#motionless in white preferences

[fandombandomfics]

Motionless in White One Shots/Preferences

Collection of Motionless in White One shots/preferences. Still on going and has 18 chapters so far!

Ao3

[copiasblair]

if i had a nickel for every time in the last month i saw a metal band with back up dancers perform a song called rats i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but isn't it weird that it's happened twice

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: While you and your church are protesting Corroded Coffin's concert, their lead singer shows you just how good being sinful feels.

Based on "Immaculate Misconception" by Motionless in White, requested by the amazing @offensiunculae 😘

WC: 2.4k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering, oral (f!receiving), public sex acts, religious themes with an emphasis on sinning/Hell

--

The hot sun beats down, especially excruciating on this July day. You feel your arm start to sag, an ache in your shoulder from hoisting up a sign for so long, and you lower it slightly to massage it. 

A group of concertgoers jeer at you and your fellow protesters, flipping you off and hurling swear words your way. 

“You see that?” Pastor Tom hisses, eyes shooting daggers at them. “Do you see what you become when you give in to this satanic worship? You can practically smell the evil oozing from their pores!”

You watch as the friends make their way through the venue, flashing their tickets to the attendant at the door. The pastor continues shouting about Corroded Coffin’s blasphemy and condemns everyone inside the stadium to Hell while the rest of the protesters echo his sentiments, but you can hardly focus. In your attempt to keep yourself from dehydrating in the summer heat, you’ve consumed an absurd amount of water, and you’re feeling the repercussions right now. 

Quietly, you slip away from your congregation and walk over to the doors. “I need to use the restroom,” you murmur to the attendant, but he puts an arm out to bar you from entering.

“No ticket, no entry,” he snarls, a malevolent grin curling his lips. “Feel free to piss in the alley, Virgin Mary.”

You cringe at his crudeness, but when he crosses his muscular arms over his chest proudly, you turn back in defeat. There is no way you’re going to pee in the alleyway, absolutely not happening–

Your bladder has other plans, and you begrudgingly scamper off into the deserted alleyway, still choosing to take cover behind the Dumpster to shield yourself from passersby. You hitch up your skirt around your waist, shimmying your cotton underwear down your legs and grasping it in one hand. 

There’s a pinch of embarrassment followed by the sweet feeling of relief washing over you as you spread your feet a bit wider. The end of the stream can’t come soon enough, and just as you’re tugging back on your panties–if you can even call them that, considering they came in a pack of six from the local Wal-Mart–someone clears their throat.

“Don’t–Don’t look!” you cry out helplessly, fixing your knee-length skirt so it’s no longer bunched up.

“You know there’s bathrooms inside, right?” The person–a man–says, a lilt in his voice telling you that he’s teasing. “Unless you prefer the great outdoors. No judgment.”

You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, so you keep your eyes trained on the ground. “I, um, don’t have a ticket,” you mumble, standing upright and starting to leave. You have no desire to converse with a random stranger, one who listens to the sinful music of the band inside.

“Hey, wait,” the guy tries, and his footsteps are heavy against the cracked pavement. “You’re not with those Jesus freaks out there, are you?”

At this, you turn around, anger burning in your lungs that you try to quell with a deep breath and a reminder to be sweet, just like the pastor instructs. “Don’t call them that,” you say tersely, biting your lower lip.

The man before you laughs, shaking his long mane of curls as he steps towards you. “I’ll be damned–”

“You will be,” you interrupt before you can stop yourself.

“Little churchmouse pissing in the alley outside of my show,” he continues, as though you hadn’t said a word. “Call that the ‘Eddie Munson Effect,” he adds with a smart grin.

It takes a moment before you process what he’s just said. My show…Eddie Munson…

“You’re the guy from the video!” The realization hits you like a truck. You’d heard Pastor Tom say his name a few times, praying that the singer-slash-guitarist would repent and change his evil ways. “The one where you wore a crown of thorns and were crucified.”

Eddie takes a bow, stumbling slightly over his crossed feet. “The one and only.”

“That’s blasphemy,” you snarl, unable to hide your disdain. “And idolatry. And God will punish you for your sins.”

“Let me ask you a question,” he starts, once again ignoring your disruption, “did you even see the video? Listen to the lyrics?” When you only offer him a blank stare, he grins, digging into his pockets and pulling out a pack of Camels and a lighter. “That’s what I thought.” The scent of tobacco smoke wafts past your nostrils as he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag. 

