#I forget I’m not white enough to treat it like white hair

[plainthroat]

My dad gave me this gorgeous belt buckle that my grandmas husband made for his dad in prison, it’s got turquoise and abalone shell in it. For special occasions only. my brother gave me a tarot prayer candle, really good winter gloves, socks that say fuck you with daisies on them, and a winter hat. My sister cut and styled my hair :)

[satorhime]

front row seat + gojo satoru ── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : minors do not interact, f!reader, explicit smut, pussy drunk!gojo, hentai tropes ( internal view / satoru uses his six eyes ), messy sex, squirting, mating press. w.c ˓˓ 2k ˓˓

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : sometimes you forget that your boyfriend sees everything.

“h-honey, i ever tell you how pretty this pussy is?” 

he has, multiple times, because satoru is obsessed with watching you while he fucks you. 

in a way, you don’t blame him. the two of you are beautiful together and on the days when your boyfriend is merciful enough not to fuck you flat into his mattress, you love lifting your gooey head up to watch the pretty bounce of your tits, the squishy sink of satoru’s cock disappearing into your pussy and how the taut muscles in his abdomen twitches, tensing up whenever you suck him in with a widowmaking squeeze,

but tonight satoru is … tonight, something has him frenzied. 

his quicksilver blue eyes refuse to close down, and no matter how good he feels inside you, he refuses to throw his head back in ecstasy. it’s like he’s watching the performance of the century, one such cinematic masterpiece that he can’t afford to miss and you’re the pretty young starlet acting centerstage.  

his gaze trails all over every inch of your plush body, from the way he leaves his fingerprints in the soft dimples of your hips, the tousel of your hair as you thrash against the pillows underneath him, and now his new personal favorite— a sight only his six eyes are allowed to see. 

a sweet treat he’s never thought to indulge in before now, the fact that if he drags his gaze down to your body and let the six eyes focus a little further, past your soft belly until it becomes a translucent screen to him, he can see everything. it feels perverse, being able to watch the raw way he fucks into you but it’s so intoxicating, maddening and white hot, how heavenly you look spread out underneath him with your cunt laid bare to his eyes, he wouldn’t be able to resist it if he tried–

so he watches, milky lashes fanning out over petal-pink cheeks as his lidded eyes focus below your hips, right between the jiggle of your thighs. “g-god,” he moans out through gritted teeth, lilting baritone low and shaky. he’s sitting back on his heels, chin tucked to his chest and lip bitten raw. sweat drips from his brows onto your belly in rivulets and he’s attempting to rally the last bit of self-control he has in order not to absolutely wreck you as he watches himself fuck his cock deep into your weeping pussy. “wish you could see how easy this little lady’s opening up f’me, angel.” 

“nnngh, i can’t see-!” you squeal, and you don’t know if it’s because of the sticky tears blurring your big doe eyes or because it’s one of those nights where he fucks you flat, where the weight of his cock leaves you writhing and unable to move properly. where the only thing you can do is toss your head back against the pillows and take what he gives.

how such an innocent night ended up like this so suddenly, you don’t know. your head had been on satoru’s strong chest, cocooned in his infinity while his arm was curled behind his own head, scrolling aimlessly through a shady porn website on your phone with the intention of finding a cheesy hentai episode for the two of you to watch and dissect for jokes, a tradition in your relationship when you were in between streaming shows. satoru ended up choosing one from your recently watched, and as the two of you watched the exaggerated, almost comical movements of the animated couple fucking on the screen, you had expected his boyish jokes to begin and make you giggle, but he’d been silent— eyes darkening with something worse than lust at the sight of the x-ray view of the male character’s engorged cock sinking deep into the female character’s pussy while she wailed and babbled incoherently.

this what gets you hot ‘n’ bothered when i’m not around, angel? 

the rest is hazy, lost in the way you’re splayed out on the sheets now, knees bent to your shoulders and fingers desperately digging into the backs of your trembling thighs to hold them in the air for gojo. the position is uncomfortable and you’re not flexible like that, joints in your poor hips aching but you don’t care, not when he’s got your breasts bouncing lewdly with each repeated, dirty slam of the tip of his cock right up against your womb until you can practically feel him in your throat, stealing the desperate screams right from your vocal cords. 

“that’s a real shame, princess,” he coos, an egoistic smirk on his lips but it falters when you squeeze ‘round him just right, sore cunt twitching against the hard swell of his cock. his ocean blues dim, fingernails scratching against your squishy sides for leverage not to fuck deeper but to push you away because while he’s practiced, you feel too fucking good and he needs a minute, damn it, he’ll cum too fucking fast and ruin the perfect view of your cunt and it’ll be all your fault—

“wah-why did you stop-... please, miss your cock so much,” you simper, needy.

but he ignores your sweet little cries, drawing his hips back until his cock slips out of you and he lays it flat against your seam, greedily drinking down how fucking pretty you look beneath him like this, so good for him in the way you struggle to hold those sweet thighs up so he can have easy access to an even sweeter cunt. he wraps one hand around the root of his sticky girth, can’t help himself when he slaps the tip hard against the hood of your clit, just to earn that cute little yelp you make. “you’re so good for me always, sugar. such a good girl, huh? but i’m not sure of that anymore after tonight. you’ve been holding out on me.” 

“w… wh- i am a good girl-”

“but that’s okay,” he cuts you off. “i’ve got a front row seat now. know why?” 

he loves watching the pretty picture that confusion paints on a fucked out expression like yours. you fumble for the answer like a teacher’s pet, even though you’re distracted by grinding your clit against the tip of gojo’s cock for desperate, greedy friction. you’re too drunk on him to understand the true meaning behind those slurred out words and he knows it. head always caught up in the pleasure simmering in your belly that you forget the man fucking you is considered the strongest sorcerer in the world for a reason and oh … oh, there it is.

sometimes you forget that he views the world differently than normal men. the x-ray porn you secretly like may be an unrealistic act seen only in hentai, but gojo satoru wouldn’t be the strongest sorcerer if he couldn’t bring fiction into reality.

“y-you can see inside me,” you whisper, a little awed, and the thought of it is so fucking hot. you squeeze around emptiness when he nods, wanting to suck his tip right back into your tight pussy and you can practically feel the slick dripping out of you as he flashes a devastating, heartbreaker smile at you. “the six eyes. y-you can see how much i want you to fuck me again.”

“smart girl,” his praise warms your veins until your blood feels honeyed, running through you thick and slow. gojo flicks the tip against your clit one last time for the road before he reaches down, spreading one side of your folds open so he can nudge at the creamy ring to your cunt. “i can see everything.” 

“i can see how this little cunt is stubborn, how she never wants to stretch properly f’ me, the way she twitches when i hit it just right. i can see everything,” and he can, his technique zeroing in on his girth sinking in and stretching you wide, his answering whine almost louder than yours, eyes threatening to clamp shut as he feeds you the long stretch of his cock once more. the air in the bedroom of his penthouse makes your bodies slippery with sweat while you squirm underneath him on hot sheets, your breath wheezing out of your lungs until you can’t breathe. “look at that.” 

“i- hng, can’t-!”

it’s a hotter fuck like this, knowing those pretty blue eyes can see every rib and ridge of the inside of your pussy. that satoru knows the exact way your gummy walls, pretty pink against the white of his cock, look when you swell and squeeze for the stinging stretch, smeared in his precum. it makes you feel delirious— expression cracked wide open with pleasure, tongue lolling out of your pretty mouth, gaze fluttering releasing desperate whines as gojo fucks too fast, cockhead bullying your g-spot into overstimulation so that you can’t even fight it when you gush, the lewd sound of slick squelching out of you burning heat into your cheeks.

“look at you, squirtin’ all over me, angel,” gojo groans, stamping down the fast approach of his orgasm as arousal streams down the curve of your ass, wetting his expensive sheets. watching the way your swollen, puffy pussy spasms and tries to force him out but it only makes him drive deeper, his pace brutal— his hips rouged red from the friction of your bodies slapping together. “prettiest pussy in the whole world. you know that?” 

“y'r gonna cum inside me, right 'toru? s-so i'll look even prettier?” you simper under the praise, big doe eyes staring up at him behind a dreamy haze.

“shouldn't have said that, sweet girl. ooooh, f-fuck. you shouldn't. have. said. that. fuck fuck fuck, i'm gonna put my cum right here, ” he babbles desperately, a big hand splaying out on your belly, pressing down hard as his thumb dips low, circling your sticky clit almost desperately. the words punctuated by the heavy slap of his balls against your ass, headboard knocking violently into the wall. his spine tenses, orgasm building in the pit of his gut and he can’t wait to see it, the sight of his cum painting against your pretty walls. “and you're gonna take care of it f’ me, aren’t you? promise ‘toru you won't spill a drop?”

“i promise-! i promise i promise i promise, give me your cum- ‘toru- pleas-”

“shut up, angel face. you’re about to make me miss the best part of the movie.”

[tiredfox64]

Hi!!!! I loved your bi-han x chubby reader stories and wanted to make a request please!

I was hoping to request a Smoke x chubby reader where the reader is a baker of Madam Bo's and is the sweetheart of the village and Insecure about her body. The rest would be up to you. Please and thank you!

Sweet Honeybuns

Prior notes: Mhm mhm I like this. Good energy. Love when I get to project myself. I love that man I just know he would love to cuddle a woman like me

Pairing: Tomas x Chubby Baker! Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: I'm sorry if you start craving my b

Oh, that face. That beautiful face of yours. Those gorgeous eyes that he could get lost in. Those adorable cheeks that he would love to caress and kiss. That lovely, plump body of yours. The way your hips move hypnotizes him. You move throughout the bakery part of the tea house swiftly, trying to put more cakes in the display window. Your hair was put up nicely to prevent it from blocking your view and getting in your face. Your pretty, well-kept fingers were wrapped around the whisk as you began to beat the egg whites before adding the other ingredients in to make the perfect meringue. Tomas already knew you were making your meringue cookies since you make them every Wednesday. He loves your meringue cookies, they’re as sweet as you. He loves everything you make. Oh heavens, he loves you.

“Tomas!” Kuai Liang yelled right into Tomas’ ear.

“Huh?!”

Tomas was spooked at first before he started to blush hard. He was caught in the act again. He was caught staring at you with that lovesick expression. Elbow resting on the table, chin resting on his hand, the generic lovesick boy pose. We can’t forget about that dopey smile. It’s a shock that he wasn’t swinging his feet. Kuai Liang knew what was going on. Everybody in the Shirai Ryu knew. If they go to the tea house at least once with Tomas they get to see him go into that daze again. Every single time it’s like clockwork.

“You should ask her out soon. It won’t do you good if you continue to keep your feelings in.” Kuai Liang suggested.

Tomas immediately nodded his head no. He really, really, REALLY likes you. But he’s afraid that you will reject him. It’s a normal fear. He thinks you are out of his league. You’re just too sweet. You probably already have a line of men ready to be your boyfriend. You’ve already captured the hearts of many with your baking. With the addition of your kind personality, you’re basically as sweet as the cannoli you make.  You’re a sweetheart in everyone’s eyes. To the men and women, young and old. Everybody must want a chance with you. They must all be as desperate as Tomas is.

Though there were few who were interested in you, you had your heart set on one man. Your heart was set on Tomas. He was so kind to you and he brought you so much joy to your week. He took the time to talk to you. It didn’t matter what there was always something to talk about. It would go on for so long that Madame Bo would have to yell at you to get back to work and she would scold Tomas for distracting you. Though she found it cute how you two were so lost in conversation. She encouraged you to establish a relationship with him but you always said you can’t, you just can’t.

Truth be told you so badly wanted to ask Tomas out but you were afraid of many things. You were afraid of rejection, fair enough. You were afraid of making things awkward between you two and that you would see him less after that, that’s also fair. Lastly, you were afraid that he wouldn’t like you because you are…chubby.

Now hold on just a sec, that’s not fair to you.

Yes, you were worried he wouldn’t like a girl like you cause of your body type. You looked at yourself negatively. You treated your stretchmarks as if they were a curse. You believe cellulite is unnatural. You think you need a thigh gap to get his attention. You feel like your belly will scare him away.

Oh poppycock! Excuse my language. But what you think, and I’m saying this because I care about you, is bullshit. Imma prove your sweet ass wrong.

You saw Tomas coming your way. He gave you a quick wave and you gave him a smile. Gosh, his heart might explode after seeing that.

“There’s my favorite man. What can I get you for today?”

Yup, his heart just exploded. He loves that you call him your favorite man. He’s not just another customer to you and that makes him feel special.

“Can’t I come up to talk to my favorite lady without having to buy anything?” He teased. Now your heart was exploding. He is smooth when he isn’t trying.

“I would allow you to do that but you know how Madame Bo gets when I stop working.”

“Fine, I’ll bite. Do you have anything special this week that you can offer to your favorite man?”

“Well we have coconut cream pie, flan, conchas, baklava, peach cobbler, liu shao bao, bublania, tiramisú,” on and on you went.

That’s something else he likes about you. You have desserts from all around the world. But damn does it make it hard to decide what to buy from you. He lowered his head as he struggled to pick something from you. Pick for him, the man is struggling.

“How about I get you some flan? I think you will like it.” You walked over to the display window, pulled out the flan you recently made and cut him a big slice.

You brought him the plate with that delicious, syrupy goodness on it. You scooped him a piece of it and tried to feed it to Tomas. You looked so adorable to him at that moment. Looking up at him with doe eyes while waiting for him to open his mouth. He opened up and ate the bit of flan that was on the spoon. The creamy custard was practically melting in his mouth with the caramel top hitting his tongue soon after. He just found his new favorite dessert.

“I love you.”

“Huh?”

“I mean I love it!”

Tomas stumbled over his words. He meant the first thing he said but also didn’t mean to say it in that moment. The goodness of the flan messed with his mind and made his heart swell with love for you. You know what they say: the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. You already captured his heart a long time ago but this instance made his heart become caged by you. You will never release it even though you never knew you had it before.

He asked you how much it was but you told him it’s on the house since he was so handsome. You sly dog, flirting with him effortlessly while he was already spiraling. You left him blushing while walking back to his table. The moment he sat and placed his plate down he rested his head on the table. It’s over for him. He’s so madly in love with you. You got him so bad he forgot to make an effort to ask you out while he was up there. Kuai Liang started patting his back. Brother needs to support his brother.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

It was near closing time. Most customers have left and almost all the waitresses were gone. Finally, some peace. You decided you deserve a treat after baking all day and serving customers. Time to munch on the mistake pile. The pile of slightly burnt cookies, lopsided muffins, and double-glazed bear claws.

You only really eat when most people are gone. If you give yourself a treat, even just a bite of a banana muffin, others think it’s typical of you. It’s tiring to hear people compliment your desserts only to immediately say you should slow down on eating them yourselves. You barely ever eat your own work since you have to save it for the customers. You know it’s unhealthy to make it a habit of eating your mistakes which is why you balance it out with healthy and balanced meals. You eat well actually. Yet some people think you intentionally make mistakes just so you can eat. How could people be so ignorant and rude when all you ever do is give. You give and give and they appreciate it but they still have something to say.

Whatever, you’re alone. You started nibbling on some cookies, enjoying yourself for a bit before turning around and seeing Tomas was near the counter. You immediately hid the cookie behind your back like a guilty child.

“Oh, I thought you would have gone home already.” You said.

“I would have but Kuai Liang said I had to do something or else he wouldn’t let me leave.” Tomas chuckled awkwardly as if it were a joke but it was serious. Kuai Liang would not let Tomas come home until he confessed to you.

“I hope I didn’t disturb you. You can keep eating your cookie if you want.”

You were hesitant to do so. You just nodded your head while putting the cookie away. Tomas got worried that he had upset you. He didn’t mean to be rude even though he did no wrong. He leaped over the counter to get closer to you and apologize.

“I’m sorry if I upset you—”

“No, no, it’s alright. I just…don’t like eating in front of people.” Your voice got quiet near the end.

“Oh, I’m guessing you get anxious?” He asked.

“No, I just…don’t like when people comment on my weight when I eat. I don’t want you thinking I'm a slob or something.”

That hurt Tomas to hear. He didn’t know people were making backhanded comments towards you. Now that he thinks about it even when he has stayed at the tea house for a long while he never saw you eat in front of anyone. He was hoping that you weren’t starving yourself throughout the day just to prevent people from making comments about your weight.

“I hope you don’t think you are one because you’re not. I could never think of you like that. How could I think something so negatively to a girl that I want as,” He paused for a second before finally having the balls to say it, “my girlfriend.”

You looked at him in shock. His girlfriend? You? Did you accidentally take a bite out of your “special” cookie because you can’t believe what you just heard.

