He waves towards the many young Asian-American kids running around merrily in the playground as if to make his statement. A small smile formed on my lips watching Shangqi’s exaggerated movements to the disapproval of an elderly man with wispy white hair. He seemed to have noticed the looks he was getting as he dropped his hands to the sides in embarrassment.

‘Look, my point is that not many people can do what you do. Putting people before yourself, how many people would do that in this world?’

I throw him a skeptical glance. ‘You’re doing it. You’re a literal superhero that stopped a mythical creature from destroying our world. Not that it hasn’t happened.’ Shangqi snorts, ‘Sure. But hear me out. Who were the people that worked day and night to restore some order when the snap happened? Who made sure that these young kids weren’t afraid and reassured them that everything was going to be alright.’

He did have a point. Five years ago, the whole world was thrown into chaos. If I could forget something, it would be the chaos at the children and youth center on the exact day of the snap. Kids as young as four, crying uncontrollably for their missing parents. The older children who put on brave faces for their younger siblings but they too couldn’t make sense of the situation. The remaining social workers scrambling to attend to every need, every child. I was one of them. The sleepless nights, the constant worries - the social services were already overloaded, anymore pressure and the whole industry would collapse. I wanted to believe him but the doubts were becoming stronger by the minute.

Shangqi carefully stares at me as if analyzing my micro expression. ‘I know what I’m saying won’t change anything instantly. But what I do know is that we all have these moments of doubt, even me. I can’t offer you professional advice, but just like how Katy, my aunt and my mom were there for me when I needed them the most in Ta Lo, I’ll be here if you want to talk.’

‘You’re a good friend you know that right.’ My heart felt much lighter compared to the day.

‘Better than Katy?’

‘Don’t push it.’ I joked, eliciting laughter from both of us. Before we knew it, we arrived at the dim sum stall. As always, it was bustling with hungry customers. ‘Come on! Katy’s got a seat for us already, I’m starving!’ He opened the door for an young couple pushing a stroller.

‘Wait!’ Shangqi looks at me curiously. ‘I know we’re both sweaty but I think the situation calls for one.’ I gave a huge hug, ‘Thank you, that meant a lot to me.’

The sudden bear hug definitely threw the man off, but he to was glad for the heart to heart conversation. For more reasons than one.

‘Alright then! Who’s up for some char siew bao! I’m gonna inhale them - deserved it!’ I loudly declared my war against the dim sum, walking towards Katy who was enthusiastically waving at us.

Little did I know, there was a lot going on in Shangqi’s mind too.

A/N: Wew! That was long! If you’ve read it up till here, thank you for reading it! This idea really just popped out at the last minute so I’m not sure if it’s to y’all taste. Please do forgive me for my inaccurate translation - I am Chinese but like Katy my Mandarin is super rusty. Also whichever countries you come from, please give your social workers more recognition. They deserve it for a long time coming! Do give a comment or like if you wish! Just here to write and try and give simple joy to people who are such fans of Shangqi and the MCU in general.

[lune-hime]

Exposed (Sidon x f!Reader)

The ornate silver neck piece made contact with the tiled floor with a satisfying clank. With each clasp undone, Sidon felt his body buzzing at the newfound lightness. The metallic chime of his final piece of garment, his left bracelet, was a beautiful sound that echoed off the vast pillared walls of his chambers. Although it already had been a day since his arrival, his muscles still ached with a dull tightness brought onto him from the journey to Hyrule Castle. A subtle form of tiredness akin to jetlag was quickly draining his energy and he could not wait to submerge himself in the ample pool that laid before him.

Sidon padded to the edge of the water, streaks of ivory moonlight passing over his crimson scales. He kneeled down, wincing as he heard a few of his bones crack, and dipped an experimental hand into the basin. The warmth of the liquid sent a shiver up Sidon’s body and he immediately slid into the water in one fluid movement. The castle maids had prepared his pool with warm water, per your request, to the exact temperature you knew he liked it. Although this was just one of the many guest rooms in the immense castle, he felt your homey presence in every corner of the chamber. It made his heart flutter in adoration.

Sinking lower, he let the water engulf his shoulders. The tension diffused out and a supple moan escaped his parted lips. Lightly treading water, his thoughts circulated through his mind much like the gentle current of the pool. The officials and champions he had rekindled with today, what was he going to eat tomorrow morning, how radiant you had looked in your formal w-

“Prince Sidon, I forgot to ask you on more question before you retired to the room!” Zelda’s melodic voice carried from the hallway. Her small but sturdy frame emerged from behind the towering door, the hem of her gown swaying about her ankles as she danced her way into the entryway. Soon after she appeared, your head peeked its way around the frame.

Perhaps it was the abruptness of the entry, the intimate solitude of the chambers, his discarded garments, or all factors combined, but Sidon suddenly felt hot. Uncomfortably hot; and not from the water.

“A-ah, yes Princess, what did you want to, ah, ask me?” He coughed, awkwardly sinking lower into the pool. He cursed the palace for having such crystal clear water.

Your brow knit into a firm line at his flustered state. Never before had you seen him act like this seemingly for no reason. When his eyes began flicking anxiously from the pile of metal to you, a wave of understanding flooded your consciousness. Sidon felt exposed. And he was embarrassed about it.

It was natural for Hylian habits to rub off on him since the two of you had started courting. When you were in the Domain, the only time you spent away from the Prince was when you were working on Vah Ruta or the one to two hours of his council meetings. With all that contact how could a few things not start to be ingrained in Sidon’s daily routine? It was clear now by the steady reddening of his cheeks that one of those habits pertained to wearing garments. Or more specifically, when one is caught not wearing them.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” She blinked, unclear of what had him acting so strangely. Sidon looked like he was about to expire in the cloud of uncomfortableness that was circling above the pool. As adorable as he looked, shuffling bashfully and avidly studying the carvings on the nearest pillar, you needed to save him. Biting back your laughter you tapped Zelda lightly on the shoulder. Her head whipped around, confusion still inscribed on her face.

“Zelda, it appears that Sidon was not expecting company this late at night.” You stated, giving her a knowing look you prayed she would pick up on. You cocked your head subtly towards the armor and Zelda gasped softly, the tips of her pointed ears running rosy. She then looked to the Prince with panic written all over her features and he returned the expression tenfold. The two of them turned from mimicking rose petals to beats instead, only making the aroma of the room more thick with tension.

“Oh my goodness! My deepest apologies, Sidon. I didn’t realize you were having, ahem, some alone time.” She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze to the floor so fast you wondered if she got whiplash.

“Well, Y/N can just tell me your answer tomorrow morning. Until then.” She stuttered, abruptly turning on her heels and disappearing behind the door. Once the brisk click signaled her departure, every muscle, tendon, and scale in Sidon’s body went lax. He sighed, tipping his head back against the edge of the pool with a gentle clunk. You took a moment to drown in his appearance. He was like a slightly wilted lotus flower with coral petals basking in the rippling droplets of indigo moonlight.

It now physically hurt to restrain your hysterics and you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles, drowning the luminated room in a symphony of laughs not unlike a songbird’s. Sidon poked one eye open and shook his head in mortified distress, still lazily leaning against the tiled rim.  

“Stop laughing, Y/N. I bet she thinks I was doing something lewd or weird. In her castle of all places.” He grumbled, raising his hands out of the water to run them over his face.

Once you had reigned in your cacophony you padded over to the pool and sat down next to his deflated form, feet dangling into the water.

“Nah. It’s okay, Si. She’s my oldest and best friend. If she does I’ll tell her the truth.” You nudged him playfully. He lolled his head to the side in your direction.

“That might be even more embarrassing…” Sidon trailed off, his face contorted into a slight grimace. You returned it with a fond smile.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He huffed, a feigned pout forming on his features. The rosiness on his cheeks bloomed once more as he lightly splashed your feet where they embraced the water’s surface.

“You know, you used to never be embarrassed about being seen without your accessories.” You stated innocently, eyeing him to observe his reaction.“They don’t really leave anything to the imagination, anyway.”

“Hylian customs are rubbing off on me, I guess.” He replied in a small voice, snaking an arm around your calf to press himself into your side. He started idly playing with your toes, offering a squeak from you. You lightly kicked out, hoping to shake him off. Instead he only scooted closer yet he resigned from his tickling.

“What did the Princess want to ask me?” Sidon inquired. He seemed to be mostly recovered from the ordeal.