“I didn’t need to,” you say, finally finding your voice. “My pastor told me–”

“Ah, your pastor,” Eddie mocks. “Tell me, Churchmouse–do you listen to everything your pastor says? Do everything he tells you to?”

“He speaks the Word of God.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Eddie slams his palm on the top of the Dumpster, startling you. His rings clang on the metal, reverberating through the small space. “Do you really think that God cares about a fucking music video? You think He’s up in the clouds, watching all the war and poverty and destruction, and He’s thinking about my music?”

Your mouth dries and you find yourself at a loss for words. “I, um, I…”

“But that’s not the worst part,” he continues through gritted teeth, shaking his head incredulously. “The worst fucking part is that you’re all too busy damning everyone to Hell to realize that you’re making their lives hell right now.” He looks at you, staring directly into your soul. 

“The fans out there? They’re freaks. They’re outcasts. They like our music because we sing about real shit. Abandonment, nonconformity, rejection. And when they listen to it, they feel seen. Heard. Not alone. 

“And you guys? Out there, fuckin’…tearing them down because they had the audacity to enjoy music that you don’t approve of?” He juts his forefinger in your direction, eyes blazing with rage. “Fuck. You.” He stubs out his cigarette though there’s still plenty left to smoke and pivots towards the door. 

You’re able to formulate a coherent thought just as he’s about to walk back into the venue. “You don’t know me,” you shoot back. “You don’t know what I do or why I do it. You just live in your own little bubble, surrounded by people who idolize you, never hearing the word ‘no.’”

“So tell me no,” he challenges you, closing the door and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Ask me for something.”

Eddie barks out a laugh. “All right, churchmouse. You wanna fuck me?”

“Absolutely not,” you snort.

Eddie lifts his arms in surrender. “And are we fucking right now? No, we’re not.” He smirks in a silent I told you so. “Any other points you’d like to make?”

A scowl mars your face. “You’re infuriating,” you sneer.

“Then leave,” he says simply, extending an arm in the direction of your church group. “No one’s keeping you here. So you’re either sticking around because you like a good argument, or because you like what you see.” When you fail to respond, he takes a few steps closer. “Tell me ‘no,’ churchmouse. Any time, just say the word.” He glides the back of his forefinger along your cheek, and your skin heats up at his touch. “Is that okay?”

You nod, swallowing thickly. “Y-Yes.”

A large hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer. “And now?”

“Yes.”

“How about this?” His lips are hovering above yours, breath hot on your mouth. You can taste the cigarette he just smoked; to your surprise, it draws you to him. You don’t realize you haven’t given him an answer until he murmurs, “Need to hear it, churchmouse. You’re killin’ me here.”

It shouldn’t be okay. You shouldn’t want this. These are the sins of the flesh that Pastor Tom warns you about, the feelings that are to be reserved for your spouse. And Eddie Munson is certainly not your spouse.

But the way his t-shirt ripples around his biceps, the hungry look in his deep brown eyes, the twitch behind the fly of his jeans that you can feel on your pelvis…

“Yes.” One word, one split-second decision, and his mouth is on yours. You’d shared chaste kisses before, but nothing close to what’s happening now. His tongue is warm and wet, and you accept it eagerly. It’s wrong, it’s so wrong, but it feels so right.

Eddie pulls back after a moment of you too lost in your thoughts to reciprocate the kiss. “Not good enough for ya?”

You shake your head. “It’s too good…I just don’t understand…” Instinctively, you bring your thumbnail to your mouth and chew on it, despite your mother’s constant disgust towards such unladylike behavior. “I’m not supposed to think it’s good.”

His hardened exterior briefly softens at your confession. “Who told you that? Your pastor? Your parents? Jesus Christ himself?” He bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s natural, churchmouse. Nothing to feel guilty about. And ‘m not just saying that so you’ll fuck me.”

“I-I know.”

“You don’t have to fuck me,” he reiterates. “But if you do wanna fuck someone, and they wanna fuck you, too…well, I just don’t think you should let some invisible man in the sky stop you.”

The phrase, virginity is a precious gift from God, sits on the tip of your tongue. You’ve heard it over and over since the moment you learned about sex. A woman’s purity is a symbol of her devotion to her Savior and her spouse. 

“I…I don’t wanna do that with you,” you mumble the half-truth. The fluttering in your most private area says otherwise, but you genuinely do not want to have sex for the first time with a stranger in an alley. “But I do wanna feel good. Can we…is there a way to do that?”

He smirks again, more knowing than devious, though it’s hard to differentiate between the two with him. “Churchmouse, if you’re serious, I can help you out. Can make you feel really good.” He swipes his tongue along his lower lip. “You ever…y’know…make yourself feel good?”