“Me? Why me?” You asked.

“Why you? Why not you? You’re incredibly sweet and hardworking. I’ve never seen so many loving eyes on one girl before. Everything you say to me makes me want you even more. I was afraid a lot of people had their eyes on you and I was afraid I would lose you to someone else. That’s why Kuai Liang told me to confess now. I just really want you in my life. You’re the only girl who has made my heart feel like this—this tingly feeling that reappears every time I see you.”

His words were so genuine you found it difficult to disagree or fight back on anything. His eyes were practically twinkling as he looked at you, waiting for a response. He was nervous that you would actually reject him. He was picking at his nails and he was biting his lip slightly.

“You mean, you still want to date me even though I’m,” you pointed to your chubby belly.

“So?”

Yeah, so what?

Don’t break his heart. If you do, you end up breaking your heart as well. It’s as clear as the night sky that Tomas really wanted you to be his girlfriend. It didn’t matter your size. He wants to love you and cherish you. He wants to kiss and caress you all night long. Do us all a favor and accept his lovin. It will do you both good. You know you want it.

“Well, you got me there. I can’t argue with that. I guess you just earned yourself a girlfriend and some double-glazed bear claws.” You smiled widely.

Tomas was beyond happy. He immediately hugged you and started to kiss you all over your face. Gosh, your skin was so soft against his lips. He could do this for hours. But you’re right, he did earn himself some bear claws.

You both sat around, eating your mistake baked goods together. You both were all smiles. There was a warm feeling that resonated with you. This has got to be the best day ever. Well if it wasn’t for Madame Bo slapping the back of Tomas’ head and yelling at him to leave already and stop eating the sweets. He booked it out of there while laughing, promising to return tomorrow.

Ain’t he just the sweetest?

After notes: Halfway through I ate a coconut cream pie to get motivation. I don't even like coconut but it hit! I feel like a jackass for making flan the favorite dessert in this fic. Idk why I'm not sending subliminal messages to make y'all want it. Ah whatever. Adiós!

[ididdedurmom]

More evil head cannons

I have silly ideas about the gang after the event of the story, everyone lives, except Bob

PONY:

Has a thousand yard stare when he zones out

Has the loudest, most disgusting, mucus filled cough ever

Actually really good at drawing

Has drawn every member of the gang at least twice

Loves physical touch, he leans on his friends when their sitting next to him.

Actually screams during horror movies, like loud genuine screams

Loves play fighting with Darry, like full on wrestling

Steve taught him how to drive

He either walks like a ghost or stomps, there is no in between

He can play one song on the guitar, and that’s it

His legs are super strong, so his kicks hurt really bad

He would be better at track, but his smoking habits hold him back

He feels jealous of Soda and Darry because they had more time with their parents

He and Darry have matching reading glasses

SODA:

He says “I’m just a girl” anytime he gets in trouble

He has used his pretty privilege to get out of being arrested multiple times

Despite how handsome he knows he is, he still feels super insecure about his looks

He steals from the DX station constantly

He and Steve spend hours gossiping about their customers once both of their shifts are over

A dog bit him when he was a kid, now he’s deathly afraid of them

He loves physical affection, hugging him is the best way to cheer him up

Absolute candy addict

Candy is the #1 item he steals from the DX

He broke his dominant hand once, and now his handwriting is permanently ruined

He reads insanely slow and monotone when he reads out loud

He either sleeps like a rock, or wakes up from the slightest sound, there is no in between

He lives in his flannel, that thing hasn’t been washed in literal years

He suffers from middle child syndrome, he knows his brothers love him, but they don’t pay enough attention to him

DARRY:

He hates his jobs, he knows he has to go but he can’t stand them

All of his coworkers are old and they treat him like a child (which he’s kind of okay with in a way)

He loves watching cartoons but he feels like he’d be wasting his time

He sneezes like a dad

He wakes up at 4 am and works out immediately

Loves compliments and words of affection

Doing favors is his love language

He has the whitest legs ever, he’s all tan on the top and snow white on the bottom

His tan ends where his pants start

Small bits of his hair are grey, he doesn’t know

He has a fear of abandonment

He is insanely flexible for a man of his size, like he can touch the floor standing up with ease

He hit a dog with his car once and cried for 2 hours straight

He loves cuddling on the couch with his brothers, it helps him relax

He despises Curly Shepard, he’s civil with Tim, but he HATES Curly

When he comes home from his ski trips with his old friends, he actually looks his age

A woman once assumed he was Pony’s father, and it made him die inside a little

He can’t stand Mother and Fathers Day

He was mad at Steve when he found out he taught Pony how to drive

TWO-BIT:

He and Dally bond by harassing women

He has a box full of things he’s stolen

His slight alcoholism stems from his father

He let’s his sister paint his nails, and he shows them off proudly

He gets his nails painted before rumbles

He watches soap operas with his mother every night

He can play the trumpet

He has never purchased a pack of cigarettes, only stolen

He listens to metal

When he passes Johnny’s house, he has to actively stop himself from walking in and beating Johnny’s parents half to death, especially his father

Its not that he doesn’t want a job, I mean he doesn’t, it’s that he thinks he’d only mess up whenever they had him do

He constantly forgets to brush his teeth

Pop and beer are the only things he drinks, he doesn’t touch water

He religiously wears Mickey Mouse merch, you will never catch him in a plain shirt

Baby Pony and him got along really well, he was kinda like Pony’s goofy cousin

Two-Bit and Darry have been friends since they were little kids

Two has no plans for his future, and it weighs on him

He broke both of his elbows once

His teachers have kinda given up on him, they just treat him like a bother instead of a student

STEVE:

He messes up Pony’s hair every chance he gets

He uses the most hair grease out of everyone

He has had the same comb for 3 years

He constantly smells like oil

The underside of his nails are always black, no matter how much he washes his hands

He and Soda have matching scars from a shared failed attempt to climb a barb wired fence

He is terrified of the police

He and Soda make your mom jokes at each other, despite neither of them having mothers

His voice is scarily deep when he wakes up

He and Two-Bit have an inside joke no one in the gang understands

He, Soda, and Two-Bit all have matching stick and poke tattoos

He hates his father, and by extension the fathers of Johnny and Two-Bit

He and Dally don’t hang out much, but when they do they are absolute menaces

Dally and him steal cars and hub caps together

He is genuinely upset by the size of his nose

JOHNNY:

He’s dyslexic

His handwriting is atrocious

His best subject is math

He and the gang all picked out stickers to put on his crutches

He loves sleeping around his friends

His hands are rough

He can’t stand the smell of beer, unless it’s one of the gang

He and Curly hate each other for literally no reason

Pony has slowly been teaching him to read better

No matter how much grease he puts in his hair, it won’t stay back

He hates going out in public because people always look at him funny

He hates looking at his burn scars

He, Dally, and Ponyboy watch sunsets together

He either sleeps at the Cutis’s house, Two-Bit’s house, Steve’s (very rarely), or Dallas’s place.

He’s not allowed to sleep in the lot anymore

He has tons of freckles, you just can’t see them against his skin

He loves sleeping outside when he wants to

He never wants children, he’s to scared he’ll become his father

His pain tolerance is so high that sometimes he won’t even notice when he gets injured

He likes how defensive Dallas is of him, makes him feel confident

He smokes marijuana with Dally sometimes, he’s super anxious when they do though because he doesn’t want to get arrested

DALLY:

He will not talk about his feelings

The cops forced him to go to therapy, it didn’t fix anything

He is amazing at lying

The police know him by name

He hasn’t told the gang much about the past other than where he came from and that he doesn’t talk to his folks

Darry nicknamed him “Rat”

He actually feels bad when Darry yells at him

He gets sun burns very quickly

He has his own personal stench

He doesn’t want Johnny to end up like him

He cried for 3 hours straight when he found out Johnny was still alive, it is his most embarrassing moment

He chugs drinks insanely fast

He can’t read very well

He needs glasses but he thinks he’d look like a wimp if he had any

Even though he knows he could have an asthma attack from coughing to hard, he still doesn’t carry his inhaler

He was happy when he thought he was going to die

Then he woke up and had an epiphany about life, it didn’t do to much, but now he knows death isn’t the only option

He proudly shows off the burn marks on his arm

He loves pushing Johnny around in his wheelchair

He listens to outlaw music and Frank Sinatra

He loves horror movies

He toned down his bad behavior once he got out of the hospital, he’s still a dick though

That’s it or whatever. I hope you like them, I’m sorry if some of them don’t make sense. I’m just so silly. I apologize for my horrible grammar lol. Feel free to tell me some of your head cannons!! :D

[wishesunderthestars]

The King's Advisor // Ch. 1

Pairings: King!Yoongi x Advisor!reader

Summary: The king's advisor is the most crucial position in the kingdom, the king trusts her judgment and always listens to her opinions and advice. They are a formidable pair but behind closed doors, the king and his advisor bicker and throw back-handed insults at each other more often than not. The feelings of dislike are very much mutual. She is a champion at testing the King’s patience because she knows she is too valuable to his rule to face repercussions. So it’s bickering and sarcasm dripping from their lips–

Until war breaks out.

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.6k+

Warnings: war, injuries

“Well, that was stupid,” you said, leaning back on the chair and crossing your legs.

Yoongi, who had just closed the wooden doors of the council room, turned to look at you with raised eyebrows. The meeting of the King’s Council had just ended and it was just the two of you left inside.

“I beg your pardon?”

You huffed. “That boy isn’t ready to be a captain, he isn’t ready to be a lieutenant even. He doesn’t have the barest idea of how to lead, he can barely fight himself. The fact that his father used to be captain doesn't mean anything.”

“His family is one of the most influential in the kingdom, I couldn’t deny him the position,” Yoongi said. “I don’t want any disputes with them and there would have been a lot if I didn't promote him to his father’s position.”

You leaned your elbows on the long table. “You could have given him a smaller team, told him you would promote him to a larger one when he was ready. Would you trust him to lead a hundred men into a battle? Or defend a city? Because I wouldn’t.”

Yoongi stood opposite you. His long blond hair was pulled up into a neat topknot with a gold and black headband securing it in place. “His family wouldn’t be happy with that. They would question whether I trust them and whether they have done enough for the kingdom.”

“I, for one, don’t trust them,” you said. “They have been salivating after the throne for years, looking for higher and higher ranks in the military and positions in your council. If anyone ever tries to overthrow you, it will be them.”

Yoongi put his hands on the table, bending forward. “Don’t you think I know that? That’s why they don’t have a seat on my council and why you are here instead of their eldest son.”

“If their eldest son were in my place, you would already be dead,” you said getting up.

“Watch your tongue.” Yoongi gritted his teeth, a fire burning in his eyes. The day had been hard on him, he had been in meetings since the morning and he had several hours of sword fighting practice as well. It was easier to rile him up when he was tired and you were the only one who wouldn’t pay for it.

You got up and sauntered up to him. “And if I don’t? You know as well as I do that he won’t be a good captain. He isn’t ready for it and he might never be ready for it. His team will be a liability.”

“I know what I’m doing. An incompetent captain is better than a family with connections like a spiderweb planting words against me.”

“If I heard word of that, I would cut off their webs with silver scissors. They aren’t the only ones with connections,” you said. “Things are tense on our northern borders, we shouldn’t be treating military positions lightly.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, up close you could see the reflection of the candles in them. “The-”

A knock on the door interrupted him and you both turned to look. The door opened without any announcements or permission from the King. Namjoon walked inside, his short brown hair combed back, splashes of ink on his white sleeves, and a few papers in his hands. Namjoon was the only person other than you who could barge into the council room like this and face no repercussions.

He took one look at the two of you and closed the door behind him.

“What are you arguing about this time?" he asked. You rolled your eyes and Yoongi scoffed. "Forget it, I don't need to know. We have to go over these papers so get comfortable."

Wordlessly, Yoongi sat down on the chair at the head of the table and the two of you took the ones next to him. Namjoon had missed the meeting because of these papers so they had to be important.

You and Namjoon were the King's most trusted members of the Council. The three of you would often gather late at night or early in the morning to discuss matters of the kingdom and make the difficult decisions.

Namjoon was the son of one of the best warriors the kingdom had ever seen and it had been a surprise when Namjoon hadn't followed in his father's footsteps, choosing books and ink over sword and armor. He had soon become known for his smarts and his eloquent speech—he was the one who went over the King's speeches, putting into words what Yoongi couldn't—and had been easily granted a place in the King's Council. His friendship with the King had a lot of people doubting the decision but soon he proved that he belonged there as much as anyone else. More really.

Unlike Namjoon, you and Yoongi hadn't been friends at any point in your life that you could remember. Maybe when you had been too young to read or write and you were hiding behind your mother's skirts, but not since then. Your father had been the late King's advisor and as his only child, you had been prepared to take his place since you could pick up a pen. He and your mother didn't have any other children and the fact that you were a girl didn't deter them, none of the past King's advisors had been female but your father was determined you would be the first one.

You had spent days and nights over books guided by your father and the best teachers in the kingdom, the same ones teaching the future king. You would see each other occasionally but didn't exchange more than a few words. During your teenage years, your fathers deemed it wise for the two of you to share a few of your lessons, you needed to build trust between you if you were to work together in the future. Instead of friendship, a rivalry brewed. You didn't remember how it started but you couldn't forget how it continued. Exchanging jabs about who was the best at which lessons and who did better at tests. Glaring and provoking each other.

When his father passed on and Yoongi ascended to the throne, it was his time to choose his personal advisor. You had been training for the position all of your life but you were still surprised when he asked you, bearing the gift of a gold bracelet engraved with flowers and embellished with precious stones. The King had to base his decisions on many factors but the most important was trust. Trust to work towards a bright future for the kingdom. Trust to support him through everything.

You didn't ask him why he chose you, you didn't voice any of your questions about trust. For years, you worked together and it was almost like nothing had changed from your teen days.

Half of the candles had gone out by the time you had gone over all of the papers. Your eyes hurt and a headache was brewing behind your temples. Your usual late nights ended earlier than this.

Namjoon gathered the papers with clumsy movements. Yoongi had to catch one before it flew away after Namjoon shoved it off the table.

"I think I may fall asleep if I stay any longer," Namjoon said when all the papers were safely in his arms. You could relate to that. "I would recommend going to sleep now. Have a good night."

You echoed his words and he left. The door closing was the only sound in the dimly lit council room.

You rubbed your eyes and looked at the King. His hair was coming undone and it glinted like threads of gold in the candlelight. His sharp eyes were softer, the way they got at night when his walls weren't as high as the castle's.

"I will be going then," you said, getting up and smoothing down your dress. There was no reason to do it, no one other than the guards would see you at this time. It was more out of force of habit than anything else.

"Wait for a moment," Yoongi said. You stopped before you could move to the door. "The Lee boy will be trained under Hoseok. He will be answering to him and if anything goes wrong I trust Hoseok to make it right. I wouldn't jeopardize the safety of the kingdom."

"It still doesn't sit right with me," you said. You knew that Yoongi had the best interests of the kingdom in mind but that didn't mean you always agreed. More often than not, you didn't. "But that's enough for tonight. It's late and frankly, I'm too exhausted to debate about the Lees. We can talk more about this tomorrow."

Yoongi opened his mouth and closed it again. "Don't forget a lamp. Unless you want to walk in the dark."

"Of course," you muttered, annoyed that Yoongi had to remind you. The torches in the hallways would have gone out a long time ago. "I would have remembered to take one."

"I don't doubt it," Yoongi said,  smirking. Ignoring him, you picked up an oil lamp from the top of a large chest and tilted it close to one of the lit candles to share the flame. "Goodnight then."

"Goodnight, my king."

You saw his eyebrows twitch before leaving the room. He wasn't fond of his friends using his title to address him. You wouldn't exactly put yourself in that category but you didn't use his title when it was the two of you, you didn't use it in the council either. You would throw it out there occasionally just to see his reaction.

The guards were standing at attention on either side of the door, their hands on their long swords. They stared ahead as you walked down the empty corridor.

A few days later, you strolled into the private training grounds. It was a wide space surrounded by trees, right next to the gardens accessible only to the royal family. You were one of the few exceptions.

The continuous sound of metal clashing on metal rang in the otherwise silent place. The swords glinted and glimmered, reflecting the light of the midday sun. Yoongi and Hoseok were sparring, their movements so quick they were but a blur.

Yoongi's hair was pulled up in a tight knot and sweat was running down his face and his sculpted chest. His shirt was thrown aside, too much of a nuisance after what looked like several hours of practice. You had to swallow to ease the dryness in your throat.