“She wanted to know what you wanted for breakfast tomorrow. You left before she could put in an order for the chef.”

“Damn, that’s an important question.” He muttered, setting his chin on your knee and looking up at you with anticipation, his eyes large and blinking.  

“I was planning on telling her smoked salmon.” You informed the prince, giving his caudal fin a loving stroke. Sidon’s eyes lit up, his saffron orbs turning a brilliant gold that put the calming hue of the starlight to shame. He could feel himself start to salivate at the mention of the Hylian delicacy.

“Don’t drool on my leg.” You teased, chuckling as he gulped audibly. You were unable to convey your thoughts on the dish as the deep chiming of the castle’s clocktower replaced whatever voice you would have spoken. The twelve bells signaled it had just turned midnight.

“It’s late, we should both get some rest. We need to wake up early for the festivities tomorrow.” You let out a bittersweet sigh, not wanting to break away from the closeness you shared but knowing you would be the walking dead in the morning if you stayed up any longer. As you rose to your feet, Sidon’s head limply fell into the water, his gaze never leaving your form. Just as you were about to deliver a sweet goodnight, he gingerly grabbed your ankle.

“Please stay, my pearl.” He suggested, a gentle plea that caused your heart to skip a beat.

“Can’t get enough of me, hm?” You sang.

“A very true statement, darling.” Sidon cooed, the warmth radiating from his gaze brushing the tips of your ears and leaving a blushed residue in its wake.

“Alright.” You responded through a yawn.

“We can go back to your chambers, if you’d like.” Sidon suggested, releasing his hold on your ankle and making a move to leave the basin. You shook your head and held a hand out to stop him. He halted his movements immediately and blinked up at you.

“You’re soaked. You’ll get my bed wet. I will go get some blankets and return.” You chuckled as you strode towards the doors. He hummed in agreement, a breathy laugh puffing from his chest. Grasping the knob, you turned to face Sidon once more.

“Better keep an eye on this door, my prince. Wouldn’t want someone to see you so exposed now would we?” You warned, tone velvety and blithe. The last thing you heard before you skittered out of the room was a loud groan and the sound of an unlit candle being halfheartedly thrown at the door.

[sinner-as-saint]

‘Till We Bleed Out - 2.

Vampire!bucky x reader AU

Part 2 of this series. 

Run-through: Your car breaks down on a deserted road on a rainy night. You have no other option but to seek shelter from the nearest house you could find; the mansion, which happened to be the talk of the town for its mysteriousness along with its equally mysterious owner, Mr. Barnes. The universe can be tricky sometimes but the fact that you found yourself at that mansion’s doorstep at that time was no simple coincidence. That one night changes everything forever - quite literally. True love, past lives and creatures from folklore; turns out it’s all real. 

Themes throughout the series: vampire!bucky, fluff, smut, angst 

You woke up realizing that you had surprisingly fallen soundly asleep last night, after the strange dream about the handsome man; who was kind enough to let you take shelter from the storm in his home. 

Speaking of the storm, you got out of bed and walked over to the window, pulling the curtain aside. You noticed that the weather was even worse than last night. Heavy rain, and nonstop thunder. Although, it seemed like a very cozy day to just stay inside. You sigh with a soft smile on, perhaps you’d get to know more about Bucky today. 

You turned back around and noticed something you hadn’t last night. Roses on the nightstand, as red as blood and just as hauntingly beautiful. Your smile grew; there was something enchanting about red roses. A bunch of it looked like the embodiment of poetry and there was no other way you could explain it. 

You approached the flowers and inhaled their fresh scent. Oh how you loved them! How come you didn’t notice they were on the nightstand? Anyways, you walked into the bathroom and brushed, showered and were about to change into another pair of sweatpants when you noticed more clothes in the closets. A sundress caught your eye and you decided to wear it. It fit you perfectly. You twirled in front of the mirror, checking yourself out when Wanda walked into the room. 

“I see you’re up, Miss.” she smiled at you. And you noticed she had the same look in her eyes, like Bucky did. That of sadness, or helplessness. But you tried ignoring it. 

“Good morning.” You gave her your best smile and noticed how she took in your appearance. 

“You look lovely. Anyways, I came to let you know that breakfast is ready. Mr. Barnes is waiting for you downstairs in the dining room. Come down whenever you’re ready.”  

Wanda left and the brief mention of Bucky brought back the memories of last night’s dream. It was definitely weird that you had such an explicit dream about him, but the weirdest thing was that you were not feeling the slightest bit guilty about it. 

You took a deep breath and stepped out of the room. You made your way downstairs, leisurely. Taking in more of the décor and the paintings on the wall. These must have cost a fortune, you thought. 

You found Bucky in the dining room, sitting at one of the ends of the large table. You had to admit, even the furniture in this house seemed pricey. Bucky set the newspaper down upon seeing you. He let his eyes roam your frame quickly and his smile broadened. “You look lovely,” he commented. 

You smiled, just a little shy and whispered a ‘thank you’. As you took a seat on his left, he spoke again. “The storm intensified. Looks like you’re not going home today.” he said with a genuine smile. You began to oppose naturally but he insisted. “You’ll be safe here.” 

You agreed. You picked a few food items from the large trays and took a few bites while Bucky got back to his newspaper. The silence was comfortable, the two of you seemed perfectly alright with sharing the space without feeling the need to fill the void with any conversation. It felt like this was part of your routine almost. 

You sipped on coffee and discreetly lifted your eyes to look at Bucky. He munched on a piece of fruit while focusing on some article in the papers. His body language made him look like an older man; eating while reading his newspaper. But his face didn’t look a day over 35. The contrast made you giggle and that caught his attention. 

He turned to face you with a raised eyebrow. “Something funny, miss?” he sounded like he was teasing you, politely. 

You shook your head and set your cup down, and upon doing so you noticed the red roses in a vase in front of you, again. The sudden urge to ask a question took over you, “Your wife, did she like red roses?” 

“They were her favorite.” He seemed unfazed by your sudden curiosity. 

“What was she like?” you asked again and the smitten smile on his face gave away how much he loved her. Love like this was rare, and you felt just a little envious of the late woman. She was so lucky, you hoped she knew. 

“Like the answer to all my prayers. Beautiful. Every little thing about her was so, so beautiful. She was kind, smart and funny, and fierce. She made me a better man. She was delightful.” You noticed he looked you right in the eyes as he spoke. His answer gave away that he worshipped that woman. 

“I hope she knew how much you love her.” 

He gave you that soft smile again. “I made sure to remind her every single day.” 

-

You never knew rainy days could be so lovely. After breakfast Bucky offered to show you his library because of course he owned one. And you had the time of your life just walking around and running your fingers over some of your favorite books. 

You noticed red roses on the coffee table as well, by the couches in his study room/library. While reaching for a copy of Pride and Prejudice, your hand brushed with his and your whole body felt like it was electrified. You pulled away sheepishly, but he held it up to you and you took it with a smile, admiring the front cover. 

“Your favorite?” he asked. 

You nodded, excitedly. He let out a little laugh. “You can have this one. I have plenty of other copies.” 

You smiled so big your cheeks hurt. “Thank you, Buck.” you were so excited that you walked past him, hungry to explore the other side of his library - without realizing what you just called him. 

Meanwhile Bucky was both surprised and elated. Buck… no one called him that except for-

“What’s in there?” he heard your voice and turned around immediately. You were pointing at the partially hidden door at the end of the room. “That’s where you hide all your secrets?” you teased, using the same tone he did this morning. 

He laughed and nodded. “Yes, you caught me.” 

You two shared a laugh and then he insisted that you should see the piano room. You agreed and just as everything else in the house, the grand room was equally as breathtaking. White couches, brown pillows, plants, full of light even with the stormy weather and a large balcony adjoined to it. Perfect. 

“It’s beautiful,” you said as you admired the room. You could hear the heavy rain hitting the window panes, it was comforting. You noticed the well-maintained piano right by the door which led to the balcony, “Do you play?” you asked and he gave you a dramatic look which gave away that you had just bruised his ego. 

“Miss Y/N, how dare you question my skills?” He answered with a smile on, then proceeded to play the most melodic tune you had ever heard. You weren’t much of a musical person, but you knew a melancholic tune when you heard one. It was, as most things in this house, hauntingly beautiful. Even the music carried a sense of nostalgia, and homesickness. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, getting lost in the music which filled the room effortlessly. Familiar, very familiar. Then it hit you - this was the same song being played at that ball in your dream. You opened your eyes immediately, baffled at the weird coincidences taking place lately. 

