#it almost feels like the time i broke a tendon in my right hand

[jedi-bird]

I have no idea what I did to my hand but I'm reaching the point of my left hand being useless. I can't hold anything for longer than a few minutes; can't pick things up with it; can't put pressure on it; can't bend it half of the time. Icing hasn't helped nor does heat. I cooked dinner tonight and did the dishes and it hurts so much that I almost can't stand it (and I have a very high pain tolerance). I don't remember doing anything that could have hurt it and it's not technically not swollen so I'm at my wits end.

[enkas-illusion]

A Good Daddy

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre/Theme: Established relationship/marriage; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, light angst, smut, oral (f.receiving), piv sex, bondage, dom!gojo, sub!reader, brat taming, overstimulation, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, explicit sexual content, language.

Summary: Husband!Gojo with a pregnancy kink. When he sees you babysitting your close friend’s baby and can’t get the idea of seeing you with a baby bump, carrying his child, out of his head.

Author's Note: Satoru would be such a great dad and you can’t convince me otherwise! The kids are sure to be his exact clones, trusting him with their life cause they know their daddy is just that great 🥹🥹🥹. Daddy Gojo has taken over my brain and is manspreading on my thoughts! As always, I hope you enjoy this one shot. Thank you for reading! 

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Married Life (from UP) by Michael Giacchino / Daddy’s Home by USHER (aka Gojo theme™)

“Sup, how's it hanging? Long time no see,” you say coolly as you see your husband walking out of the kitchen towards you.

You have your knitting kit in hand, body nestling into the soft cushions of the sofa, belly feeling like it’s about to burst after the delicious dinner you just had. 

Satoru lifts your feet up before resting them on his lap as he sits on the opposite end of the sofa. He's massaging your feet with utmost care.

“Where do I even begin?! A lot has happened since we last saw each other about 10 minutes ago. I washed the dishes!” He sighs, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner while his palm presses flat on the bottom of your foot to stretch your achilles tendon, melting the stiffness away, “And what about you? How have you been, stranger?”

You hold the half knitted lavender patch up to show it to him, “I am making a beanie for Hina. It's getting colder so I figured she'd have a cute little warm beanie to go on her cute little head.” 

Satoru crinkles his nose at this before confessing, “Cute. Do we need to babysit her anytime soon again? I miss the little devil.”

“‘Toru, I doubt Rin and Kento go out without their baby that often,” you let out a breathy laugh when he massages the top of your foot with a soothing firmness.

“Maybe we should make one of our own then I'll miss her less,” Satoru pouts, trying to test the waters carefully to see if it was the right chance to bring up the topic. Afterall, it's what he had been thinking about the entire week.

The baby in question was 8 months old Hina, your best friend's baby. The couple rarely went out ever since they had the baby – so the handful of times that Rin and her husband Kento needed a babysitter, you’d happily volunteered, not minding it ruining your Saturday night plans.

And although Satoru would pout at this each time, he secretly didn’t mind taking care of the toddler with you. It almost felt like a ‘trial’ run for when you’d have your own kids in the future – mini versions of you and him. And so he looked forward to babysitting little Hina as he got glimpses of the motherly side of you.

Your husband knew that you wanted to wait a while before you made the huge decision of bringing a child into this world and he was on the same page… until recently. He knew he was having a change of heart on the matter when his daydreams of seeing you with a baby bump started to spiral out of control over the last month.

What broke the camel’s back was an incident from a week ago – when he’d rushed out of the room to tell you he’d won a game of Counter-Strike against Suguru, you’d gently motioned him to be quiet, cradling the sleeping baby in your lap. He silently made his way to you when he saw the baby was clutching a strand of your hair in her sleep. Since you couldn’t move, he took it on himself to free your hair from the toddler’s strong grip. But just as he did that, Hina wrapped her tiny fingers around his thumb, holding it tightly in her sleep. When he looked up at you, you smiled at him with your loving eyes – it was when he’d decided that he wanted to impregnate you asap.

He had trouble falling asleep that night. You, on the other hand, were sleeping peacefully, after fulfilling your duty as the babysitter diligently. You’d wished Satoru goodnight right after handing Hina over to her parents, who’d returned from their date well into the night, leaving no opportunity for your husband to bring up the topic. 

With much difficulty when he did manage to fall asleep, he’d woken up sweating profusely at the wet dream he had where he came inside you instead of pulling out as per usual. He turned to his side trying his best to control his urges to recreate his dream as he slid his hand up under your tshirt to play with your soft nipples, making you stir in your sleep.

“Wifey… let’s make a baby,” he’d whispered, peppering your neck with soft kisses. You mumbled something incoherent as you turned to wrap your arm around his waist, still deep asleep. He sighed as he pulled his hand away, forcing himself to fall asleep, convincing himself that it was just his horny fantasies talking.

Oh how wrong he was! Here he was, a week later, baby fever running higher than ever. 

You look up from the knitting hooks, before giggling, “Yeah, right…”

“Love, I’m serious,” he mumbles, bringing your left leg up to his face to kiss your foot.

“‘Toru, why are you springing this on me so suddenly? You agreed we'd wait a while…” you sigh as you begin, sitting up as you pull your feet away from his hold.

“Yes but–”

“Satoru… we just got married. We need to get used to our married life first. We need to be with each other before we decide to bring a whole new being into this world,” you explain softly, telling him things he already knew.

“But technically, we've been together for almost 6 years now, I say we're beyond ready,” he protests.

“No, I doubt we're mature enough for the responsibility,” you retort.

“But imagine mini versions of us two running around the house,” he places his hands on your feet once again, pleading with a twinkle in his eyes akin to a kid begging for candy at a store.

“Please! My genes won't even fight, our baby will look like you,” you laugh.

“Then we can just make another one,” he says in a playful tone.

“Well… I have a feeling both of our babies will end up looking like you,” you roll your eyes at him.

“Then what about the next 2?” he says hopefully.

“Next 2? ONLY 2!” you scold him softly. He raises an eyebrow at you and you give him a calculated reasoning, “Just so that they have someone they share an unbreakable bond with and aren't lonely while growing up.”

“Exactly! I say the more the merrier!” he squeezes your feet in excitement.

“Satoru, I'm not a baby machine!” you slide your leg to his lap to nudge his thigh jokingly, “Besides, counting you I'd have 3 babies anyway.”

“Now you're just coming up with whatever excuses,” he snickers, slapping your foot away before shuffling to sit closer to you.

“Oh really?” you furrow your eyebrows as you sit up completely in front of him, sensing the conversation taking a serious turn. You place the knitting yarn and hook to the side on the coffee table.

“Yes really,” he kisses your temple to dissolve the wrinkle there. He always does that whenever you seem annoyed at him as he knows it never fails to make you giggle instantly. However, you simply fold your arms over your chest and give him a stern look.

“No… don’t do this. Talk to me Satoru, I’m serious…” you speak and he drops the playful act, nodding and signalling you to put your point across before he gets his chance to speak.

You sigh as you begin, “You’re the love of my life and I don't doubt for a second that you'd be an amazing father with time but I also believe you don't have the attention span or patience that taking care of a newborn requires, at least for now.”

“Are you being serious right now?” he folds his hands over his chest, sitting up straight.

The crinkle on your forehead fades as you try to find the best words to explain your point to your husband without seeming too harsh, “I'm sorry love, I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just saying… for example, when I was trying to get Hina to sleep, you were screaming at your xbox each time something happened. It made her wake up a few times before she finally fell asleep–”

“You should’ve told me, I would’ve tried to be quiet,” he pouts, slumping and leaning back on the sofa.

“‘Toru… I literally called your phone since I couldn’t yell at you but you were too busy with your game to notice.”

“You know I don't play everyday– okay, if it’s just that, I don’t see a problem. I can change that habit,” he says with a determined look on his face.

“Baby, I'm not trying to change you. But you have to realise that things change drastically when there’s a baby involved, whether you want them to or not,” you explain and he can tell you’re tired by the way your voice sounds. You bring your hand up to rub your temple, letting out a deep exhale.

He dips his head low, mumbling something along the lines of ‘but I'd be a good dad.’

“You tried to feed her chocolate saying she loved the taste! You're not supposed to feed them stuff like that till they're like… one! I don’t think you’re ready for such a huge responsibility just yet,” The tone of your voice is strict, a little louder than you’d like it to be and you already feel guilty at raising your voice at him.

He opens his mouth as if to say something but then shuts it back again. “What is it?” you urge him to speak.

“Nothing… it’s alright, I get it. You don't want me to be the father of your babies,” He mutters as he tries getting up. You grab his wrist to stop him from leaving, giving him a ‘you know that's not true’ look.

He sighs as he sits back down, “Okay maybe what you're saying is kinda true. I don't know much about babies besides the fact that they're like cute mini humans. But I can learn, you know? No one has a manual on how to be the best father but I know I will give it my 100%”

When he sees a faint smile return to your face, it encourages him to continue to convince you, “Maybe I might surprise you. Remember when you first thought I wasn't the type to take aftercare seriously but then you told me how surprised you were when I made you feel good during and after our first time?”

“Yeah,” you blush at him, rolling your eyes playfully, “You are good at that.”

“So let me show you baby… I’ll prove it to you, I'll be the best daddy,” He leans his weight on your body, trapping you between the cushions to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck, moaning into his mouth when his hands play with your breasts from over your t-shirt. 

When he dips his face down to your neck, sucking you where he knows will have you putty in his hand, you take a shaky breath, biting your lip at the sensation.

“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum– gonna make your pretty belly swell,” he whispers as his head moves down, lifting up your t-shirt along with your bra to expose your chest before latching his mouth onto one of your hardened buds.

You bring your hands down to place them firmly on his chest as you push him away lightly, letting out a heavy sigh. Satoru stops as he moves back up to look into your eyes, eyebrows knitted.

You simply let out another sigh as you break eye contact to look to the side. He waits for you to speak but when the moment passes, he pulls away completely. You pull your t-shirt down and fix your bra quietly, actively avoiding his gaze.

“I'm going to bed, night,” he mumbles, getting up off the sofa to retire to the bedroom without waiting for your reply. He didn't kiss you good night, he almost never does that unless he's really upset. But why can't he understand where you're coming from?

Can't you understand where he’s coming from?

You close your eyes briefly as you slump onto the sofa. You rest one arm on your forehead as your head starts going into overthinking mode. However, your train of thought is broken before it can reach a destination when your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out lazily as you open the text you’d just received from Rin.

Rin:

Look how cute this is! I never knew I had this in my phone!

<1 attachment>

You download the picture and your heart flutters when you see that it’s a photo of Satoru holding baby Hina in a loving embrace. It’s a picture taken on your wedding day, your husband’s crisp white shirt wrinkled by the way he’s holding the baby and smiling at her lovingly. She must’ve been barely 2 months old at the wedding. You can’t help but smile at the photo, your heart aching when you remember that the same man is sleeping in the other room, upset with you. You’re pulled out of your thoughts once again when your phone rings.

“Did you see the picture? Aren’t they the cutest? I was just telling Kento about how I wish you guys should have a baby soon. It’d make Hina a big sister,” your friend squeals. You laugh back at her but it’s due to the absurdity of her timing.

“Seriously, I’d love to see Satoru being a dad,” she adds when you don’t say anything.

You laugh again, “Right, that makes it the two of you.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“I mean that Satoru and I just had a small disagreement about this,” you press your hand to your temple, massaging it. 

Rin stays quiet for a moment before you hear her speak again, “Do you remember that day? He had taken off his suit coat, not because he was worried Hina would spoil it, but because he thought the fabric of his shirt was softer for her to rest her head on.”

You nod, not realising she can’t see you, before you reply with a quiet ‘hmm’.

“All I’m saying is that I know you fear him being too easy going, but Satoru is a serious guy, he knows when to take responsibility diligently,” your friend continues, reminding you of the things you already know and adore about your man. 

You almost tear up – you'd been overthinking this so much that you forgot to acknowledge Satoru for the man that he is. Of course he'd be a great dad!

Even if Rin hears you sniff, she doesn’t comment on it. Instead she asks, “Oh by the way, do you have her blue binky?”

“Huh?”

“It must be at your place. I can't find it here and Hina’s been raising hell cause it's one of her favourites,” Rin explains.

“Oh, just a min–” You look around the sofa, digging your hands into the creases and corners in hopes of finding it. 

“It's here!” you exclaim but your smile fades as you observe the tiny object in your hand, a realisation hitting you with the speed of lightning.

You had been projecting. Sure, having a baby was going to be hard but you were worried about being a bad mother more than Satoru being a bad father. Taking care of a growing life, who’s primarily dependent on you for everything, requires a lot of patience. Making sure your tiny human receives everything it deserves isn’t an easy task at all times. 

Yet, despite all of this, if there’s one thing you knew without a speck of doubt, it was that you wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else but the love of your life, Gojo Satoru. You're brought back to reality, breaking from your ruminations when you hear your friend’s voice calling your name once again.

“Sorry… hey– let me call you back?” you mumble.

“Sure, take care. Good night. See you tomorrow,” your friend speaks softly before hanging up. 

You drop your phone on the sofa as you get up to make your way to the bedroom. When you walk in, you find Satoru sleeping on his side, his back turned to you.

“Baby, are you asleep?” you speak softly. He doesn't respond but you know he's awake – he can never fall asleep when he's lying on his right side.

Shit, he’s really mad.

You quietly strip off your sweatpants and t-shirt, leaving you only in your bra and underwear before hopping on the bed to get closer to your husband.

“‘Toru, my love,” you coo softly as you kiss his cheek from behind. He turns to look at you, poker face on. You catch his eyes wandering down to your cleavage briefly but he doesn’t break his composure nonetheless.

You lean forward to press your chest against his, kissing him on the lips but he's annoyingly stiff. You sit back up as you pout at him.

“Please don't be mad at me baby,” you murmur as your fingers draw lazy circles over the expanse of his chest. Just as you move your hand down his torso, dangerously closer to his crotch, he grabs your wrist and flips your bodies so that you’re trapped under him.

Your giggles come to an abrupt halt and you bite your lip when you feel his hips press against you, fully aware of his evidently erect bulge.

“And why shouldn't I be mad at you?” He mocks, bringing his right hand up to your neck, his long fingers gripping the sides firmly.

“Because you love me?” You pout as you bat your eyelashes at him. He lets out a dry chuckle as his fingers choke you lightly.

“Not enough. Gotta try harder than that baby.”

“I'm sorry, ‘Toru… maybe you can forgive the mother of your future children,” you bring a hand up to caress his cheek.

“Hmm… should I?” He says, adding a bit more pressure. When you let out a quiet gasp, he dips his head down to kiss your parted lips hungrily. Your breathing gets heavier as his tongue explores your mouth, the sloppy wetness of your salivas mixing together making your pussy throb in excitement. Your hands move up to his hair, tugging at his blonde locks.

You whimper into his mouth when he bites your lower lip, pulling it out before releasing it with a soft plop. His grip on your throat releases as his hand slides underneath to unclasp your bra before hastily taking it off and tossing it aside.

You cup his face so that he’s looking into your eyes when you speak. His demeanour almost collapses at what you say next.

“Satoru… don’t pull out. Please fill me up. Don't stop till you put a baby in my belly,” you say timidly, the heat in your cheeks rising. He knows that you know just how much your words get to him and use it to your advantage often – usually he’d let you but this time, he doesn't want to let you have your way with him just yet. He wants to toy with you for a bit first.

“Maybe I've changed my mind?” he says with a smug look on his face. Your hands move down to his hips, hooking into the band of his sweatpants to push them down along with his underwear to his thighs, freeing his dick from its restraints. You lift your hips up to feel his hard on against your core. 

“I doubt,” you bite back, deceitful innocence in your eyes, “...but I could just go to sleep if you're not up for it.”

Your husband lets out a low chuckle as he grabs your jaw firmly, shaking his head at you, “You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you.”

In an attempt to rile him up further, you decide to mock him as you repeat his words in a condescending tone, “You're not going anywhere until– AHH!”

Big mistake.

Within a second Satoru flips you over till you're lying on your stomach, caging you in place with his knees dipping into the mattress on either side of you. He leans back to pull your underwear off and your heart picks up its pace when he grabs both your wrists to tie them behind your back with the flimsy fabric in a tight, makeshift knot.

He pushes your head into the pillow before landing a rough slap on your ass. He kneads the skin right after to soothe the stinging sensation.

“‘Toru–” you whimper. He ignores your pleading voice, simply tapping two fingers over your ass. You know what he wants and you obey immediately, lifting your hips up off the mattress. He folds your thighs further in till your back is arched with your ass up in the air, on display for him.

“You know what happens when you act bratty,” he kneads your asscheeks with both of his hands before clawing at the flesh. You push back in response and he laughs, “... or maybe you’re just a masochist.”

He lands another sharp spank, causing you to let out a tiny sob into the pillow. 

“Tell me what you want baby,” he teases. Your head turns to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face behind you but your movement’s restricted, rendering your attempts useless.

If there’s one thing that Satoru claims to lose his mind over is the look in your eyes. He often calls your eyes his ‘weakness’, confessing he’d do anything you ask of him when you look at him with those fucked out eyes during sex. So for him to take away his weakness, typically with a blindfold, is when you know you’re really fucked.

“Didn’t you have a lot to say just now, love?” he mocks and you feel two fingers glide over your exposed cunt. You sigh at the sensation, letting out soft moans when his fingers begin to play with your folds.

“‘Toru– more,” you beg and he slides two fingers inside you. You hum in pleasure but huff when you’re reminded of the annoyance of being restricted each time you try to move your arms.

His movements are excruciatingly slow and it’s making you lose your mind and patience. You try to chase his touch, failing miserably at getting him to push his fingers deeper inside you. Satoru lets out a condescending chuckle at your poor attempt, “Are you really that desperate for me baby?”

You huff and you’re about to complain but it turns into broken moans when he starts pumping his fingers into you – the squelching sound of your pussy blending with drawn out cries of his name.

“Aww, does my wife like it when I do this?” he teases, curving his fingers inside to rub your walls, massaging a particular spot that has you begging him for more. Your thighs tremble and your pussy flutters around his fingers. “Guess she really does!” you hear him squeal before he pulls his fingers out completely, depriving you of all contact within a second.