You watched them—transfixed by their deadly dance—until the King's eyes locked with yours.  Others would have cowered at the power in his gaze but you held it steadily like you had done all your life. One second of distraction and Hoseok's sword touched his pale neck, a whisper away from drawing blood.

"And I win," Hoseok said. He turned around, his eyes falling on you, and he smiled as if he understood a joke. "I see. I guess I owe this one to you."

You grinned and walked closer to them. "I'm not sure about that. I think you would have won either way."

"You should join us more often then," Hoseok said.

It was a view you both dreaded and craved to get used to. You didn't make a habit of visiting the training grounds, the King's private ones, or the much larger common ones. The art of battle wasn't one you had delved into. Your father had taught you the basics of protecting yourself but your interest had stopped there. And although watching shirtless men training, wielding swords and bows, and sweating was appealing in theory, you found that the reality wasn't as satisfying.

That's what you reminded yourself and the heat swirling in your stomach.

"How much longer will you be in our company?" you asked Hoseok.

The situation in the North wasn't getting better. Soldiers from the neighboring kingdom had been breaching the borders for months, engaging in small-scale conflicts with your forces stationed there. This was clear as day provocation but you didn't want to go into war.

Hoseok would go along with his team to survey the state of affairs and send a report back.

"The day after tomorrow," he said, sheathing his sword. "It isn't a short trip and it would be for the best to arrive as soon as it is possible." He looked at you and Yoongi, who had turned away. "I will be leaving then. Go easy on him. He's tired," he told you. Yoongi shook his head in disbelief. "I hope we have a chance to catch up before I leave."

"I can always find some time for you," you said.

Hoseok's smile widened before bidding you goodbye and walking away, leaving you and Yoongi alone.

Yoongi gulped down the contents of his leather waterskin, his Adam's apple bobbing, shiny with sweat. "What are you doing here?"

"Am I not allowed?"

"That is not what I said." He put away his sword in its jeweled case and left it on a stone bench. "If you are here that means you were looking for me for something."

You didn't deny it, although it wasn't the complete truth either. There were plenty of matters pending to be discussed and there were about ten things you weren't seeing eye-to-eye and you had to reach an agreement on. Nothing new. But the reason you were there was none of those things.

You had gone on a walk to clear your head after a morning of socializing with some of the most important people in the kingdom and your feet had carried you to the royal gardens before you realized where you were going. Finding Yoongi and Hoseok wasn't your intention. But you weren't about to say that.

Yoongi crossed his arms and looked at you, awaiting an answer. Your eyes strayed to his bare arms and chest and you scolded yourself and pulled them back up in what you hoped was a subtle manner.

"Are you going to stay like this?" you asked.

Yoongi gazed down at himself and what could have been a smirk played at the edges of his lips. "Why? Is it bothering you? Have you not seen a man's body before?"

"Are you a child?" He knew very well the answer to that question. Hell, it wasn't the first time you were seeing him half-naked. That was one of the perks—or cons, depending on your viewpoint—of your job. "For a king, you forget about decency an awful lot."

"When have you cared about decency?"

He picked up his white shirt that had been carelessly thrown on the bench and wiped the sweat off his face and neck with it. You had to look away.

"Where have you been all day? You weren't in your office and you didn't attend tea."

"Were you disappointed?"

"On the contrary," you said sharply. "I was only wondering if you were alive."

He extended his arms to the sides. "As you can see I am very much alive. Sorry to disappoint. I was here."

"All morning?" you asked, not convinced.

The royal gardens weren't a place Yoongi visited often. You were more likely to find Namjoon here observing nature with a book in one hand. Yoongi hadn't displayed any fondness for the place other than the privacy it could offer but his rooms could offer the same privacy and he preferred them.

"I'm the King, can I not take a morning to myself?"

"It's because you're the King that you can't," you shot back. "Did you sign those papers I gave you?"

"I did."

"Did you read them or did you sign them blindly?"

"I read them." Yoongi walked to you until your faces were inches apart. "I read every single one of them. I don't do things halfway. Is that all?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Do you perhaps want more work? I can arrange for something. There is always more work to be done."

Yoongi scoffed and backed away. "You're impossible."

"Thank you, I try," you said. Your mood sobered as you remembered what had been swirling in your head for the past week. "A letter arrived ahead of the envoy from Harfush, they will be here in three days."

Yoongi's demeanor changed, his shoulders tensing. "We will be ready when they arrive. We have prepared for everything."

"Almost everything," you pointed out. "They are set on this. I know it. They have been pushing for months now and it has only been getting worse. This isn’t going to end with a talk with an envoy. They’re hoping to get land from us in exchange for stopping their attacks but that is only prolonging the inevitable.”

His eyes hardened. “If it comes to it then so be it. We are not giving them anything. We will fight and they will regret bringing the war to us.”

“I will hold you to that.”

The envoy arrived and you were proven right. They were after your northern lands, a large stretch of the kingdom. Yoongi told them in the most political way to go fuck themselves, which—to no one’s surprise—the delegation wasn’t pleased with. They left two days later with thinly-veiled threats of war.

Your kingdom hadn't seen war since the days Yoongi's great-grandfather was king. Peace was a fragile thing but Yoongi's father and grandfather had protected it like the most precious jewel in the realm despite the aggressions of their neighbors. But it had never got that bad. Petty thievery here and there, a few arrogant nobles that dreamed of war. The carefully balanced scales had tragically tipped during Yoongi's reign.

The turning had found you prepared. Your soldiers were many and had trained tirelessly with the cloud of war hanging above them.  Your numbers were fewer than the enemy’s but you had something they didn't. Fire. Pyres burning in your souls, stronger than forest fires. That was the gift of the people of Tinigris, the nation of the Tiger.

And so it was only a matter of time.

“What are you still doing here?”

Yoongi was standing over the large map of the continent. On it, figures like chess pieces were carefully arranged, depicting the bigger picture of the stationed troops—your own and the enemy’s.

Yoongi looked up at you, the light casting deep shadows on his face. His hair was falling in his eyes and underneath, dark half-moons were inked in his porcelain skin. "What does it look like?"

"Like you are exhausting yourself going over matters we have already discussed to great lengths when you should be resting."

Yoongi's eyes flashed with something unreadable in the flame of the candles. "The drums of war are at our doorstep, minutes away from spreading like an infection in our land. It is not the time for resting."

"If you want to be dead on your feet tomorrow when we will actually discuss strategy and diplomacy then by all means, it is not the time for resting. If you want to be able to participate in the conversation, I would advise you to go to sleep now."

His hands twitched on the table. "I am not the only one awake, am I?"

The truth was that you had laid in your bed, closed your eyes but sleep refused to come to you. You had tried and failed. Your room was too dark and restricting and you were too restless. You had dressed in a simple black velvet dress with a low neckline, which some of the older nobles would consider scandalous, threw a silky shawl over your shoulders that did nothing to keep you warm, and wandered into the long shadowed hallways.

You couldn't tell him any of that so instead you said, "No, you are not the only one."

The majority of the little soldiers were placed along the borders. Hoseok had sent back a letter confirming what you already knew. There was a war brewing in the North and there was no stopping it. You couldn't run away from the storm, you could only walk into it prepared.

Yoongi's hair wasn't done up in its usual style but he must have carelessly pulled it up himself. Several strands were framing his face and he wasn't wearing his headband. In the quiet madness of the night, he seemed almost vulnerable.

"Why do you speak to me about sleep when you are as awake as I am?" he asked.

"Because at least one of us should sleep," you said. "It will be a long day tomorrow and days will only get longer from here."

His gaze went back to the pieces on the board. "I know that if I go to my chambers, I will find no more peace than you did." The shadows seemed to grow longer on his face. "We have avoided war for years. All of our attempts have been in vain. I'm sending my people into a bloodbath."

"If there was anything more we could do, you know very well we would have done it," you said. "Your people know you don't want this war. We can't stand here while they attack our lands. If we don't fight back, they will raid the villages close to the borders. It will only get worse. Kill, take slaves, do unspeakable things. Blood will be spilled either way. The North is thirsty for it. Better for our people to die defending their homes than be slaughtered with their families at night, unaware."

Yoongi's jaw clenched. In his eyes, you saw the fire and you saw the tiger. "I won't let them. I will fight for them until my last breath. If the North wants blood they will have it. It will overflow."

Yoongi glowed brighter than any flame in the room. Fierce and alluring in the way a sword is, tempting you to cut your finger on the blade to test how sharp it is.

"I won't offer empty words, to you I never have," you said. "It will be hard and we can't know how long it will last. There will be death and there will be wounds that won't heal. But we won't back down. We are the descendants of fighters, of warriors of great deeds. We prospered in peace and we will thrive in war. We will hold the borders, we will hold them back. And I believe we will emerge victorious."

Yoongi reached for something behind him and upon placing them on the table, you realized they were two glasses and a bottle of wine. He poured a generous amount into each and extended one to you.

"Let's drink to that," he said.

"To victories," you said and your glasses clinked.

Everything moved on faster from them, a river getting more and more narrow and running faster and faster. Strategies—political and military—, estimations, gathering the troops, reaching out to allies, making plans. You weren't a great warrior but you had studied battle strategies for years and you viewed battlefields as chess boards. You were great at chess.

Nobles, soldiers, townsfolk, and villagers alike were talking about the war in hushed whispers. Everyone knew it was approaching, a black galloping horse, neighing and squealing. Letters were being exchanged swiftly with the troops on the northern borders, keeping you informed about the moves of the enemy. When war was officially declared, you had to be ready.

Tensions rose in the palace as they did between the two kingdoms. You could barely sleep. When you closed your eyes, you saw images of a red sky, swinging swords, disembodied limbs, and unseeing eyes. You saw destroyed villages and burned houses. They haunted even your dreams. Most nights, you spent in the council room with Yoongi, both of you restless. Sometimes you discussed strategies, sometimes you were quiet in each other's company, other times you fought the way you often did. Upon returning to your rooms, you were able to steal a few hours of sleep.

Time was but an illusion to you. Days blended into each other yet you were intensely aware of each one passing. You drowned in meetings with the council, late nights with the King, and dealing with the noble families—an art you had once upon a time mastered but was slipping through your fingers.

Tensions were rising in the palace. Yoongi was on edge, running from meeting to meeting until he was bound to burn out. Your patience was running thin.

And the King, most of all, was testing it.

"You can't ride at the front in the battle," you said, repeating yourself for what felt like the thousandth time. You were in his office with Namjoon, debating his stupid ideas. "If you are killed, the war is over. Who will be left to lead the soldiers? You have no heir, no brothers or sisters, no one to continue the line."

"Who will lead them then?" Yoongi asked ferociously. "Who will they follow if not their king? Hoseok will be by my side. We will protect each other."

You gripped the glass of wine tighter. You wanted to get up and pace but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "This isn't training. This is a real war, protecting each other won't guarantee that either of you are safe. You will be the main target the moment you step into the battlefield. Do you expect the king of Harfush to charge first into battle? To fight at all?"

"I'm nothing like him!" Yoongi said sharply. "I will not hide behind my soldiers while they fight my kingdom's battles! I refuse to cower in the camp like a coward."

"I'm not asking you to," you said, trying to keep your voice from rising. "I'm asking you not to run first into the battle and become an easy target. Do you know how easy it will be for them to shoot you with arrows?"

"She is right, you know," Namjoon said. He was sitting on the other chair in front of Yoongi's large wooden desk, bent over a few papers. What he was writing, you had no idea. Yoongi narrowed his eyes in betrayal. "You want to lead the charge, I understand that, it's the honorable thing to do but they aren't honorable. If you are dead, our people won't know who to follow. There will be chaos and Harfush will take advantage of that."

Yoongi got to his feet, it sounded like an earthquake. "What would you have me do then? I will fight! You can't hold me back from fighting for my kingdom!"

Silent words passed between you and Namjoon. Neither of you liked the idea but it was true that you couldn't stop Yoongi from fighting. You would have to tie him up to keep him in the camp.

You sipped on the wine, an action that seemed to only agitate Yoongi further. "You will fight. But not in the front lines and you won't have only Hoseok with you but your personal guard as well. The ones who are willing to lose their lives to save yours."

"Is that it?" Yoongi asked, something animalistic in his expression. It was coming closer to the surface the past few weeks, clawing and snarling. "Are you making all the decisions for the war? Deciding what is best for MY people?"

Namjoon paused his writing. "We are not making any decisions for you. We only want you to see reason. We are here to advice and guide you, not force your hand."

You held back a huff. "Riding first into battle is suicide. And who will lead YOUR people then? When you are no longer here to do it."

"Why don't you lead them since you seem to believe you can do it so much better?" he snarled. His hand struck the desk with a loud thump, papers, candles and glasses clattering. Namjoon steadied the ink bottle before it could spill and paint the room blue. You held yourself back from flinching.

The world stood still for a moment like it was holding its breath. Yoongi's lips parted. Quickly he pulled back his hand and looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said, gritting his teeth. "I let my temper get the best of me."

Your heartbeat was rising but you kept your voice steady. "I have no desire to lead, only to advise you. I can do nothing more. It isn't only your life on the line. It's the kingdom. Your life is more important than honor or your desire to prove you are a good king."

His jaw clenched. "I will think about it." A dismissal of the conversation. Namjoon went back to his papers and you rested back on the chair, your fingers drumming the tune of war on the arms.

The days grew smaller and the nights longer. Your blood was either freezing or burning. The songs in the court were lifeless, a front no one was believing anymore. Fewer people were good enough pretenders to sing and dance. Wine tasted dull on your tongue. Underneath everything, you were scheming.

War. It had turned from a whisper into a chant. It was the cold breath on your neck in the middle of the night, chilling you to the bone. But you were ready for it. As ready as someone could be for the cruelty humanity had created.

It didn't start with fire or a war cry. It started with a letter. A declaration of war sealed with the royal seal of Harfush.

The night before the King's departure, you and Yoongi met in the council room.

"You are not coming to the front," Yoongi said, thunder flashing in his face. "You are to stay here and rule in my stead. There is no place for you on the battlefield."

You stood your ground, you were used to Yoongi's dangerous looks that would have made anyone else cower. The candles burned around the council room like pyres in the night.

"I am no ruler," you said. "I am the King's advisor and I should be where the king is. Be it the Castle or the battlefield. I will go where you go."

Yoongi clenched his fists. "You are not coming to the front and that's the end. I need you here to take care of the kingdom while I'm gone."

"Namjoon is more than capable of taking care of the kingdom, the council listens to him more than they listen to me." Many in the council believed you were too young and too inexperienced to be the King's advisor. No one would say it in front of Yoongi but amongst themselves they whispered that he had chosen wrong. "You need me there," you continued. "I have studied battles all my life, I am one of the best war strategies you have. It would be foolish not to take advantage of that."

"I have studied battles all my life too and I will have my generals with me. Your place is here in the castle and that is where you will stay."

Anger licked your insides with tongues of fire. "Are you ordering me?" When he stayed silent, you went on. "Do you seriously believe they need me more here than on the front where our fate will be decided? You have always been the better fighter, I was never good at that, but when it comes to strategy, I was better and you know it. Let me be there for you, let me do what I'm meant to do. What is a King's Advisor without a king?"

"Don't." The power was gone from his voice, his head bent. "Stay here. The kingdom needs you."

"The kingdom needs to win and they need you. And I shall be by your side,” you said, not leaving him any chance to contradict you. “I won’t go into the battle, obviously. I will stay at the camp which will be protected and if they reach the camp, that means the war is over. It wouldn’t make a difference if I were there or in the castle. I would be doomed either way.”

“If we lose,” he said through gritted teeth as if it pained him to think about it. “You can escape the castle, go to another country, take Namjoon with you and start anew.”

You were fuming. “Would you run away if you had the chance? Would you escape if you were in my place? Take the coward’s way out?” He looked away. “I am not going anywhere.” Concealed in a pocket of your dress, you pulled out a blade as long as your hand and threw it on the table. “I would rather slit my neck with this blade than run away. I either do this here or at the camp. You choose.”

Yoongi stared at the blade. He was as tense as a tightrope. Watching him was like watching a forest fire. Until something crumbled or it could have been the tremble of the flames surrounding you. He drew back, pulling his eyes away.

“Don’t do it,” he muttered at last. “Stay here.”

“I can’t.”

“Do as you please then.”

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

[alonetimelover]

"I can't stop thinking of you" for Harry maybe?