You found yourself gravitating towards the bench, and eventually you sat beside Bucky. He looked at you for a brief moment, then resumed playing somewhat of a softer tune. You smiled at him and suddenly it all felt like a déjà-vu. Like you’ve lived this exact moment a hundred times before. Sitting next to him, your elbows brushing, him looking at you lovingly, yet with sad eyes. His cologne, the slight gray in his eyes, the weather - it felt like a forgotten dream was coming back to you. 

You had to find something to say otherwise you felt like you were about to lose your mind. “You said you worked all day everyday. So is today your day off?” you tried to lighten the mood. 

He let out a little laugh. “Like I said, I rarely get visitors. I’m just making the most out of your company.” 

He was drop dead gorgeous, and he could make your heart race with just a few simple words. A dangerous combination really. 

He kept playing as you walked around the room, taking in every little detail. This was the only room in the house which had white roses in the vase, instead of dark red ones. Well, the white ones matched the interior better here. Your gaze fell upon something interesting next. 

“Vinyl records?” that seemed to catch his undivided attention as he stopped playing and turned to you. 

“Oh yes. It was one of my… old hobbies.” He answered. 

You giggled. “You say old hobbies like you are over a hundred years old.” 

He chuckled and got up from the bench. He walked over to where the records were kept, picked one out and carefully placed it down on the record player. A soothing tune filled the room again. Much lighter and happier than the piano earlier. A stark contrast to the gloomy weather but it still, somehow, fit perfectly. 

Bucky extended his arm out in front of you, out of nowhere. “Dance with me.” 

You didn’t hesitate for a single and took his hand immediately. Bucky held you close; his hand at your waist pressing your body to his gently. His other hand held yours delicately. Your arm placed over his shoulder as you stared into his deep, piercing eyes. And just like that, you two swayed slowly to the sweet, slow music. Effortlessly, gracefully and without any awkwardness or hesitation. Almost like you’ve danced a thousand times before. 

You giggled as he twirled you around and pulled you closer almost immediately. And when you looked back up into his eyes, it felt like a déjà-vu again. Only this time, you knew where you had experienced something similar to this - in your dream last night. The ballroom, the gown, the way you danced. Just like this. 

Your body tensed up and you weren’t blinking, Bucky caught the change in your behavior. “Don’t think about it.” he murmured. 

“About what?” you used a much softer tone as well. You and him were so close you could whisper and you were sure he would hear you perfectly. 

“Whatever it is you’re thinking about.” He spoke as he swayed you gently. “You’re here, with me. I don’t want you to think about anything else.” It sounded more like a plea than a request. There was something else he was trying to say; inexplicable, hidden in between the lines. Somehow you caught it. 

You nodded. “I’m here.” You spoke without paying much attention to what you were saying or doing. “With you.” All that mattered in the world right now was that you were in his embrace. His ocean blue eyes were the only thing you could make sense of. 

You felt it then. The warmth, despite his cold hands. The sparks flying around, despite the dark and gloomy weather outside. He started leaning in and you met him halfway. 

His hand moved up to gently cup your face. His lips brushed against yours briefly as he paused and waited to see if you would pull away. Seeing you didn’t, he pressed his lips to yours. You shivered at how delicately he caressed your cheek with his thumb. Kissing him felt natural. Like a habit. His lips were soft and familiar. He tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you closer. 

Your hands instinctively slid into his hair, he moaned under his breath as you tugged on it gently.  Bucky tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss, nibbling on your lips and gently stroking your lower lip with his tongue. You felt giddy and warm. And safe. 

He pulled away just a second before Wanda stepped into the room. “Dinner’s ready.” 

Bucky told her you two would be downstairs in a minute and you caught that look on her face. A look of pure joy and satisfaction. You didn’t understand why. 

When Wanda left, you faced Bucky again, now just a little nervous. “I.. I didn’t-,” 

He silenced you by gently holding your chin in between his fingers. “Shh sweetheart.” His gaze spoke volumes; he was perfectly alright with this kiss. “We should go downstairs.” 

Dinner was perfect. Lovely conversation, lovely wine, the same stormy weather outside but inside Bucky’s home; all was well. He told you that you were more than welcome to use his library if you wished to do some light reading before bed. You agreed. 

You grabbed a book and curled up on one of the couches and he did the same, sitting right across you. You found yourself re-reading the same sentence over and over again because you couldn’t focus. Not when you could physically feel his eyes on you. You even caught him staring a few times and giggled whenever he seemed flustered after being caught. 

There was ease between you two. And the next two hours went by comfortably. 

“It’s late, I should go to bed.” You spoke as you stood up. He did as well, and when you looked into his eyes you began wishing that this storm outside lasts forever. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He whispered, leaning in and kissing you at the side of your mouth. 

“Goodnight.” 

-

You tossed and turned in bed. Somehow, falling asleep was a little harder today because you couldn’t help but think about how it felt when Bucky kissed you earlier. The sound of the harsh storm echoed inside the house, but it was still comforting. 

The loud roar of the thunder was the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep; dreaming again, this time of red roses, blue eyes, balconies and paintings… 

Arms wrapped around you from behind, embracing you in a tight hug. “Do you like it, my love?” the silky smooth voice asked. You looked down and you smiled at the sight of the wedding band on his finger. 

“I love it.” You looked up at the frame hung on the wall. It was a painting of you and your husband, delivered to you that morning itself. “We’ll keep it here forever.” 

You heard a soft chuckle, then felt a pair of lips kissing your neck softly. “Even longer.” 

You turned around and came face to face with Bucky, with slightly longer hair, tied in a low, neat ponytail. Behind him was a very familiar door. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. “We should get going, else we’ll be late.” 

The surroundings faded, and you were now inside a dimly lit ballroom. The grand chandelier was mesmerizing, but not more than your husband’s eyes. He was gorgeous, your man; even with half his face covered by the masquerade mask he was still perfectly able to take your breath away. 

He smirked, as though able to read your thoughts. He leaned in, and the rest of your surroundings was suddenly a blur. “Do you wish for us to go somewhere more private, sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear. 

You bit your lip and nodded, only then realizing that you were wearing a mask as well. Bucky smiled, tugging on your hand and dragging you along to wherever it is he was taking you. 

The room around you morphed again and you found yourself running up a staircase with Bucky, giggling and holding onto each other for dear life until you finally made it to the top. You found yourself on a balcony. 

“Where are we?” you asked. 

Bucky stepped closer, pushing you gently against the balustrade. “Home.” He leaned in and kissed you. His mouth moved against yours gently, passionately. His hands were on either side of your waist as he pressed you further into him. Your hands instinctively went to his neck as you gently pulled him closer.

As you closed your eyes and cherished his touch, an image of the painting from earlier flashed in front of your eyes. But you forgot it just as quickly as it came because Bucky’s touch took over all your senses. His hand slipped under your dress, and went right to your wet core. 

You giggled into the kiss as his knuckles brushed faintly against your core and you moaned at his touch. He cupped you in between the legs and the palm of his hand pressed against your throbbing clit. His mere touch was driving you insane. His lips left yours and he kissed his way to your neck; sharp teeth nipping at your skin. At the feel of it, your own canines sharpened out of nowhere. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t feel like it was the first time that it happened. You seemed comfortable with the sudden change. 

Bucky kissed all the spots which made you weak in the knees; he knew your body by heart it seemed. While he kissed your skin, his fingers moved slightly against your dripping core. You moaned, tugging on his hair just a little. 

“Be quiet for me, sweetheart.” he mumbled against your skin as he slipped two fingers past your folds. He curled his fingers inside you immediately, and stroked your walls gently. You moved your hips against his hand as you chased your orgasm. His thumb rubbed your swollen clit furiously as you bit your lip to keep you from moaning. 

“Buck…” you were breathless, each nerve ending on fire as pleasure washed over you. 

“Shh sweetheart,” he quickened his actions and slipped his fingers in and out of you incessantly until he felt your walls clench around him. “Cum for me,” he whispered. You moaned, biting your lower lip as you came all over his hand. 