“Satoru! S– stop being so mean!” you scold him with shallow breaths.

“Satoru! Stop being so mean!” he laughs as he mocks you, his fingers lightly grazing over your folds.

“Baby… pl–please, I’m sorry,” you cry, desperate for his touch.

“What for, baby?” he nudges further, his finger inching towards your clit.

“For teasing you– mmh,” you whimper when he rubs over the bundle of nerves.

“But that’s not why I’m mad…”

“‘Toru please–”

“Yes?” he sings.

“Fuc– I’m sorry… I was wrong, you’ll be a great dad– ahh,” you squeeze your eyes shut when he pinches your clit.

“That’s it,” he coos softly and you feel him come up behind you to kiss your shoulder, “was that so hard, baby?” he moves down to bite one of your tied wrists, moving further down to kiss the skin over your tailbone. You feel his fingers dig into your ass, pulling the flesh apart before diving his face down as he begins lapping at your cunt with a brutal pace. 

Your ass jerks up at the sudden touch and he continues his ministrations, alternating between sucking your clit and licking down till his tongue’s dipping inside your hole, wiggling it in. You twist your wrists, feeling the urge to grab at something, anything to steady yourself, yet it’s a futile attempt.

“Toru– too much,” your tears wetting the pillow as you feel your legs shake, threatening to collapse at any moment. Satoru is quick to sit up straight and you feel his shuffling movement behind you and see him toss the bundle of his clothes to the side before settling behind you once again, wedging his knees between yours to spread them wider. He taps his swollen tip over your folds, rubbing it back and forth to coat it with your wet slick. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel him push the tip in, splitting your walls to adjust to his length. Once he’s completely buried inside you, he grips the side of your hips to support you, “Gonna fill you up so good baby.”

“Oh god– Sa–toru–” you howl when he pulls almost his entire length out before thrusting back into you. When his pace builds up, your body jerks slightly forward due to the force of his thrusts. His grip on your sides tightens as he pulls your hips back to slam you back against him.

The sound of your skin slapping fills the air along with both of your moans and groans. When you wiggle your wrists again in a desperate attempt, the knot loosens just enough for you to wring your wrist free. You bring one hand down to support your weight while the other moves behind you to claw at his forearm.

Satoru hisses at the sudden contact as he twists your wrist, holding it against your lower back while his other hand snakes around your throat, pulling you back till you’re sitting up flush against his chest. His other hand hooks around your waist as he starts bouncing your torso up and down on his dick at the same time he slams up into you.

You free the hand behind your back to pull his face closer while twisting your neck to look back, kissing him frantically, the wet trail of your tears smudging and transferring onto his skin. 

At a particularly rough thrust, Satoru’s knee slides slightly, making his balance stumble a bit. He lets out a breathy ‘fuck’ as he pulls out abruptly. 

“‘Toru?”

“Shhh–” he orders as he grips your waist tightly to pull you down till you both are lying down on your left side, his chest pressed against your back. He adjusts his position to hook your legs around his, opening you up wider for him as he brings his hand down to guide his dick back near your entrance to shove it in your swollen hole. 

His hand is shaky as he brings it to your clit to rub circles as he resumes thrusting into you ruthlessly once again. You cry his name out loud at how good this new motion hits and he bites your shoulder. You know he’s close by how erratic his thrusts get.

His other arm that is placed beneath you comes up to pinch your nipples, the added stimulation is too intense for you as you feel the muscles in your stomach tighten more than they already have. His nose buries in the crook of your neck as his lips bite your skin harshly. When he starts sucking on your favourite spot behind your ear, it causes goosebumps to rise all over your body.

You claw at his biceps as you turn your head back to look at him. He looks so fucked out and the fact that he gets this way only for you is what overwhelms your senses even further.

“Fuck–” his eyebrows knit as he leans down to kiss you. You feel your body twitch as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter before letting go completely, causing your walls to pulse around his cock as you reach your orgasm.

Your moans are swallowed by his kisses and your grip on his locks loosens. When you break away from the kiss to catch your breath, you stare at his face and your eyebrows knit when you see the way a string of saliva connects your lips with his. Your chest heaves as you look into his eyes and you can tell he’s close. 

“Fuck– fuck– shi–” he grunts as he shuts his eyes, biting your shoulder once again and you feel him shoot his load inside, painting your walls. With broken thrusts, he slows down before stopping completely. He stays inside you for a few seconds before pulling out and shutting your legs close to keep his cum from spilling out.

You let out a tired laugh at this as you close your eyes, suddenly feeling hyper aware of everything that had just transpired, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. He readjusts your position so that you’re lying flat on your back, while he moves on top of you till his head is resting on the valley of your breasts. 

You open your eyes when you feel him tug at your wrist and you see him free it from your underwear that was still hanging limply there. As he holds the fabric up, you see that the elasticity of its band had been completely destroyed. You see red marks on your wrist where it was secured tightly. Satoru pulls your hand down to kiss your wrist, mumbling a ‘sorry’ and turning his head to kiss your other wrist.

You simply hum as you close your eyes again, calming your breathing and nerves. You feel him rub circles over your stomach before moving down to kiss you over your belly button. He brings both his hands up to intertwine his fingers with yours, peppering soft kisses all over your stomach.

“So… care to explain what changed your mind so quickly?” he asks.

You nod as you slowly open your eyes, gulping as you look down to meet his gaze. He moves up till he’s at your eye level, expectantly waiting for your answer, pinning your hands to the sides of your head.

You bite your lip nervously as you begin, “Sorry for insinuating that you’d be a bad father. It wasn’t my intention – I just got scared. I know you’ll be a great papa, I don’t doubt it for a second…” you look away to avoid his gaze, “... sorry for projecting my insecurities onto you– I’m just worried if I’d be able to be a good mom.”

“Baby… you’re so smart, yet sometimes you say the dumbest shit,” he chuckles softly as he brings one hand up to cup your face, “I’ve seen the way you take care of Hina… seeing you be so kind and loving is what made me go crazy about wanting our own babies. I want kids because I’d get to be a parent with you… so that you can be the mother of my children. Don’t go thinking about crazy hypotheticals like that!”

“Hmm, thank you baby. But taking care of Hina is easy when it’s only for a couple of hours at a time. Having our own baby will be like a full time job. I listen to the way Rin sometimes jokes that she doesn’t even have time alone with Kento cause she’s so tired oft–”

“Hey, hey… breathe,” Satoru interrupts you, resting his forehead against yours and your face relaxes as you close your eyes, taking deep breaths. “Even if all of that is true, you have me with you. I’m not leaving your side even for a second, my love. We’re in this together. Taking care of our baby and his pretty mommy is my responsibility and I’m gonna do it right.”

You feel the tears well up in your eyes as you look up at him and he smiles softly at you, “I love you.”

You tilt your head slightly to kiss him before speaking, “I love you so much Satoru. I wouldn’t want to have anyone else’s baby.”

“Oh thank goodness! Wanting a baby only with your husband is the ideal thing after all,” he laughs breathily and you slap his chest lightly. 

“Besides, I think we’ll be ready by the time I actually conceive. I’ve heard that it takes a few months for some couples, so who knows, right?” you think out loud.

“Please,” he snickers, “I’ve got the best swimmers, there’s no way in hell you won’t be pregnant after tonight…”

You giggle as you pull him down till he’s lying on top of you completely like your own personal weighted blanket.

He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, “... but just to be sure, let’s go another round… make it certain.”

“‘Toru! I’m tired” you laugh as you try to pull him off of you but he continues kissing down your neck. You close your eyes at how sensitive your skin feels against his kisses.

“Then just lie down. I’ll do all the work, princess,” your husband winks at you before circling his tongue around one of your already hardened nipples. 

You hum contentedly as you rest your head back down, melting into the pillow and accepting your fate – you were going to have to run on very little sleep tomorrow.

~fin~

[greymoggy]

Wow how is it almost artfight time again. Time is passing so fast. I'm lonely but really really really struggle to be a friend for whatever thing that broke my brain just before covid - bleh. Also anyone else on sertraline/zoloft who's internal chatter and thoughts just reduced to zero? Like a dimmer switch was turned? My brain used to be so full and buzzing with thoughts and yapping all the time and it helped me think of things to draw and make or even just think about and I love that it makes me 80% functional and even sometimes happy and safe but I miss that soo much. I'll try to draw some more because I think it is socially motivated. Not sure if I should do artfight because it does make me crazy (joyfully) and I usually end up hurting my hand tendons again but maybe I can take requests for a bit or suggestions I feel very rusty and aimless with drawing. Requests open for small drawings?

Also big apology to everyone waiting for a message response from me. Thankyou for trying to keep in touch with me. I'll get there eventually (functioning social life whether that's online or irl) I still havent posted my completed fursuit yet that was finished about this time last year! Haven't even worn it outside or made one the million silly videos I had ideas for forever ago. Also I passed my theory exam with the UK APDT and have my practical exam later this year but no avenue anymore to practice running a dog training class by myself unless I find the confidence to make that happen eg get insurance, sort out venue, find people and dogs to attend. It's so easy for months to just pass by me right now and I feel so disconnected from what I wanted to even do with my life

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Can you write a part 2 to your yandere joker fic?

Absolutely! Also I am so insanely flattered, I’ve never had someone ask for a part 2 before eeee

Yandere Platonic Joker x GN! reader!

Warnings: This is a yandere work, and as such contains themes of violence, abuse, manipulation and drugging. As this is the Joker, it will most likely be darker than my usual works!! Enjoy!!

You wake up with a leg that practically burns, and when you glance down, you see that your thigh had been wrapped in white gauze, which had been stained red by your own blood. It was weirdly well done for a madman. You wondered if Joker had made one of his henchmen do it.

Moving your leg makes it hurt, so much so that you gasp when the burning pain arches up your leg. You hadn’t been given any painkillers. Which wasn’t great when you had a stab wound, in an area with already existing nerve damage. You hope there isn’t any long term nerve damage, or damage to the muscles, or tendons.

“Okay. Okay just.. focus. You’ve been kidnapped by a madman who thinks you’re obsessed with him. Things could be worse.” Your voice cracks with hysteria, and you wince, shaking your head. You had to get your act together. You would prefer not to be another of the Joker’s long list of victims.

You glance around, and your stomach drops. The room is.. a room? It had clearly been outfitted from some sort of warehouse, with high ceilings and beams that crisscrossed, which made sense, you guess. Not a lot of people in Gotham would be willing to rent an apartment to the Joker.

The most damning thing, however, is the paintings, everywhere. Piled in the corner, leaned against the wall, some handing crookedly from nails. All with acidic green eyes or pale skin or a suit with the wrong colors. All yours.

You think you’re going to throw up. You don’t.

Your head snaps to the sound of a door handle, and you watch as it’s pushed open, heart racing. The old hinges shriek and groan.

“Hey! So.. what do ya think? Neat, right! Got all your paintings, right here, in a fun little gallery! Isn’t it great?!” Joker’s eyes never leave your face. You aren’t sure what it looks like, with how much pain you were in and your brain struggling to process much of anything but you feel your expression twist.

“Five out of five stars.” Your voice drips with sarcasm, and Joker laughs, a high pitched maniacal giggle that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You two were playing a game now, you knew, and Joker knew all the rules and could change them as he pleased. “Where are we?”

“Ah, ah, ah! No trying to pry any information out of me, I learned aalll the tricks from Batsy.” He chides, practically skipping to your bedside. You want to jerk away, but moving your leg sends a rush of pain so harsh it makes your vision go white.

“I don’t think I know nearly as many tricks as Batman.” You deadpan.

“It’s okay! You’re interesting in a different way.” Joker snorts, glancing at your damaged leg to the paintings to your face. You aren’t sure what he sees. “Although I don’t know why you would be talking to Batsy.”

He sounds almost.. jealous? Giddy? You can’t place it, and you don’t want to, and you measure your words carefully before you speak. Joker was a time bomb, almost literally, and any little thing could set him off.

“I never actually talked to him. He and the baby bats just stalked me for a while when you broke out of Arkham.”

“Hmph. Wants to keep you all to himself, now that not fair.” He huffs, and he slings an arm around you, pulling you close. The sudden movement jolts your leg, and the ragged gasp it tears from you practically echoes in the air.

You try not to freeze when you see the unhinged light in his eyes. You don’t think you manage.

“Did you ever talk to Batsy?” The sudden change in topic is.. discomforting, and you shake your head. You can’t think of anything to say.

“He showed up in your sketchbook a lot. All heroic poses and big shadows, it was so boring, really. I’m a much better subject to draw, don’t you think?”

His hand lands on the white bandages, and then he presses down.

You howl in pain, going to twist away, but he is deceptively strong, and keeps you there, even as you kick at him and try to pry his hand off your wound.

“Yes! You’re better to draw!” You gasp out, and he stops, grinning. You’d think that the bandage would be redder, or damaged. It isn’t.

“Good! I don’t like sharing my besties.” He laughs, and hums, glancing at your face. You’re shaking, and pale, you know. “It does suck your hurt though. We can’t do anything fun until you’re healed.” He huffs, sprawling back and dragging you with him.

“APPARENTLY we’re going to have postpone the trip to Ace Chemicals.” He huffs. “I was so looking forward to it, too.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, leaden. Ace Chemicals. Birthplace of the Joker, of Harley Quinn. A toxic cesspit of chemical waste and madness.

“I’m sure we can find something to pass the time. Now! Why don’t we get to painting, yeah? You’ve got a whole studio!”

Joker hops up, and when you take the paint brush from him, it’s already dripping with a toxic green. You paint, numbly, not really paying attention.

You would have to escape before your leg healed. Or Joker won his game.

[cosmetichorror]

(Crawls out from under your bed)

Hey (with charisma)

I’m writing again, here’s some WIPS/finished projects

— GHOSTING rewrite, LU, Wind and Wild centric chapter

Wild sighs and pulls his knees up to his chest. With every aching day he can feel his body fading away, and it's painful in more sense than one. Death is a prospect he tries to avoid in what's left of his life. After all- he's only half dead. The idea of being fully dead makes his chest feel tight, as if death himself had grabbed hold of his lungs and began to squeeze with his boney fingers.

He lets his head fall atop his knees as he tries to change the subject at hand. He won't disappear soon– right? Of course, the what if still lingers in the back of his mind. What if he disappears in the middle of the night? What then? What will the others think?

A groan falls out of his mouth as he falls back onto the grass and spreads his arms out, staring up at the evening sky. The sunset is rather soothing this evening. And as the clouds float ahead he fruitlessly reaches his arms up to the sky as if to grab hold of one, his eyes illuminated with a slight glaze. He feels timeless in this moment, until a small, shaky voice called out to him,

“...Champion?”

And he could have sworn what's left of his soul left his very body as he jolts up, yanking his head towards the source of the voice, his eyes falling immediately on Wind. The sailor looks conflicted, as if hurt but not entirely surprised.

“You’re a ghost,” He said as if he knew it was a fact. “I had a suspicion, I just wish it wasn’t true.”

“…” Wild seems to ponder what to say at first, before sighing with a simple “Yeah.”, as he wasn’t sure what else to say. There certainly was no denying it— Wind may be young but he is no fool.

—

I don’t think I’ll ever forget (I wish I was like you) Purah centric, descriptions of dead body and insides falling out + gross death stuff and loss of faith

When we removed his shirt, I almost passed out. His skin peeled up easily along with the shirt with a sickening sound. His muscles and tendons were melted and barely held his skin together. His chest overall was a mess of blood, bone and guts. His skin was charred black in some places, peeling up in others with chunks missing to where we could see his innards. Before then I had never seen someone’s guts sticking out, but I suppose everything changes. We quickly removed the rest of his clothes and put him in the tub. As soon as he was in there, it started to fill with a thick liquid of sorts. It was a vibrant blue, and was thicker than water. We watched as it filled up past his face and overtook him completely. Robbie ushered me to put the slate on the pedestal so he’d have a way to get out if– when he awoke. As we ran out before the doors shut on us, Robbie pulled out his bow and some bomb arrows he had been saving, and shot at the stairs as we ran up. I stood outside and yelled at him to hurry up, but he said he wouldn't leave until the stairs were gone. He wanted to make sure if anything broke into the shrine, they couldn’t reach him. As soon as the stairs were nothing more than a pile of rubble, he ran out just in time to miss getting trapped. But we had one last thing to do.

As we ran back down off the plateau, Robbie planted bomb arrows at every crack and weak point, ushering me to do the same. When we ran out of bomb arrows about half way down, we started improvising with fire chuchu jelly, and taking what we could find from corpses nearby.

When Robbie set ablaze those bombs, the stairs came crashing down in a mess of smoke and debris, but it was done.

As soon as our job was done, I fell to my knees and puked. Robbie had started crying, and he took off his goggles for the first time in a while. I think we both sat on the ground (away from my vomit) and sobbed for ages. We were exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and covered in blood, most of which wasn't ours. I think on the way back to kakiriko I had thrown up three more times.

We had only spent a few days in Kakiriko before we went our separate ways. I’ll never forget the feeling of leaving the most important people in my life.

If Hylia is real, we’re her joke book. I wonder if she’s laughing down at me right now, and I hate her. If she’s real, she’s a monster as bad as the calamity. I’m cursed to live with this blight inside my mind, I fear I’ll never be me again. Maybe Hylia is dead, and soon we all will join her as well. And when the stars call my name maybe I can rest knowing I did my best, but I don't think I’ll ever forget again. When I close my eyes I see the horrors, and when I speak all that comes out is a mumble. All I can do anymore is focus on my work, but it’s not the same. In truth I’d rather be dead than live knowing things may not get better.

—-

Okay I actually write those requests I got now lol

[syddog]

danny may day 31: free day

Hihi! hope you enjoy! 1.7k, little bit of blood and a bad injury briefly described, mild gore? idk,. hes fineeeeee. hurt/comfort. angst ?

Danny gets Really injured by a ghost he thought a friend. Vlad of all people pulled him from the chaos. Jazz helps patch him up.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47555479

Trying to do an effective wrap on your own shoulder was also a lot. Danny was using a combination of awkward arm rotations and levitation to accomplish this task but the rotation was pulling at the tears on his stomach and making the blood flow a little quicker and he was panicking- 

He would never get used to the feeling of gauze wrapping around him. It was something about the texture that bothered him more than anything, the cottony, almost too soft feeling. The way it brushed and shifted against his skin with every miniscule movement. 