Your cheeks heat up, thinking of the nights that you caved to temptation and rubbed up against the unassuming stuffed animals on your bed. The utter shame that washes over you along with the wave of pleasure. It’s not as bad as actually having premarital sex though, is it? Pastor Tom claims that a sin is a sin is a sin, but surely that can’t be true. Lying to your parents, for example, isn’t the same as committing first-degree murder.

And if Pastor Tom is wrong about that, what else is he wrong about?

“Yeah, I have,” you finally say to Eddie, voice tinged with guilt. “N-Not, like, inside; just, um, touching…”

Eddie nods, grabbing your hand and leading you to a more secluded spot against the corroded brick wall. “Your skirt…” he starts, motioning for you to hike it up. You do as he asks, pulling it so the hem reaches mid-thigh. He lets his middle finger graze your panties, smile widening when he feels the damp spot that’s formed. “You’re wet already,” he muses, nudging the cotton fabric aside.

“Is that a good thing?”

He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief that you even have to ask. “It’s a very good thing.” His finger wanders, and you clamp your legs shut when you feel him start to push it inside you. 

“N-Not inside.” Part of you is worried that someone—your future husband, your pastor—will be able to tell if you’ve ever been penetrated. “Maybe just…there?” You take his finger and bring it to the part of you that you’ve only touched shamefully, whimpering at the sensation. “Yeah, that feels s’good.”

Your slurred words only spur him on, and he increases his pace, rubbing frantically. His tongue pokes out between his lips as he remains focused on your sensitive bud. “Keep talkin’, churchmouse,” he says, both an encouragement and an order. “Make lotsa noise f’me.” 

You do as he says, whining and moaning with pleasure. Desperate for friction, you buck your hips slightly against him.

“There ya go,” he murmurs, amusement evident in his tone. “If you want a little more, I’ll use my mouth. Nothin’ inside, I promise.” He takes his free hand to cross an “x” over his heart. “I can just hide under this little skirt of yours.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows fly to his hairline in surprise when your answer is a resounding, “yes, please.” He gets on his knees, grimacing as the gravel digs into his exposed skin where his jeans have holes. Sure enough, he drapes your skirt over him, expertly parting your folds with his tongue. He licks up and down before wrapping his lips around the most delicate part of you. He hums against your core, sending delicious vibrations shooting through you. Your legs tremble, and Eddie grips onto the plush of your thighs to steady them.

The part of your brain that isn’t flying high on endorphins processes the sound of your name being called. It isn’t Eddie–he doesn’t know your name; regardless, his mouth is occupied–and you have the sinking realization that Pastor Tom is searching for you.

“‘M coming!” you call out breathily, the inadvertent double entendre making Eddie chuckle against you. His tongue flicks rhythmically, and you nearly cry at the overstimulation of sheer bliss and the adrenaline rush of possibly being caught. The noises that Eddie’s mouth makes against your sex might as well be playing on the venue’s sound system with the way they echo down the alleyway. You let out one final moan as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. 

Eddie slows his pace to bring you back down, only pulling away once you stop shaking. He emerges from under your long skirt, wiping your slick from around his mouth and chin. “I think you gotta go, churchmouse,” he laughs, pressing his palms to his thighs and standing up. “And I have a show to put on. Y’know, a very different type of show than the one I just performed.”

You can only nod, placing his hands against the brick wall and trying to grab on. You can’t go back out there, not after being defiled twenty feet from where they’re protesting. Eddie notices your hesitation and chuckles. “You wanna stay backstage and watch? Actually see the shit you apparently hate?”

“Yes.” 

He holds the door open for you with a little bow. “I fuckin’ love when you use that word.”

[maelialuv]

Can you do a one shot of Steve x fem! reader are shopping in a supermarket late at night and they’re arguing about what cookies to get and it’s just fluffff

Thank youuu xx

absolutely obsessed w this idea!! I LOVE Steve fluff. hope u enjoy! ty for the request!!

Supermarket Sweep - Steve Harrington

Summary: a late night shopping trip with Steve leads to late night confessions.

Warnings: a bit of angst! mostly fluff! slightly suggestive moments.

Word Count: 2.3K

Had you known that spending more time with a gang of pre-teens would take up so much of your free time, you would have stopped being an honorary baby sitter long before they began requesting food supply runs late into the night.