Also, your writing is really so so great🫶

"I can't stop thinking of you."

pairing: Harry Styles x booktuber!reader

summary: YN and Harry had loved each other for months. The thing was, none of them was brave enough to admit it. So what happened when Harry found the courage and YN made a mistake the night before?

word count: ~1,4k

warnings: mentions of sex (nothing explicit), angst!, heartbreak, and some feels from Harry

a/n: Thank you so much for requesting and your lovely words!

blurb weekend prompts blurb#1

booktuber!reader: part 1 part 2

Well, YN never was good with dealing with her emotions. There were always two options: run from it or make a decision that you’d regret the next day. She tried to take option one all the time, but making mistakes was engraved in her life story (like in anybody else’s). Lately, or should it be said, yesterday, she made a mistake she felt was going to ruin her most valuable relationship - her friendship with Harry. 

“YN, please. Don’t tell me you went home with him,” her best friend screamed into the phone. 

YN looked over her shoulder, gazing at the man sleeping in her bed. The duvet was placed over his lower body, exposing his muscular back painted with black tattoos. His curly hair was splayed across one of her least favourite cushions, creating a brown nest. In a good way. 

“And what if I did?”

“Did you look at him even once last night?!”

She moved out of the bedroom, closing the door after herself, so as to not disturb the sleeping man. 

“Of course I did,” she scoffed. 

“So you know what you did.”

YN sighed into her phone. Of course, she knew what she did.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

YN moved around the kitchen taking things out of the cabinets and fridge to make some breakfast. She started her newly bought express, needing some caffeine. If she was going to get through this phone call, she needed as much help as she could get. Well, then she would need to face the man from the bedroom, but it was a task for a ‘future her’. 

“You slept with Harry’s doppelganger!”

Right. In her bed was a sleeping 6 feet tall man with darkish brown hair and tattoos almost all over his body. In the club last night, she couldn’t distinguish more details than those, but she needed something, someone to help her forget him. The appearance closer to someone she was attracted to was just a plus. 

When the lights were illuminating the man's face she knew how ironic it all was. His cheekbones were high and sharp just as his jawline perfectly accented. The dimples deep into his cheeks whenever he was sending her that white smile. And those green eyes. Right there, she deep down knew he wasn’t there to help her forget about Harry. No. He was there to somehow be him, to make her feel as if he could ever be hers.

“They look nothing alike,” YN lied, sipping her coffee, cursing after burning her tongue. “Fuck.”

“You’re either blind or delusional. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re very supportive, babe.”

“I’m not going to support whatever you’re trying to do. It’s a mistake, YN. Trust me.”

“How do you know?” She raised her voice. “Maybe it’s good for me. I slept with him, it was great. And now I can forget about Harry and move on with my life.”

“You can forget about Harry?”

“Easy. Done.” 

YN placed the coffee mug on the counter with a thud, spilling half of it. She really was over the talk. She decided to have sex with that man, and she did. She didn’t regret it and didn’t lie about it being great. The man, Henry (yes, she knew fate was really messing with her) treated her right. She had a very good night. It was all about the consequences. She didn’t want them to become clean. And all the talk she was having was writing those mistakes with black ink on paper. 

“Is it? Is it that easy to forget about the man you’ve been in love with for months?”

There it was, period on paper. 

And before she could answer anything, there was a sound of knocking echoing through her flat. 

“I need to go. Someone’s at the door. Can we please meet up today?”

“Of course. My place at 5. You bring wine, I make dinner.”

“Okay. Love you, bye.”

After hearing the good bye back, YN moved across the room and towards the door. After unlocking it, having made sure that her bathrobe was covering everything it could, she opened the door. 

Fuck you, fate. 

“YN.”

“Ha- Harry. Hi. Uhm, what are you doing here?”

Now, she felt even more exposed. Couldn’t it be her noisy neighbour or the courier with the delivery she had been waiting for for days? 

“Well,” he started slowly, immediately halting in thought for a moment. “I don’t really know. Can I come in?”

“It’s really not the best time.”

Puzzles had been slowly being put together in his brain. After waking up today and seeing YN’s post on instagram he felt part of his heart breaking. He covered his feelings for her deep inside, praying for them to never come up. He put on the role of a best friend and was proud of it. He could never jeopardise that friendship. YN was somebody that he knew his soul was searching for. 

“I just need a few minutes.” 

“Maybe during lunch? At that bistro you’d talked about?”

“YN, please.” 

He knew that if he didn’t say anything right now, he’d never do it. When the courage was still in his veins, he had to use it. Whatever would follow, that would be his fate. 

“I can’t stop thinking of you. You’re in my mind when I wake up, looking up at the ceiling you sprayed with that wine, thinking that I should really paint it. You’re in my mind when I make breakfast, because of that time when we were doing it together and you got the email about your grandad’s shop being sold to you. It always makes me smile, thinking how happy you were at that moment. You’re in my mind when I’m driving down to Chesire, pointing out all the yellow doors you were so infatuated by, when you drove to mum’s with me. You’re in my mind when I fall asleep, remembering how many times I held you in my arms and felt whole. And- and I can’t do any of those without thinking of you. You’re engraved in my mind. In my heart.”

Harry took a deep breath and finally looked at YN. Her eyes were glossy, looking at him with that look he could never distinguish and put in any category. The one thing he admitted to not know about her - that look. 

Through his whole monologue she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She was in his mind. She was something that he couldn’t possibly forget. She was his. And that feeling, that love for him was beaming from her eyes. The look of love. 

“Harry, I-”

“You don’t need to say anything, really.” He started rambling, somehow embarrassed that he had let himself out like that. “You don’t need to say that you feel the same way. I can deal with rejection. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn't have come.”

“No. Stay,” she said immediately, reaching for his hand. 

She felt the electricity going through Harry’s palm to hers and straight to her heart. She looked into his eyes, searching for any grain of doubt in his feelings, finding none. 

“Harry, I can’t express how long I’ve been waiting to tell you this.” She laughed, not believing that she was going to admit everything. “I lo-”

“YN?” 

Harry’s eyes moved from YN’s, landing at the source of the interruption. His hopeful eyes lost the spark in milliseconds. His smile faded and the grip of his fingers on hers, loosen. He was a fool, believing that she could feel the same. He felt betrayed. Even more when the stranger turned around and locked his eyes with Harry. 

Harry took a step back, diverting his eyes from the man and then back to YN. Puzzles were tossed on the ground and with each second stepped on, losing colour and making the outlines unreadable. 

YN looked over her shoulder, seeing Henry standing near her couch in nothing but his underwear. She wanted to think that ‘it couldn’t be happening right now’, but she knew better. The decisions she had made yesterday and regretted, backfired on her. The decision, which just now, was costing her the friendship she was so protective of. The love she was so afraid to fall into. It all was drifting away. 

“Harry,” YN whispered, trying to find the words to explain the situation. 

“It’s okay.” Words, like venom, were sipping out of his tongue. Even Harry didn’t like the way it sounded or the tone he used. “No need to explain. I think you have someone to get back to. Have a good day, YN.” 

And just like that he was gone. And so were their hopes that it all could have turned out the way they dreamed about. 

Fate really was heartless.

[kentoberry]

BITTERSWEET — kamisato ayato.

pairings ⭒ crime boss ! ayato x f reader.

about ⭒ your husband, leader of the shuumatsuban crime syndicate, may be good at his job, but he’s been neglecting his poor wife.

content ⭒ [ 18+ ; minors do not interact ] ⭒ established relationship ⭒ very mild angst ⭒ mentions of violence (including vague allusions to murder) ⭒ light brat taming ⭒ pet names ⭒ dubcon in parts ⭒ gunplay ⭒ threats ⭒ degradation ⭒ name calling ⭒ p-ssy spanking ⭒ mentions of a mindbreak ⭒ dumbification ⭒ c-rvix kissing ⭒ creampie.

your husband always seemed to prioritize work over your relationship. take the untouched home-cooked meals that you had prepared for him, for example, now forming a small village of stacked tupperware boxes in the refrigerator. you would sit and look pretty during meetings with subordinates, like his perfect lap dog. the business bored you, yet you had picked up a couple of tricks here and there.

tuning back into the conversation midway, the topic concerning some issues with the transportations of unlawful goods. thoma, your husband’s right-hand man, made a point of how they should go about it, one that seemed fair. ayato must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, for he was in disagreement. 

“but sir, i’m sure you understand why we can’t just-” thoma rambled in attempt to reason with the boss.

“you can, and you will.” ayato’s tone remained calm and collected, sharp gaze enough to strike fear into the hearts of everyone in the room. well, almost everyone - you were unfazed. though his hand rest on his signature white revolver on the table, you saw a perfect opportunity to gain the full attention of your lover.

“thoma is right, darling.”

his head snapped around to face you, indigo irises narrowing as he shot you a warning glare. you continued nonetheless: “don’t make a stupid decision.”

the room was silent enough that you could hear a pin drop. thoma was silently pleading with you to shut up, but you knew ayato would never do anything to actually harm you. plus, from the parts of the conversation that you had heard, your husband did seem to be acting rather rash. not even the clicking of his gun was enough to stop you from your last blow to his ego.

“you’re better than this.”

ayato saw red. he’d never expecting his darling to talk back to him in such manner, humiliating him in front of his people. 

“fine.” he kept it short and snappy, his piercing stare remaining trained on you. “thoma can handle it. everyone out.”

the shufflings of papers and rustling of bodies exiting the room couldn’t even distract him from you. your expression remained as aloof as ever, as if you were challenging the man, trying to coax a reaction from him (the latter of which was most definitely true). 

once the last person had exited and closed the door behind them, ayato chose to speak. 

“i knew it was only a matter of time before you forgot your place,” venom laced his words, making you feel like the leader of a rival syndicate rather than his devoted wife. he let out an exasperated sigh, indicating that he lacked the time for your bullshit. “being quiet never was your strong suit, was it?”

“aya-”

“no. i don’t care. whatever stupid reason you had, i’m sure i can make you forget it.”

ayato picked up his piece, as if measuring its weight in his large hand. the golden decals shone in the faint light, highlighting how pristine the white shade remained despite having been used on some… messy occasions. 

“strip.”

your eyes widened. his lackeys had only just left, surely they would overhear! there was no way you were going to be put in such a compromising, risky situation. your apparent ineptitude prompted ayato to grip a handful of your hair, forcing you to look at him. “you heard me. if you want to act like a brat, i’ll treat you like one.”

“i’m not going to-”

instead of using his words, ayato only used his free hand to direct the barrel of his gun into your mouth. just as intended, it indeed shut you up. he chuckled as drool began to pool in your mouth, only for him to force the weapon further back in your throat. “cat got your tongue?”

instead of taking his time to undress you, ayato settled for tearing on the neckline of your shirt until it split in two. he slipped you out of your bra with a single hand, the other keeping his gun in place. the man relented for a mere moment before clambering to get you sat on the table. 

“suck.” he commanded, returning the revolver to your lips. he was only met with your pleading eyes, imploring him not to do this. you were beginning to regret speaking up, but the slight glint in his eyes told you that you were in for a good time either way. 

ayato kept the barrel of his gun touching your lips as he collected a glob of spit together in his mouth. his height allowed for him to tower over you, giving him the perfect angle to carry out his next action. before you could so much as blink, ayato spat directly into your mouth. whether out of shock or anticipation, you made no move to swallow, instead awaiting instructions that never came. ayato forced his weapon back into your throat, its muzzle causing you to gag. you were filled with the fear that he could pull the trigger at any time, even though you knew he would never go that far. one quick “click!” and you’d be covering the table. 

“i said, suck.”

you did precisely as he bid, tongue swirling around the cool metal barrel and tracing over the decals. you looked up at your husband with wide eyes, as if begging for some degree of mercy. 

he watched your helpless maneuvers for but a moment before growing bored. ayato flipped the skirt you were wearing up, lithe fingers caressing your already prevalent arousal. 

“all this, just for me? hmm? does my nasty girl get off from having a loaded gun pointed at her?”

of course, you couldn’t respond. you could only whine, but even then the revolver muffled your sounds. ayato only continued to mock you, bullying you for being so wet when he hadn’t shown you so little as an ounce of kindness. he forced you to continue sucking on the metal whilst he stroked your drooling cunt over the fabric, barely offering any friction.

the pathetic noises that crawled out of your throat made you sound stupid. ayato didn’t have time for your sounds as he became increasingly desperate to break you enough and put you back into your place. surely a slap or two would help silence his mutt. his palm came into contact with lacey barrier keeping you from him, aim as perfect as ever. you let out a little shriek, not expecting the action. still, you could feel yourself growing both dumber and needier with each smack. your cunt throbbed, aching for more attention.

you were relieved at the unobstructed breath you took once ayato finally relented, barely noticing the saliva that spilled onto your chest. 

ayato dropped the gun back to the table. even if the thought crossed your mind to grab it and usurp your husband, he didn’t give you the time. whilst you were recovering from having your throat invaded with his weapon, ayato peeled your panties to the side. he cared not to undress himself, simply freeing his stiff cock from its confines. the man teased your puckering hole with the flushed tip of his length, eliciting a couple of wanton moans as your cunt made futile attempts to pull him in. 

“you might want to stay quiet, princess. i’m sure my men are still within close proximity to the room.”

and with that statement, he sunk himself into your sloppy heat. he bottomed out in a single thrust, not giving you a moment to adjust. your husband knew your body well enough to elicit the most sinful of sounds as he thrust into you, bulbous tip kissing your cervix. ayato brought himself closer to your ear just to whisper: “wouldn’t want someone to overhear now, would we? or do i need to put a gun to your head just to keep you quiet?”

already feeling a little dumb on his cock, even you didn’t anticipate the pretty little mewl that dripped from your lips at the threat. with a little “disgusting slut,” and a quick flick of his wrist, you found the cool barrel of his gun against your temple. ayato used the weapon to shift your hair out of the way, the metal contrasting the warmth of your skin. 

“’m sorry,” you whined, never breaking eye contact with the man. possessiveness coursed through his veins, proud that he could treat you so poorly yet you would still come running back to him, weak and docile. 

you chewed on your bottom lip in attempt to restrain your lewd moans, simply taking what ayato gave you at this point. he continued to plunge into your sloppy cunt, molding and stretching your cushiony walls into the perfect shape for him. you could feel every bump and curve of his cock, just as he could of your insides. ayato hit your sweet spots without fail, his length already twitching due to how well you sucked him in. 

“such a fucking whore, getting fucked like this,” ayato’s sentences grew less and less put together, hinting that he was nearing his peak. “want me to get thoma back in here, hmm? let my men watch you go dumb on my dick?” he punctuated each question with a tap to your cervix, forcibly enough that you were sure it’d bruise. “my pathetic slut, going to cum for me, bitch?" 

gentle nods were your only response, feeling the heat in your stomach building up rapidly. once again, he let a glob of spit fall onto you, this time directed to your cunt. ayato’s free hand snaked between your legs to toy with your swollen clit, massaging tight circles around the puffy nub. his ministrations furious enough to make you clench yet skilled enough to not cause any overwhelming pain. it was becoming increasingly difficult to support yourself, leaning slightly into the muzzle of the gun pressed against you for aid.

”be a good fucking girl and cum for me.“

the sparse hints of praise were a welcomed change, tipping you over the edge as ayato fucked you through your high. you tried your best to stay quiet, like he had asked, although a few gorgeous whines escaped their restraints.

the feeling of your heavenly cunt contracting around his cock was enough to push ayato to release too, shooting strings of his milky seed inside of you. heavy breaths filled the room for a moment, with him remaining sheathed inside of your heat. the man finally put down his gun, opting for pulling you closer to him.

the tender kiss he placed to your forehead communicated all that you needed to know: despite tonight’s events, he still loved and cared for you, and he appreciated how you allowed him to be rough with you, to use your body as a stress relief from the hectic life that he’d been born into. it acted as a reminder of every promise he’d ever made you, to protect you with his life no matter what.

your husband let you collapse into him, cock keeping your creamy cunt plugged with his cum whilst you calmed down. one hand interlaced his fingers with your own, large digits fiddling with the ring that he’d given to you all those years ago. he pledge to himself to be around you more, for he’d missed soft moments like this. you were his oasis amongst a life of unsteadiness and uncertainty, the only place where he could let his guard down. he whispered a gentle ”i love you,“ into your hair, walls collapsing as he held you tightly. he never failed to be amazed when you whispered a little ”love you too“ in response.

[hottpinkpenguin]

kirigan one shot, where the reader(fem) treats his face wounds and he feels at ease becuz for some reason her gift releases him from his pain, he cries(sobbing)all leading up to a very sad yet soft, fluffy end. as much as I hate him, I feel like the man just desperately needs a hug from someone

A/n: he really does need a hug, and i totally volunteer. thanks for the request anon!!