Danny was no stranger to injuries, what with all the ghost fighting the past two years.  Everything from scrapes to burns to electric shocks, broken ribs, fractured skull, he's done it all. This though? Slim tendons the only thing keeping his right arm attached at the top, weighed down and taunt with burns fanning out from the line of separation and blood leaking steadily down his side. His left arm was pulled tight around his stomach, holding himself together, phantom flames creeping up his neck. It was… a lot. 

“Danny? Danny are you down here?”

Danny whipped toward the stairs, a glowing palm outstretched and eyes bright green.

“Danny,” Jazz took a few halting steps down, “Oh my gosh, Danny- I... are you okay?” She followed this question with slow steps down the stairs, hands raised placatingly.  Danny’s hand followed her for a few steps, glowing menacingly. He blinked away his anger fear and dropped his arm, air stuttering from his lips.

She rushed the last few steps toward him, hands hovering slightly over his skin. 

“Danny... What did you do to yourself?” Danny’s entire frame hunched forward, like that was going to hide anything.

Knowing that no answer was forthcoming, she stooped to grab the fallen gauze, rerolling it before continuing with the wrap.

Danny let his eyes flutter shut as Jazz did what she’d always done: take care of him. She was almost motherly in her presence and mannerisms after all these years. He liked to pretend that he didn’t notice the absence of his parents in his life since they’d really started working on the portal again. That was more than five years ago now. And most of the time he didn’t notice, because Jazz filled that gap seamlessly. At times like these it was hard to ignore it. Especially here, two years into being Phantom, with the worst injury he’d ever gotten.

A hot flash of pain shot through him as she readjusted his arm.

“I was saving mom,” Danny said. Jazz paused briefly in her wrapping to acknowledge the words.

“She was- Wulf had her. He was holding her by the arm and he was, he was burning her...” His eyes were focused in the distance, skirting the edges of her gaze, eyebrows pulled down in unhappy lines. The vacancy and disbelief in his voice echoed in the silence, haunting against the metal of the lab. Recounting it was hurting him, yet he struggled on through the tale. “So I shot at him, a few times, and I tried to pry his hands off her, but he wouldn’t stop and he gave me this,” Danny’s left hand moved to rest protectively over his stomach. 

“And then I broke his wrist or I tried to, I don’t- I don’t know… But well, he let her go.” The corners of his mouth tipped up, yet he fluttered his eyelashes as if fighting back tears, self deprecating humor wrapped in his words. Jazz aches for him.

“And then he almost tore my arm from my body, but, you know. And then- then Vlad... of all people, flew up and helped me finish him off.”

“Yeah, he uh, Vlad called me,” Jazz said, and Danny’s eyebrows disappeared into his bangs. Jazz gave a small smile at that, “Yeah, he told me to check on you.”

She pressed the wound closed, causing Danny to flinch violently and sway on the spot. Jazz steadied him for a moment before hurrying to finish.

Danny took a few harsh breaths through the nose before saying, “I was- I almost lost my ghost form in front of them. Mom and Dad. I was kind of...flickering,” his brow scrunched in confusion and pain. “Vlad brought me back here and I was human by the time we appeared. He pulled down the med kit and ecto-dejectoed me but had to leave and talk fricking press . They were calling for him during the fight too. And then, I guess he called you?”

Jazz continued to move around him with the ease that her knowledge brought her, securing the shoulder as best as possible. They were both hoping his healing would do the rest. He’d likely have to pop it back in place in a day or two; the focus for now was the muscles and skin and oh my god this is really bad.

Danny was grateful for Vlad, though uncertainty lingered. He’d been ruthless in finishing off Wulf, letting Jack tend to Maddie, and then gentle and protective of Danny quickly after, wrapping his cape around them like a warm cocoon from the crowd where danny was feeling ever colder. It was probably the ectoplasm pooling around him and cooling his skin. Vlad looked torn between truly, devastatingly pissed and so so sorry. Then he’d teleported them here. Danny shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was, what with the truce they had, but it was still so hard to reconcile the Vlad he knew with one presented to him now.

Maneuvering him to an open chair, she moved to do stitches on his stomach, pausing first to wipe up the blood beginning to stain his skin Christmas colors. 

“And Wulf?” Her voice was thick and heavy. Danny glanced up from under his bangs, watching her in the green of the lab. Her brow was furrowed, her hands were frantic but steady, and she kept scrunching her nose. Was she...crying?

A heavy pit formed in his stomach at the thought. His fingers twitched, the urge to comfort her like a tidal wave through his being.

He couldn't do it.

Danny's left hand gestured vaguely to the countertop of full thermoses, “Wulf's here.”

Each thermos had someone he knew trapped within. The last week or so had been… enlightening. He’d taken to keeping them trapped rather than returning them to the Ghost Zone once he’d realized how serious this was becoming. 

Jazz moved with her usual efficiency but Danny could see her fear in the tense line of her shoulders and the small line between her eyebrows. This short time had put immense strain on their relationship. On his relationship with everyone. It was gradually building, more secrets everyday and more lies and it was becoming pretty fucking stressful to keep hiding his injuries from everyone.

She could see them now.

“...Thank you.”

Jazz fumbled for a moment. Her words were whispered back just as low, “I’m here for you Danny.”

    The faint hum of the portal was a comforting presence as Jazz followed up the stitches with more gauze and some ace bandages. They were pretty sure he’d fractured some ribs. Danny could hardly expand his lungs.

    “I’m almost done, just the burns. Anything to say about these?”

Danny hesitated, “There was… a civilian. The ghosts had caught someone and I had a hard time getting them away.” There was a stark handprint across his collarbones, the lines of the burn creeping up his neck as a testament to that statement. “I think the ones on my shoulder are just from Wulf physically prying my arm from my body,” Danny’s words were tinged with dark, heavy mirth, and, finally, tears had built in his eyes.

More and more often he was having to be rougher than he usually would to get out of situations. But there was also the unacknowledged possibility of Danny losing his shit like these other ghosts, so it was difficult to talk about. His parents had remarked a couple times already that they were ‘Just waiting for Phantom to slip up’. That it was inevitable. They accepted Phantom’s help and didn’t actively hunt him due to the town’s overwhelming approval, but it was a thin veil over their dislike of him. It took almost two years to get this level of acceptance and it would only take one slip up to lose it all.

Danny left out the part where he’d blasted a hole through another ghost while saving someone. The way righteous anger had ripped through him. The way the ghost had faded fully out of view, out of existence maybe, and how Danny felt like he might have accidentally killed-

He didn’t know how he’d handle it if his own sister was scared of him.

Jazz glanced up at his face before focusing again on her work. She finished applying the last of the burn cream to his neck before saying, “The ones on your shoulder, they’re too close to open skin so I’m not gonna put anything on there.” Danny nodded wearily in response.

She met his eyes for a moment before turning away, grabbing one of the sweatshirts their dad had left on the table. She was wringing the fabric in her hands ceaselessly.

“I’m really worried about this Danny. About everything. Please, please let me know if you need any help," Jazz said. "I want to help you,” Jazz said. 

Upon realizing no response was forthcoming she smoothed the sweatshirt out and helped him put it on. “Don’t exacerbate them. Try to restrain yourself from anything stupid for a few days, okay?”

He nodded. Danny knew he looked absolutely pitiful, draped in the giant orange sweater, sleeves hanging past his fingertips by an arm’s length. He felt pitiful too, so any assumptions were justified. Wrapping both arms around his stomach, he felt very much like he was trying to hold himself together. 

She gathered up what was left of the med kit, hiding evidence of its use and hung it back on the wall, her back to Danny, hesitating. There was something about returning to business as usual that just seemed wrong in this moment. 

Ask for help. She wants you to ask for help just do it ask her ask-

As she moved toward the stairs Danny blurted, “Jazz, I- Can you stay, with me, just for a bit? Just hang out?” His voice was small, but they both heard the unspoken i don’t want to be alone. Jazz gave him a soft smile before moving back to help him up the stairs. 

[crazywritingbug]

Lessons

A/N: Thanks to @thebiggestnaturaldisaster for suggesting this! I love the concept and did my best, though I'm not sure about the ending. Let me know what you think!

Jack Frost x Fem! Reader

If there was anything Y/N had learned in her nineteen years of life it was this; even the best people will make stupid decisions, all the while believing they were right. She’d done it more than once, was it so hard to think that Jack would do the same? But then again, this was extreme.

“Okay North,” Y/N sighed, rubbing at her temples. “Go over this one more time. What happened?”

North shook his head, leaning back in his chair across the table from her. “You don’t believe me, little one?”

“Pitch attacking the pole, getting Jack alone in a sphere of black sand for three minutes then Jack helping Pitch after they came out of it, is kinda hard to believe.” Y/N claimed, waving away the elf that offered her a cookie. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s missing here. What was said or done in those three minutes?”

“I do not know what was said.” North shook his head before pointing to his bandaged feet. “I know I have frostbite.”

What was there to say to that? It just seemed so impossible that Jack Frost, guardian of fun, the cheerful winter spirit and her best friend of three years would turn on the guardians like that. How could three years be undone in three minutes? What could Pitch have possibly said or done to get Jack to join forces with him? Threaten him? No, they’d beat Pitch before, threats would be useless. Bribe him? With what? Jack had his memories and believers. Mind control? That was outlandish and way beyond Pitch’s skill set? So what had happened? Some combination of the three? And what were they going to do about it?

A chill slipped down her spine. Jack had switched sides. He was one of the bad guys now if the worst really had happened. The Guardians would fight against him and she had no control over that. She was just a girl, they wouldn’t listen to her. And how far would they go? How far would Jack go? Or Pitch? How far? Death? No...she needed to stop this before it started.

“What can I do to get Jack back?” Y/N asked, and North cracked half a smile.

“Talk to him, Little One.” He sighed, picking up a snow globe that had been resting on the desk. “Bring back Jack Frost. You might be the only one who can.”

The world she stepped into was one of snow and wind that knocked her off her feet into a snowbank. A blizzard? Jack had created a blizzard? She’d known he could do it, but she’d never thought it would be this powerful, with snow flying so fast it bit into her skin and created a whiteness so thick she couldn’t see her hands as she staggered to her feet. Why would he make it this strong? Why would he create it in the first place? Unless he really had turned to the dark side?

“Jack!” She screamed it into the fury of the storm, getting only a mouthful of icy snow in return. Where was he in this mess? How was she supposed to find him when she couldn’t even see anything but white?

Y/N jumped as a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, capturing her in a familiar embrace. Jack. He was the only one who ever hugged her like this, from behind, arms crossing over her so that one hand rested on her shoulder and the other on her waist. She sighed, leaning back into him as the wind slowed and the snow subsided into a few fluttering flakes, bringing the bare forest into view. Nothing but snow, trees, and sky for miles.

“What are you doing here?” Jack’s voice was soft with worry, his breath a chill on her ear.

“I’m here because you are, Jack.” She tried to look over her shoulder at him, to see more than the frost blue sleeves of his hoodie. Wait...that was wrong, his hood wasn’t blue, it was black, a deep black in a violent contrast to the frost that fringed it. This really wasn’t right, just how far was he going with this? He loved the blue, it was his favorite color. Would he really change it? Why was he changing allies and clothes? What had Pitch said or done?

“What happened at the Pole?” Y/N kept her voice soft, but it was like she’d shouted with how he pulled away. The snow crunched under her sneakers as she turned to look at him. It wasn’t just the hoodie that changed color, there was black sand caught up in his hair, turning it a pale gray, almost the same grey as a corpse’s skin. He wasn’t smiling, and his eyes were...guarded, untrusting, hard. He was so many things at once, standing there in the aftermath of the snow storm; powerful, dark, and...afraid. She could see it in the way he gripped his staff until the tendons in his hands showed, the way he shifted on his feet, and the way his gaze flickered from one spot to another. It almost broke her. How could she help him? How was she supposed to fix this? What had happened to him? This wasn’t the Jack Frost she knew, the one she -secretly- loved. That Jack Frost was open, happy, and brave, and lost somewhere inside of whoever this was standing before her.

“Jack, you’re my best friend,” Y/N tried to keep her words from sounding like the plea they were. “What happened? Why are you working with Pitch Black?”

He wouldn’t look at her, glancing down at his feet instead. “He showed me some things.”

“What things?” She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the disbelief. “What could he possibly show you that would make you turn on everything you believe and stand for?”

He didn’t answer, the silence filling the space between them, the tension almost screaming at them in those moments.

“I showed him you.” Pitch materialized, stepping out of the shadows behind Jack, a smile on his face that had a chill slipping down her back. “I showed him all the terrible things that could happen to you, things he’d be powerless to stop unless the world believes in, and fears him.”

Oh. Wait, Jack was so concerned about her that he turned on the Guardians? Did he really care about her that much? Was it possible he loved her as she loved him? Was there really a chance of that? No, this wasn’t the time to think about that, to face that the love she had for him from the very moment they met could be returned. From the very moment they met...

“Jack,” His eyes met hers, rich with so many emotions it was heartbreaking. “Do you remember how we met?”

A smile flickered on his face. “Yeah, you were watching Jamie and Sophie, you took them to the pond to go ice skating.”

Y/N nodded. “I slipped on the ice, but you caught me. You’ve always caught me, Jack. Nothing can hurt me when you’re around.” For a moment, the really Jack shone through, a flicker of happiness in the storm.

Then Pitch spoke. “But he can’t be everywhere at once can he? Can’t be at your side every moment of every day.” The happiness vanished as more words poured out of Pitch’s mouth. “But if the world feared him, the storms and cold he could bring, nobody would dare to touch you, nobody would ever hurt you. You’d both be untouchable, and I can make that happen. Can the Guardians?”

“I’m…” Jack paused, seeming to search for words even as Pitch laid a hand on his shoulder in a grip that even she could see was tight. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, blurring her vision. That was so incredibly sweet, and so wrapped up in delusion. How was she supposed to counter that? How was she supposed to explain to him that enveloping the world in darkness and ice wouldn’t keep her safe? He’d gone this far to do it, what would it take to make him see this wasn’t going to work?

“This isn’t the way to do that.” She shook her head and swiped at an escaped tear. “You’re going up against the Guardians, and even if you win, you know you’d never forgive yourself.” She wiped away another tear, they were coming faster now. “I don’t know if I would. I would try, but I don’t know if I’d be able to.” She sucked in a shake breath and held his gaze. “Please Jack, I love you, don’t do this.”

Jack didn’t move, didn’t say a word, as if he’d been -ironically- frozen. Not even Pitch moved, just the soft fluttering snowflakes that drifted down from the sky and caught in their hair. The whole world was holding its breath, waiting for Jack to decide. How would he choose? A week ago, she’d thought she’d known, but now, after this, what would his answer be?

Finally, after an infinite moment, he smiled and held out his arms, shaking off Pitch’s hand. Oh thank the moon. It was as if every weight had lifted off her shoulders as she ran the short distance to him, right into his embrace as his staff fell to the wayside. A relieved laugh escaped her lips as she clung to him, burying her face in his hoodie, feeling his heart beating rapidly in time with hers, his arms around her, and his fingers tangling in her hair. He was back, Jack Frost was back.

“I am so sorry Y/N,” His words were a soft murmur in her ear, but he could have yelled it for all she cared. He was back. “I just want to keep you safe.”

“Then you shouldn’t have chosen as you did.” Pitch’s voice answered before she could. Before they could even respond pain exploded in her side. Sharp piercing pain mixing with a deep screaming agony that turned her legs to jelly beneath her. It was only Jack’s arms that kept her from collapsing as the world came into a strange sort of focus, like a camera bringing one thing at a time into a sharp contrast and blurring the rest. The warmth of the blood seeping from around the knife blade. The panic in Jack’s voice as he said her name. The coldness of the snow and his hands pushing her hair back out of her face as he looked down at her. The rolling clouds above.

“Y/N, stay with me.” Jack’s voice again, quick and fear filled. “Please, stay awake, stay with me.” The focus adjusted again, this time on the tears that were filling his gemstone blue eyes and rolling down his cheeks. He was crying, it wasn’t that bad was it? The pain was already numbing...or maybe that was just her body shutting down. Was this what it was like to die? What would come after? Would it be like sleeping? Would she see Heaven? Would her family know what happened? Would they be okay? What about Jamie and Sophie? They were such sweet kids, would their new babysitter know that they loved to go to the pond or that Sophie liked to have her hair braided and shouldn’t be trusted with scissors? Would Jack be okay? He looked so scared, his hands pressing against her side, covered in blood. Would he know just how much she really loved him? How much she wish she had the chance to do more than say it? That she wanted the chance to live it? To show him that she loved him with more than she could even put into words? That all of it, his laugh, his jokes, his voice, bravery, creativity, and even just the way he moved, was her favorite thing about him.

She tried to form the words, to tell him it was okay, to say that she loved him one more time as she reached up and wiped away the tears, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words as her eyes slipped shut.

“Y/N! No! Stay awake! Please!” Jack’s voice echoed in her ears as the darkness swallowed her, so still and quiet. Silent like she’d never imagined, but this wasn’t it, she was moving. Up, she was moving up towards a light. Huh, apparently the cliches were right. But nobody had ever mentioned the voice that whispered out of the darkness.

“You’re not done yet. Somebody would miss you.”

It all came back at once. The cold, the sobs, and the faint light from the sky above. The shock left her breathless for a moment, and then gasping for air. What had just happened? Had she really died only to get sent back? That was not what she expected. But Jack...he was the one sobbing, the most broken and shattered sound she could imagine. It crushed her heart, shattering it into broken, grating pieces.

“Jack?” Her voice came out softer than she expected, as if her body wasn’t used to having her in it again, letting alone speaking. Maybe that was why it was so hard to get her eyes open before Jack was gathering her up into a hug so tight it bordered on painful. It was if that was what it took to wake her limbs up to return the hug, for her to hide her face in his shoulder. Holy cow, she was alive! Pitch Black had stabbed her and she died but she was alive! Wait he’d stabbed her...she wasn’t bleeding! There was no pain! It was like nothing had happened.