Once you recovered, he pulled your dress up, making it bunch around your waist as he stepped in between your legs again; kissing you like his life depended on it. He undid his pants and hoisted you up his own body. You wrapped your legs around his waist quickly for better balance and he leaned the two of you against the balustrade once again. 

You felt his hard cock pressing against your skin as he kissed you hungrily. His hand dipped in between the two of you and he guided the tip of his erected cock over to your dripping entrance. The brief friction caused you to moan into his mouth. 

“Be quiet for me, yes?” he spoke against your lips, almost as breathless as you were. You nodded frantically. And with that, he pushed himself inside you quickly. You felt all of him once he was completely buried in you. His cock twitched inside you and you bit your lip to prevent a moan from escaping your lips.

He held your hips, and your hands gripped his shoulders desperately as you tried to keep your voice down. You pushed your face into the crook of his neck, nibbling on his skin with your sharp fangs as he rocked in and out of you. You moaned quietly against his skin as his throbbing cock sped up into you. He pounded into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans and gasps out of you. 

He growled when he felt you clench around him. “Bucky…” you moaned and he immediately placed his lips on yours to stop you from making more noise. He loved how you lost control under his touch. He loved the sound of his name leaving your lips. 

“Shh, sweetheart. Quiet,” he mumbled against your lips as he felt your walls milking him perfectly. “We can’t get caught fucking in our own balcony while we were supposed to be hosting a party downstairs.” He ended with a chuckle. 

You whined. “Well if you weren’t so insatiable,” you teased. He scoffed, holding you at the curve of your ass, hands under your dress as he occasionally squeezed your butt cheeks, making you giggle and moan at the same time. 

“Says the one who lures me in like a seductress every moment of every day,” he sassed back. He slammed into you relentlessly while you tried your hardest to not to scream out loud. You felt a pressure building between your hips, and it seemed like he felt it as well because he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and swore under his breath as he sped up again. 

Your thoughts became cloudy, and all that you could focus on in that moment was the force of his thrust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you found yourself unable to form proper thoughts. Your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he filled you up.

Your body moved along with his like a rag doll as you could no longer keep up with his thrust. Soon, you felt the warmth taking over. And a familiar tingle went down your spine as your walls clenched around him. You gushed out all over his cock with a loud moan… 

 You woke up gasping, shocked that you had dreamt such explicit dreams two nights in a row now. You looked around and realized that it was still night time. You could still replay the dream in your head like a vivid memory. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths. 

The painting. 

The painting seemed so real, so detailed. You wondered if- 

Wait, that door you dreamt of. You’ve seen it before, haven’t you? Large, dark wood with beautifully detailed carvings on it, golden doorknob… 

You gasped again. It was the door in the library. Your heart raced. Could it be… ? 

You didn’t think twice before getting out of bed, grabbing the robe Wanda had left you earlier you stepped out of the room. Your breaths got shallower and shallower as you reached the library. 

It could very well be just a weird dream, right? You jumped at the sound of the thunder, and realized that you were already inside the library. You stared at the door. This was the exact one you dreamt of. 

Fuck it. You walked towards it, blocking out any thoughts which told you to turn back around and get back in bed. You twisted the doorknob and it was unlocked. You pushed the door open, stepping inside you found a secret room. About the same size of the library, or maybe slightly more spacious. 

It looked like a more modern and luxurious version of a drawing room. With the usual, couches, carpets and… and paintings. For a moment you almost didn’t want to find it. You didn’t want to find that painting of you and Bucky; which you had just dreamt of because if or when you do, what then? 

You looked around, the light from the two chandeliers illuminating the room just right. There were regular paintings one would find in an expensive mansion like this one; views of countryside, mountains, rivers. There were some paintings of people you couldn’t recognize but you knew, deep inside, that they seemed familiar. 

You almost let out a sigh of relief when you didn’t find the painting from your dream. 

Almost. 

But then you saw it. The largest frame in the room. Right above the golden fireplace, mounted on the wall perfectly straight and right in the center of the room. 

It was the painting you dreamt of. The one of you and Bucky. 

“What the hell?” you whispered as you approached the fireplace, craning your head up to look at the oddly familiar painting. 

You two seemed so happy. You were in a rose gold gown, and Bucky was well-dressed in navy blue. A lovely moment in time, captured in a beautiful painting. You weren’t quite sure what to think as you looked at yourself in the painting. 

Your eyes instinctively trailed down to the bottom on the frame. And in cursive black painted were written the words which gave you goosebumps: ‘Mr. & Mrs. Barnes. 1872.’ 

“What the hell?” you repeated. 

This time you heard a voice speak up, from behind you. “You should be in bed, sweetheart.” He said softly. 

You turned around and found Bucky leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed and a look on his face which you couldn’t quite decipher. You turned to look back at the painting, and then back at him again. He hadn’t aged since 1872 it seemed. 

Your heart raced again. 

It couldn’t be… could it? 

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Pairings: Arvin Russel x Fem!Christian!Reader

Summary: Arvin knew he shouldn’t have left you alone with that new preacher... 

Warnings: Sexual assault, physical assault, cursing, Teagarden being a perv, really nothing out of the ordinary for this movie. 

Word Count: 5250

_________________________

“Arvin! Stop!” You giggled, pushing your boyfriend off of you as he nibbled up and down your neck. There wasn’t anything sexual about it, he just loved to hear you laugh and he knew how much the action tickled your skin. “You’re so annoyin’!” You laughed, cheeks flushed red as you gently pressed on his head to try and move it. 

He pressed himself up, looking down at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever lay his eyes on. Arvin was straddling you, his knees trapping your hips beneath him. A hand was placed on either side of your head and he looked down at you, “But you’re so pretty when you laugh.” 

“Oh? And I’m ugly all the rest of the time?” You asked jokingly, hands reaching up stroke up and down his arms. 

Arvin leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away ever so slightly, hovering just above your lips. Both of your guys’ eyes were still closed as if it were a romantic moment until he whispered, “Ugly as a mule.” 

You both busted up laughing and you shoved him, his body rolling onto the blanket beside you, “I’m breaking up with you.” You teasingly told him. 

“Ah, c’mon. You know you love me.” He looked over at you, loving how the autumn sun lit up your features. 

“I tolerate you. Don’t get it mixed up.” You rolled your head over to see him already admiring you. Your smile got bigger when you locked eyes with him. 

“Well I love you.” Arvin admitted sweetly, bringing a gentle hand to your cheek and kissing you one more time. 

Arvin made you feel beautiful and special and safe, all those things that no boy had ever made you feel. He always had. Even when you were children back in middle school and neither of you really talked to each other, when you saw him around the halls, a peace just settled over you that made you feel like you were on top of the world. When the two of you began dating ten months ago, that never changed. 

“I love you too.” 

The two of you laid back against the yellow blanket with little orange flowers on it, the one that you’d taken from the linen closet back home. This was yours and Arvin’s favorite place, a little clearing in the woods. The grass was tall enough to be soft but not so tall that it hid critters. Flowers lined the edge of the woods in the spring. It wasn’t springtime now but that only meant that instead of a display of white and yellow flower buds, the pair of you had a beautiful show of brilliant reds and oranges from the falling leaves. 

Everyone in town knew you were together. Word spread fast around Coal Creek and it was nearly impossible to hide anything. Your families were both supportive of the relationship. Emma loved that you were involved with the church and put effort into the community when you could, often participating in bake sales around town. She liked to tease that you won Arvin over with your “man catching apple cobbler” as she now called it, since he officially asked you to be his girlfriend over a slice of the delicious dessert after a Sunday service. 

Your parents liked Arvin as well. Even after Fred Dinwoodie had told your dad about what Arvin had done to Gene, it surprisingly made him like Arvin more. “You got yourself a good man who knows right from wrong and ain’t afraid to stand up for the people he loves.” Was what he’d said, which had surprised you. You knew that Arvin had beaten all the boys right after he’d done it, since he came to you to help him calm down and ice his knuckles. You were terrified for your parents to find out, though, sure that they’d tell you to break up with him for fear of violent tendencies. Thankfully, that day never came. 

It was nice out there, bundled up in a warm brown coat, laying on Arvin’s chest, and watching the leaves fly across the crisp sky in the breeze. 

“We should probably get headin’ back.” You said reluctantly, pushing yourself up to sitting. 

“Why’s that?” Arvin perched on his elbow to watch you tighten the jacket around your frame, a cool breeze hitting just right. 