If you'd known that you'd spend your Friday evening inside Bradley's Big Buy with Steve Harrington, you most certainly would have reconsidered your choice of clothing. Untamed hair, a raggedy pair of beat up sneakers and a much too small tank top - essentially a pyjama shirt- for the blaring cool of the stores air conditioning, you stood motionless next to Steve. He was talking to you, had been for several minutes. It was white noise to your ears.

"...and Max wanted Chips Ahoy, but Dustin says they're too hard on his teeth and Will doesn't like the way they break apart when he-" Steve caught on to your blank stare. You had been looking at a pack of Oreos on the shelf for a long, glassy eyed moment. "Are you listening to me?"

You snapped out of your trance. "What? Sorry, Mike said he wanted some Oreos but I can't remember which ones."

"Oh, double stuffed." Steve said, completely sure. He knew his little nuggets like the back of his hand by now. Mike liked double stuffed Oreos, Max liked Chips Ahoy. Will preferred Milanos, Dustin underlined his Nilla Wafers four times on the list, and Lucas's usual ask of original Goldfish Crackers was so easy to remember it was impossible to get wrong. El was happy with anything.

You grabbed the double stuffed cookies and tossed them into the cart, almost over flowing with the cans of Pringles and the sodas the kids had asked for - the campaign Will and Mike had planned was extravagant, and called for a years worth of junk to keep them going.

How the kids could sit in the Wheeler's basement for hours on end in the peak of Hawkins summer was beyond you. You'd spent just about half of your time at the local pool, and by the evening when it had closed you'd migrated to the heated pool in the back yard of the Harrington residence, swimming and lounging until the sun set and Steve drove you home. The last few weeks, however, you had started hanging out with Steve alone.

It had been Robin that had introduced you to the boy, but you had known Steve 'The Hair' Harrington for years. He was one year above you in school, and how could anyone not know King Steve? You'd witnessed the rise and fall of his relationship with Nancy, and seen him mellow and relax as his focus switched from the basketball team to a team of middle schoolers. Robin had introduced you officially when they started working together at Scoops last summer. Steve recognised you from somewhere - "Did you and I fool around at Stacy's party in the fall?"- and you never confirmed it for him.

It didn't matter too much to him where he knew you from. Now you were his friend, and that was great. Friends.

The last two weeks, you and Steve had seen each other every day. Driving the kids around when the sun was up, chilling by his pool or watching movies in his living room when it was down. You'd been feeling...different. You'd seen Steve without a shirt before - victories of the Hawkins High Tigers being expressed with the swinging of a vest into a crowd of fawning girls. A year ago you would have rolled your eyes at yourself. More often than not over the last few days you had been the one gawking. The way droplets of water lingering on his toned stomach would light up with the reflection of the pool lights. The way he would smooth his hair back. You felt ridiculous, like a school girl writing all over her note book with glitter hearts.

It was like a switch had flicked for you, and suddenly it wasn't Steve, it was Steve. You'd repress it , and try your best to hide it. And then he'd pull a typical Steve stunt.

He tossed his sweatshirt at you, breaking you from another self indulgent trance filled with ice cold lemonade and hot summer nights. "Here," he said, lilt in his voice and smirk on his face, "you look cold." Did you? Sure, the store's air con was a bit much for well after midnight, the scorching heat long gone with the sun, but you weren't cold.

"What?"

He laughed to himself before the smirk returned. "You look cold." This time, his eyes darted down for a few lingering moments to your chest. "Oh." you said, dumb founded at this new side to Steve.

Oh.

In the thin material of your shirt, the cold stream of air had made certain areas more visible than others. Flushed with embarrassment, you shrugged on the sweatshirt. It was miles too big for you, the sleeves going way past your hands and swamping you. "Cute," Steve mumbled lightly, his own light blush littering his cheeks.

You felt the familiar tightness in your chest that came along with being around Steve these days. The aching desire to just , for the love of God, touch him. To have him touch you. For him to want you as you wanted him. You knew you weren't hiding it well, and somehow that made the ache worse; it meant that either Steve knew and ignored it, or was oblivious. You didn't know which option you would prefer at this point, or which would be the least painful.

Little moments- if you could even call them that- were becoming more common place. Steve would take the longer route to drive you home, playing your favourite music any time you were at his house - despite the fact that you knew he didn't always like it, letting you borrow his clothes after a long night swimming. Was it flirting? You thought so, but then he'd give a long speech on how much he valued you as a friend, and that well known pang of hurt would sit on your heart.

You stared at each other for a long few seconds. Steve had this look on his face. Anger? Confusion? He took a breath, as though he were about to say something, when the intercom sounded over the speakers. "Shoppers, the store will be closing in ten minutes."