“I’m okay Jack!” She wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying, the relief was overwhelming. “I’m okay!” Jack pulled back slightly, his eyes wide, looking her over before he laughed.

“You’re okay!” He exclaimed, the biggest smile she’d ever seen on his face. Then his hands were on her face and his lips on hers. Y/N melted into the kiss, into the sweet moment. It was so gentle, so tender, and so much better than she would have dreamed. She never wanted it to end, never wanted him to pull away, even if he did rest his forehead against hers, noses bumping, as he let out a breathy laugh.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to do that.” His gaze held hers, so overwhelmingly loving. “I love you, Y/N. I am way too lucky to get a chance to say that.”

“We both are,” Y/N said, “Just please, don’t ever do something like that again.”

“I won’t, I promise. It was stupid of me…” Jack pulled back, shaking his head. “I don’t know why helping Pitch Black would ever work…” He paused and his smile vanished. “Pitch! We need to stop him!” He scrambled to his feet, pulling her up with him. “He’s going to go after the Guardians again, after what I did at the Pole, I don’t know how long they’ll be able to hold out.” He snatched up his staff, looking up at the sky, then back to her. “Did North give you a way to get home?” She nodded, “You go save the world, I’ll be fine.” He grinned at her as he caught her around the waist, pulling her close into another kiss. It was almost better than the first. But this time, as she pulled away, she reached up and ruffled his hair, shaking out the black sand. “There, that’s better.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Jack smiled at her one last time and then he was gone. Y/N lingered though, not touching the snow globe that was in her pocket. How had so much happened in so little time? Talking Jack down, dying and then coming back, and finally knowing that Jack loved her? Had it really all happened in less than a day?

Sighing she looked up to the sky feeling the snowflakes fall on her face and melt. Yeah, a lot had happened, meaning she had a lot to be grateful for, she had a chance to be grateful for. She got to tell Jack she loved him, got to see him make the right choice, and find out that he loved her right back. She might not have gotten the chance to say or do any of that. It could have all been opportunities lost with her life. She should have done and said it sooner. Huh, there was another lesson: don’t hesitate because it could all end in a second and the chance to do or say that thing would be gone.

As usual, if you would like to be added to my tag list, please message me.

Tags: @missbeautyandherbeast @akari180 @bluesakurablossom @raphlife @marimo-punk @msmcsmutt @gruffle1 @sweetkitty @dolphincommander @trtlpwr @ilikestuffproductions @jessicarosequinzelfleck @missdawnandherdusk @thebiggestnaturaldisaster @gladiosamicitias @professor-hibiscus @jessicarosequinzelfleck

[raggaraddy]

hello if you want you can ignore this of course but I was wondering what would vampire Hoseok do if he found out someone turned oc? Your fics are amazing by the way!

Bitten to death

A/N: Thank you for your request :) It was fun to write. However I took it less as a reaction, and more of a story prompt. So it's not exactly a conclusive answer to your question. I hope you still like it, though ^-^ 💜💜💜

Summary: You thought you knew everything about Vampires but when you wake up one you learn there are some important things you did not know. And it's only going to let worse once you learn why you were turned.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, maiming, choking, violence, mind control, abduction, yandere themes.

Vampire! Hoseok

It was like a horror story within your already horrific story. Some man you've never met before broke into Hoseok's house when only you were there. While you screamed and fought and instinctively called for Hoseok, he covered you in bites unlike any other you had felt before. Ones that made you suffer as if fire was coursing through your veins. You wish that you could say you were strong enough that your fight had some kind of impact. But in truth, it was over after only a few seconds. And it was in those few seconds that you felt your chest burning and your breath fill your lungs for the last time.

Waking you're met by the stranger hovering above you. Your head aching and your body throbbing in ways you had never experienced before. With a quick glance, you can see everything around you, and that does mean everything. Every single little detail. And the information is overwhelming.

Your mind feels as if it's breaking from everything you're taking in. For as far as you can see there are pallets and long isles of shelves lined up, the contents on every rack crystal clear. You can hear the sound of his shoes on the concrete and the dirt gritting underneath, and how each peak of sound travels and bounces off the farthest point in the warehouse. Even the smells, there are hundreds of them all hitting you at once. A few you know like the fragrance of the treated wood or the oils stain, but others you couldn't guess at. It's as if all of your senses are on high and you have no way to focus them.

Despite your panic, no matter how much you want to run, you can't. Laying on your back with your arms spread out to either side of you and your legs held together, you're being bound by the thinnest most delicate length of silver chain. Though, it's not tied. It's only draped over you, but still holding you as if it were stronger than any steel. Burning you as if it were touched by the sun.

You may have only seen a few newly made vampires before, but you have still been around them enough and know enough about their existence to recognize how and why your body feels wrong. And absurdly you can't help but feel betrayed. This was not supposed to happen to you. It was the only safety you got from belonging to someone who was called The Immortal King, and The Origin of Cruelty. No one was supposed to be foolish enough to steal from him, and most importantly, no one was supposed to be able to hurt you. But now because Hobi didn't keep you safe, he's now lost his blood supply and you've lost your humanity.

The stranger snaps his fingers, the sound bursting in your eardrums making you groan and wince as he repeats it. "Focus your attention on just this one sound. On just the sight of my hand. Feel the air around it." He coaxes you, snapping again. The noise echos dozens of times, ricocheting off every wall. The dull thud of his fingertips hitting his palm only sounding the once though.

Opening your eyes your concentration goes to the hand held above your face as he said, the space around it blurring. On the back of his pointer finger on an otherwise porcelain complexion, you notice a small patch of dry skin just below his knuckle. Clear blue-black defined veins wrapping the back of his palm. He clicks his fingers again and you catch the sound of friction from the way his finger rubs down his thumb, feeling the most minuscule shift in the air created by his motion.

The pinpointed attention helps for a moment, but then you shift your eyes to his face and the explosion of information overpowers you again. His hold comes around your neck keeping your head from turning. The tight pressure on your throat while stifling your movement, nearly makes you smile. There's no airflow to restrict. Your chest isn't heating, your body isn't convulsing trying to breathe. Even in this tense moment, you can't help but find it humorous, thinking how many times over the years had you wished for this exact thing when Hobi had squeezed the air from you.

"Watch my eyes," on his words your vision becomes immersed in them. They're piercing blue. Made up of streaks of white interlacing with a clear sapphire shade, like thousands of threads made out of the purest tropical ocean. A transparent irregular line encircling his pupil, and beyond that every distinct strand blurs together with the others until it reaches the shadowed grey edge that holds the circular shape. Slowly his jet black pupils dilate, stretching and filling his entire iris till every trace of colour is removed. As if transfixed, you're unable to close your own eyes, a flooding of bright light filling your field of view. The strength of it is so intense that the tendons in your sockets ache and your eyes begin to water. Tears rolling down the sides of your face, cresting in your ears.

"Apologies, you are only my second." He confuses you with a vague explanation you did not ask for. The black finally receding into its natural size. Your own eyes scrunching as you try to blink away the soreness. The bizarre occurrence leaving you feeling drained of strength, filling you with anxiety caused by the uncertainty, which is only worsened by the glimmer of triumph in his gaze.

Searching past him to the ceiling your brain is again processing the whole image instead of the sum of its parts. The strain in your head slowly fading, your tight held muscles releasing as everything begins to normalize. You don't know what he did, but it seemed to help.

He doesn't back away, continuing to invade your personal space. Although, the way his fingers are trailing along your skin while you're restrained on the floor is still not the worst thing he has done to you. Seeing as he killed you.

"I had almost given up hope that Jung Hoseok would love." His hand daintily caresses along your neck and up your jaw. Your eyes shutting as his fingertips run over your lips. "I began to fear it might not be something possible for him." He divulges, his touch still aimlessly wandering.

The way he speaks you can feel his vailed anger. Despite his soft words, this is not someone who cares about Hoseok's wellbeing, this is someone who hates him deeply.

"However, you restored my lost faith. And for that, I would like to thank you, Inamorata."

He thinks Hoseok loves you? Is he crazy?. He's possessive of you, that is all. Even in moments of deception or weakness when you had told him that you loved him, he's never said it back with any sincerity. And he has never said it of his own accord.

"Sir," your eyes reopen. "I think you've misunderstood. These," you weakly gesture to the silver, each slight movement searing the links deeper into your flesh. "aren't necessary. We are on the same side. I hate Hobi, more than anyone."

"Truly?" He asks tilting his head to the side. His white hair messily hanging across his forehead.

"Yes," you nod trying to insist your point. "He's kept me locked up for years." you chuckle dryly. Finding it nearly risible that all of this is because this man believes in a fantasy.

"Well then, you are free to rise," he nods resolutely. Plucking the chains out of your melted skin as you grit your teeth. The sound of the sizzle on his own skin baffling you as to how he can even lift them.

Sitting up you gently pull your limbs in, inspecting the blistered and bloody marks. The skin on your wrists already starting to intricately knit itself back together.

"Come here." The stranger calls from a rested place on one of the pallets to your right.

Standing, it is a bit hard to walk with your ankles still cut up but you make it to him decently. Looking around you, you can see the sun streaming in from the high windows that line the whole length of the warehouse. It's enough to light up the otherwise dark space, but with the sheer size of this place, the beams of sunlight do not get close to the two of you in the centre. Still in the middle of the day, it means Hobi can't get to you. Not easily at least. So you're on your own for now.

"Kneel." He instructs plainly. And you follow, lowering onto your knees in front of him. Your only thoughts are of escape. You may be in your first minutes as a vampire, but it should be simple to move quickly. It always seemed like something that came easily to them. "Inamorata, you will call me Master." he declares abruptly.

"Yes, Master." You smile confusedly. Inamorata? Why does he keep calling you that? You're unsure if it's a name or a title, but it's weirding you out.

Your face drops, your heart thumping, realizing what you said. The words you just spoke replaying in your head. You hadn't meant to say that.

Why did you say that?

In fact, why had you knelt? Why were you doing what he said at all?

With a gaped mouth you climb back to your feet. "Look, I think-um." You start not knowing what you want to say.

"Kneel." He orders again more forcefully yet with a knowing, jovial smirk. You shake your head hard, staying upright. You're not going to let him order you around. He has to be kidding.

Your brows furrow, your mouth drops open, and your forehead tightens as your knees bend against your wishes. You drop back into your knelt position. Grunting as your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into your legs, doing your best to resist without success.

Your eyes go wide in shock.

"Good. Now stay there," his voice makes your stomach drop. But your muscles relax, your shoulders dropping and your bottom lowering on your calves. Your body resting in this position.

This is nothing you have ever seen before. It's nothing that you knew was possible. It shouldn't be possible. On top of all the horrible advantages they already have, you're sure you would have known if mind control was one of them!

"How?" You gape, shaking your head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why?" a smile fills his face, "What you have told me is far different than what I had heard." He stands and turns, tapping his foot against the top pallet sending it and its boxed contents flying. He grabs at the bottom slats of wood underneath and drags them closer to you with a horrid screeching on the concrete. Sitting back down he is now much lower and much nearer to you. So much so that his legs spread straight out on either side of you. "See, I had heard stories of the self-proclaimed King of Vampires, who had fallen in love with his human pet. That he kept her close, kept her safe, and drank from her exclusively."

"That's not love." you interrupt with a scoff, "That's imprisonment."

"Well, let us see what the truth is. Tell me honestly, Jung Hoseok's little Inamorata, do you love him?"

"Yes." You're mouth answers before your mind has time to think. "No!" you instantly correct.

The smile grows larger on his face "And what do you feel about him?"

"I'm scared of him. But I care for him." The words are pouring out of you uncontrollably, your face placifying as you speak. "and I miss him when he isn't home."

"And does he love you?"

"I think so, yes." You wish you could make yourself shut up! Your calm tone drops and you bite your jaw trying to take back your own body, growling as you do. "No! He doesn't." you snarl in a rapid shift.

"You think so? Then my last question; Do you want him to love you?" He asks satirically.

"Yes," The word slips out. Being accepted joyously from him. "You can't just make me say anything you want!" you shout. Your body is rigid and stiff as you think to stand with nothing happening.

"I did not," he chuckles, "I made you say what you believe is true."

"No, you didn't! Tha-" his finger raises to his lips shushing you, cutting you off like your voice had disappeared.

That is not how you feel! Hobi may have gotten better as time has gone on, but he is still cruel and malicious and heartless. The only thing this man is doing is speaking to your primal brain. The part of you that gave into its survival instinct and it's the part that you fight every day to repress so that you stay in control. You can't love him, it's not possible.

"Ha, you are far more amenable than my last. I can hardly feel any resistance." He mocks, tapping his temple. "And I recall Jung Hoseok trying to move heaven and earth to break free. Even Mansueto struggled to contain him. But you," he reaches down holding out his hand and you follow his gesture, your body moving independently to accept it. "You are a broken little thing."

You don't understand his ridicule. You're not moving consciously. Your own mind isn't connected to your actions. So you can't fathom how your body is even reacting, let alone how you should be able to fight it.

"Stop." You complain, your voice coming out with far less strength than you had intended. "Look, Hoseok doesn't have my blood anymore, okay. So just leave me out of whatever fucked up feud you have you have going with him."

"No, that is not enough." his tone becomes suddenly harsh. He lifts his hand and you stand as he raises it. "He stole someone precious to me and he must feel the same agony of loss."

"You're wrong." you swallow, working to overcome your nerves, "I'm sorry, but you just are. He doesn't love me. I'm not precious." You try to reason, seeing your pleas falling on an unreceptive man.

"We will see."

The sun has barely set before you hear commotion beyond the metal walls.

You had tried over and over to pry information from this man, to convince him to let you leave. But you were unable to gather so much as a name from him, and clearly, you failed to be let go. After a certain point of ignoring you, he stopped you from speaking altogether. Not allowing you to say a word until he permits it. More than that though, he filled your head with many instructions. Telling you how to behave in anticipation of Hoseok's arrival.

100 meters in front of you the locked doors are ripped off their hinges, a dozen men and women pouring into the warehouse with inhuman speed. But as if time slows down your eyes adjust and you can see them, see their movements with full clarity. Hoseok comes in last and straight down the middle into the open square that you all occupy. And you must admit, you are genuinely happy to see him. Now you just want him to hurry up and get you out of here.

The man steps forward to meet them while you are sat on the stack of pallets behind him. Your only instruction at this time is to sit quietly and wait for him to call you. Hating the feeling of being restrained by your own body.

Watching them all lineup versus a single man, you find it comical how outmatched he is.

Hobi always said that when he got tired of playing with your human body, he was going to turn you. And he was furious if anyone robbed him of even your smallest reactions, so clearly, he was going to be beyond pissed that someone sped up his plan, and took your death away from him.

"That's mine," Hoseok puffs up his chest, looking past the man's shoulder to you. 

The only thing that's confusing you, though, is if this man knows who The Vampire King is, why he didn't expect to be met with hell on earth, and why he didn't prepare better.

"Jung Hoseok, always so impolite. Do you not think you should greet an old friend after so many years?"

"We can talk all you like, Kol," Hoseok snarls, finally giving a name to your killer. "Once I get my property back."

"I think you'll find this is my belonging now." he chuckles in a brief pause. Hoseok's expression darkens, his eyes becoming murderous. The fury around him actually making you shiver. "Do you like the modifications I made? She is much more durable now."

Supposedly, Hobi's already noticed your change, because he doesn't look at you again. Instead, the two men have an intense staredown. All of the vampires on his side looking ready to kill on a word.

"And far more obedient. Come here," Kol calls you, holding his hand out at shoulder height for you to take. Moving automatically, you jump down from the stack of wooden pallets placing your fingers on his palm.

Unable to stand the rage on Hoseok's face you look down, just missing the exact moment he charges. But you see an instant later as he is thrown back like a paper doll into four stories of shelves, his weight bringing the metal, the shelves, and the products down on top of him as the whole structure collapses. His men looking as startled as you to see Hoseok so easily discarded.

Before the toppling construction settles, Kol breaks from your side and an incredible, horrible scene breaks out. His speed is something you can't follow, even now. You only see the trail of destruction when he stops. One after the other, he made his way through half of the vampires, ripping them apart. Literally tearing some in two halves. Decorating the square with blood and innards.

The others are as belated and overwhelmed as you, only just having the sense to react as his blurred image stops. When he advances again, this time he doesn't use his quickness for an advantage and simply ploughs through them. They attack all at once, and still as they grab and strike at him, their forces barely move him. And his response is terrifying.

You can only bear to watch the first one. Kol's fist driving through a woman's chest, the horrid cracking of her ribs as he tears it back out making you want to scream. But his orders have you completely silent. Instead, you close your eyes, sealing your hands over your ears. Trying to block out the violent sickening sounds of his destructive rampage.

There's a last thud before it falls quiet again. Your eyes springing open to see as horrific of a sight as you had imagined. He's dripping in blood. Drenched in it. And Hoseok's people are strewn in every which way. Not a single one having survived.

Sauntering through the sea of dead bodies, he makes his way to the side where Hoseok is unmoved, tossing away the beams and panels as if they were nothing. Grabbing him by the ankle, he drags him from the rubble into the clear space in front of you. The man you once thought of as the most powerful in existence, and his troupe of vampires, was completely demolished in mere seconds of work. And you can only watch on with your body shaking. Your hopes of rescue decimated. Your chest aching with worry, even for Hobi's sake.

"Now that it's a more intimate number of us, should we talk?" Kol releases him, brushing past you as he sits where you had before. His action triggering an instruction he provided earlier, forcing you to follow him and kneel at his feet.

Sitting up, Hoseok rubs the back of his hand against a large gash under his eye. The ferocity not having left his mannerisms. "You disappear for 90 years, and you show up to what, gimmie a blood bath." His laugh falls into a grimace as he stands himself back up.

"I was created in the 13th century and you brought infants to a fight with me. What did you think would happen?" Kol asks scornfully.