Darkling X Grisha GN!Reader Word Count: 2769 Warnings: mild mentions of blood

You held your hands over the boy’s ghastly leg wound, the flesh underneath stitching itself together slowly. His broken, chesty sobs slowed as you poured your gift onto his wound. You felt the toll an entire day of healing was taking on you, but the boy on the stretcher beneath you was too young to turn away. His blue eyes softened as you heard the bone snap back into place, his ankle turning to its correct angle. You focused, your head beginning to ring and swim with exhaustion as you channeled the Small Science down to his leg. Nearby, you heard his parents begin to pray over you, his mother weeping noisily. 

When the wound was completely closed up and the worst of the bruising faded, you dropped your hands and let go of the grip on your powers. You had to steady yourself on the edge of the bed to keep from falling. Your vision was dotted with white, your ears sounded like they’d been filled with cotton. You heard your cousin Donovan usher the family out of your Healer’s tent as the parents profusely thanked him, trying to offer him their money, a goat, and whatever precious items that could think of.

You sank onto the bed, dabbing at the sweat on your brow as you fought off a wave of dizziness. Your breath was ragged like you’d just run for miles. The destruction left by the group of mercenaries that had torn through the bordertown had felt never ending, but you were grateful to know the boy was the last person who’d need your services. You’d need to sleep for days to recover. 

“Y/n, there’s one more.” 

You could hear the apology in Donovan’s voice when he spoke. He’d poked his head in through the tent flap, dark bags under his eyes.

You shook your head, guilt-ridden. “Donovan, I can’t, I’m sorry. Please ask one of the other Healers.” 

“He asked for you specifically.” Something about Donovan’s voice grabbed you. You looked at him, questions swirling in your eyes. He only tilted his head at you meaningfully before stepping aside. 

A tall man clad in dark robes stepped into your tent. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t see his pupils, his hair the color of obsidian, with four ragged black scars traversing his handsome face. Something about him was so… familiar. 

You tried to rise from the bed, but your legs wobbled and you felt yourself pitch forward.

The stranger reacted quickly and agilely, leaping forward to catch you before you hit the ground. 

“You’re exhausted,” he observed. His voice sounded dark and heavy with a sorrow that hovered around him like a fog.

He helped you back onto the cot, its surface damp with sweat and blood from the day’s patients. The dark-eyed stranger looked around the tent, surveying the scene with intent eyes. Finally, his gaze found yours again. 

“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” he announced gallantly. “I can see you’ve done enough for one day.” 

He turned, his black robes whirling around him with a dramatic flourish. You caught a fleeting glance of his side profile: a straight nose, strong jaw, dark brows framing darker eyes. Proud mouth with a slight downturn at the corners. 

General Kirigan.

Recognition slammed into you like a freight train. You’d only seen him once before and from afar, but you’d never forget. But he was dead, wasn’t he? Your mind went blank for a moment as you watched him move towards the open flap on your tent.

“Wait!” 

He hesitated at the edge of your tent, half turning back to you. 

“General?” Your voice was small and questioning. 

He turned fully back to you, the lamplight illuminating those ghastly scars across his face. The flesh at the seam of the wounds was discolored, as if the marks were poisoned. You’d never seen scars like that before. 

He gave you a small, bashful smile, dropping his gaze.

“Aleksander will do nicely,” he answered you. It was him. 

“But… the Fold? We… I thought you were dead…” Your voice trailed off as you realized how silly you sounded. Why should General Kirigan care what an untrained Healer at the edge of Ravka thought of his fate?

But, much to your surprise, he walked back towards you with a polite smile, his courtly manners on full display. 

“For a moment, so did I.” The smile turned sour on his lips, leaving behind a mangled looking grimace. You felt his heartbeat stutter in his chest, your powers attuned to him like a magnet. You tried to find something to say, your mind still reeling from the shock of finding Ravka’s most famous Grisha in your lowly tent. 

Whatever momentary reverie he’d been swept up in, he surfaced quickly and regained his footing. The flash of pain you’d seen in his expression smoothed back into a mask of graciousness. 

“But, as you can see, I survived. Although… these scars.” His hand came to his face, barely touching the largest, deepest gash that stretched from his right temple across his nose and down the smooth plane of his left cheek. He winced at the contact, however light. “They… pain me. I was told your powers are… up to the task.” 

You blinked dumbly for a moment as his words sank in. 

“You… came here for me?” The notion seemed impossible, but the Black General nodded. 

“I did.” No explanation, no answer to the million questions running through your head. You wondered where to start. What to ask. 

You hesitated a few moments before you realized you were talking to a patient. The famed Shadow Summoner, yes. But a patient still. 

You stood quickly from the cot, adrenaline surging through your exhausted body just enough to keep you upright. You had the wherewithal to be embarrassed by the conditions of the tent. You yanked the stained sheets off the cot, balling them in your hands. 

“I’m so sorry,” you spluttered, shoving the sheets into a corner of the tent. You had no new ones to add to the cot, and very little in the way of creature comforts to offer to notable guests. For his part, the General didn’t seem to mind, his eyes following you as you bustled about, straightening the pillows on the bare mattress and trying to brush down the stray hairs that had broken loose from your braids, curling at the temples from the humid summer night and your own exertion. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he assured you kindly. You beckoned to the mattress once it was as presentable as you could make it. Aleksander sat on it without hesitation, that same genteel smile on his handsome face. “There’s often no time for the niceties when our powers are needed.” 

Your curiosity was piqued by his comment, but you were too flustered to ask anything of it. He adjusted on the squeaky mattress, remaining upright with his hands clasped in his lap. You pulled a stool over from the corner of the tent and placed it next to his right leg, balancing your weight on it. 

“What needs healing?” you asked, retreating to your role of Healer in order to escape your own embarrassment. 

He gestured to the scars again. You swallowed thickly, examining them carefully and trying to avoid his gaze. He studied you intently, his expression calm and unreadable. 

“I’ve never seen scars like this,” you admitted. “I don’t know how to heal these.” 

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “They are from a Volcra,” he offered by way of explanation, noting the shock on your face. “I do indeed doubt that you’ve seen scars like these before. Whether your gifts work or not, I would be much obliged if you were to try.” 

You nodded earnestly, wiping your hands on the front of the nurses apron you wore. Although you didn’t use the conventional tools of a doctor, you found that people trusted you when you looked more like what they expected. You’d never been trained as a Grisha for the Second Army anyways, so you had no red Kefta to wear like the Healers of Kirigan’s ranks. 

You let your mind loosen its grip on the nerves as you felt yourself sink into the role of Healer. Kirigan nodded at you, sensing the change in tone as you lifted your hands to the side of his face. 

You tapped into the well of your powers that sat at the center of your chest. You had to reach deep, your reserves sapped from the day. But you felt it, the warm energy of the Small Science, and grasped it. With effortful concentration, you pushed the energy up into your shoulders and down the length of your arms into your palms and fingers. Then, you launched it into the space between your fingertips and the General’s face, allowing the Small Science to do the rest. For several moments, nothing happened. The black scars stared back at you unchanged. You dug deeper, pulling all the healing energy you could find buried in you and forcing it into your hands. You were trembling by the end of it, the attempt completely draining you. 

“Here. Let me help you.” You watched with confusion as Aleksander lifted his hands from his lap, until his fingertips barely touched your exposed wrists. As his skin made contact with yours, you felt a new dimension of energy open up to you. Like you’d been standing on the other side of a veil, the force of your powers tripled in a surge of warmth. 

You struggled with the extra effort of channeling the new powers, your concentration narrowing to nothing but your hands and the scars. You felt the power pulse with the inhale and exhale of your own breath, and after a few surges you began to see the skin around Aleksander’s scars start to mend itself. Like wind wiping away ridges in sand, the scars slowly shrunk, one excruciating millimeter at a time. 

Even with whatever added power Aleksander had gifted you by his touch, you felt your body begin to tire. Your head started to pound, your eyelids becoming heavy. 

Aleksander must have noticed too, because he very gently pulled your hands away from his face after a few more moments of effort. When the distance between your hands and his face was too great for your powers to traverse, you felt your body crumple in an exhausted heap on the stool. You let your head hang heavy, your chest heaving. You closed your eyes, breathing through the dull roar in your ears. 

You weren’t sure how long passed - probably only a few breaths. Your awareness came back slowly. You slowly lifted your head, your eyes coming to focus on Aleksander’s face. He hadn’t moved from his seat on the bare mattress at the center of the tent, and you noted with a swell of pride that his scars were noticeably smaller and less disfiguring. 

It took you a second to realize that there were tears pooling in his dark eyes. One loosed itself and traced a slow trail down his unmarred cheek. He was looking at you with a mixture of awe and gratitude, a new smile on his lips. 

“What was that?” you asked bluntly, looking at his hands. “What did you do?” 

“Nothing you couldn’t do yourself,” he replied cryptically. His voice sounded lighter. “I just gave you a boost to reach the full strength of your powers.” 

You couldn’t hazard a guess as to what that meant, or how to interpret what you’d just experienced. Your attention was turning elsewhere as another tear sprang free from his eyes. 

“Normally people stop crying after I’ve healed them,” you observed quietly. “Have I hurt you?” 

His expression turned somber and serious, the gentle smile melting from his lips. 

“No, y/n. You didn’t hurt me. Quite the opposite, actually. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. I feel almost… free.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the fatigue or the weight in Aleksander’s voice, but your heart ached at his words. Acting on an instinct, you leaned forward and brushed away a teardrop with your thumb against his jawline. You pulled back hesitantly, afraid you’d crossed a line. Aleksander’s hand caught yours. You felt your powers rumbling in response to whatever magic lived in his skin, your heart skipping a beat as he held your hand to his cheek. 

“I’d ask if we could stay a while. Please.” 

You swallowed, uncertain for a moment. You could only imagine what Donovan and the other Healers you traveled with along the Ravkan border would think. Donovan certainly would have told everyone within earshot about who was in your tent by now, if they hadn’t seen the Black General themselves. What would they think if he lingered too long?

You watched as Aleksander’s expression turned from pleading to naked desperation and immediately made your decision. You nodded, unable to deny him a small comfort he so desperately needed. 

His eyes fluttered closed as he nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” he breathed out, nuzzling his cheek against the palm of your hand. “No need to go further,” he added, following your train of thought to the questions you were too afraid to ask. “I’m not asking for your body. Just your presence.”

You felt yourself relax as the sincerity of Aleksander’s words wrapped around you. You let your thumb stroke gently back and forth along the plane of his cheek. His eyes were still closed, and you saw him continue to breathe deeply. 

“What brought you here?” you asked cautiously after a few moments of quiet. 

His eyes opened gently, and you were once again struck by how very dark his irises were. 

“I found myself in need of a Healer with skills beyond just mending flesh. Rumor of your talents reached me. And I was…” His voice trailed off, his eyes glazing over as he became lost in thought for a moment. “I was out of options. These scars aren’t the only wounds I suffered in the Fold.” 

You nodded as if you understood, although in truth you didn’t. You’d heard from some of your past patients that you were more than just a Healer, but you never knew what to make of those statements, so you’d always dismissed them as expressions of gratitude. Most of your patients were otkazat'sya - non-Grisha - so it was particularly easy to explain away their superstitions about your powers. To hear it from the Black General made your mind reel. You tried to tamp down the selfish part of you that was itching to ask more. 

“I’m glad I could help,” you stammered out blandly. Aleksander sighed, leaning against your hand for one more moment before he smiled and began to rise from the cot. 

“I won’t keep you, I can see how exhausted you are.” You rose along with him, trailing after him like a nervous puppy as he made to move towards the tent flap. 

“Those scars aren’t completely healed,” you observed. “I could accompany you, General. If you’d like.” You were astounded by your own boldness, and you weren’t sure if you offered because of how devastatingly handsome he was or because you sensed how deeply he needed your powers. 

He hesitated at the edge of your tent, turning back to face you with a pained look of regret on his face. 

“A kind offer,” he replied softly. “But one I can’t accept, I’m afraid.”

You interrupted his exit again, a restless energy inside you imploring him not to leave. “Why not?” 

He didn’t stop this time, although you heard his quiet answer perfectly clear. “I have a knack for ruining beautiful things, and I would not wish such a fate on you.”

General Kirigan vanished into the warm summer night like a shadow. His visit had been so fleeting and unusual that you questioned whether you’d dreamt the whole thing in some sort of exhausted fever dream. It wasn’t until the following week, when you received a fresh set of bedsheets and new nurse’s apron from a mysterious donor, that you began to believe your own memory. There was a note tucked into the sheets, written on crisp parchment paper in the darkest ink you’d ever seen:

For the healer who mends more than what can be seen

You saved the note, if only to prove to yourself that it hadn’t been a dream after all…

[bysaber]

Meeting a pretty stranger ft. Kakashi Hatake

Day 06 of 31 Days of Ficmas!

summary — you’re feeling down after all your christmas plans got canceled when a dog wearing elf clothes jumps on you.

word count — 1.1k

content — fluff, reader is a bit depressed, mentions of alcohol, fastburn i guess, modern au (kakashi still wears a mask)

notes — pretty happy with this one even though i almost didn’t finish it on time (so it’s not revised sorry)

THE FIRST time you and Kakashi Hatake crossed paths was rather an unusual experience.

You walked home wearing a disappointed expression, your hopes of having a nice Christmas had disappeared after all your plans got canceled; all of your friends were going out of town with their partners and families, and your short-term relationship had ended a few weeks prior.

Living far from home, you couldn’t celebrate it with your family either – you simply didn’t have enough money to afford that kind of trip.

So what awaited you was a lonely Christmas, with a liquor bottle and maybe a few treats, if you felt sympathetic enough about your own situation. You had 14 days left to plan for your “big night”, after all.

You stood in front of a liquor store, wondering if you should step in or not. Maybe I should start warming up, you thought, forget a little about my increasing melancholy.

“Pakkun, wait!”

A shout brought you back to the real world, but not fast enough to avoid the– what was that?– that jumped on you. You yelped, surprised, as you processed the small dog in green elf clothes that clawed at your sweater.

When you finally understood it was just a small dog, you chuckled and held him to keep him secure and away from your sweater, “Hi, doggy! Why so angry?”

In a heartbeat, a white-haired man with a mask covering his face was by your side, breathing heavily, “Gosh… I’m so sorry! Did he hurt you?”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh. He looked so desperate, “No, don’t worry. Did he outsmart you or something?”, you asked as you handed him his dog back.

The man grabbed the elf-dog and glared at him as if he was about to scold him for several minutes, but then his attention was back on you, “Yeah, something like that. I bought this cute little costume for him but he is an ungrateful dog…”

The dog growled and you threw your head back, laughing out loud, “I don’t think he wants to be an elf. What’s his name?”

“It’s Pakkun.”

“Well, Pakkun, you should know you look adorable,” you said, petting his head. Pakkun seemed to soften and you smiled, all the while the man watched the interaction. “I should get going now, but it was nice meeting you two.”

“You too,” the masked man said and, as you walked away, you could hear him whispering to the dog, “To her you listen, huh?”

You realized you ended up not buying any liquor and, fuck, you should’ve asked for his name as well.

THE SECOND time you encountered him was something else.

10 days left for Christmas and your sadness kept building up.

Grocery shopping and having to go through all those Christmas decorations, meals, and even gifts was a different kind of torture for you.

You gloomily roamed around the islands, picking only the essentials for your house and to keep yourself alive when you spotted that white hair you couldn’t quite forget.

“It’s Pakkun’s owner!”, you greeted, a bit of light taking over that sorrow inside you.

He turned to face you, confused at first, but his eyes lightened when recognition hit them, “It’s Pakkun’s victim!”

You both laughed like old friends. He seemed like a really good person, even with that mask covering half of his face, maybe it was the fact that he dressed his dog as an elf or his soothing voice or the way he closed his eyes when he laughed.

You couldn’t tell, but you liked his company already.

“What is your name?”, he asked you the question that was burning in your tongue. You told him and he repeated it as if testing how it sounded in his voice.

“What’s yours?”

“It’s Kakashi. Kakashi Hatake,” he smiled again, his eyes closing and you felt like you could melt right there and then.

“Kakashi… such a beautiful name,” you complimented and, if he wasn’t wearing that mask, you would see him blushing.

You both got lost for a moment, in your own thoughts and in each other, until he called your name again and you hummed, “I gotta get going… feed my dogs,” he explained.

“Oh, sure. See you around, Kakashi,” you say, stepping away so he could pass.

But you still stood in that place for a while, watching as he walked away.

Catching him when he looked back.

THE THIRD time Kakashi met you was intentional.

You stepped out of the liquor store, a pout on your lips and a bag with two bottles in your hand when you saw the man standing outside the door, apparently waiting for something.