“The new preacher asked me to come by this afternoon. Said he needed help planning a fundraiser to raise money for the less fortunate families in town.” You traced a finger over his knuckles gingerly, small pink marks littering his knuckles from his attack on Dinwoodie and his boys still healing over. 

“Ain’t you one o’ them less fortunate families in town?” He asked, trying to find a way to talk you out of this. Ever since Preston Teagarden had humiliated Emma on his first day, Arvin had it out for the man. 

You scoffed with a chuckle, “Yeah, but you are too and your grandma is still always bringin’ stuff to church. Just cause I’m broke as shit doesn’t mean I can’t try to help other people who are broke as shit.”

Arvin stood up with you and helped you fold up the blanket, “I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im.” 

“I agree that he was totally out of line callin’ your grandma out like that two weeks ago but I’d like to think that maybe I can talk to him about it.” The two of you began to walk back to Arvin’s car, grass swishing under your steps. 

Arvin’s face twisted, “I just don’t trust the man. He’s always up there on that damn stage actin’ all high ‘n mighty every Sunday like he ain’t done nothin’ wrong.” He reached forward and opened your door for you, closing it after you slid onto the seat. He walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat. 

“He’s a sinner like the rest of us. It’s just about doing what you can to make yourself better.” You responded, looking over at Arvin sweetly. He gave you a skeptic look and sighed deeply as he turned his attention back to look towards the road. With one hand on the steering wheel, he slid his free hand over to hold yours gently. The rest of the drive was in comfortable silence, with the exception of the radio quietly playing in the background. 

Arvin loved you. He really really loved you. You generally had your wits about you, a heck of a lot more than most of the girls in Coal Creek, not allowing your religion to totally cloud your vision. You were a good girl, good enough to make his grandma happy and not cause too much trouble around town, always helping those in need, but not so pious that you made everyone else around you feel like a sinner. You were still fun, you still made mistakes. Arvin felt like you were something between ethereal and real, somehow elevating him as a person but also showing him just how good life could be. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel like you were making a mistake with this preacher. Of course, with your caring nature, you would help him, especially knowing it was for the poor folks in town. But something about Teagarden just made Arvin’s skin crawl. He just couldn’t put his finger on it… 

The tires rolled to a crunching halt on the gravel outside of the church. The graveyard to the side looked dark and gloomy as always, the cloud of loss looming over almost everyone in this town in one way or another. The church, though, stood small and humble in the field, white paint chipping after years of weathering. 

“Thank you for the ride.” You leaned over and pecked Arvin on the cheek. 

He let out a heavy sigh, “You really sure you don’t just want me to take you home?” 

You rolled your eyes at him with a sweet smile on your face, “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be fine, Arv, but thank you for the concern.” Opening the door, you climbed out, “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“What? No. I’m givin’ you a ride home.” Arvin looked offended that you even suggested such blasphemy. 

“I don’t want you to have to drive all the way back here for me and I don’t know how long this’ll take. Besides, I don’t live too far from here.” You shook your head, leaning against the open door.

Arvin raised his eyebrows, “What kind of man would I be if I let you walk home alone at night? I’m givin’ you a ride home ‘n that’s final. I have to run to the market anyways to get some stuff for my grandma so I’ll just do that ‘n come back here for ya.” 

With loving warmth welling up in your chest, you leaned into the car, holding onto the roof for balance, while you kissed him on the lips, “I’ll see you in a few then.” 

Pulling yourself back out of the car, you closed the door and waved before spinning to walk towards the church. Looking behind you, you gave Arvin one final wave before disappearing through the door. 

The church was empty, though you expected nothing less on a Saturday afternoon. The pews were empty so you wandered into the building curiously. You closed the door behind you as you walked further in. “Hello? Reverend?” 

Preston Teagarden approached from the door off to the side of the main stage, where his office had been located, “Y/N! Forgive me, I expected you to be a little bit later.” 

You stopped in your tracks, “Oh, I’m sorry! You didn’t say an exact time. Just afternoon…” You chuckled awkwardly, suddenly feeling bad for arriving early. 

“No, no, it’s no problem at all,” He waved his hand dismissively. Teagarden made his way down the aisle a few rows before stopping, “So from what I’ve heard, you are the one to talk to about fundraising” 

Flattered, your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, “Oh, well I don’t know about that… I’ve done a few fundraisers but I wouldn’t say I’m the one to go to.” 

“Nonsense, girl! I’m sure you’ll help plan something amazing. Now, why don’t you come over here and we can start talking about it.” He gestured towards the pew he was leaning on and waited for you to sit down before sliding in next to you. 

Your legs crossed when you sat down, “So, I was thinking about this for a few days and the high school has a harvest festival every November. If we set up a bake sale, we could easily raise a few hundred dollars, at least. Everybody loves Mrs. Lyle’s lemon bars and I’m sure those alone could rake in a small fortune.” You giggled a little at your small joke and the preacher did as well. 

As he did so, his arm slid behind your shoulder so smoothly, you almost didn’t notice at first. Almost. Though the action took you off guard, you chose to write it off. People had done this before to you platonically so this probably didn’t mean anything. Just a show of interest in what you had to say. 

“Mmm, you’re makin’ me crave some sweets,” Teagarden chuckled, looking over his shoulder and then back around the room. 

“Well I can guarantee that you won’t be disappointed. Coal Creek ain’t got much but if we got one thing, it’s some mighty good bakers.” You dug around in your bag that you’d brought, searching for the journal that you’d been planning this event out on, “I actually did some math and I was thinking… we could charge a dime per cookie or a dollar a dozen, yeah? And then maybe a quarter for a slice of pie and then a dollar twenty five for-” 

The preacher stopped you, placing his hand on the notebook, “You really thought this out, huh? You sure are one smart girl there, Y/N. You go to the high school?”

The older man had scooched closer to you sometime during your ramblings and suddenly, you began to feel suffocated by his presence. His body was nearly flush against yours and his arm around your shoulders were trapping. 

He’s a preacher, he wouldn’t do nothin’, you tried to convince yourself but Arvin’s voice came ringing in your ears: I just don’t like that new preacher. Somethin’s off about ‘im. Trying not to be obvious, just in case you were misreading things, you slid away from him just slightly to put some distance between your bodies. As you did so, however, Teagarden’s hand closed around your left shoulder, rubbing it firmly but gently. 

Your eyes widened when you looked over at his grip and your heart began to pick up pace. “Yeah.” Your voice was shakier than you thought it would be. 

“What are ya? Junior, senior? You look young… but definitely not a little girl.” His eyes raked tactically over your body. Your legs were shaped out well in your cuffed denim jeans and your white and pink striped boat neck long sleeve shirt was far from revealing but Preston was well aware of the way the stripes curved out of place over your breasts. 

“Senior. I’ll be graduating this June.” Now your voice was solid and low, just teetering on threatening. 

The preacher smiled, “Ah, ain’t that exciting. Such a smart pretty little thing going out into the real world. It’s good to see a nice Christian girl going out there but y’know, the real world is real bad. Believe you me. You gotta be real careful out there. Temptation and sin ‘round every corner. The devil hides himself, y’know? Wraps up all his evil and disguises it as everythin’ you ever wanted.” 

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing.” You stated quietly but firmly, looking up to lock eyes with him. Arvin was right. Something was certainly off about this man and you were becoming more and more uncomfortable by the second. 

Preston smiled proudly, “That’s right. Now, you gotta make sure you ain’t fallin’ into any o’ his traps.” 

Your jaw clenched and your eyes darted around the room before landing in your lap, “I’d like to think I got a good ‘nough head on my shoulders to see Satan working in disguise.” 

He tsked, “That’s a good start but you can’t go relyin’ on your own knowledge of the world. You need to let God tell you what’s right ‘n wrong. Trust in Him.” His hand on your shoulder shook you slightly for emphasis while his other pointed upwards towards Heaven. 

There was a brief moment of silence in which you could have heard a pin drop before he spoke again, “How is your walk with God?” 

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes, “It’s alright. Could be better but everyone’s could, I s’pose.” 

“I agree,” Preston’s leg started bouncing and he looked towards the front of the church, where he typically stood preaching, “E’ryone could walk a little closer. Myself included.” He gestured to the front of the church, “Why don’t we pray? C’mon over here.” 