"I was hoping they would do a little better," He smirks, shrugging off their deaths. "Okay, that's my bad. But still, that doesn't tell me what you want. Or did you just want to remind me that you're still alive?" He taunts, his sardonic nature returning, "Remind me that you're still pissed and you can kick my ass. Good job. You put on quite a show." he smiles, his tongue running over his fangs as he gestures around at the gruesome display. "But she," he points to you with two fingers, bitterness lacing his next words, "is worth nothing to you."

"Oh, she is worth everything to me," Kol slides forward, his hand brushing down the back of your neck, "because she is worth everything to you."

On those words, you get the most heart-wrenching sight. A pang of insecurity shows up in Hoseok's eyes. Uncertainty and something so close to fear. The smile fading as he looks him up and down.

"I am curious, though, Vampire King, do you think she will detest the Sire bond as greatly as you did?" he punctuates the question, tugging your head back by your hair. "If I treat her as Mansueto treated you, how long do think until she breaks?"

With immense speed, Hoseok splinters one of the wooden crates near him, lunging at Kol, aiming to drive the shard into his heart with a roar. But he's caught before his hand ever plunges forward. Instead, Kol takes the sharp wood and spikes it into Hoseok's stomach. Continuing to dominate him with a solid blow, knocking him off his feet, smacking him into the concrete in front of you. Stepping down, he swings his foot punting Hoseok in the chest hurling him back among the remains of his fallen creations.

You had thought if you ever saw Hobi being handled as roughly as he treated you, that you would enjoy the Karma of it. But seeing him so easily immobilized is making you sick with fear and mostly sadness.

With Kol having stood, you're no longer bound on your knees and you scramble to your feet. You want to run to Hoseok's side but before you have the chance Kol drags you into him, his hand wrapped around your waist, his other crudely brushing the hair from off the side of your face.

"Call out to him. Tell him your every feeling." He hushes the order in your ear.

"Hobi!" you yell, not sure you would have even needed to be compelled to want to shout for him. "Get up, please. I'm scared. I wanna go home!"

"Go to him," Kol releases you and you sprint to his side, hardly able to slow your sudden frantic speed.

Doubled over Hoseok is bleeding profusely. He needs your blood- but you can't do that anymore. And you have no idea what to do. You don't know how to help him or how to get out of here. He's the one that is supposed to keep you safe.

Coming from behind you, Kol bends down shoving you out of the way to lift Hoseok by the throat. "Stop!" you follow their movement, hanging on Kol's arm. "Stop! Please." But you have no effect. Instead, he jerks the wood dagger out making Hobi yell in pain.

"Do you recall what you said as you killed our Sire?" Kol whispers maliciously. "You told me that 'I will get over it'." Releasing him, he lets Hoseok plummet to the floor and you drop with him trying to catch his weight. "In 100 years from now, I'll let you see her again and you can tell me if you were able to take your own advice." he smiles spitefully.

"Hobi," you whine lowly. Brushing his hair from his sweat and blood wet forehead. "I don't want to go with him. Rather the devil you know, right," you softly chuckle, trying to pull his energy back.

Even though you know the both of you have no chance at the moment, you guess you're just looking for an affirmation that he isn't going to let you go and let this other man keep you for the next century.

"Please," you whisper, your waterline filling with tears.

Reaching towards you, Hoseok's hand constricts around your throat, pulling you into him like he has countless times before.

"You're mine," he growls through pained grunts. His anger lessened, distress replacing it. But he gives you the answer he could see you searching for.

"Yes," you nod subtly. Closing your eyes as you lean further into his hold.

"Get up," Kol orders, interrupting you.

Despite his tightening grip, you pull away from Hobi, standing as you were told. The elder vampire taking your arm leads you away through the bodies to the open doorway.

"Say goodbye Jung Hoseok," Kol calls back, leaving him injured and alone, making you wish more than ever that you could pull back. "And do not worry, I'll take very good care of her for you."

[lilevixen]

heyyy, idk if u write bertholdt or are even taking requests, but if u are can i request giving bertholdt an orgasm denial from a f!reader and it’s been like 3 hours that he’s had to hold it? thanks if u can :)

sweet boy

Characters: sub!Bertholdt Hoover x dom!female bodied reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1.9k

Description: Reader teaches Bertholdt a lesson after he gets a bit too touchy with them in front of their friends

•WARNING- 18+ CONTENT: orgasm denial, no-contact orgasm, descriptions of oral sex (male receiving), dacryphilia(ish?)•

“Baby, please, I said I was s-sorry!” Bertholdt whined from across the room for what felt like the millionth time that evening. You casted a look of faux boredom over your shoulder from your small wooden desk, trying your best to remain blasé at the mouth-watering sight of your boyfriend still sat criss-cross applesauce completely bare on the bed. He was so good for you, so obedient; his arms never once left from behind his back for entirety of the time you had him there. How long did you have him there? After you two got back from the dining hall, minutes easily spilled into hours in the smudgy haze of repressed lust you had established. The only indicator of how long Berthodlt had been sitting there for, cock upright and twitching for attention, was how absolutely worn out he looked. Every inch of his deep, tan skin was glittering with sweat, cords of muscle in his thighs and abdomen strained beneath his flesh so severely they looked like they could snap any second, his chest heaved erratically as if he had just run a marathon- this was absolute torture for him, you could tell. You would’ve felt bad, if he hadn’t disobeyed you in the first place.

“Huh? I was reading, sweetie. I didn’t hear you,” a bald-faced lie on your part. Your eyes kept tracking over the same paragraph over and over again without absorbing any of the information in your brain, the sweet pleas of your boyfriend claiming all the space in your mind instead. His lip quivered at your persistence in feigning ignorance of his situation and tears quickly filled his dark eyes.

“P-Please! Can you please t-touch me? I need you so bad I think I might e-explode,” he stammered out, his voice meek but desperate, shameless, so needy and you felt it throb between your legs, adding to the arousal already collecting along your inner thighs. Despite how incredibly turned on you were, you let out a slow sigh hiss past your lips as if you were getting irritated.

“Well, you got to touch me plenty, sweets. In front of everyone, just like I asked you not to,” excitement overtook your annoyance some time ago, but what you brought up was a genuine point of contention. From the very beginning you made it clear you wanted your relationship to be private. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of him or anything, you just hated all the unnecessary attention couples garnered, all the mindless gossip and speculation of who plays what role, the whispers, the stares. And once Bertholdt had gotten comfortable with you, always seeking your touch like a love sick little puppy, you knew this was something that needed to be discussed. He agreed at the time, ‘if it means I get to be with you, I guess it’s okay,’ he said, but as things progressed he would give away your relationship in little ways. At first it was just the way he would look at you (which was only natural given your feeling for each other, you supposed), staring at your lips for a little too long when you spoke, a little twinkle of fondness in his warm eyes. You let this slide, because it was minimal and no one seemed to notice. But slowly, he started doing more and more things that you had to call him out on, resting his head on your shoulder, using his thumb to tenderly swipe crumbs of food off your face, nearly calling you baby- until finally, tonight in the dining hall while having supper with your friends, he practically announced you two were together by kissing your hand when you burnt it on a scalding bowl of soup. Porco was too involved with his food to notice, but you could feel Reiner and Annie’s eyes hovering over you as if you were an alien. Too embarrassed to handle their reactions, you excused yourself to your room and quickly left before they even had a chance to say anything, Bertholdt obviously right on your heels. He tried to embrace you and kiss you and apologize to make it all better, but his penchant for physical affection was what got you in this situation in the first place. So that’s when you decided to give him a little time-out. Even though, your edge was starting to wear down after hearing him whine out for you for so long.

“I know! I-I just don’t like seeing you get hurt! I didn’t think they were looking at us, I’m sorry Y/N!” he choked out, squirming against the air as if that would provide some sort of relief. “I’m s-so hard for you it feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“Oh really? And what do you want me to do about that?” You asked in a snarky tone to mask the unadulterated lust pulsing through you, going back to fake-reading your text book.

“I want you to touch me! I want to feel you, any part of you, until I cum over and over…” you could hear the thought in his voice as he got lost in what he was describing, and you didn’t need to turn around to know he was biting his lip with his head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut and brows knitted. Another hot rush of arousal swirled in deep in your stomach.

“You know I can’t do that, baby,” you said against your own body’s command.

“Y-Yes you can! I promise I’ll be good from now on, I w-won’t hold your hand or kiss you or hug you in front of anyone again! Just please, I need you Y/N,” maybe it was your own excitement, or how fucking good he sounded begging for you like a pitiful little boy, but this finally broke your resolve. It would be cruel to let him stay there like that all night, anyway. You pushed yourself out of your seat and made your way to Berthdolt’s trembling form on the bed. Even you just getting closer to him caused his heavy breathing to pick up pace.

“How do you want me, my sweet boy?” you purred, laying down flat on your stomach before his lanky body so that his dick towered above you like a skyscraper.

“A-Any way,” he looked down at you beneath his dark, fluttering lashes, swiveling his hips in anticipation of your touch. You let out a soft scoff.

“Be specific or I can’t help you~,” you said with a sweet lilt in your voice, harsh words laced with honey. His eyes blew open wide at your threat to leave him a writhing, unfulfilled mess for even longer than you already had.

“Can you take me in your mouth? Please?” A new wave of blush spread across his cheeks as he said this, and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he was.

“There you go, baby,” you giggled. You guided your featherlight fingertips along the slick muscle of his thighs, causing him to tense up immediately, and you could actually see the thrum of his heartbeat racing beneath his skin in faint flits. He was so sensitive by now you didn’t doubt he would explode just like he said before. Your fingers playfully walked along the slope of his legs, working their way inwards, and you teased them to a gradual stop mere inches from where he needed you most. He was panting like a dog at this point, chest rising and falling violently as he looked down at you, jaw slack and eyes cloudy with frustrated tears.

“You’ve been waiting for this, huh?” You dragged your tongue along your lower lip and leaned in close to his pulsating cock so that your breath fanned across his shaft, digging your fingers into the tendons of his inner thigh. He gasped, the shock of you finally gracing him with some sort of stimulation overwhelming his worked-up body, and a throb of pleasure shot through his dick with such alarming intensity that you could see it expand in his veins and swell at the tip. You blinked up at him, a bit startled yourself. He was so close already and you barely even touched him… Maybe you didn’t even need to touch him.

“U-Uhuh!” He nodded frantically, tears now spilling down his flushed face and drool dribbling down his chin; the sight would’ve been sad if it wasn’t so fucking hot. You massaged your fingertips into the thin, sweat-slicked skin on either side of his balls and slowly moved your lips upwards so that they were ghosting the hot, leaking head of his penis. His whole body shuddered underneath you, hips eagerly twitching to meet your lips, but only mildly, timidly, making it clear he was still completely under your control.

“I bet you’ve been imagining this for so long, my lips around your cock, feeling me squeeze you in my throat,” you hummed, your lips just barely brushing his dickhead as you spoke, and to him the vibration of your voice and the warm flutters of your breath against him felt just as sensational as the euphoric grip of your walls after hours of waiting for any kind of attention. This was exactly what you suspected, what you were hoping. He was such a desperate mess that he could get off to just your words and proximity. “Can you feel it? My pretty little mouth drooling around you?”

“A-Ah! Yes!” He cried out, and his stiff cock slapped against his belly eagerly as if he was truly feeling every bit of what you were describing, hell, even you were starting to feel it from his reactions alone, the ache between your legs growing almost painful.

“Does my sweet boy want to cum down my throat?” You kept steady eye contact with him, savoring every bit of watching him crumble before you, intentionally letting your breath pour past your lips in heavy pants, and he bucked into the air with each puff, his abdomen flexed tight and his thighs shuddering.

“Ahaha y-yes please!” He whimpered, the rhythm of his hips gently rising to meet your breath becoming twitchy and unstable, a clear sign that he was on the brink of long-awaited release. A coy smile played at the ends of your lips as you batted your lashed up at him.

“Then cum for me,” and on command, his whole body convulsed under the weight of sweet, sweet climax, at long last, the hugest load you’d ever seen erupting out of him in thick, hot torrents that sprayed right in his face. You were so proud of him, your poor baby, putting up with your little act for hours on end despite yearning for you so immensely that you didn’t even need to touch his cock for him to bust. He just loved you that much and why exactly? You quite honestly didn’t know. You almost felt the need to apologize for treating him so cruelly, but at the end of the day you were trying to teach him a lesson, and based on how he was looking at you, right eye squeezed shut to prevent cum from getting in his eye, body rattling with exhaustion, it was safe to say he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. The least you could do was help him clean up. You got up on your knees and took his clammy face in your hands, gliding your tongue along his salty skin to get rid of all the cum, saliva, tears- whatever fluids were coating his face. When you were done, you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you, my sweet boy.”

||

A/N:

HEYYY LOVELIESSS💓💓 here’s my first official completed request (woohoo)!!! Bertholdt is not usually a character I would accept writing but this request kinda had me GRRRR ya know (thank you for that anon, I truly hope you’ll enjoy this! This was my first time writing orgasm denial too so idk if i did it right NAKWKA)? BUTTT yeah here ya go, bloop ilyyyy

~Bunny

[the-slasher-files]

Affection

INCLUDES MICHAEL 

I have gotten a few different requests for a softer more affectionate side of Michael so I decided to put them together and create this, a longer (almost 2k words) descriptive drabble about showering with Michael. All this talk about getting Michael to shower and what his hygiene is like had me thinking lol... Now this is deeply inspired by @slasherholic and their writing style, of course I made it my own but it is defiantly a nod to them :) Thank you for your asks and requests!.. hope you enjoy 🔪💕

MASTERLIST

There was a sting on your cool soft skin as you stepped into the blazing stream, raining down from the old head above. Through gritted teeth you bared your head back allowing the water to soak you, down your hair, trailing every muscle in your shoulders and back. Burning your flesh with a pleasent tingle from the contrast of temperatures as you had just been outside on a walk, the autumn wind was sharp kissing your face and seeping into your bones. Closing your eyes you calmed completely around the hot water, tension ebbed from your muscles and your jaw; it had been a long day, and you could not have needed this more. 

Steam flowed off your skin and out the top of the curtain like soft clouds, painting the mirror and sweating on the tiles, finally reaching the cracked door and seemingly disappearing into the night. Soft hands ran through your hair pushing away the water along the edges of your face, pooling beneath your feet and draining with quiet gurgles. 

The placid air had suddenly changed as you heard the shower curtain pull along the metal rod, screeching at the force; you did not open your eyes for you knew exactly who it was. The smell of iron, rich dirt and a firm musk coating the air, almost battling with the steam and the fresh smells of your body wash. The curtain superseded it’s own path with the same screech and crinkles, a large, mysterious presence appeared in front of you, out of the steam that seemed to billow around him. 

Opening your eyes you met his; one brown, dark and deep with a slight hint of yellow around the iris, outlined like black ink. The other scarred; a dull shade you could never decide if it was more blue or more grey, it reminded you of a thunderstorm approaching, devouring any bright sky and coating the blue in dark streaks and shadows, while his scar was in the shape of a catastrophic bolt of lighting, forking and brutally tearing through the iris; Much like the shape, a force of nature, leaving destruction in it’s wake.

Michael just watched you with a look you could never place, and sometimes you just didn’t want to know what that look meant, it was a mystery, like him; never solvable, never predictable, dangerous, and so beautiful in the hidden detail all at once. Loving this gaze was a curse and a privilege. You were one of the only people who ever got to meet these forceful eyes, see the detail in them and live. Perhaps that was his affection. 

He stood in front of you naked, watching the water run in a thousand streams down your features. Drippling down the ends of your hair into your rosy nipples, cascading down your stomach breaking into different paths; some glistening your sex while others flowed down your legs, meeting every tendon and mark your lover had made. Your eyes watched his as they surveyed the trails of wetness blanketing your smooth skin, it was like he was almost trying to remember where the water flowed and broke away, almost envious of the streams that got to touch you with such care and tenderness. Michael could never do the same. You both knew that, and you had accepted that long ago.

Towering above you he took an easy step forward, making you step back a little allowing him to have some heat from the water as well. Michael’s deep rich curls were now painted black, sticking to his forehead tracing the scars he wore, and now settling easy on his muscular neck. His eyes closed for a moment as you wondered if he had felt just the same soft pleasure of stepping into the torrid flow. The steam had started to make piece with the man and it swelled off his broad toned shoulders like a smoke stack into the cool air.

Michael's angular jaw eased and his shoulders fell ever so slightly; to the normal person they would never notice such subtleties, but you had become trained to watch for the smallest give aways in his body. It was the only indicators he would give you; dropped shoulder were relaxed and he was comfortable, hardened eyes and a slight twitch in his wrist meant nothing good, but over time you became aware. Sometimes too aware, but you had been molded to his liking. This is what he wanted, this was his artistry, a slight fear constantly in your heart right behind the muscle. This was loving Michael and you accepted it through and through.

The vail of his baroness and tension billowed away with the steam, he was at ease, and he allowed you to see this. Perhaps the shape genuinely trusted you, or maybe it was just him knowing you could never do serious damage to his imposing body. Michael was like a brick wall and no matter how many nights you wailed on him or tried to hurt him blood was never drawn, just your own.

Small hands slowly fell upon his shoulders, every movement he watched carefully, but there was not the usual harness to his stoney eyes. Creeping your fingers into his drenched locks, slow circles and light pressure along the top of his neck made him melt inside; and there it was, the trust, he had closed his eyes accepting the pleasure. Feeling the tough muscles under your fingers ease, you moved your hands along the tendons in his thick neck, watching the water flow along your hands and down into the slight dip of his collar bone, then continued to his broad expansive chest where you settled your hands among the pinkish raised scars from bullets and blades. They looked so small compared to him, lifting effortlessly as the muscles rose and fell with each soft breath. You couldn't help but find a trance in the way the water swept down him as well, each trail seemed more interesting than the last. Michael allowed you to look at his details and touch where you wanted, from his smooth chest to the dips in his abs, and the v in his obliques, washing the water with a slight hue of pink from his last kills. This was more than a privilege at this point, you took extreme pride in these extraordinarily rare moments he allowed. You were the only one who could ever touch the shape the way you did, the way he let you. This is how he made you feel good, this was his love.

Was this all a trick? A sick game he liked to play? Toying with you like a lion would before the kill?