“Kakashi?”

He looked at you, his eyes closing in that way that told you he was smiling, “Oh, hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

You tried to hide the alcohol you just bought; you had 4 days left until Christmas and still hadn’t pushed away all the melancholy you felt towards the date, but you didn’t want him to think you were some sort of an alcoholic or something like that.

“I was waiting for you, actually,” he said mindlessly. Noticing your confused expression, he added, “This is the place we first met, around this hour. I was trying my luck, since we didn’t exchange numbers.”

You could feel your cheeks warming up, your heart tightening in such a good way, and felt like a fool for wanting to drink your sadness away.

“I know we didn’t talk much, but… I’d like to know you better. Can I walk you home?”

THE FOURTH time you saw Kakashi was on Christmas Eve.

You didn’t expect it.

You had such a good time when he offered to walk you home; he ended up on your couch, talking with you for hours about everything you could think about. You hadn’t laughed so hard in years, but eventually, he had to leave.

So you didn’t expect it when, on Christmas Eve, you open your door to see Kakashi with Pakkun and two big bags of food, with a close-eyed smile.

“Kakashi!”

“I hope you don’t mind, but that day you said you would spend Christmas alone and, well… it was my case as well,” he chuckles. “So I thought it would be nice if we spent it together.”

Pakkun barked as if to prove his owner’s point.

You felt your eyes stinging, tears forming, and immediately let them in, “Please, come in.”

Never, in a hundred years, would you imagine this turn of events.

“Are you okay?”, Kakashi asked when he noticed your red eyes, approaching you carefully after putting the food bags on the table.

“I’m…” you looked at him, at Pakkun, at the food. You looked at the alcohol you were about to open, also on the table. Your lips tremble, but you smile, “I’m happy.”

[coleskingdom]

Commonwealth Kingpin

Will Ospreay x female reader

Smut

"When can we leave?” I asked Will, I was tired of this party. We had been here for hours I smiled beside him and made small talk. Every time I excused myself from the conversation, his eyes followed me through the hotel ballroom.“ Do you have something you’d rather be doing?” his voice irritated. “Yes, you” I knew I was being a brat when I said it. He drew in a deep breath, and the smile on his face sent a shiver down my spine. “Careful my love” he said in a low voice facing me now, “You’re testing my patience . This is part of it now, this what I have to do.” His irritation not only with me, but at the situation. “I’m going to go find Zack, I’m sure his conversations are more fun.” I said turning, his hand caught my wrist and his eyes flashed, “ You’re my missus, you will not leave my side at my party.”his voice fighting to remain calm his thumb rubbing circles on my pulse point, he released my wrist and slid his hand into mine. The night continued, and I’d make little quips low enough for only him to hear. As the night drew to a close, we made our exit towards the door, he led me to the bank of elevators one already waiting on us.

“Where are we going? I don’t want to do an after hours party.” I whined “ I just want …” , he cut me off “ If you keep acting like a brat, I’m going to treat you like a brat. Don’t forget who I am and what I am especially to you sweetheart.” his voice hard and demanding. “ Yes Sir” I said knowing how much that pleases him. He smirks “ that’s right, I can tell you’re starting to remember.” His finger tips tracing the side of my jaw. He leans in “ I’ve known all night, sweetheart, exactly what you’ve wanted. You think that I don’t know your little stunt down there was because you didn’t get to have me right after the match. That I didn’t fill you to the brim, screaming my name in the locker room. That you didn’t get to fuck me one last time in that locker room, where you first realized why they called me the commonwealth kingpin. “

The elevator opened and Will led me down to the hall to our room. He pinned me against the door, his hands grabbing my wrists over my head kissing me deeply, knowing how much I needed to touch him, that I wanted him, I wanted to take care of him. He broke the kiss but not before biting my lip causing me to moan. “Will please….” My voice taking a desperate tone. His hand dropped my wrists and he tilted my chin , hand gripping my cheeks so that I was looking into his eyes. “Love, this could have been so much easier for you, you could be running your hands up my chest, pulling me against you, I’d have let you have control. Instead you had to act like a brat, so now I’m going to treat you like a brat. Follow me, and if you’re a good girl, then I’ll give you what you want.”

I followed him, taking my heels off and letting the dress drop as we walked. When he turned he saw, the emerald green, white and gold, lingerie that I had ordered just for him and tonight. He sucked in a breath, “fuck”he said as he exhaled. He took off the suit jacket, and unbuttoned the dress shirt,before he sat in the leather club chair. “ Get on your knees.” his eyes met mine, making sure we were on the same page, I nodded as I lowered myself to the ground. I took off his shoes. His hands undoing his pants, freeing his magnificent cock. He moved to the edge of chair giving me better access, “Put your bratty mouth to good use” I took my time, kissing and licking, before taking him in my mouth. His moans and groans, his hands tugging at my hair encouraging me, " You talk such a big game, when your mouth isn’t full of my cock.” I moaned at his words, I loved when he talked like this, he increased the speed of his thrusts I gag slightly, flattening my tongue, so I can take him all the way in my mouth. “ Fuck Sweetheart, I’m going to come if you keep going.” I nod sucking him in deeper as he unloads in my mouth and I swallow every drop, milking him through his release. “ You did so well, now go get on the bed.”. His voice husky, and full of lust.

I got on the bed I stretched my arms over my head, arching my back. “ I see you’re taking your victory lap, you still haven’t learned your lesson.” I turned my head to look at him, he had taken off his shirt and pants joining me on the bed. He straddled me, he reached for one arm, and brought it to my side, trapping it with his thigh, he did the same with the other with my arms completely trapped, he smirked. “Oh sweet girl, I’m going to show you what a victory lap is, don’t you dare cum until I tell you to. “ he said. “Yes sir” my only response. He kissed me, moving the hair out of my face, he dipped his head nibbled on my ear “so compliant, when I have you pinned to the bed. I think you like this though, a lot.”His hands came to the front clasp of the bra undoing it quickly. He kissed the top of my breasts before taking one of my nipples in his mouth sucking and nibbling, his hands skimming my torso while paying equal attention to my other breast. I moaned his name, his light touches along my torso lit fires everywhere.

“ I’m going to take my time love, and I’m not even to my favorite part yet.” his tone changing to a more mischievous one. He kisses down my torso stopping “ Now, if I let you have your hands back, you can only touch my head and yourself okay.”he said “ Yes Will I promise.” I said he widened his stance my arms free, I reach to kiss him. He meets me for a kiss a long deep kiss, that left me lifting my hips offering myself to him. “ My sweet girl, I know you’re trying to distract me but it’s not going to work.” He’s at the end of the bed, grabbing my legs and pulling me down to the end. I giggled at the unexpected move but quickly sighed as Will began to kiss up my thighs, sucking and biting on the inside of my thigh. I gasped as he his hands reached the panties “ Now lift your hips for me. If I didn’t like this set so much I’d have destroyed both pieces.” His voice muffled. I raised my hips and he threw them somewhere, laughing at how far they flew. Then he refocused his attention, he’s on his knees at the end of bed. He positioned my legs over his shoulders and his mouth was on me as his hands ran up and down my legs. His mouth went directly for my clit licking and sucking, his tongue doing this motion that was the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt. He would pull back letting me get my breath back, then he was on back. “Oh God Will” I moaned, the other noises incoherent. He inserted two fingers, setting a rhythm, his tongue lightly flicking my clit now. “ More please” I moaned, he did the come hither motion and my back arched off the bed “No not yet, I know, I know but when I tap your thigh you can come for me. Just ride my fingers, I’ve got you” he said his mouth returning to my clit with the sucking licking I felt the pressure build in my abdomen, it was a more intense feeling than I had ever felt. I clinched my walls around his fingers trying to concentrate “ please will, please, will.” I moaned the last word cracking I was just focusing on breathing. He tapped my thigh my body took a second to realize my release flooded, through me and into his mouth and his fingers, my back came off the bed. “That’s it sweetheart. You’re so beautiful.” he said his tone soft. Kissing the inside of my thigh, my hand over my face knowing I made a mess.

I felt him over me, he kissed me softly, I felt him at my entrance, I was so wet that he was able to slide all the way in one fluid motion. I gasped at the fullness, his long strokes, hitting the deepest spot. My hands reached for his muscular ass , as I spread my legs even wider

“ My sweet girl isn’t so mouthy now that that she’s under me letting me fuck her.” his voice smug but there was love in his eyes. “ please will” he changed the angle, and his fingers finding my sensitive clit .i felt his cock twitch inside of me knowing we were both close, I clenched around him. “Will please I’m so close” , he thrusted in and put pressure on my clit and that was it I came around his cock the same intensity as my first orgasm.” He changed the position again and his thrusts became more erratic,his moans and whimper were just soft enough for my ears to hear I felt his release. I ran my hands up and down his back, he buried his face, in my shoulder. He pulled out of me and pulled me into him as he scooted up the bed.

I laid my head on his chest his arms holding me tightly. “Do you know why I asked when we could leave the party?” I asked, “This?” He said “ No, you hadn’t eaten all day, you had that look like there was to much going on and I was worried about you.” I said softly. “ Well now I feel like an ass, you just went along with this.”he smiled “I’m going to make it up to you, how about a bath and room service.” His voice low “ Yes sir” I laughed as he left the bed.

[heartsforhavik]

you were looking at yourself in the mirror for what seemed like hours, criticizing every flaw you had. until havik came up behind you.

“what are you doing?” he asked.

“nothing, i just…” you sighed. “i don’t know why you like me. of all the people you could be with, why me? what do you see in me?”

“what do you mean by that?” havik asked, tilting his head to the side.

“well, for starters, i’m not the best looking person.” you said, as if it was obvious. “at least in earthrealm, people care a lot about looks. my bad for being a bit insecure.”

havik scoffed. “why would i care about your appearance? are earthrealmers that shallow?”

“well, not really. i’m just trying to say.. that i don’t feel like i’m attractive enough for you.” you admitted.

“i see. i hope you know that your looks do not matter to me. your society gives privilege to those deemed more attractive. that is unforgivable. i have feelings for you regardless of how you look. only a fool would treat people differently because of their appearance.” havik ranted.

you didn’t really understand what he was ranting about, but at least he addressed what you were feeling. it was havik’s way of saying he didn’t care about how you looked, and he loved you regardless.

you smiled, content with havik’s reassurance. he just looked at you and sighed in awe. you didn’t understand how much he cared about you. he didn’t care how you looked. even if you had a bad hair day. even if you don’t sleep and develop eye bags the next day. even if you forget to brush your teeth and they turn yellow. even when you eventually gain white hair and wrinkles, havik’s affection will not hinder. he only hopes yours won’t either.

[angelst4re]

this is for my beloved @jamiesdarlin who came up with this idea and it made me feral so i did what had to be done... and rewrote it about 5 times <3

Like a Villain- Jamie Campbell Bower/Henry Creel x Reader

summary: your boyfriend gets a haircut in preparation to play henry again and decides to surprise you when you come home...

warnings: NSFW!!! contains smut!! don't read if this makes you uncomfortable my love!

notes: i intended for this to be a male reader fic but i think it's more gender neutral :)

As you were driving home from work, you remembered Jamie was going to get his haircut today. It had grown out quite a lot since the last time he had it properly cut, and you thought the look really suited him. You liked running your fingers through his long hair, shampooing it when you would take showers and baths together, and just playing with it when the two of you would be watching a movie and he’d rest his head on your lap. You asked him to send you a picture after he had it cut, but he said no, he wanted to surprise you when you got home. 

Shutting the door behind you, you kicked your shoes off and put your car keys by Jamie’s. It seemed a bit quiet, you wondered if your boyfriend was even home. 

“Jamie? I’m home!” You called out before going into the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

“How was work, darling?” Jamie asked, and as you turned around to face him you almost choked on your water. 

Jamie leaned against the door frame, his hair had been cut a lot shorter, it had been lightened, and it appeared to have been slightly curled. Only one thing came to mind.

Henry.

And that was when you noticed what he was wearing, the white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the white trousers… It was clear he had done this on purpose, as he knew how you felt about this particular character. 

“...” You were too shocked, perhaps even stunned, to answer his question. You didn’t know where to look, or how to react. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know, darling.” He chuckled, his voice appearing darker, and he began to move closer to you, until he was looking down at you, a playful look in his eye as his hand came up to stroke your cheek. 

“Jamie-”

“Shh,” he hushed you, placing his finger over your lips, “we’re going to go upstairs, love,” he said, his voice now slow and almost gentle, “and Henry is going to fuck you, just like you’ve always wanted. Okay?”

You were silenced, almost frozen in utter shock and undeniable arousal. You eagerly nodded your head, and Jamie smiled, winking at you before taking your hand, leading you to the bedroom. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Once upstairs, Jamie shut the bedroom door behind the both of you before sitting down on the bed, his back against the headboard. He ordered you to undress, and he then patted his lap. 

Once you were left in just your underwear, you joined him on the bed, straddling his hips as his hand came up to the back of your head, pulling your face closer to his and crashing his lips into yours. This took you by surprise, and you felt your heart skip a beat. He was being so much rougher with you than usual, and the way his other hand had a hold of your hip made you wonder if he would leave bruises on your skin, the way he bit down on your lip before he slowly pulled away from the kiss had you wondering if it was enough to draw blood… 

“Jamie-” you were cut off as his hand sent a gentle slap to your face, before he took your jaw in his hand and moved your head, so you were looking at him. You couldn’t believe how turned on you were from the way he handled you, which usually would be with care, but you loved to see this rough side of him, and you were willing to see how far he would take it.

“Sweetheart…” He sighed, shaking his head as his eyes lit up with a devilish spark, “Jamie treats you so well, doesn’t he? He’s gentle, he can be slow and passionate when he fucks you, but you seem to be forgetting something…” His breathing began to get heavier as he spoke to you, it’s quite clear that he’s been waiting to do this for a while, and that he seems to be enjoying it more than he would care to admit, “Jamie’s not going to fuck you, baby. Henry will.” 

You could feel the throbbing in your most private areas becoming harder and harder to ignore, and you were sure- given the position you were in- that he could feel it too. 

“Say my name.” He demanded, a smirk creeping up on his face at how flustered you had become, watching as your cheeks redden at his words. When you didn’t answer him, he removed his hand from your hip, and it came down on your ass with a slap.

“Henry…” You said, it came out as almost a whimper, trying to avoid eye contact with the man that was making you feel this way. 

“Say it again, love.” He teased, his hand now massaging the flesh of your ass, loving the effect he had on you. 

“Henry.” You said, more confident this time as your eyes met his, seconds before his lips were back on yours again, and your arms came up to wrap around his neck, involuntarily grinding down against his hardening cock through his white trousers. 

He bucked his hips up, sending shockwaves through your body, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands came down to where your bodies met and your fingers fumbled around with his belt, but you quickly became frustrated, frowning against his lips as you struggled with it. 

He was seemingly as needy as you at this moment as his hands quickly swatted yours away and he took his belt off, placing it beside him on the bed…

He wrapped an arm around you, flipping the both of you over so you were now beneath him, looking up at him with lust filled eyes, and your lips slightly parted as you caught your breath. He unbuttoned his trousers, but never fully undressed. Your hand reached down to wrap your fingers around his cock, needing to touch him there- but he took your wrists in one hand, his belt in the other, and he tied you up, wrapping the belt around the headboard to keep your arms in place, acting like handcuffs. 

He then slid his hands down your body, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulling them ever so slowly down your legs before throwing them to the side. The velvety head of his cock was pressing into your thigh as he angled his head slightly and let a drop of spit land onto your area. He used it as lubrication as he pressed the tip of his thumb into your hole, grinning as he watched the sudden change of expression on your face. 

He eased you open, preparing you to take his cock. You bit down on your lip as he switched from his thumb to two fingers, easing in and out of you, pleasure running through your body with each curl of his fingers as they pumped into you.

“Eyes on me.” He reminded you after your let your eyes fall shut. You angled your head to look at him, and he had the most devilish look upon his face, everything about Jamie was gone, from the way he held you to the way he spoke, his whole demeanour switched, and you were loving every moment of it.

He took his cock into his hand, and you gasped as you felt the tip nudge against your hole. Your hips bucked up, and he placed his other hand on your lower stomach to keep you in place as he teased you, pushing the very tip of his cock into you before withdrawing it again. You continued to squirm beneath him, arching your back as you tried to move your hips, needing him to fuck you and stop teasing.

“Please, I need you.” You whined, screwing your eyes shut, “Henry, please!”

You didn’t even notice he had untied your arms until you’re flipped over again. He ties your hands behind your back using his belt again and wraps his hands around your hips to pull your ass into the air whilst pushing your face down into the pillows.