He stood up and walked up to the head of the room, just below the cross. Cautiously, you followed him. “I like to think as a man of God, I can do some of His work. Or rather put the good word out there and try to save as many souls as possible. Why don’t you get on your knees? Lemme pray for ya.” 

A shiver ran through your spine as you knelt down on shaky knees, eyes going up to the large black cross that hung on the wall. Please, Lord, get me out of this. You prayed silently. 

Preston stood behind you, his hands coming to your shoulders as he began, “Lord, today we pray for Y/N and her excursions into the world as a young woman. Help her see through the devil’s delusions and guide her through this world. Lord, I pray that you see Y/N in everything that she is as she dedicates her whole self to you. Give her strength, amen.” 

“Amen.” When your eyes slid open, your whole body was shaking. 

“So you say you got some good judgement?” Preston asked as you stood up, “Say you walk in the light?” 

“I try to but we all have our slip ups.” You answered humbly and honestly, avoiding his eye contact. 

Preston hummed, “I seen you with that Russell boy. Y’all going steady?” Silently, you nodded in response. “There’s a lot of temptation in relationships like that.” 

It was clear what he was insinuating and it actually made you mad. What right did he have to be poking around in your romantic and sexual life? “Has he ever touched you?” 

The bluntness of his question hit you like a rock, “With all do respect, Reverend, that ain’t really none of your business.” 

He put his hands up in surrender, “I don’t mean to pry. I’m just concerned ‘bout that boy dragging you down into temptation. Sullying your position with the good Lord, ‘n all.” 

“Arvin is a perfectly respectful man. He ain’t draggin’ nothin’ or nobody down.” Your voice was getting more aggressive. 

“So he hasn’t touched you? He hasn’t seen you…” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Like I said, that ain’t none of your business. Thank you for your concern for my soul but what Arvin and I do is between us and the Lord. I don’t need no middle man reverend to redeem me.” 

He shrugged, “But you know, one of the best ways to get right with the Lord is to surrender yourself. Fully.” He took a few steps towards you and your breathing hitched. There was a sexual tension in the air that made your skin crawl. 

“I’ve already given my life to the Lord.” 

You weren’t giving in quite as easily as Preston had expected. Those other girls, Lenora and Jeanette Reaster, had been easily manipulated into giving Preston what he wanted. Just tell them they were unclean and needed to get right with the Lord and right into his trap they fell but you… you were different. Smart in the worldy kind of way. You were the first girl to give him a hard time but Preston would be lying if he said he didn’t like the chase. 

You were staring daggers at him, your jaw clenched, and your body standing tall and strong. It was almost as if you were trying to prove a point. You could have run, could have darted out screaming about what had happened, but you didn’t. There was no proof and Preston knew it. This was how he got away with it all. No proof, all words and small touches that were just innocent enough to be misread. It wasn’t until he got them in the backseat of his car or in the office in the back of the church that he actually touched them but by then, it was consensual. Sure, for Lenora and Jeanette there was the issue that they were minors but that was the fun of these little towns like Coal Creek, The girl always took the fall. It was always her fault. Preston could get off scotch free and he knew it. He loved it. 

Almost like something out of a movie, he reached down and gently settled one hand on your hip and the other on your cheek, pressing his lips against yours without giving you a chance to object. You yelled indignantly against lips but when he pulled away, the hand on your cheek moved to cover your mouth. Preston leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “I am an extension of the Lord’s work. Surrender yourself to me fully to surrender yourself to Him.” 

** 

Arvin watched as you walked into the church with a distrusting pang in his gut. There was just something about that reverend that didn’t sit right. It killed him to watch you leave, knowing that you were alone in there with him.

But he also knew you were a big girl. The logical part of his brain kept screaming at him that he was being irrational. The reverend was probably an okay enough guy. He’d never be number one or even number twenty on Arvin’s list of favorite people but that didn’t necessarily mean that the preacher would kill your something. Besides, Arvin really did need to run to the market. Lenora had requested some pecans for a pie she wanted to bake and his grandma  needed more milk. It would be a quick trip as town was just a short drive down the street. 

Reluctantly, Arvin backed out the driveway and sped off down the street. 

The entire time that Arvin was at the market, there was an unsettling tingle all around his body. It got harder to ignore as more time passed. The longer he left you with Teagarden, the worse he felt. 

“Just these.” Arvin threw a bag of pecans and a gallon of milk on the counter and paid for it quickly, rushing back to his car. He wouldn’t be having these feelings for no reason. Best case scenario, you were absolutely fine and Arvin was just being paranoid. Worst case scenario… Arvin couldn’t think about it because every time he thought of one, another worse one popped into his brain. 

It had only been about twenty minutes since Arvin left you alone with the preacher. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how long planning a fundraiser would take. Church activities had never been his thing but he supported you as long as it made you happy. 

He sat in the car in the church parking lot, lighting up a cigarette to calm his nerves. Arvin’s leg bounced anxiously as he watched yet another late autumn storm roll in. The clouds cast a dark gloominess, turning the minimal light left from the mostly set sun a shade of grey.. There Arvin sat for another five minutes, awaiting your exit from the building but it never came. 

Fuck it. Arvin twisted his hat on straight and threw the door open, nearly stomping out. He couldn’t put his finger on it but something was wrong. He could feel it. 

Sure enough, when he threw the door open, he was horrified. Preston Teagarden had you locked in a tight embrace, his hands running over your breasts. The two of you were standing in the middle of the aisle, right in the center of church. You had a furious look on your face, “I swear to God you touch me like that again and I’ll cut your damn dick off!” You gripped desperately at his hand that was groping you, trying to pry it away but to no avail. 

The sound of the door swinging open was enough to draw both yours and Teagarden’s attention. “Get your fuckin’ hands off her!” Arvin wasted no time running into the conflict. Teagarden dropped you and your knees buckled from the unexpected action, landing you on the ground. 

He put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, now, let’s talk about this like real men.” 

Arvin threw one solid swing to his chin, sending his head flying sideways, “You ain’t no real man. Real men don’t gotta go around gropin’ girls to get off, you sick fuck!” Another punch landed on his opposite cheek and it sent Teagarden to the ground. 

You scurried away from him and stood up just ahead of Arvin. Preston cowered, hiding his face, “Please, please, have mercy.” His pleading eyes went from Arvin to you and he lingered on your gaze, knowing that he had a better chance with the mercy approach with you. 

He found none. Even with his blood smeared face, his teeth stained crimson, and the way his body shook, you just scowled down at him, “I’m gonna tell e’ryone in this town what a disgustin’ man you are. You think you can get away with this, you’re dead wrong.” You sent a swift kick straight to his stomach, making him curl into the fetal position with a loud groan of pain. 

But then he laughed. He actually laughed. 

“What’s so damn funny?” You and Arvin both spat in unison, blood boiling. 

Preston laid his head back and closed his eyes, an almost serene look of confidence contrasting the blood that covered him and the swelling of his lip, “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to me. You came to visit the church after hours under the guise of helping me with a fundraiser. But then you used your womanly charms to try and seduce me, a married man of God.” 

“That ain’t what happened!” Arvin yelled angrily, fists clenched by his side. 

When the words left the preacher’s mouth though, your heart dropped. You knew the truth, Arvin knew the truth, the reverend knew the truth. But none of that mattered if the Reverend told everyone his concocted story because he was a man of God. Why would he lie? 

A sadistic smile spread across his face, “It is if I say it is. Ain’t nobody gonna believe two teenagers over a preacher.” 

“He’s right.” Your voice faltered as you spoke, nearly coming out as a shattered whisper. When Arvin looked over at you, your face had paled and you looked utterly broken. 

It wasn’t so much that the assault itself was enough to break you, though, of course, it had definitely left you with the lingering ghosts of his filthy hands on your body. It was the fact that you knew he’d get away with it, that no matter what you or Arvin said, the town would believe Teagarden. 

Arvin swallowed hard, trying to see through the blinding rage. As a boy, he never truly understood the bias that women faced when they were victims of sexual assault- how it was perceived as their faults in towns like this. It had never happened to anyone he knew so he never had much reason to think about it. Now, you were forced to live with knowing that you assailant was going to keep his position as a fucking preacher in town and that you couldn’t do anything about it. 

Arvin wouldn’t let it stand. 

He stomped forward yet again and knelt over Teagarden, sending blow after blow into his face. Bone crunched bone with a disgusting crack with every hit and you flinched every time. 