Looking up at the towering figure locking eyes, his hands meticulously found home on your waist and slowly he leaned down, blocking the water from you and he met his lips with yours. Michael had kissed you, tenderly, softly. A foreign place he tried desperately to be comfortable in. You moved your lips cautiously with his, waiting for the large forceful hand to grab your neck, or to be pushed against the freezing tiles with blood running down your skull. Your eyes opened trying to see what he was planning but his eyes were closed, and his brow was furrowed seeking the love he knew he couldn't produce.

Blood ran cold in your veins as he pulled away, eyeing you up with a strange softness you never thought was possible. The kiss left you breathless, and your mouth was slightly agape as he took one of his large hands placing it under your jaw, cupping your chin and running a thick thumb along your sweet lips. Carefully you placed your shaky hands on either side of his sharp jaw, holding him as he let his head slack slightly and rest tenderly. It dawned on you that you were practically holding a predator in your hands, the claws were hidden but always still beneath the surface, your heart raced at the thought and you tried to slow your breath as much as you could, not wanting to start the predators chase. In this moment you saw a glint of what looked like pain in Michael’s eyes, if he was even capable of feeling such an emotion, he knew what you thought of him. Tonight all he wanted was to feel like a normal man, he wanted to give you his affection and nothing more, but the task was nearing impossible for him.

Michael started to run his massive hands around even inch of you, gingerly drawing shapes into and around your chest, rough fingers dipped between your breasts and following the water, luring him downward along your stomach, tracing every mark he made on you; from the bruises on your hips to the bites on your thighs, to the long jagged scar he had made on your stomach where his beloved blade sank a little too far into the skin. You were his and that much was clear. 

The shape allowed you to pull his face closer to yours as you placed another kiss to his chapped lips, taking it in more and trusting him with you enough to give into the rare pleasure of the gentleness. Your body so starved of it that when the opportunity presented itself you hesitated deeply. Michael had taught you that a person could be deprived of such needs for a long time and when he gave it to you, you put it in question.

Was it all you ever thought you needed? Was it just an illusion your head fueled? 

Stained crimson fingers that seemed to never be fully clean moved to the back of neck, fingers circling and moving slowly into your hair, Michael mirrored your movements that had put him at ease some minutes ago. His rosy lips left yours and trailed along your jaw, down your neck pausing to feel your pulse, and nipping at the tender flesh of your collar bone, pulling drawn out moans of pleasure you delicately webbed your fingers into his hair. Every touch, lick and nip put you into a blissful haze, forgetting where you were and blocking out the sound of the water spitting and gurgling, Michael was the only thing that mattered in this moment, and the world was lost. 

His wandering hands had now moved to your hips again, his lips were gone and Michael had you turn around, not to look at him any longer, just hot rhythmic breathing leaving your skin numb. Slowly his gentleness was failing him, urges and twisted thoughts were beginning to hound him like a pack of coyotes howling from the ridgeline hidden in the shadows. Your euphoria coating too thickly to see this, you just stood in the current, eyes closed and body relaxed, there were a few more strokes of your back muscles and stolen kisses to your neck before he was gone.  

Michael had left silently like the shape he was. Gone into the night that called him. Where he belonged. Free. A tortuous beauty that made you ache. The rare moment of affection was gone, burned away by the steam and lost hopes. Michael was just a force, a shadow that could and will never be tamed. Haunting people and leaving destruction behind. Just like his knife the pain you felt of his absence was sharp and cold amongst the scolding flow.

This was loving him. This was his affection.  

[loliwrites]

Inspired by an event that happened to me. Except I didn’t have a Skarsgård to come to my rescue.

•   •   •

Bed was calling her sore muscles. From achilles tendon to trapezius, Addi’s body was one aching mess. That discounted the raging headache she’d been suffering with for the better half of the day. A day which, for all intents and purposes, had come from hell. One problem after another, one fire to put out after another... If there had been a day to best exemplify Murphy’s Law, it was this day. Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. Somehow she survived, as she always did, but it had taken its toll.

Now she regretted living in such an old (yet classic) building. The elevator, which appeared to be the original of the apartment building, gave her the heebie jeebies at midday, let alone at eleven o’clock at night. The type of elevator she could imagine being in a rundown version of the Overlook Hotel. She almost expected a psychotic Jack Nicholson to be creeping in the corners. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

As such, she opted for the stairs. No easy feat for angry muscles climbing five floors. She sighed at each landing, taking a second to look at the next, daunting trek ahead of her, and then willed herself up them. Bed would soon have to wait. No sooner had Addi dug her keys out of her purse when she looked up at her front door and found it ajar. She paused, squeaked out a fearful murmur, and clutched her hand over her mouth. No noises were coming from inside and she tried to peek through the crack in the threshold to see if anyone was lurking about. There wasn’t any movement. Addi tiptoed backward before she turned and ran away, full tilt, fishing her cell phone out of her pocket. The first pass through her contacts left her feeling completely isolated. Surely her friends wouldn't be able to protect her from an intruder anymore than she could. The second pass through them, and she paused... eventually clicking on the contact and holding the phone to her ear as it rang and rang.

“Hey, hi. I think someone broke into my apartment.” She must’ve blacked out on the run downstairs because she pushed through the building’s main door and stepped out into the night without remembering her path. “I don’t know,” she held back a whine and sat on the stoop, clutching her arms around herself. “Okay...” The line went dead.

Addi looked at her phone, then up at the building. She could see that the light in her bedroom was on and didn’t recall it being that way when she left that morning. What a way to end the day. Looking skyward, she bargained with God. “I was just kidding about the psycho Jack Nicholson.” Truthfully she didn’t know what it would matter. If someone was still in her apartment, it wouldn’t have mattered who she called. It’d all be bad. And knowing that, she lifted her phone again to call back. There wasn’t a clue as to how much time had passed. She’d been too freaked out to really note the time. A thought that passed through her mind like a whisper in the wind. But as soon as she unlocked her phone, a car screeched up and came to a stop by the curb in front of her.

How fast had he been driving?

Alex emerged from his car and ran around it. He helped Addi up from the stoop. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, feeling the familiar sting of tears in her eyes, but she fought them back, unwilling to completely breakdown in front of him. But he must’ve seen a trace of them because he frowned and wrapped his arms around her shoulders to pull her into his chest for a tight hug.

“What if they’re still in there?” She sniffled, voice muffled being pressed against him.

“Then I’m gonna get ‘em out,” he shook her gently and urged her back inside. “I’m here now, it’s all going to be fine,”

Alex began to move as if he had been to her apartment hundreds of times before, when in fact, it had only been a couple times. He ascended the stairs with Addi right behind him.

“Wait!” She called and stopped. Alex turned back to look at her. “If you’re gonna get shot, move out of the way so I get shot instead,”

“Slugger? What?” He shook his head and started to climb again, but Addi reached forward and tugged on his hand.

“You have to be on camera,” she cried out. “They can continue without me. They can’t continue without you!”

Alex yanked his hand back, “no one’s getting shot. Least of all, you.” He started up the steps again, mumbling something in Swedish that Addi couldn’t hear -- let alone understand even if she could hear it.

Back on the fifth floor, Addi was more of a wreck than she had been before. Fear and nervousness cycled through her bloodstream. She reached for Alex’s hand as they approached the open door, pleased he didn’t instantly pull it away. But he did pause and glance back at her.

“Stay behind me, okay?”

“Alex--” she whined.

“Stay behind me,” he repeated, not satisfied until she nodded. He trusted her to listen to him. 

But that was the moment he pulled his hand away; which Addi didn’t take offensively. She wanted him to have his hands free lest he get into fisticuffs with the intruder. As he crept forward towards her front door, she placed her hand on his lower back, gripping at the hem of his t-shirt. If he noticed, he didn’t make that obvious to her, and he nudged open the door a little wider and looked around it. The place was small, they wouldn't have too many rooms to search, but Alex tiptoed in with the utmost caution. The living room looked untouched. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Maybe a few books left out on the coffee table instead of the shelf, but Alex felt that was more Addi’s doing than an intruder. A couple more steps in and he peeked around the corner into the kitchen. No one.

Alex looked back into the living room and figured as long as he was here, he’d be thorough. He reached back around him, curling his arm around Addi to keep her close to him as walked over to the closet in the corner. A quick tug and he found there to be nothing in there except a vacuum, and some heavier winter clothes that surely didn’t get much use. The next endeavor was the bathroom, and perhaps the scariest room for Addi. She imagined a knife-wielding burglar to be hiding in her shower, just waiting for the moment an unsuspecting person pulled the curtain back. But Alex didn’t whip it to the side like how she’d seen in the movies. He curled his fingers around the vinyl and peeked around it, satisfied at the emptiness he found. 

Then lastly, her bedroom. Addi peered around his body; to find a room that looked like how she left it. However, she still clung to Alex as he approached her closet and slid open the mirrored door. She knew it was unlikely an intruder would be able to hide in there -- it being stuffed full of clothes and shoes. He too came to that realization when he saw it. And at that, she felt him release a deep breath in the same moment he was turning to face her. 

“Does anything look like it’s missing?” He set his hands on his waist.

She walked to her dresser and pulled open the jewelry box. There weren’t too many items to begin with and they all looked to be there. “I don’t think so,” then sparking an idea, she went to her closet and dug through the pocket of an old jacket that looked like it had to have been passed down through her family for generations. The envelope she stashed with money was still tucked away. “It could be like the Manson murders,”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows together with a confused smile.

“They would break in to people’s houses and rearrange the furniture just to make them paranoid,”

“Is your furniture rearranged?”

Addi looked around her room -- then thought back to her living room -- and shook her head. It made him giggle and he stepped forward to take her into another hug.

“I think you’re alright here, kid.” He rubbed her back and looked down at her, feeling her gaze on him.

She pouted softly, keeping her arms around his waist. “Sorry to make you come out for nothing,”

“Don’t apologize,” he squeezed her arms and smiled. “I’m happy you called instead of just walking in here. That was the smart thing to do,” 

He knew he could put her at ease if she understood that she had made the smart decision. Even as he released her, he could see she was still a little on edge. And understandably so. She’d just spent upwards of a half hour thinking someone had broken into her apartment. Having found her front door unlocked and open, maybe she still thought that.

“Can you stay here tonight?” She murmured softly, looking up at him with big doe eyes. He didn’t respond right away, just continued to stare at her as if he was now going through all the possibilities. Addi cursed herself for putting him in a spot, so she shook her head and waved her hand. “Nevermind, I--”

“Sure,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Sure. I’ll stay,” he repeated as he let that sink in for her. “I can set up the couch... make sure no one comes back tonight.” 

She let out a breath and thunked her head forward against his chest. “Thanks, Alex, I owe you one.”

He shook his head, “no you don’t.”

Addi glared at him and stepped aside for the linen closet in the short hallway. She pulled out a pillow, a sheet, and another heavier blanket and carried them to the couch, ready for Alex. He followed her into the living room, smiling with his hands pushed into his front pockets.

“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Coffee pot’s set to brew at six so you can grab a cup before your call time,” she looked up at him and pressed a smile. “Thank you, Alex. Again.”

He grinned as she approached and took him into an embrace. He reciprocated, resting his head down on top of hers, “it’s not a problem, kid.”

She stayed like that. Maybe a second too long, finally pulling away and giving him one more sheepish smile before she disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She'd find out the following day that a friend had stopped by in an emergency to use her bathroom. She had been running late for a job interview and hadn’t been cautious enough to close and lock the door behind her. Alex smiled when Addi told him the story and insisted that he was happy to have stayed the night -- even if it meant curling his body on the rather small couch.

[thechronicpaingame]

Working on from my previous post - here's a long update of life at the moment.

So when I started with all the stomach problems last year it seems to have just entirely gone downhill from there. So towards the end of 2020 to now, and I'm still worsening (and now it's barely even stomach related).

I can't remember if I posted about it (I think I did) but was hospitalised with my asthma end of last year for a week. The same night I caught whatever virus set my asthma off, my knees started being waaaaay more painful and swelling. They are worsening still and no one has done a scan. Consultant took two looks at me said it was tendons and I should (and I QUOTE) "live healthy and go to the gym" which of course is super useful as someone who gets PEM and also tends to super injure themselves in basic situations (broke my foot simply walking down stairs). A physio then said it was runners knee, which also makes zero sense to me. Also on top of that, the fatigue is worse than ever, pain is so bad I've had to go back on to my old tramadol dosage (which in early 2020 I actually withdrew from completely and came off entirely - waste of time). I have been in tears with the pain, debating going to a&e, sleep is awful.

Then I started with new symptoms that I cannot explain. Eyes shaking, loss of balance, feeling as if I want to fall backwards. I went to get my eyes checked and they said the muscles were weak, and changed my prescription. This hasn't helped. Not to mention still with the loss of sensation in both legs, the sensation of running water in my knee. And whilst I've had terrible cramps in my calves and knees forever, these have now gone to my hands, so bad they bruise immediately (same with my calves). Just the other day I had this intense pressure in my jaw / mouth. I feel like my whole body is weak, it hurts to chew food, it hurts to use a fork. And basically it's a mess of old and new symptoms, worsening and worsening.

I'm now being referred to neurology and I'm honestly more terrified that they'll not find anything than them finding something. I actually couldn't care less at this point what diagnosis I get, I just need something to change. This really doesn't feel like fibro, doesn't feel like my other autoimmune conditions either. It feels new, it feels insidious in how it's come on (but realistically the newest symptoms only really started this year) the older symptoms have been around forever, they're just worse.

I barely go out, and when I do I can't enjoy it because I feel so terrible, and it takes me almost a week to recover (and when I say recover I just mean go back to baseline which already sucks).

So that's where I am right now. A positive is it seems like (and it was me that made the possible connection) that it was actually the codeine that caused most of my stomach issues so when I went back to tramadol I stopped the codeine entirely. My IBS is terrible daily but the swelling and vomiting seems to have subsided (for now).

Long post - mostly rambling.

[slashersins-abandoned]

anonymous asked :

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

brahms

you knew brahms was a complicated man . prone to kindness , clinging to you constantly , begging for attention . prone to tantrums , destroying everything in his path , making the walls shake with his fury . prone to love , petting your hair , your face , whispering desperate words of affection . you never wanted to admit it , unable to think too long about how brahms was also very prone to violence . you were lucky , you’d heard of what happened in the heelshire manner before moving in . about a man being slaughtered , a nanny attacked and chased around like cat and mouse with the cat having an unfair advantage . you knew there were murders reported when people broke in . you knew brahms was capable . but you wer lucky . you never experienced it first hand .

the man must have been drunk . must have thought no one lived in the house despite the fact you put effort into making it look lived in . he must have been confused . that’s what you wanted to think when you heard the kitchen door be busted in . you made a mistake of not running to hide . no , you went to see what happened . it seemed you were just as unexpected as the intruder was , because he paused before taking after you like a bat out of hell , yelling and waving a wrench in his hand . you’d screamed , and brahms had nearly fallen as he clamored through the walls to seek you out .

brahms wasted no time in coming out of the walls , taking in the scene of some grimy intruder about to bring a wrench down on your prone form . he saw red . chest heaving and blood thundering in his ears as he ripped the wrench out of the man’s hands and used it to beat against the man’s skull . the intruder tried to put up a fight , he even tried reaching out to you for help , but you were too wide eyed , watching as brahms violently ended this man’s life for breaking into his home , for hurting his significant other . there was no mercy . and when brahms was sure that the man had breathed his last , he looked to you . and you saw no remorse in his eyes for the kill .

the adrenaline coursing through him had him forgetting your distaste for gore and violence . he just needed to know you were okay . he thought you might flinch , might cry . but instead you took his outstretched hands and bought them to your face . kissing over his knuckles as tears finally fell . brahms pulled you into a tight embrace , hushing you as you spilled out your thank yous , i love yous , i was so scared . he’d dispose of the mess later . right now you needed him . and he needed you .

michael

michael has never killed in front of you . there’s never been a reason to . you’re always at home , at work , at school , somewhere he isn’t when he’s destroying and ending lives . the most you see is a bloody knife in your kitchen and filthy clothes in the hamper . you don’t like it , hating to think about those who lost their life to michael’s blood lust . you know you’re lucky to have never seen it . to only deal with the smallest of traces of the destruction he leaves .

it’s a nice evening for a walk . work was running late , and so you stayed extra . and after such a long shift , you were excited to get home and hopefully find michael sitting on the couch . maybe he’d tolerate you leaning on him as you forget the stresses of the day . you don’t notice you’re being followed . maybe it’s due to you being lost in your own little world . maybe it’s due to the fact you’ve gotten used to the feeling of being watched by micahel that it just slips your mind completely . but you do feel the head of a gun shove into your back as a hand wraps around your mouth .

there’s a demand that you give up your money or else . the gun digging in your back painfully as gloved hands squeeze your jaw hard . another demand , a near desperate shout for your any and everything in your bag . and then you feel the man press against you , a weak strained noise leaving him , something thick and warm dripping down the back of your neck and over your shoulders . the weight of the man get’s heavy , and then he falls to the side , gargling on his own blood , twitching and wide eyed as he stairs at the sky .

you turn so fast you almost fall , taking a few steps back only to meet michael’s gaze . a kitchen knife in his hand , wet and dripping crimson . he watches you for a moment . daring you to run . and you do , but not away from him , to him . he lets you wrap your arms around him chest , sobbing as you cling to him . michael allows the contact until you even your breathing . you want to stay and cling to him , fingers in a white knuckle grip on his jumpsuit . you just saw him kill and yet you still stay . because you love him . because despite everything , you know at least some small part of him might love you to .

jesse

he has enemies . he knows this . he’s rich and powerful and a murderer . he’s bound to have a few outside forces trying to come down on him . jesse had never thought , however , that this enemy would come from within . preston was a wanna be . he’d been trying to frame himself as the new , better chromeskull . he’d been added to jesse’s shit list the moment the man found out , making the other rush off into hiding and prepare for the inevitable . and preston … preston thought he was smart . thought he could make jesse suffer . he thought he could take you away from him . preston had never been so wrong .

he’d taken you . taken you with threats to torture you . the fury inside of jesse was untamed . preston thought he was so smart , but jesse was smarter . he found the little hide away without any difficulty . always sloppy and so easy to track . preston was pathetic . and jesse would be doing the world a fucking favor by ending his life .