“Not a sound, pet.” He tells you, “or I won’t let you finish. You don’t want that, do you?”

You shook your head.

“That’s what I thought.”

He holds onto your hip with one hand as the other positions his cock at your entrance, and he begins to slowly fill you up. You bite down on your lip as you feel your walls being stretched around his length, and he brushed against every spot inside you that made you want to scream his name.

Once he was settled inside you, you felt his hand stroke your back, before he began to slowly move his hips, sliding inches out of you to pound back into you. You gasped as his hand moved again, between your bodies, and you wanted to scream out. But you fought against the urge, burying your face further into the pillow.

The impact from his thrusts, the feeling of his pubic bone hitting your ass, only pushed you further into the pillows. When he noticed, he snaked an arm around your upper body, pulling your back to his chest, all whilst continuing to fuck you mercilessly.

His hand crept to your throat, his fingers wrapping around as he kissed the side of your neck, his freshly bleached hair tickling your delicate skin.

“You feel so good, darling. You’re doing such a good job. I can feel you getting close, just hold on a bit longer, okay?” He whispered, although it was more of a pant. His breath was warm as he spoke, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin, and the raspiness went straight to your core. “Just a bit longer.” He reminded you.

You tried to hold back the feeling that was slowly approaching. But as you felt his cock hit deeper and deeper inside you as his pace quickened, you worried you couldn’t hold out for him. However, your knees buckled when you felt him twitch inside you, you knew he was close too.

“Who’s fucking you like this, huh? Who’s making you feel this good? Say it, honey. Use your words.”

“Y-you, Henry.” You stutter, your half-lidded eyes making contact with his, “just you.”

“That’s right, baby,” he tells you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, placing a kiss there as he twitches inside you again, “you want it inside you, pet?”

You nod your head, a ‘please’ falling from your lips, although he could’ve mistaken it for a moan. However, with one last thrust of his hips, you felt yourself coming closer and closer, until it hit you all at once. The warmth of his seed made your belly tingle as you lost control of your limbs, falling back onto his chest. He held you up as he gave sharp strokes inside you, and you contracted around him, milking his cock of all it had.

"Fuck-" He said with a groan as he stilled inside you, feeling his heartbeat against your back as it began to beat in time with yours as you began to catch your breath.

He placed a final kiss to your neck before he released your wrists from the makeshift tie, placing a kiss on each of your wrists as he laid you down on the bed. As you laid down, he noticed his cum was already beginning to drip down your thighs. He parted your thighs again and leaned down, collecting it with his finger and pushing it back inside, causing you to hiss from the overstimulation. He patted your thigh as he spoke,

“Let’s keep it all where it belongs, darling.”

You could only wish this is how he would continue to fuck you as he prepared to play his character again.

[yanderecrazysie]

Entrance (Yandere Fan! Tsukishima)

Requested on my Quotev.

When I say that I love Yandere Fan x Famous Reader stories, I am absolutely not joking- I just freaking LOVE these stories!!! The most likely victim of a yandere would be someone in the public eye because these people are already put on pedestals and treated like gods. I’m so excited to write this asdfgfhfgsdfsad sorry for how late this is, but finally got inspiration AHH!

If you doubt me, go to a boyband concert and look around at some of the girls in the crowd and THEN tell me that not a single one of them would consider murder for their favorite band member.

Also, the way Tsukishima finds Reader’s location is based on a true story of how a psycho fan found and stalked a Japanese Pop Star named Hibiki Sato.

Title: Entrance

Pairings: Tsukishima x Popstar Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Swearing, Slight incel vibes, not Tsukki stealing you from Yams lmao

Summary: You’re different from your bandmates- from every other idol somehow. At least, you are to your biggest, most obsessed fanboy.

entrance

/verb/

fill (someone) with wonder and delight, holding their entire attention

“Tsukki!”

The blond male sitting at his laptop paused in his typing and sent an annoyed glance to his bedroom door, which had been suddenly flung open by his closest friend.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi. Did you forget how to knock?” Tsukishima’s snide comment didn’t do anything to put a damper on his friend’s grin- if anything, the freckle-faced boy beamed even brighter.

The scowling man didn’t bother to ask his companion why he was so happy- he knew he’d find out in a moment. Sure enough, Yamaguchi eagerly brandished a shiny square case, practically shoving it towards him in excitement.

Tsukishima adjusted his glasses and studied the object- a CD case depicting a J-Pop girls’ group. The three girls were attractive in a somewhat-cutesy way. They stood close together, pearly-white grins across their faces as they held up peace signs, each of them clad in a different, glittery, pastel-colored dress with matching ribbons weaved into their long hair. The background was a faded pinkish color and covered in different illustrations of candies and sweets. A bold, bright, and cutely scribbled font above the idols’ heads declared what Tsukishima assumed was either the group’s or the album’s name: Candy Cloud.

“What the hell is this?”

Yamaguchi’s face flushed in embarrassment as his eyes darted away, his smile fading into a wistful expression. Tsukishima felt a twinge of regret for putting a damper on his friend’s spirit but… seriously? What was he thinking, acting so excited over some stuck-up celebrities?

They were all the same. Soaking up the fame and praise like narcissistic sponges when all they cared about was the money and attention their admirers gave them. The personas they showed off to the public were all for show, puppeteered by some publicist who knew what their audience wanted to see and hear.

Female celebrities were the worst- always so desperate to stay basking in the limelight that they would sell their soul to the devil if it meant that no one would forget about them. They’d pump themselves full of Botox and silicone, sleep with the most popular celebrities, and pull asinine stunts if they ever felt like the public wasn’t keeping their eyes on them.

The smiles and laughs they forced in interviews made Tsukishima sick to his stomach. So painfully fake. It was fascinating to see how bad singers were with words and how bad actors were at acting when it came to donning the masks their fans wanted to see.

He’d heard enough stories about these “sweethearts” and “oh-so-genuine” celebrities acting like disgusting monsters the moment they thought no one important was watching. Infuriating divas that verbally abuse their staff, condescending assholes that believe they’re better than everyone else, backstabbing bitches that no one likes but will never say so…

And what do their fans do when this news comes out? Even when faced with undeniable facts, they’ll defend their idol to the death, becoming utter hypocrites and making fools out of themselves. Simping for girls who would probably never know they existed and wouldn’t care about them if they did.

It didn’t matter to Tsukishima what these girls Yamaguchi was fanboying over pretended to be- he had no doubts that they went back to being self-absorbed bitches the moment the camera stopped filming.

Why would Yamaguchi invest any amount of time and effort into girls that would never know of his existence nor appreciate any support he gave them? Why couldn’t he just focus on a girl in one of their university classes or something? Tsukishima could stomach his friend gushing over just about anyone, as long as they weren’t famous.

The friend in question was looking at Tsukishima sadly, disappointed in the response he was receiving as it dampened the positive mood he’d been in, “Sorry, Tsukki, I just… thought you’d like one of them. All three of them are really cool and one’s your type.”

Tsukishima snapped back immediately, “And I’m supposed to believe she’d want to date me or something? They’re just braindead celebrities.”

Yamaguchi wilted and nodded reluctantly, muttering another apology. He stood there awkwardly as Tsukishima resumed tapping away at his keyboard and finally let out a meek excuse to leave.

“Goodbye,” said Tsukishima, not at all sad to see him go. Yamaguchi returned the parting word softly and scurried off, likely to listen to his CD at home.

As the night dragged on, a nagging feeling tugged at Tsukishima’s mind, distracting him from his essay. Why does Yamaguchi think I’d like one of them? Which one of those three girls did he think I’d even like?

Before long, the boy found himself typing “Candy Cloud” into the search bar and scanning the results. Sure enough, Candy Cloud turned out to be the group’s album name, their actual group being a mashup of parts of the members’ names. The first girl wasn’t his type, nor was the one in the middle, but the last girl, (Y/n), was just his type.

She wasn’t like the other celebrities he’d watched interviews of- she was entirely herself without a hint of deception. She giggled over the awkward moments but never lied, only ever saying “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that!” when asked a confidential question.

Her interests and values aligned with Tsukishima’s, to the point that he began to imagine that they agreed on everything. And, as one night turns to one day, turns to a week, to a month, and so on, he begins to delude himself into believing that you know who he is and already feel the way he’s beginning to feel.

Tsukishima no longer lets Yamaguchi come over.

He’s embarrassed, to a point, by how much you have taken over his living space. Your posters and pictures line his walls, your solos play on repeat, and he has every piece of merch, official or not.

Tsukishima studies the latest selfie you’d posted to your personal social media account. He grins. The name of the train station you’re at reflects in the iris and pupil of your big, beautiful eyes. It’s nearby. No more than a 15 minute drive and you’d mentioned “walking home” in the text portion of your post.

Soon enough, he’d be adding the best possible addition to his extensive collection.

You.

[ninchen1909]

A secret and its consequences I

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: ~3.600

Warnings: mention of rape, use of alcohol, angst

You feel his gaze on you before you even see him, his eyes boring into the bare skin on your back, which is exposed by your dress. And you can practically see the animalistic look in his eyes before you. It confuses you to why your body still reacts to him like that even after all these months. Why his gaze still gives you goosebumps and your body still craves his touch.

Your date's arm wraps even tighter around you as he leads you through the restaurant to your seat. Once there, he helps you take off your jacket and hangs it over the back of your chair before adjusting it for you.

When he finally sits across from you, you look into beautiful, bright green eyes that look at you kindly. However, they don't look at you as if you were the only woman in the world, full of love and desire, no, these green eyes don't look at you like the cobalt blue eyes that were shining at you just a few months ago. The thought of him makes your heart beat faster.

You have consciously chosen someone who looks nothing like the man you are desperately trying  to forget. You have treaded the usual darkbrown, short hair into blond, shoulder-length curls and the familiar Armani suits into dark jeans and a simple white shirt.  The mischievous, affectionate grin has been replaced with a polite and friendly smile. And you've traded in the deep, loving conversations about the future for superficial small talk and cheap pick-up lines.

It's the first date since your breakup 5 months ago, 152 days since you knew his secret. A secret that has ruined the most beautiful, exciting and loving relationship you've ever had. But would five months really be enough to forget the love of your life? Would any amount of time be enough for that?

All this time, he kept his distance, just like you wanted, and for a while, you really thought you were over him. All this time, you kept telling yourself that he must have another woman in his life. A man like him doesn't stay alone for long. You've done everything in the last five months to forget him. You avoided all the places where you were together, you always took a detour on your way to work so you wouldn't have to pass his office.

But of course he appears just when you are on the way to get your life back on track, or rather to convince yourself to do so. Old wounds tear open and you try with everything you have not to look in his direction, stubbornly keeping your gaze on your date. But your thoughts drift to him as so often. How you would like to look into his familiar eyes again, or feel his tattooed skin on yours, breathe in his pleasant scent, while soft lips lay on yours.

But that period of your life is in the past. So you try to pull yourself together, and pretend you'll be happy without him, and hey maybe your companion today is the key to that.

So you unobtrusively tighten your shoulders and give your date a bright and also somewhat seductive smile. Thomas, at least that was the name on his Tinder profile, winks at you and lets his eyes wander to your cleavage. Inwardly you roll your eyes, at his behavior but outwardly you don't let on.

"I'm really glad you took the time today. And I must say that you look really breathtaking" you really have to agree with him on this sentence, you look good, you would even go so far as to say that you look beautiful. Your favorite dress hugs your curves and pushes your breasts up, while your black high heels visually lengthen your legs. Your eyes are accentuated by a seductive makeup and your favorite lipstick gives you the confidence you need for this date. Well, your lipstick and maybe the two glasses of wine you treated yourself to before Thomas picked you up.

"thanks for the compliment, i must say you look really handsome yourself" and even if it's not enough for a relationship, you wouldn't say no to a night of hot casual sex either.

A sudden movement behind Thomas makes you turn your gaze from him to look toward the bar. This turns out to be a big mistake. Your eyes immediately lock with his. The bright blue eyes that haunt your dreams almost every night stare at you with an intensity you've never seen on him before. His face is frozen and he looks at you sternly.  His look unsettles you, you don't want to stare at him any further, but you can't bring yourself to turn away either.

Only when your date clears his throat noisily, you realize again and abruptly turn your gaze back to Thomas, who now casts a glance over his shoulders to see what you were staring at. He doesn't seem to recognize anything special, because after only a few seconds, he turns back to you and looks at you with a raised eyebrow, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah sure, I just thought I recognized someone, but I was wrong" you try to cover your uncertainty with a light laugh. And to your luck, just at that moment the waitress appears to take your drink order.After the waitress brings you your drinks, she takes your food order and you are alone again.

To your surprise, you soon fall into a pleasant conversation and you feel really comfortable with him. He is charming, intelligent, and in his own unique way, funny. But you also become painfully aware that he can't keep up. But will any other man ever be able to? Again and again you cast a quick glance at him, and each time he looks at you with a tense, petrified expression. You can see his anger and displeasure with Thomas clearly on his face. His forehead is wrinkled and his eyes are narrowed.

And suddenly you are overcome with anger, you don't know what it is, maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the fact that he is here today, or maybe it's the way he looks at your date. But you don't care, you quickly pour the rest of your drink down your throat before you decide to give him a little show. If he can't leave your thoughts, you want to give him a reason to think about you at least for tonight.

So you confidently reach across the table, and put your hand tenderly on Thomas', to your amazement, he immediately intertwines his fingers with yours. You unconsciously bite your lips lightly, and your gaze swings back to your ex. You notice how he grips his glass tighter, while his other hand is clenched into a fist. Inwardly, you smile. Apparently you still have some effect on him, too. As Thomas brushes a strand behind your ear, you turn all your attention back to him.

"You know (y/n) I'm really glad you had time today, you really are the prettiest I've found on a dating site so far" his words trigger a certain uneasiness and also a certain degree of rejection in you, however you don't let on. Possibly you are just stretching your luck, however you want to see what reactions you can still get out of your ex. That's why you just start giggling softly, and look Thomas in the eye "Thanks, I have to say, I think it's nice that it worked out today too." grinning, he winks at you, which you return with a charming smirk.

Your togetherness is disturbed by the waitress, who brings you your food. Even during the meal you continue to talk, and another drink finds its way into your stomach. Slowly but surely, you notice the alcohol clearly, the heat rises in your face, and you become more open. Thomas seems to enjoy this very much, because at the very next opportunity, he orders you another drink.

Shortly after the main course, Thomas excuses himself to go to the bathroom, but before he breathes a fleeting kiss on the back of your hand. As you watch him, go around the corner,  you take a hearty sip from your glass before it is torn from your hand and noisily placed on the table. Surprised, you look up, and see sky-blue eyes looking at you angrily. Your mouth opens slightly and you carefully touch his face to make sure that he is really standing in front of you.

Slowly he crouches down in front of you, and clasps your hands. Your eyes, clouded by alcohol, stare into his, as you can see the sadness in them.

"Princess, what are you doing?" he gently brushes your hair out of your forehead "You don't have to care what I do James. We're not together anymore, and you no longer have any influence in my life, so you can't judge me for who I date either." Defiantly you pull your hands away from him, crossing them in front of your chest. Bucky now lets his rest on his knees with a soft sigh.

"I'm not judging you for this princess, I know this won't last. I'm talking about you getting drunk on a first date with a strange man. You don't know his intentions, you don't know if he  wants to take advantage of your condition."

"Now you listen to me James, first of all, you don't know if this isn't going to get serious with Thomas, and second of all, I can do whatever I want and if I want to drink, I'll drink" to back up your words, you grab your glass and take a sip. Bucky rolls his eyes in response, and takes the glass from you again. Your words become more slurred with each sip.

"You know as well as I do that I never dictated anything to you, you want to get drunk, no problem, come with me and you can drink as much as you want to. But not here with him, you don't see the looks this guy is giving you, he's not as nice and innocent as you might think. He will take advantage of your condition. Believe me, I just don't want anything to happen to you." His gaze is pleading, your subconscious is telling you to listen to James, however, your wounded ego is telling you to do the exact opposite of what he is telling you.

"Then it's a good thing you can't care what I do. So it doesn't matter what you want either. And now please go. I'm sure Thomas will be back in a minute, and I certainly don't want him to see you here."

His look becomes more serious "(y/n)..." hearing your name come out of his mouth again after all this time sends a shiver down your spine "..as long as I live, I will never not care what you do. I love you far too much for that. I don't want to tell you what to do either. I'm just asking you to take care of yourself. It wouldn't be good for the whole town if something happened to you."