Your eyes were wide with terror. Arvin’s violent past with Gene Dinwoodie and his boys was not unknown to you. You were the first person he’d gone to after the attack, in fact, and you’d actually supported him for the most part, only wishing that maybe he didn’t send them all to the hospital and only roughed them up a bit. Actually watching him beat someone to the brink of death though was something else entirely. 

“Stop!” The word left your mouth before you even knew you’d thought it. 

Arvin stopped and looked over his shoulder at you in surprise. He was doing this for you after all. 

“Don’t kill ‘im. Please.” You begged, your voice heavy.

“What?” Arvin wasn’t actually sure what he’d intended on doing to the preacher. Sure, he wanted to kill him. That horrified, angry look in your eye as he touched you made a fire burn in him so bright, he didn’t know if it could be put out. But Arvin had never wanted to be a killer. He only wanted to prove a point and make sure that the message stuck. Now that he thought about it, though, he would have to finish the job or the preacher would tell him he’d attacked him. 

Your eyes were almost brimming with tears, though none fell. This whole evening had been too much. First the assault and now watching the love of your life throw his good conscience away for you. You wanted the preacher to pay as much as he did but this just didn’t feel right. 

“P-please… I don’t want you takin’ the fall for none o’ this. He don’t deserve to die but I think a good beatin’ will give him some time to reevaluate ‘imself.” You’d walked towards Arvin and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. 

Arvin couldn’t fathom why you’d be protecting this monster. The question was clear all over his face. Why? 

“I’m not asking you to stop for him. I’m asking you to stop for you. I don’t want you to have blood on your hands for me. Not for this.” His heart broke seeing you look the way you did, your eyes shining with tears, and your hand a little shaky. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you more. 

Arvin grabbed the preacher off the ground by the collar and pulled him up almost a foot, leaning down to get in his disfigured face, “If I ever hear that you went near Y/N or any other girl again, I will find you and kill you. If you so much as look at her again, I will kill you. And if you tell anyone what happened here tonight, I will fucking kill you. You understand? Consider it that mercy you kept beggin’ for.” 

He dropped the preacher gracelessly with a thud and wrapped an arm comfortingly around you. For a moment, he was scared that you’d flinch away. You’d never seen him when he let his anger get the best of him and he preferred to keep it that way. He didn’t want you to think that he was a violent man because he really wasn’t. Arvin just cared for a special few so much that he’d do anything for them. He’d never hurt someone he loved though and needed you to know that. 

Thankfully, you leaned into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as he walked you back to his car, leaving the preacher an unconscious mess in the middle of the church. When you exited the building, night had fallen upon Coal Creek, casting a fitting darkness over the town. 

“Thank you.” You said simply and quietly, looking over at Arvin sincerely on the drive home. 

“For what?” 

“For everything. Just bein’ who you are.” You paused with a heavy sigh, “But promise me something?” 

Arvin looked over at you, taking his eyes off the road for just a second to show you he was listening. 

“Promise me you won’t go gettin’ yourself in trouble for me.” 

He shook his head, “He deserved-” 

“I know what he deserved,” You interrupted, “And I am so grateful that you stepped in to help. But I don’t want you gettin’ yourself thrown in jail or killed for me.” 

There was short silence before Arvin looked over with the most sincere look you think he’d ever given you, “I can’t promise that. ‘M sorry, Y/N, but if I ever see you in danger, I’m gonna do what I need to do.” 

It wasn’t the response you’d been hoping for but this boy had the ability to make you feel more loved than anyone else you knew. You only wished he understood that you only wanted what was best for him, just like he did for you. “I love you, Arvin.” You admitted, sliding across the seat to lay your head against his shoulder while he drove. 

“I love you too.” 

[sakurology]

Hot Fuss, Full Panic

Pink Lips: Semi Eita x f!Reader

Warnings: this banner being bad, alcohol/drinking, sex under the influence but really it’s like maybe 2 shots for liquid courage- idk of lipstick counts as marking but fuck it we ball, unprotected sex, sex outside... in an alleyway, orgasm denial on his end, semi calls reader ‘toots’ yay sleazy musicians

Wc: 2.7k... well 2698 to be exact but we round up in this house

A/N: yes this is named after both a killers album and a lipstick. For the lovely Two in the Pink, One in the Kink Collab by the Sewer. I loved writing this it’s been done for weeks now and I’m so excited to see everyone else’s! Check the mlist here and support all the other creators, bc it’s v sexy! ~squeak squeak~ 💕

“You all alone tonight?”

“I’m alone every night, Sem,” you chuckled, continuing to clamor through empty glasses, wiping the sticky, rum-coated bar clean. Knowing him by name, you quickly poured up his usual gently sliding it his way. Jameson & Ginger Ale, for nights when he performs- any other time he’d get through the night on a few Dark n’ Stormys, saving at least 2 Kamikazes for you throughout the night until he stumbled back into whatever sewer hot pseudo-troubled musicians came from- probably one downtown, not too far from you.

“Well yeah, but no one’s bought you a shot tonight…”

He raised the glass to his lips, slowly knocking back down the stiff one you poured. He grimaced, clearing his throat and pushing the glass back toward you, blowing out a whistle as he cleared his throat.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, I don’t think anyone would like it if their date bought the bartender a shot.”

He pointed to the silver bottle of Milagro on the top shelf, sending you a wink. Taking the hint, you let out a half laugh- grabbing two double shot glasses and tiny slivers of lime, pouring both glasses to the rim.

“To a day just like any other,” you sighed, leveling yourself with him. Your disdain for February 14th was just as palpable as the months of innuendo laced conversation and shared shots with the local band’s d-list ‘celebrity’ frontman- the mutual desire pulling ahead by just a hair.

“To a wallet full of tips and a bar full of people getting lucky,” he shot back, tapping his glass with yours. The tequila was smooth, but being your first shot of the night, the burn was present and crisp as it went down, sending a shiver up your back. You slapped the shot down, pink lipstick stain imprinting the glass as you harshly sucked down your lime. Semi slid a $20 across the bar to you. As you neatly tucked it in your bra and took the glasses, he stood up to adjust his shirt and get his bearings.

“Have a good set!” you called after him. But he was already in the crowd. A sliver of light expanded and disappeared as you watched him slip into the backstage opening.

“Here ya go boys- on the house.”

The small tray you carried into the bar’s makeshift green room was filled with glasses of pink drinks, each adorned with a little lime slice and sugared rim.

“Pink Whitney… how original,” one of his bandmates remarked, knocking back the glass and setting it on top of a rusted filing cabinet.

“Be grateful,” you scoffed. “It’s the only thing I could manage to sneak past here for free.”

A chorus of sighs and clinking glasses resounded in the room, reassuring you the band would be happy regardless of what drew alcohol you bought them for the night. As long as the guys had an ounce of liquid courage before their set, you knew it’d go off without a hitch. You noticed one of the glasses still full on your tray- and Semi was nowhere in sight.

“Hey where’s-“ you started to ask, not really expecting an answer.

“Probably out back smoking,” a voice answered before you could even get his name past your lips. Picking up the small offering, you had half the mind to guzzle the glass down on your own- after all, it was already starting to water itself down. You poked your head up against the tiny door window, peering out slightly before sticking your head out to find the musician in the middle of his usual pre-show activities.

“There you are.” You spotted him.

He was leaning against the wall of the brick paved alleyway, cigarettes pursed between his lips.

“You shouldn’t be smoking those y’know,” you teased, bounding over to him. Finishing his drag, his smoke plumed into the crisp night air. His eyebrow cocked toward you as he placed it back to his lips. Gingerly, your own fingers scissored around the white tube, pulling it from his mouth and bringing it to your own lips with a soft smile, taking a deep inhale.

“They’re bad for your voice,” you exhaled away from his face and into the night. The mouthpiece was now coated in the same rosy markings as your shot glass. You stamped it out, much to his dismay.