he’d never wanted to drag you into this world . he wanted you free from it . but here you were , tapped to a chair , tears streaming down your face . preston was smug as he watched you , not noticing the gleam of chrome behind him . not realizing that jesse was here , close . he didn’t notice until jesse squatted down and cut through his Achilles tendon in one deep slash . the larger man was quick to disarm preston , using the knife he’d been holding to stab through his hand with so much force it settled into the floor . jesse hand’t wanted you to see this side of him . but it open for you . jesse’s heart set on one thing and one thing only . dismembering and torturing this betrayer of trust and kidnapper of his love . it slow and agonizing , and you had to close your eyes and look away , unable to take the scene . but when the screaming stopped you looked back , seeing the way jesse’s broad shoulders shook and his head titled back .

you made a noise , and it drew his attention . he was on you in and instant . cutting you free and tugging at tap , even if it hurt , he wanted it off of you . before he could sign anything you were tugging him in , pushing his chrome mask off his face and kissing him , asking if he was okay , telling him how worried you were about him . he couldn’t help but bring you in close , bloodstained , gloved hands ridding up your shirt . you’d seen him at his truest , and yet you worried for him instead of yourself . he couldn’t ever let you go now .

thomas

the meat had got out . high on adrenaline and fear , the girl had somehow used her bloody wrists to wiggle out of her restraints . thomas has roared with fury when he saw her missing . grabbing his chainsaw as he quickly stomped upstairs . he needed to find and end them before they had a chance to retaliate against his family .

he was panting , looking for blood trails to lead him in the right direction when he heard you scream . his heart stopped for half a second as fear and rage flooded him . they had you . they would hurt you , take you away . he couldn’t lose you . he could’t .

the woman was clawing at you , sobbing as she dug her jagged nails into your skin , you tried to crawl away , tried to push her off , panic flooding you . soon her begs became screeches of betrayal as she realized you were one of those monsters who had killed her friends . her hands balled into fists and she raised them , bringing them down on you were she could . she didn’t get more than two hits in before tommy brought the chainsaw down on her , tearing into her back and through her spine , splattering the both of you in blood .

thomas kicked away the corpse , dropping the chainsaw as he looked down at you . fear in his eyes as he panted . he wanted to reach out , to hold you . but how could he ? you saw him kill . you would think he was a monster . and he deserved it for not tying the meat up tighter . for not just killing the meat right off the bat .

you can only look up at thomas , trying to calm your breathing .the fear and self hate in his eyes . the utter loneliness  … you’re shaky on your feet , walking towards him . taking his hands in yours and kissing over his palms . he can’t help the sob that falls from his lips as he presses his forehead to your shoulder . and you can’t help that you press his hands over your heart , showing him you’re okay . it’s okay . every things okay .

billy & stu

the boys are possessive and protective . they don’t like when people try to step in on their territory . it’s not you they don’t trust . it’s them . and there is only so much they can take before they snap . so it’s no surprise that they do . they don’t have their gear . but they do have a pick pocketed pocket knife and rage , and that will just have to do the trick . they don’t have time plan , they only have time to act . because that drunken bastard hasn’t left you alone all night , and he decided it would be find to just fucking grab at you despite you telling him to stop .

they gang up on you , putting themselves between you and the drunken bitch fuck who was trying to grind on you . they don’t want you to see , one of them backing you up , while the other all but guts the bastard in a swift motion , careful not to get blood on them . it happens so fast , the screaming , the boys acting shocked , the sudden need to rush outside , to leave the bar and sneak away . stu blocks you from view , billy leading the three of you to a gas station . with and outdoor bathroom .

they shove you in , billy washing the blood off his hands and trying to clean out the sink the best he can . stu trying to keep you from looking , but it’s too late . you can put it all together . and you’re wide eyed as you look between your boys . the looks in there eyes show you that there is a secret they’ve been hiding . something dark , something they’re scared of you finding out . and as you watch their faces everything falls into place .

this isn’t how they wanted you to find out . they didn’t want you to find out . even if they both knew that with time you would . and here in a shitty public bathroom their secret became exposed . they wait for your response . teetering on the edge of fear and rejection . when you take their hands in your own . raising them to your cheeks and give them that soft smile , they feel relieved . and you’re next words , accepting and concerned for them have them both laughing and pulling you in for kisses . just stay safe , for me .

[slashersins]

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

mmmm somft reader with their murder men in a somft moment ! ! ! 

Hii! I love your writing so much 🥰 I was wondering if you could write something for Brahms Mikey Jesse & Thomas (and maybe poly!ghostface if you feel like?) when their pacifist soft s/o who they never kill in front of kisses their hands after they kill to protect her? I need some fluff in my life . Thank you!!

brahms

you knew brahms was a complicated man . prone to kindness , clinging to you constantly , begging for attention . prone to tantrums , destroying everything in his path , making the walls shake with his fury . prone to love , petting your hair , your face , whispering desperate words of affection . you never wanted to admit it , unable to think too long about how brahms was also very prone to violence . you were lucky , you’d heard of what happened in the heelshire manner before moving in . about a man being slaughtered , a nanny attacked and chased around like cat and mouse with the cat having an unfair advantage . you knew there were murders reported when people broke in . you knew brahms was capable . but you wer lucky . you never experienced it first hand . 

the man must have been drunk . must have thought no one lived in the house despite the fact you put effort into making it look lived in . he must have been confused . that’s what you wanted to think when you heard the kitchen door be busted in . you made a mistake of not running to hide . no , you went to see what happened . it seemed you were just as unexpected as the intruder was , because he paused before taking after you like a bat out of hell , yelling and waving a wrench in his hand . you’d screamed , and brahms had nearly fallen as he clamored through the walls to seek you out . 

brahms wasted no time in coming out of the walls , taking in the scene of some grimy intruder about to bring a wrench down on your prone form . he saw red . chest heaving and blood thundering in his ears as he ripped the wrench out of the man’s hands and used it to beat against the man’s skull . the intruder tried to put up a fight , he even tried reaching out to you for help , but you were too wide eyed , watching as brahms violently ended this man’s life for breaking into his home , for hurting his significant other . there was no mercy . and when brahms was sure that the man had breathed his last , he looked to you . and you saw no remorse in his eyes for the kill . 

the adrenaline coursing through him had him forgetting your distaste for gore and violence . he just needed to know you were okay . he thought you might flinch , might cry . but instead you took his outstretched hands and bought them to your face . kissing over his knuckles as tears finally fell . brahms pulled you into a tight embrace , hushing you as you spilled out your thank yous , i love yous , i was so scared . he’d dispose of the mess later . right now you needed him . and he needed you . 

michael

michael has never killed in front of you . there’s never been a reason to . you’re always at home , at work , at school , somewhere he isn’t when he’s destroying and ending lives . the most you see is a bloody knife in your kitchen and filthy clothes in the hamper . you don’t like it , hating to think about those who lost their life to michael’s blood lust . you know you’re lucky to have never seen it . to only deal with the smallest of traces of the destruction he leaves . 

it’s a nice evening for a walk . work was running late , and so you stayed extra . and after such a long shift , you were excited to get home and hopefully find michael sitting on the couch . maybe he’d tolerate you leaning on him as you forget the stresses of the day . you don’t notice you’re being followed . maybe it’s due to you being lost in your own little world . maybe it’s due to the fact you’ve gotten used to the feeling of being watched by micahel that it just slips your mind completely . but you do feel the head of a gun shove into your back as a hand wraps around your mouth . 

there’s a demand that you give up your money or else . the gun digging in your back painfully as gloved hands squeeze your jaw hard . another demand , a near desperate shout for your any and everything in your bag . and then you feel the man press against you , a weak strained noise leaving him , something thick and warm dripping down the back of your neck and over your shoulders . the weight of the man get’s heavy , and then he falls to the side , gargling on his own blood , twitching and wide eyed as he stairs at the sky .

you turn so fast you almost fall , taking a few steps back only to meet michael’s gaze . a kitchen knife in his hand , wet and dripping crimson . he watches you for a moment . daring you to run . and you do , but not away from him , to him . he lets you wrap your arms around him chest , sobbing as you cling to him . michael allows the contact until you even your breathing . you want to stay and cling to him , fingers in a white knuckle grip on his jumpsuit . you just saw him kill and yet you still stay . because you love him . because despite everything , you know at least some small part of him might love you to . 

jesse

he has enemies . he knows this . he’s rich and powerful and a murderer . he’s bound to have a few outside forces trying to come down on him . jesse had never thought , however , that this enemy would come from within . preston was a wanna be . he’d been trying to frame himself as the new , better chromeskull . he’d been added to jesse’s shit list the moment the man found out , making the other rush off into hiding and prepare for the inevitable . and preston . . . preston thought he was smart . thought he could make jesse suffer . he thought he could take you away from him . preston had never been so wrong . 

he’d taken you . taken you with threats to torture you . the fury inside of jesse was untamed . preston thought he was so smart , but jesse was smarter . he found the little hide away without any difficulty . always sloppy and so easy to track . preston was pathetic . and jesse would be doing the world a fucking favor by ending his life . 

he’d never wanted to drag you into this world . he wanted you free from it . but here you were , tapped to a chair , tears streaming down your face . preston was smug as he watched you , not noticing the gleam of chrome behind him . not realizing that jesse was here , close . he didn’t notice until jesse squatted down and cut through his Achilles tendon in one deep slash . the larger man was quick to disarm preston , using the knife he’d been holding to stab through his hand with so much force it settled into the floor . jesse hand’t wanted you to see this side of him . but it open for you . jesse’s heart set on one thing and one thing only . dismembering and torturing this betrayer of trust and kidnapper of his love . it slow and agonizing , and you had to close your eyes and look away , unable to take the scene . but when the screaming stopped you looked back , seeing the way jesse’s broad shoulders shook and his head titled back . 

you made a noise , and it drew his attention . he was on you in and instant . cutting you free and tugging at tap , even if it hurt , he wanted it off of you . before he could sign anything you were tugging him in , pushing his chrome mask off his face and kissing him , asking if he was okay , telling him how worried you were about him . he couldn’t help but bring you in close , bloodstained , gloved hands ridding up your shirt . you’d seen him at his truest , and yet you worried for him instead of yourself . he couldn’t ever let you go now .

thomas

the meat had got out . high on adrenaline and fear , the girl had somehow used her bloody wrists to wiggle out of her restraints . thomas has roared with fury when he saw her missing . grabbing his chainsaw as he quickly stomped upstairs . he needed to find and end them before they had a chance to retaliate against his family . 

he was panting , looking for blood trails to lead him in the right direction when he heard you scream . his heart stopped for half a second as fear and rage flooded him . they had you . they would hurt you , take you away . he couldn’t lose you . he could’t . 

the woman was clawing at you , sobbing as she dug her jagged nails into your skin , you tried to crawl away , tried to push her off , panic flooding you . soon her begs became screeches of betrayal as she realized you were one of those monsters who had killed her friends . her hands balled into fists and she raised them , bringing them down on you were she could . she didn’t get more than two hits in before tommy brought the chainsaw down on her , tearing into her back and through her spine , splattering the both of you in blood . 

thomas kicked away the corpse , dropping the chainsaw as he looked down at you . fear in his eyes as he panted . he wanted to reach out , to hold you . but how could he ? you saw him kill . you would think he was a monster . and he deserved it for not tying the meat up tighter . for not just killing the meat right off the bat . 

you can only look up at thomas , trying to calm your breathing .the fear and self hate in his eyes . the utter loneliness  . . . you’re shaky on your feet , walking towards him . taking his hands in yours and kissing over his palms . he can’t help the sob that falls from his lips as he presses his forehead to your shoulder . and you can’t help that you press his hands over your heart , showing him you’re okay . it’s okay . every things okay . 

billy & stu

the boys are possessive and protective . they don’t like when people try to step in on their territory . it’s not you they don’t trust . it’s them . and there is only so much they can take before they snap . so it’s no surprise that they do . they don’t have their gear . but they do have a pick pocketed pocket knife and rage , and that will just have to do the trick . they don’t have time plan , they only have time to act . because that drunken bastard hasn’t left you alone all night , and he decided it would be find to just fucking grab at you despite you telling him to stop . 

they gang up on you , putting themselves between you and the drunken bitch fuck who was trying to grind on you . they don’t want you to see , one of them backing you up , while the other all but guts the bastard in a swift motion , careful not to get blood on them . it happens so fast , the screaming , the boys acting shocked , the sudden need to rush outside , to leave the bar and sneak away . stu blocks you from view , billy leading the three of you to a gas station . with and outdoor bathroom . 

they shove you in , billy washing the blood off his hands and trying to clean out the sink the best he can . stu trying to keep you from looking , but it’s too late . you can put it all together . and you’re wide eyed as you look between your boys . the looks in there eyes show you that there is a secret they’ve been hiding . something dark , something they’re scared of you finding out . and as you watch their faces everything falls into place . 

this isn’t how they wanted you to find out . they didn’t want you to find out . even if they both knew that with time you would . and here in a shitty public bathroom their secret became exposed . they wait for your response . teetering on the edge of fear and rejection . when you take their hands in your own . raising them to your cheeks and give them that soft smile , they feel relieved . and you’re next words , accepting and concerned for them have them both laughing and pulling you in for kisses . just stay safe , for me .

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 8

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 3,734

Warnings: none

A/N: If this chapter had a name it would be “me, you, and steve’. Also I know how infuriating they are, so oblivious and dumb but isn’t it the point of pining ;) Thanks for your patience!

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

Bucky’s cab pulled over to the curb in front of his building. He tugged on the lapels of his coat, pulling it tighter around him, and braced himself for the blast of cold air waiting for him on the other side.

He hated the cold, hated winter. It reminded him of the day he lost his arm, alone on that godforsaken mountain until Steve found him. But he could deal with the cold if it meant he’d find you on the other side of that door.

He knew you were home, you had texted him about an hour ago telling him that you had a surprise for him. It had made him smile. He’d hurried home, desperate to see you even though he’d seen you that morning.

He had it bad.

He’d been restless since the gala, unable to sleep without dreaming of you, your velvet dress in a heap on his bedroom floor, your scent lingering on his bed sheets. He would wake up bathed in sweat, on the edge of coming.

He would deal with it with an ice cold shower.

Bucky had accepted the fact that his feelings for you weren’t as innocent as they once were. He had always thought you were strong, full of life and a little awkward, but lately he’d been wanting to kiss you, touch you, feel your warmth against him.

He wanted it so badly it hurt.

He wouldn’t say he loved you. He certainly felt something for you but love was something foreign to him. Sometimes he wondered if his feelings were even real. He’d gone from living an extremely solitary life to spending every single day with you. It could have easily been a product of his loneliness and your soft spoken demeanour.

He had stopped counting the number of times he’d almost kissed you on the lips. The urge was always there, eating away at him, but he always caught himself at the last moment, his lips landing on your forehead, your cheek or your temple instead.  

“I’m home,” he shouted, closing the door behind him. He bent to untie his shoes and kicked them off while he unzipped his coat. “What’s the big surprise? Is it something we can eat?”

He hung his coat next to yours on the hook and walked down the short corridor that led to the kitchen. As he walked, he became suspicious of the silence that hung in the air. Slowly he peeked into the kitchen and found you in the company of someone he thought he’d never see again.

“Steve?”

“Not edible, sorry, Buck.”

Bucky’s face broke out into an instant smile, ear to ear and ecstatic. “Fuckin’ hell, Rogers, you look like a yeti.”

Steve barked out a laugh as he stepped forward and hugged him. He wrapped both his arms around Bucky, almost lifting him off the ground despite knowing how uncomfortable hugs made him feel. Chuckling, Bucky returned his hug with one arm; the only kind of hug he could give.

“I’m happy to see you.” Steve pulled back and held him at arm's length.

Bucky looked over Steve’s shoulder at you who were standing behind the kitchen counter, grinning at them. “Is that my surprise?” You nodded. “Ugh, I was kind of hoping for pizza honestly.”

“Asshole.”

“I’m joking, man.”

Steve returned to his seat and Bucky followed. You grabbed a mug from the cupboard and fixed Bucky a cup of coffee. He gave you a grateful smile.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with this punk on your own,” Bucky told you. “Did he give you a hard time?”

“Nah,” you said. “He was pretty sheepish. Also, I almost gave him a heart attack.”

Bucky burst out laughing as Steve’s face and neck flushed red. You told Bucky the story of how you and Steve met outside his apartment building. Bucky doubled over laughing when you made a pretty spot-on impression of Steve’s confused face. Steve rolled his eyes at your theatrics, a smile on his lips.

“In my defense, no stranger has ever screamed my name like that.”

“Oh, if the alley behind the church could talk, it’d call you a fucking liar, Steve.”

“First, shut up!” Steve jokingly pushed Bucky off his seat. “Second, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.” That sobered you both up faster than a cold shower. Steve caught a furtive sideways glance between you and Bucky. “Did I say something wrong?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” you replied with a smile. “I’m his, uh-” you trailed off and looked to Bucky for help but he was unable to speak. “I’m his roommate.”

“Oooh! Okay.”

Was that relief on Steve’s face? Bucky’s stare hardened. A muscle in his jaw jumped when Steve engaged you in a conversation. He asked you how long you’d been living with Bucky and if you liked the apartment. His tone was conversational but Bucky knew him like the back of his hand, he knew Steve was flirting with you.

“Are you staying for dinner?” you asked Steve. Bucky’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. You picked up the laminated meal plan from on the counter. “Creamed spinach and baked eggs.”

“Sounds great,” Steve agreed.

“You don’t like spinach,” Bucky grumbled under his breath.

“I’m not twelve anymore,” Steve countered with an arched brow. It made you laugh. “Besides I haven’t eaten a homemade meal in... wow, probably years.” Steve turned to you. “I don’t know if Bucky told you but I’m a landscape photographer. I live in the wild most of the year. It’s kinda like travelling by foot on an endless backpacking trip. It’s amazing but the food is disgusting.”

“Yikes!” You grimaced in sympathy. “Well, Bucky’s an amazing chef. I keep telling him we should open a restaurant together.”