Confused by his last statement, you furrow your brow, but before you can ask what he means by that, he's already gone. And only a few seconds later, Thomas returns. Bucky's words echo through your head and Thomas' gestures, which you didn't really notice before, you can't ignore anymore. You notice how often his gaze wanders to your cleavage, or how often he unobtrusively touches your thigh under the table. All the time he wants to offer you another drink, which you gratefully decline and stick to water.

The strangest thing for you, however, is that Bucky is nowhere to be found since your conversation. There is no sign of him anywhere in the restaurant. The rest of the date passes without any major events, and before you know it, you and Thomas leave the reastaurant together. You walk a few steps until you are standing in front of his car,

As you now stand in front of him like this, you start rocking back and forth on your heels "Thanks for everything Thomas, it was a really nice evening" you give him a friendly smile. "Yes I agree (y/n)" he starts walking slowly towards you, his sudden closeness makes you uncomfortable, nevertheless you decide not to show your discomfort and stop "but the evening doesn't have to end yet" slowly his hands go down your arms. Now you have reached the point where it is too much for you, so you push him slightly away from you and take two steps back yourself "But for me the evening is over, I just want to go home now. But don't bother, I'll just order an Uber. You don't have to give me an  ride home."

After your words his eyes darken, and he grabs your hand again "Oh come on sugar, don't be like that" you snatch your hand from him again "No, I don't want to. And now leave me alone" you start to walk away from him before you are suddenly pressed against the driver's side of his car, his hands immediately find your hip and pull it towards him. Abruptly you brace yourself with your hands against his chest and try to push him away from you with all your strength, but it doesn't work.

His hands come away from your hips and for a short moment you are relieved, thinking he finally stops, but a little later his hands wrap around your wrists and press your hands against the cool metal of the car.

"For fuck's sake, don't act like that now. We had a good date, I paid the bill, and now I want my reward." His knee finds its way between your legs and pushes them apart. Ashamed, you turn your head to the side to avoid looking at him any longer. Hot tears run down your cheek, and pure fear rises up inside you. How far would Thomas go? His right hand detaches itself from your wrist and disappears under your dress, his fingers roam over your center. A loud sob escapes your throat, immediately he presses his other hand on your mouth "Be quiet bitch, if you had allowed yourself the last drink, you would be more relaxed now. Now shut the fuck up and let me do it, we'll be done soon" you squeeze your eyes tightly shut. His hand brushes the inside of your thighs and you feel his fingers start to push your panties to the side. In great fear and disgust, you wait for his fingers to enter you as hot tears continue to run down your cheeks. You hold your breath.

Seconds feel like an eternity, but to your surprise, nothing happens. A soft clicking sound makes you open your eyes, slowly you turn your head to see where the sound is coming from. And what you see there brings new tears to your eyes. Because the reason Thomas didn't move on is behind him. And it is in the form of your ex-boyfriend, who is holding a loaded gun to the back of his head.

An animalistic growl escapes James: "Take your filthy hands off her!" His voice sounds calm, but his gaze is ice-cold; you can't even imagine how much self-control he has to muster in order not to shoot Thomas right here.

A liberating feeling spreads through you as you notice your attacker's fingers leaving your body. Immediately, you pull back your dress, and wrap your arms around your body.

"You just made the biggest mistake of your life. I mean taking my girl out on a date is one thing. And even though it killed me inside, it was okay because she wanted it. But touching her against her will..." a cold laugh escapes Bucky "..that my friend was practically signing your death warrant." James lunges with his gun and hits Thomas over the head, he immediately collapses on the sidewalk, and a large gaping wound opens up on his temple. But James doesn't give him a second glance, immediately he steps over the unconscious body in front of him, checking your body with his eyes for obvious injuries. "Princess, are you alright, did he hurt you?" the concern for you is written all over his face, you realize that he is afraid to touch you, afraid of causing you even more fear. However, you immediately take away this scare, because without him being able to react to it, you fall into his arms and bury your head against his chest. Your tears immediately soak his shirt. He wraps his arms around your trembling body, slowly rocking you back and forth, "It's going to be okay princess, I'm here. This guy will never come near you again, I'll make sure of that." ." he breathes a kiss on the top of your head.

You lift your head from his chest and look at him, the sight of your runny mascara making the anger rise up in him again. How could someone hurt such an innocent being as you?

"Can I stay with you today? I don't want to be alone" your voice trembles as you ask him this question. "Of course princess." he places a kiss on the tip of your nose.

"Steve? Sam?" James calls out the two names into the darkness, and from out of the shadows, two men dressed in dark appear. Why haven't you noticed them before?

"Take care of him. Get him to one of the warehouses and keep him there. But no one will hurt him. This honor is destined for me. Understood?" the two men nod in unison before picking Thomas's body off the sidewalk, and disappearing with him into the darkness.

James then turns his full attention back to you "And you're sure fine princess?, we can go to the hospital too, and get you checked out." You shake your head, however.

"No everything is fine. Nothing really bad has happened, thank God. I just don't want to be alone." Carefully, James puts an arm around your back, and leads you to his car. He helps you get in, he waits until you've fastened your seatbelt before carefully closing the door and walking to the other side of the car to get in himself.

The whole ride, Bucky's hand is on your knee, stroking it reassuringly. Every now and then, he slides his gaze to you to reassure himself that you're really okay, and that you really are back next to him in the passenger seat now. Where you sat so naturally five months ago. But that was before you found out his secret and left him. At the thought of that evening, his grip on the steering wheel tightens so that his knuckles stand out white. If he had been honest with you from the beginning, you never would have gone on that date, and consequently, you wouldn't have almost been raped.

"it's not your fault, you know that don't you?" caught he looks at you, you just know him way too well.

"If I had been honest from the beginning, none of this would have happened. If I had, we'd be sitting on the couch together at my house right now, watching that weird favorite show of yours." His choice of words elicits a small giggle from you before, he never liked the shows you're watching, but he watched them with you anyways. You turn your head to the window, watching the lights flash past you.

"No one could have known something like this would happen. So please don't blame yourself for it."

"Do you think we can talk again? About the whole thing, then?" you notice the uncertainty in his voice, but also a surge of hope. Tonight has made you realize again what you've known all five months. You don't want to live without James. Yes, he hid something important from you, but he learned from it. At least you hope so. He is your anchor in this totally twisted and brutal world.

"Yes we can, but please tomorrow. Today I just want to sleep."

"Of course. Anything you want." he throws you a joyful smile before quickly returning his gaze to the road. A comfortable silence settles over you before something occurs to you.

"James?"

"Yes princess?"

"you said in the restaurant that it wouldn't be good for the whole town if something happened to me. What did you mean by that?" you notice him turn into the driveway in front of his house and turn off the engine. He turns his upper body toward you as he places his right arm over the steering wheel.  lovingly he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

"By that I meant that I would eliminate anyone who wanted to hurt you. I'd set the whole town on fire just to make you feel good."

[jannaphia]

Ruby/Kaisa Writing Masterpost

Right, okay, wasn't sure if I should post these, but its pride month and I think I deserve a treat after sipping denial juice for like 15 years.

I actually wanted to flesh out some things that happened in their past, but I had so much fun I ended up with like 12 little snippets that I'm just going to throw on here over the next month.

A little background: these two are side characters from my group's DnD campaign, that I have latched onto like a barnacle to a boat (Kaisa was actually my first PC ever, I brought her back as a gimmick & our dm played along, so that didn’t exactly help with getting less attached).

*DISCLAIMER* - the campaign we play is 100% organic homebrew and we treat the world of DnD like a toddler treats a sandbox - with enough respect not to eat the sand but otherwise it's a free-for-all.

First snippet is under the cut ⚔️ ⬇️

☼・1・☼

“They fucked both of us over, didn’t they?” Kaisa tightened the grip on her sword, while the rough wall dug into her back even through the scale mail.

The woman beside her nodded earnestly.

“You could say that.”

Kaisa shot her another glance. Heart-shaped face, grey-purple skin, red eyes, pointed ears. Drow, half-blood, most likely, with those ridiculous white strands of hair that framed her face. She was panting slightly from the exertion of running for cover. And probably the fight before. And the knife wound in her shoulder. Goddamn wizards. She should have aimed better. At least then they wouldn’t be squeezed together in this tiny alcove, hiding from the villagers. Or what was left of them, anyway.

“Sorry I almost burned your face off”, the wizard said sheepishly.

Kaisa grunted, in part to hide her surprise. An apology was the last thing she’d expected.

“My fault I even gave you the chance.”

“I’ve never had anyone dodge my spells like that. You’re used to fighting casters, aren’t you?”

“I kill them, usually.”

“Oh.” To her credit, she didn’t cringe away. “Like…all of them?”

“Are you dead, little mage?”

She frowned. “Not for a lack of trying on your part.”

“But are you dead?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

“Is it a work-for-hire thing, then? Or is it...recreational?”

“Listen-“

“Ruby.”

“-Ruby, I don’t know why or how you got here, but you’re not what I came here for. So just stay out of my way and we won’t have any…further problems.”

“Fine. Are you sure you don’t need my help with that collapsed entrance, though?”

Damn. She’d forgotten all about that already. A triumphant little smile had appeared on the wizard’s insultingly pretty face and Kaisa felt like cursing again.

“I mean, I’m sure you’re strong enough to lift these boulders on your own, but fighting off a horde of undead at the same time might prove just a little difficult,” Ruby said with a small shrug. She winced and touched a hand to her shoulder. “Ouch.”

“And you think you’ll be of much help like that?”

“Probably not. I forgive you for throwing that dagger at me, by the way,” she said nonchalantly. “But since it looks like neither of us can leave on their own, we can either agree on a truce or we might as well stay here.”

There were few things that seemed less appealing than being stuck in a decrepit funeral temple with a wizard who liked to talk and smelled of peonies.

“Not a chance.” Kaisa fished a healing potion from a satchel at her belt and pressed it into Ruby’s hand. “Drink. Truce it is. Try anything, and I will stab you again.”

Ruby sniffed at the potion, downed it in one swig, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. There was a glint in her eyes, a purple glow lighting up the red of her irises. Shit, Kaisa thought. She looked like an innocent doll all groomed and polished as if she was made to be dressed up in lace and ribbons and put on a shelf behind glass. It made it so easy to forget she’d almost blown Kaisa to smithereens. Made it even easier to forget that that was probably her intention.

“Don’t tempt me,” Ruby said and squeezed past her. “I might just get a taste for it.”

[levmada]

You have such a good perspective on canon!levi, how do you do it!! 🥰🤩 the cold weather has made me think fluffy thoughts... sooooo....

What are your thoughts on post-war levi needing some help with cutting his hair? He can manage, but it's probably harder to do, right? Does he even keep the undercut? Uh-oh, maybe the top grows out enough for a bun. Is this the first time he lets someone other than his mother cut it for him? Does it mean something to him, or does he just not like other people messing with it? If he needed help, he probably wouldn't ask, you'd just have to get in there and do it... and then it would just be a part of your routine together. I need to hear your thoughts!!

Also happy new year 😘😘

xoxo

happy new year!! idk how this post got so srs but here we are.... i promise... its fluffy towards the end...

//internalized ableism, mentioned suicidal ideation, some minor manga spoilers + hinted ch132 spoiler | wc: 1.0k

He didn’t get to cut his hair (I bet) for that month he was in the forest with Zeke. And then after the final battle, he’s in the hospital for some long months while his face heals (did you know that face wounds heal super well compared to other flesh wounds?), he gets multiple surgeries on his knee, and treated for the internal bleeding caused by the explosion (remember when he coughs up blood in the manga?), etc. The point is, he’s in the worst shape of his life.

And in all that time, his bangs grow to fall over his eyes all the time. They don’t like to stay pushed back over his forehead, either, and the prickly stubbled part of his undercut gains length. The longer tail in the back has creeped down his nape.

This is one more thing to constantly unsettle him. Routinely he’s always cut his hair every two weeks on the dot if he can, and he’s never let it get bad enough to grow out this much, not since he was a little kid.

He’s always cut his hair himself, too. At this point he’s firm in the belief that he’s the only one who can get it right, and on top of Levi’s stubborn independence and his newly realized weaknesses, means he’s defiant to letting even you (who has stuck to his side since he was admitted) trim it. You can count on one hand how many times he let you help with it in the past.

“I’ll cut it for you,” you offer out of the blue, for the hundredth time.

He, who’d been half-dozing in his hospital bed, grunts to show his distaste. The majority of the bandages are off his face, except for the white wrappings hugging one of his eyes. Unfortunately, Hange’s stitches had been removed, and restitched. Levi got extremely irate with the doctor who explained to him that the work done was shoddy, like whoever that’d done it seemed to be in a rush.

Either way, it still feels strange to talk with the cleft in his lips. “You’ve done enough for me.”

You stroke his uninjured hand. The other is still bandaged. Recently, he went through another small surgery to get them properly amputated to the second knuckle to prevent nerve damage and infection. (I’m so fucking sad.)

“The most I’ve done is just be here,” you say meaningfully. “Please let me help, ‘Vi.”

For the most part, Levi has been completely numb since the war ended. Maybe he’s still in shock, like the professionals say, but he has had the suspicion that he’s broken... That is until you beg him so genuinely. A familiar affection for you pulls in him. It reminds him. Not broken.

He blinks at you, and sighs deeply through his nose. “Only if… it’s not too much trouble.”

“Never. I already asked for the proper tools.”

He deadpans a little, affection growing. “Fine.”

Smiling, you give him a kiss.

Levi huffs. He’s stronger than he was since being admitted. With a few pillows fluffed up behind him, he sits up with relative ease. His socked feet brush the floor, where he stares down, deliberating.

“You shouldn’t—”

“If you get that fucking chair, forget it.” He raises his head and glares defiantly at you. “I’m not a shitty baby. I can fucking walk.”

You never said he was, never even implied it, but you understand why he’s lashing out. So you compromise by sitting down beside him, and sliding your arm around his waist. He hooks one of his over your shoulders, saying nothing as you together maneuver to stand. The bathroom is a few paces away, but to Levi it feels like miles as he heavily favors his good leg, causing him to hobble.

His cheeks burn in humiliation. Not because you’re helping him, but the fact that he needs help in the first place. He doesn’t even let the nurses do this.

In the same way, all the meaning of this favor to him isn’t in you cutting his hair. It touches him that you’d go out of your way (in his mind) yet again for him, as difficult as he knows he’s being. Has been.

He hates that his body’s this way now. Mangled beyond recognition of how it used to be, how it used to work. He’s left broken parts. Damaged. He’s permanently useless forever, he thinks. The resulting burden makes him think at his darkest moments that it would’ve been easier on himself and everyone else if he just died after killing Zeke. His duty was done. It would’ve taken long enough.

This occasional slew of dark thoughts have grown more common since he’s had time to do more or less nothing but think. When he remembers that everyone he fought beside, including and especially you, were thrilled that he was recovering, he feels a horrible stab of guilt. He should be grateful. The Titans are gone. He should be at peace, overjoyed. He doesn’t deserve to feel this much pain considering everyone else who lost their lives. Everyone close to him is dead. But, except you. Except you.

(I need to get back on topic.)

In the bathroom, he braces himself using the counter, his bad leg raised as you drag a regular chair inside.

“Same as always?”

“Yeah.”

He thought he’d feel even more pathetic that he can’t even do this with two less fingers and his eyesight, but he finds himself… relaxed for the first time in ages. More placated whenever your fingers card through his hair, occasionally scratching affectionately as you go about trimming, then buzzing his hair way down near the base of his skull and around his ears.

You’re slow and careful about it, and Levi finds himself holding onto that.

When his hair is fixed, the style as he always had it, he feels a shred better. Your eyes meet through the reflection.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

Later in the future, when Levi is out of the hospital (which he leaves on crutches), and enough time has passed to partway recover and re-establish a new routine in your lives, you still cut his hair the majority of the time. His eyesight messes with his field of view—it’s a task to land kisses to your lips, let alone cut his hair straight. So even though he’s ambidextrous, that doesn’t mean much.

Every two weeks, same as always, you stand behind him with a towel laid out for the stray hairs, and wordlessly set about doing it for him. He could grow it out, but he much rather prefers a few things staying the same as they’ve always been. Including his hair. Especially you.

🏷:  @ms-longbeach | @sparkywrites25 | @notgoodforlife | @ackermendick | @mrsackermannx | @youre-ackermine | @lovolee3 | @spouse-of-the-rulers-of-hell | @yoongiluuvr | @the-milk-anon | @belovedackerman | @imkumichan | @sckerman | @nao-vel | @happybird16 | @promethiumcloud | @dstrong-18 | +link to sign up