“You got something better?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

With a pursed-lipped smile, you pushed the pink concoction to his lips, the sweat from the ice causing the sugar to run down the rim and over your hands. As Semi sucked the drink down, the glass was ripped from his lips and replaced by two of your saccharine coated digits. His tongue suckled your fingers as you pulled them out with a wet smack, neatly tucking them into your own mouth, then trailing the hand down your body to dry at the hem of your skirt. Your eyes fell just in front of his, glossed over in a heavily lecherous gaze. His lips found yours suddenly, hungrily- the fading flavor of pink lemonade and sugar on both your tongues as his body caged yours into the wall. Your face felt hot and your head was barely swimming from the rush of the shots you’d taken prior, but the surprise of the contact had knocked enough air out of you that you were gasping into the kiss, clawing at the back of his dip-dyed head of hair. The small glass in your hand slipped through your fingers, shattering and sending shards scattering against the asphalt beneath you.

The back door swung open, a head peeking out just enough behind the frame.

“Yo, Semi!” It was one of his bandmates, sticking his head out of the door. “Hurry it up we’re on in 10!”

He clamped a head over your mouth, sticking his head back to yell unintelligibly- or at least you couldn’t hear with the blood rushing to your ears and heartbeat pounding in your head. The loud thud of the heavy door tore through your spine, snapping you back into this present moment: the one in which you’d basically just made out in a cold, damp alleyway with Eita Semi- on Valentine’s Day. Of all days, you just had to do something about the months of mounting sexual tension between you two… on Valentine’s Day.

He moved his hand, freeing your lips as he checked to see how clear the coast was before turning back to you.

“I think I can get you there in 8,” the way he whispered reverberated in your chest and core almost simultaneously. His lips connected to your neck, slowly tracing upward, stopping to nip at your earlobe.

“Whaddaya say?”

He was telling you more than asking at this point, closing the finite space between you and already starting to slowly hike up your skirt with his fingertips. His eyes had become tenfold darker than originally, and the head rush you were feeling left you little to no time to oblige, not that you didn’t want to anyway. Your head began to loll to the side as it flew back, allowing him more access to your neck, his tongue gliding against the exposed skin while his calloused fingers began toying at your already exposed, and already slick pussy. You were putty in his hands at that point- no matter if you never wore underwear in the first place.

“Fuck,” Semi hissed against your collarbones. “No panties and you’re already nice and wet for me, hm? What a nasty little thing… good girl.”

He traced the pad of his index finger up and down your slit, collecting your essence as you shuddered yet again under his tough, a soft whine spilling from your throat. He couldn’t hold back a laugh, teasing you gently while grinding his bulging cock into the soft flesh of your exposed thighs. Your hands balled at the fabric of his shirt as you lifted it just enough to find his belt buckle, fidgeting with it and having absolutely no care for the heavy metal pieces rapping against your knuckles- if anything the small twinges of pain only added to the euphoria you were already starting to drown in.

“Hurry it up Y/N, we only got 7 minutes left…”

Obeying his command you unzipped his jeans, immediately hooking your thumb between the waistband of his boxers and the skin of his lower abs. You started to sink to your knees as you freed his cock from the confines that held him, mouth already watering. Just as you parted your lips, though, a harsh tug of your hair pulled you back onto your feet, spinning you and pressing your face against the cold brick. Your skirt was now pulled completely up and at your hips as Semi pushed your back down, arching you at his perfect level and holding your arm behind your back.

“Ah-ah,” he reprimanded with a smirk, sending two rough slaps to the meat of your ass. “Not enough time for that toots- maybe after the show.”

He lined himself up with your now glistening hole, teasing it with the tip for a few swipes before beginning to prod at your pretty pink insides. The stretch was slow and searing, but you were so wet that your walls immediately sucked him in, offering barely to no resistance. Your face pushed impossibly further into the wall in front of you as he started to build up an even pace, the head of his cock just barely grazing against the spot inside of that would render you absolutely and irrevocably cockdrunk.

“S-sem-ah-fuck!” Just as you started to speak he pulled out completely, arching your back even more as he buried himself deep in your aching pussy. Your back arched like that of a cat’s- leaning into the sensation with a wild, lewd mewl. He was speeding up now, groaning as he watched you coat his cock with a milky white sheen.

“That’s it,” he spanked you several more times, coaxing you to fuck yourself on his length as he spread your ass apart for a better view. “You think you can get yourself off on my cock in 5 minutes? C’mon, you can do it- go ahead, it’s all yours…”

You felt yourself growing even slicker at his words, his voice was like velvet and he wasn’t even singing. You started working your hips so fervently, so earnestly against him that the pace you were going had you white knuckling the railing next to you for stability as he continued to pull you down onto him with the hand behind your back. The smacking of skin against skin filled the air of the dark, damp alley, echoing out into the street as you could see the hazy lights of cars passing by though your eyelashes. His hands found your hair, pulling you up and back into him, matching the speed of his own thrusts to yours.

You could barely get out anything other than choked out moans and gasps. As you got closer and closer to your high, you started to feel dizzier and dizzier. You could feel your insides slowly starting to flutter as your conquest slipped from where you needed him, the displeased moan was halfhearted as he flipped you back around, closely holding your head into his chest.

Semi hoisted your leg up, holding it up at the knee, pushing the head of his cock just past your gleaming lips, walls greedily pulling him in with a slick smacking sound made by your wetness.

“Please, I’m so close- ‘mso fucking close,” you sobbed, rubbing your face against his chest. He smelled like cigarettes, cardamom and sweat. Combined with the carnal scent of sex wafting through the outside air, you gritted your teeth as your walls started to spasm and clench around him.

“Good girl, ngh- good fucking girl.” His praise had you spilling over, gushing over his cock with a shrill cry of his name into the night. He didn’t ease up, fucking you though the high, clutching you closer as your body went limp on your comedown.

“Time’s up, toots- but I’m glad you got what you wanted.”

Your breath was shaky and haggard as he pulled out of you, neatly trying to tuck his still hard cock into his pants. You were too hazy to make a point at how he hadn’t cum, but he helped you into your feet and up the stairs leading back to the green room. He picked up his guitar, swinging open the door and letting you go through first, leaving you sprinting on wobbly legs to your post at the bar.

“Y/N!” He called after you. You whipped your head back, mouth still ajar and eyes glossed over as your thighs continued to tremble.

“Stick around after we finish the set- I’ve still got to get what I want,” he said, flashing you a smile dripping with self- righteousness.

You still nodded though.

Creeping back behind the bar, you stopped just in time to not be noticed by the other 2 girls working with you that night, falling right into the chaos and clamor of everyone getting a drink before the house lights started to dim.

The lights on staged tuned a neon pink as Semi and his band took the stage, the chorus of screaming fans and adoring groupies filled the small space so much so that it felt like a stadium show, so much for the feeling of being a small town secret.

“Hey everyone, we are Hot Fuss”, he said into the mic, the cheers once again following as he set up with his guitar, the strap resting softly against the three undone buttons of his shirt- the shirt covered in the soft pink that previously adorned your lips. It was Everywhere, perfect little smeared kiss-marks, ever present reminders of how he had you bent over in an alleyway not even five minutes earlier, fucking you within an inch of your sanity. He shifted the guitar to rest behind him, exposing his chest, and the perfect imprint of your lips adorned his soft skin, the light giving it a glow almost, another round of mostly feminine squeals pierced the air again as someone whistled at the sight of Semi’s tousled physique.

“What’d you get up to Tonight, Semi-Semi?” His drummer teased, egging on the crowd. Your cheeks were so hot you felt like you’d melt. Semi just laughed, taking a soft strum while tuning his guitar onstage, leaning into the microphone and sending a look toward the back of the bar.

“I’m just dressed for the theme,” he joked, winking at several girls in the crowd. He strummed a couple more notes, pushing up against the microphone stand- and showing of his still present bulge, thick as the mic handle in his hand.

“We’re very grateful that all of you chose to be here tonight instead of getting laid,” he began, keeping the banter engaging while the rest of the band continued to set up.

“The night is young though, I guess.  And hey, the bar’s still open,” he looked back again, this time seeming to scan for you. You could feel him on your skin still, his touch was feather light, yet lingered on your skin so heavily.

“Ask your bartenders to help you get lucky!” The crowd laughed again, this time earning a lot of raunchy cheers from the men in the audience.

“All right enough shooting the shit though, you all came here for music, right?”

Loud applause filled the bar again as you stopped to watch him, propping your elbow up and onto the bar, fixating your eyes to see him in the shades of pink across a sea of heads.

“Well then let’s do it. Our first song for the night is very fitting…”

He found you. Your eyes locked on one another and stayed still. You could feel your heart freeze as you ran cold. He winked at you.

“Sing along if you know this one… it’s called Valentine.”