You walked over to Steve and mock-whispered in his ear. “If we ask nicely, he’ll probably make us some garlic bread.”

That made Bucky smile. His first instinct was to answer with his usual ‘I’d do anything for you, angel’ but he couldn’t say that in front of Steve so he bit his tongue. He saw the disappointment in your eyes, as if you were expecting that usual answer too.

“I should go upstairs,” you said. “I have a painting to finish. Have fun, boys.”

Steve watched you go, then he shook his head and heaved out a sigh. He waited until he was sure you were out of earshot before he turned to Bucky.

“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” he said. “So, are you two...”

“We’re friends,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “Is she single?”

“As far as I know.”

Bucky’s jaw was clenched hard, the tendons in his neck looked like they were about to snap. He loved Steve like a brother but, goddammit, he wanted him to leave and never return. He balled his hand into a fist, feeling a visceral urge to punch something.

Yet, Steve seemed completely oblivious to Bucky’s turmoil. After living in the wild for several years, he was having trouble picking up on social cues.

“Do you think I should ask her out? I’m a bit rusty.” He ran his hand through his long hair, tugging at the strands. “I should get a trim first, right?”

“And a fucking shower,” Bucky grumbled to himself.

Steve didn’t hear him, he was too busy glaring at his hair in the big mirror on the wall.

Bucky tried to push away that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was becoming harder to pretend this was all innocent. Not when he had to physically restrain himself from punching his oldest friend in the teeth. Steve was allowed to ask you out, Bucky had no right to be jealous.

And yet...

“How long are you stayin’?” he asked, eyeing Steve’s backpack. It wasn’t unusual for him to take Steve in when he was between assignments, but things were different now.

“A few weeks. Is it going to be a problem?”

“Listen, if it were just me, I’d let you stay,” Bucky replied. “But I’m not alone anymore. She doesn’t know you, you’re basically a stranger, and you’re already thinking of hitting on her. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable. This is her home.”

Steve blushed. “No, of course. I understand. I would never-”

“All I’m sayin’ is, she has the final say,” Bucky cut him off. “If she lets you stay, you can take the kids’ room.”

“You sure? It’s right next to her room. I could take the room upstairs, the one above the living room.”

“No, you can’t,” Bucky sighed. “It’s her painting studio.”

Steve stared at him with a suspicious frown. “Are you sure there’s nothing between you and her?”

“Yup, she’s just a friend.”

He tried not to fidget as he forced himself to hold Steve’s gaze. He kept his head high and acted as composed as he could even though his heart was jackhammering in his chest.

“Okay,” Steve drawled out, not entirely convinced. “If you say so.”

As Bucky expected, you allowed Steve to take the guest room, the one with the bunk-bed, though Steve told you that it wouldn’t be a problem. It also meant that he would be sharing your bathroom, and while it didn’t seem to bother you, it made Bucky really uncomfortable.

That evening, he sat down with you and Steve at the dinner table. He made sure Steve was seated at one end of the table, thinking that if you didn’t have him in front of you, you’d interact less. Bucky’s plan backfired pretty quickly. Steve had so many ‘I-lived-in-the-wild-for-ages’ stories that he monopolized the discussion –and your attention.

Bucky spent most of the night lost in his own thoughts, daydreaming, and only smiled when he caught your gaze. He snapped out of his haze when he noticed that he was alone at the dinner table. You and Steve were washing the dishes, talking and laughing.

He felt a pang of envy at the sight before him; it was supposed to be him and it scared him that someone could take you away from him. Then it hit him. He wasn’t special, you were kind and sweet with everyone. It was what had attracted him to you in the first place; your kindness, your fortitude and loyalty.

He couldn’t blame Steve for falling for you, too.

“Guys, I’m going to bed,” he said, standing on the landing between the two rooms.

You turned around mid-laugh and smiled warmly at him. “Good night, Bucky.”

“Sweet dreams, angel.” It slipped out. He didn’t even realize what he’d said, but Steve did.

Steve cocked a brow at his best friend’s retreating figure before he hung his head and let out a brief chuckle.

Over the next few days, Bucky’s mood didn’t improve. He was holding back, unable to reach out to you the way he used to. Steve was always there. Always.

In the morning Steve would come back from a run, sweaty and hungry, and wearing a shirt that was two sizes too small for him. He really laid it on thick, even by his standards, but you didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, you would often go out with Steve when Bucky was working on his new book. He took you to art shows, introduced you to important people and you visited art supply stores together, which annoyed Bucky more than he thought possible.

He felt stuck in a Garfunkel and Oates song, praying for Steve to go away.

I could've wished a thousand wishes for Steve to disappear.

Worst of all, Bucky was snappy with you. Especially after he inadvertently overheard you and Natasha talking about Steve. You painted a vivid picture of Steve’s ass. Figuratively of course, though Bucky couldn’t be certain that you didn’t have hundreds of notebooks filled with drawings of Steve’s ass.

“Hey, stranger.”

He looked up when you walked into his study carrying a tray with his breakfast –coffee and two slices of toasted white bread with butter and jam. You left the tray on a pile of papers and closed the door behind you.

“I was wondering about you, since you didn’t show up for breakfast.” You stood behind him and worked your fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and let you massage his scalp, the tension slowly leaving his body. “Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”

Bucky was so relaxed that his filter was non-existent. “Yeah, Steve’s bothering me. He stole my angel.”

“He can’t steal a mythical creature.”

“You’re my angel,” he half-moaned when you applied pressure to his scalp.

“I haven’t been feeling like your angel lately,” you said, giving him another squeeze before you let go of his head. You took a seat on the armchair close to his desk. “You’re... I don’t know. You’re moody and irritated, and I don’t know how to help you. I know you don’t like surprises, and Steve showing up out of nowhere and staying here was a pretty huge surprise. It’s difficult to cope with change but I think you’re acting a little weird. I swear, Bucky, sometimes you look at Steve like you want to kill him. Is it because we spend time without you?”

Bucky straightened up in his seat and took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, I guess. You two are having fun and I’m stuck here, alone.”

“You feel left out.”

“A bit,” he replied earnestly. “But if you like him, you should go for it. He’s a good-looking guy, he’s nice. He’s also a dumbass but that’s part of his charm.”

You laughed. “What? Why are you telling me this?”

“I heard you and Natasha,” Bucky explained, blushing. “You said, and I quote: ‘he's got an ass you can bounce quarters off of.’”

You burst out laughing. “Oh, Bucky.”

“What? I’m just sayin’ if that’s what you wanna do... I’ll give you a bunch of quarters.”

“No, thanks,” you laughed. “I’m good. I keep my quarters for something else.”

Bucky speared you with a suspicious look. “So you don’t think his ass is like a juicy peach.” He blinked. “Also a direct quote.”

“Oh, no, I stand by what I said. His ass is so-” you lifted your hands and made a squeezing motion “-tight.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he rushed to say. “It’s not that impressive. Anyone can do squats. I do squats.”

“Fishing for compliments?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. You looked at him with a fond smile. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He reached for a slice of bread and bit into it, focusing his attention on his laptop screen. You got to your feet and walked to the door.

“Oh, um, by the way, how much of that conversation did you hear?” you asked, leaning against the half-open door.

“Not much, I left after the juicy peach thing.”

You hummed while nodding, your eyes cast down. When you looked up at him, a glint of something mischievous shone in your eyes. “You should have stayed a little longer,” you said enigmatically, your eyes roaming shamelessly over his body.

You raised your eyebrows and closed the door behind you, leaving Bucky speechless and confused. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” he shouted, hoping you could hear him through the closed door. “Angel? Come back!”

Needless to say he didn’t write much after that.

Bucky made a conscious effort to stop being an asshat. A week later, he was in a better mood, and only glared at Steve twice –the first time when Steve put his hand on your knee and the second when he made a vaguely flirtatious remark.  

You let Steve and Bucky handle the dirty dishes, and Bucky was sure you did it on purpose. Your little smug smile said as much. Steve didn’t seem happy, he had never liked household chores and probably only did the dishes to spend time with you.

Bucky remembered Steve’s childhood bedroom; shades always down, his bed perpetually unmade, and a monster pile of clean and dirty clothes on his desk chair. He remembered Sarah’s exasperated sigh whenever she entered her son’s bedroom. It made him laugh.

Bucky had always been a neat person, something his mom always took pride in. ‘Look at my son who does his own laundry and sets the table without being asked. Look how well I raised him!’ After his accident, cleaning became an obsession, a way of controlling something that was uncontrollable.

“Did you get Sam’s text?” Steve asked, tossing the now-wet towel on the counter. “Emergency brunch tomorrow at 10.”

“Yeah, I know. Sam has a loose understanding of the word ‘emergency’. Last time he wanted to know if he could pull off a goatee. Not exactly an emergency.”

“Mhh,” Steve replied, thinking. “Are you coming?”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky chucked, “I wanna know what this new emergency is.”

Steve cast him a sideways glance while leaning his back against the kitchen counter. He mulled over something as he watched his friend clean the sink.

“So, um,” Steve started awkwardly. “I have a date tomorrow.”

Bucky’s hand faltered a bit. “Ah? With who?”

Steve looked toward your bedroom door and let out a very loud sigh. “A real-life angel, Buck.”

Bucky let go of the sponge and straightened up abruptly. He glared at Steve, hoping he’d heard him wrong. “What did you just say?”

“I have a date tomorrow night so you’ll have the place to yourself.” Steve smiled to his friend, blissfully unbothered. “I think I’ve been invading your personal space. You always look upset so I thought this would be a great idea. And I’ve been alone for so long, I need... relief you know.”

“Awesome,” Bucky replied, gritting his teeth.

“Great, I’m glad you see it that way,” Steve said, grabbing Bucky’s shoulder and squeezing gently. “See you tomorrow, Buck.”

He watched Steve walk to his bedroom and close the door behind him. Something inside him cracked, and he felt the overwhelming urge to throw something, watch it break into tiny pieces.

He took a deep breath and went in search of you instead. He found you upstairs in your studio, kneeling in front of a canvas, the handle of a pair of pliers in your mouth. It took you a few seconds to acknowledge his presence, and Bucky grinned when you let out a little shocked gasp.

“Did you have fun washing the dishes with Steve?” you teased, taking the pliers out of your mouth.

“I think we need a dishwasher.” He walked into the room and squatted down on his haunches next to you. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m removing the staples on the stretcher bars so I can roll up the canvas and put it in a tube,” you said. “This way they’re protected and I can carry them pretty easily. I have a meeting with a gallerist tomorrow. Apparently Steve knows her well. He mentioned my name and she wants to see my work.”

“That’s amazing, angel,” Bucky exclaimed. “How can I help?”

“I’m almost done. I just need to finish this one. Can you grab that sheet of plastic on the desk? We’ll wrap it in it and then we’ll use a piece of canvas for extra protection.”

He followed your instructions and made sure not to ruin your hard work. Once the canvas was in the tube, you placed it against the wall next to two similar tubes. Then you cleaned up and put away your tools.

“I don’t know if Steve told you but-”

“Yes, I know,” Bucky cut you off. “The date. It’s great. Honestly.”

“Yeah.” You lowered your gaze and studied your shaking hands, unable to meet his eyes. “Listen, I was thinki-”

“I really need some time to myself anyway,” he talked over you. “So it’s great, y’know? We all get what we want.”

“I guess,” you replied. “It’s getting late, I should go to bed.”

“Getting up bright and early tomorrow, uh?” The jovial tone in his voice sounded forced, even to his ears. You nodded mechanically. “Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

You both stood unmoving, staring at each other. Your eyes were asking for something, pleading with him, but he was too lost to understand. He was lost in his own feelings, remembering something Sam had said a while ago.

There’s an entire world between like and love.

And it was true.

Like was doing the dishes with you. It was laughing and screaming while you chased each other around the living room, using fairy lights as lassos. Like was booping your nose when you watched him cook dinner. It was speaking gibberish after watching a foreign film.

Love was that sweet agony that made him feel more alive than he had ever felt. It was letting you hold his hand and play with his fingers even though his nose felt itchy. Love was seeing you wrap his bow tie around your wrist like a bracelet. It was walking around a deserted planetarium with you.

Love was the colour of your favourite lipstick; Carter Red.

“Thanks for your help,” you said, interrupting his train of thought.

“My pleasure.” He tried to smile but it hurt.

Everything made sense now. His crankiness and irritability, his sudden aversion to his oldest friend, the one who had saved his life. The one who had asked you out on a date –or so it seemed.

“Sweet dreams...” he paused, considering, then used your name instead of your usual pet name.

He had no right to call you ‘angel’ anymore. Steve had asked you out first, he had asked Bucky multiple times if he was okay with that, and Bucky’s answers had always been a gritted ‘yes’.

The truth was, his epiphany didn’t change anything. He wouldn’t have asked you out because there was too much at stake: your friendship, your livelihood, your career, the well-being of your family. He couldn’t put you in an uncomfortable position, couldn’t ruin your hard work.

And he was terrified of these feelings. They were too new, too raw.

You pinched your lips together and nodded, avoiding his eyes. He clenched his jaw hard, hating the resigned look on your face. Why did you look so defeated? Without saying anything, you walked past him and left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Part 9

[noire-pandora]

For DWC: "Stop worrying about you? I can barely stop thinking about you!" for Elluin x Solas (bonus points if it's set after the Crestwood scene!)

Hey, thanks for the prompt! Oh heck, you're going for my heart with this one.

Surprisingly, I haven't wrote anything, until now, about Solas and Elluin after the break up. Ironically. If I don't think about it, it never happened, right? Angst isn't my forte but here we go! For @dadrunkwriting

Time stopped when Elluin saw Solas slipping on a patch of ice and a demon lunging at him.

As its long claws dug into Solas' skin and his scream of pain echoed around the clearing where they fought, Elluin's mind shut down. She did not care about the wide-open rift that spewed forth the demons ready to devour their hearts.

With a speed she did not know she possessed, she grabbed Solas and tugged him away from the demon, her muscles and tendons protesting at the sudden effort. The demon lunged at Elluin now, and with a furious cry, she fired a searing fireball to stop the attack.

"Solas, are you alright?" The question came from her lips after the thread had crumbled to ash. Blood stained the white fabric of his tunic, causing a wave of nausea in her throat "How bad is it?"

"Bastards, all of them!" she prepared to leap back into the fight, but Solas' groan of pain made her stop.

Out of nowhere a Shade took advantage of the moment and attacked her and this time Elluin jumped forward, a burning rage slamming against her temple. She flickered her wrists, and summoned a flaming sword,the fire licking her fingers.

With a throat hurting scream, Elluin cut the demon into three pieces.

She spun on the soles of her feet, desperation clouding her mind. The rift could wait. The world could wait while Solas lay on the frozen ground, in a pool of his blood before her.

"I am fine, Inquisitor," Solas hissed as she pressed her hands to his stomach. "Go, close the rift! Now, before more come through."

"Solas, this wound is…”

"My wound is not important! Close the rift first or we are doomed," he pushed Elluin's hands away from him as if her bloody fingers touching his skin hurt more than the deep wound. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and her chin trembled, but she turned back on her feet and launched herself into the fight. An excuse to scream away the smoldering rage that burned in her throat.

With a hollow pop, the Rift bowed to her power and collapsed in on itself. The gate to the Fade closed, denying entry to any demon eager to pass through.

As soon as the green tendrils of the Mark retreated in the palm of her left hand, Elluin rushed back to Solas, who was now healing his own wounds with his eyes closed and his face contorted in pain.

When she knelt beside Solas to help him, a sharp pain ran through her knee and a hiss escaped her parched lips. A cut traced through her thigh, blood dripping from it, but she could not remember how it had happened, distracted as she was by the thought of Solas' wounds.

"Inquisitor, stand up," he said looking at the wound, pausing in the middle of healing his abdomen. "You are making your wound worse."

"I don't care about that. Are you alright? Can you walk?"

No sooner had she uttered those words than she saw his nostrils flare, a sign of annoyance and a gesture she knew all too well.

"How can you not care? If you die, this world will end. “

Anger resonated in his voice and Elluin stared at him in disbelief, a reaction she had not expect. "I care about you, Solas. Can you blame me?"

"Yes, I can," he hissed through clenched teeth and resumed his healing process, his hands shaking and Elluin could not help but wonder if that was a sign of his anger. "Instead of attending to your duties, you have ignored your friends and the demons that attack them. You should know better."

His words froze her mind, his tone as cold as the ice they sat on. "Can I not worry about you?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cassandra and Varric looking awkwardly in her direction, the signs of confusion at their next move written all over their faces.

"Duty comes first, Inquisitor. When you face duty, you should stop thinking about those around you. You should stop worrying about me."

An explosion of anger erupted in her stomach, like a volcano blowing after weeks of pressure building inside it. His words and cold demeanor broke the mental dam she built to keep things friendly after he decided to end their relationship without warning.

"You want me to stop worrying about you?" she yelled at him, jumping to her feet. “I can barely stop thinking about you!"

She knew Varric and Cassandra watched her and judged her reactions, but she did not care. Pretending all the time that everything was fine, when it was not, weighed more on her soul than Corypheus' shadow looming over them.

Before Solas could say anything, Elluin continued, her fingernails digging into the rough skin of her palm. "I did what you asked. I accepted your decision to forget our relationship as if it never existed because I promised not to pressure you. But don't you dare," her heart went to her throat as Solas' eyes fell to the ground in shame. "don't you fucking dare tell me how to feel! Because you have no right to tell me to stop caring about you." Part of her wished Solas would fight back, but he froze in the middle of her screaming, his wound still bloody. "Fuck you for telling me how to feel. You think just because you turned your back on me I can just stop loving you?"

Her chest heaved and the breath that left her mouth in a huff clouded in the cold air. An amalgam of emotions swirled in her head like a storm destroying everything in its path, but she bit her tongue to suppress the bitter words. She could not argue with him, not as he sat on the frozen ground with his shoulders slumped and his head bowed as if he bowed to her anger. Almost as if he waited for a harsh punishment to fall upon him.

"I," she muttered, but stopped as tears of anger, pain, and confusion stole her breath and cut off her words. She spun on her heels for the third time and turned her back to Solas. Elluin hurried towards their camp to hide the tears that ran down her frozen cheeks.