You stepped away from one another, and Steve walked wordlessly with the cart over to the check out. You physically recoiled. It felt like you had been stung, on the precipice of maybe, just maybe, voicing the feelings. The way he had looked, eyes soft and lips parted in thought, made you shiver. You followed him with a low head.

You checked out in silence. It was awkward. It was never awkward with Steve, and now it was painfully quiet. You loaded the bags into the back of Steve's car, again in silence, and jumped in. When you both reached for the stereo, your hands brushing lightly, Steve flinched away.

You felt sick.

Something had gone terribly wrong , and the banter had blurred the line of flirty friendship and straight flirting. It felt suffocating in Steve's car. The seatbelt felt like it was digging into your stomach, amplifying your growing nausea as you noted Steve's white knuckle grip on the wheel. "Stop the car," you said. You cringed at the meekness of your voice; you sounded like a child. When Steve didn't respond, you said it again. "Steve, let me out. Stop the car."

"We're on a back road, I can't stop . It's dangerous." Steve's voice was tight, hoarse from the silence. It made your eyes sting.

Out of your control , you felt tears welling in your eyes. Why were you crying? You felt ridiculous. You felt small. You felt like you were going to throw up all over the car. "I don't care, let me out." When he ignored you again, you pleaded. "Please! I'm gonna puke!"

At that, the car screeched to a halt - of course the prospect of the car being ruined would make him stop. The second the wheel stopped moving, you ripped your seatbelt off and jumped out. You felt like your stomach was in your mouth as you stalked away from the car.

"Hey, come on, what are you doing?"

You ignored Steve as you bent by a tree - bleary eyed as you felt your heart sink. "Back up, I really don't feel good."

He continued toward you, stopping behind you and scooping up your hair. "Hey, hey, you're alright. Come on, we're almost home."

You allowed him to guide you back to the car. The remainder of the journey, you closed your eyes and rested your head on the window. When the car rolled to a stop, you realised you were at Steve's house, not yours. "We're almost home," he had said.

The steps from the car to the house, from the front door, up the stairs, and to Steve's bathroom was a blur. One moment you were strapped in and the next you were sat on the seat of the toilet, Steve between your parted knees as he rifled through the bathroom cabinet for Tylenol and a small bottle of liquid. Passing you the pill, he poured some of the liquid - which you gathered was make up remover- on to a cotton pad. He gently swiped over your smudged eyes. "There ya go," he whispered. The action made your heart thud inside your chest. You really liked Steve. Maybe more than you realised. Maybe you had more than a crush on him, you didn't know.

You let him wipe away your mascara tears, hands gentle and soft on your cheeks as he held your face. When it was over, and he removed his feather light touch, a knew wave of tears welled in your eyes. "Hey, come on," he said, crouching to your level. You wanted to scream. Wanted to yell at him how much you liked him, maybe more, and ask him to be yours. The only thing that would come out were soft sobs as you lowered your head into your hands.

Steve could feel his heart cracking at the sight before him. His friend, his best friend, breaking down in front of him and he felt helpless as to what to do. So he wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours. "What's wrong?" he whispered in to your hair. You just shook your head against him. If you told him how you felt, the friendship would end. You were sure of it. Steve would be disgusted, and never see you the same as before. "Come on, talk to me."

When you raised your head to look in his eyes, the remaining shards of Steve's heart shattered. You looked so broken. So tired. Defeated. He cupped your cheek gently. "Tell me."

You simply tilted your head, hoping the he could feel the pang of your heart against your ears and read the emotion as your eyes welled again. To emphasise, you leaned forward. Your forehead rested against his for a second before you pulled away, raising your brows.

"Oh." Steve whispered.

He was silent for a moment,

"Oh."

His tone was hard to decipher, but his confusion was evident by the small v shape forming between his brows. It was so quiet that you could hear the thrum of the pool outside the closed windows. You felt like your heart was going to burst through your chest at any moment.

It was only after you swallowed the lump in your throat that you realised that Steve's lips were on yours.

It was a soft, gentle kiss. More a brushing of the lips, testing the waters to see if what Steve thought was correct. When you didn't pull away - instead leaning into his touch- he kissed you again. This time, his lips met yours as though they were two puzzle pieces. ,Made to fit together. His lips were slightly chapped, but that didn't matter at all to you as you wrapped your arms around Steve's neck. When the two of you needed air and pulled away, Steve continued to pepper light kisses all over your face, spending extra time on the corners of your mouth. He wrapped his arms around your legs, and in one swift motion lifted you from your place on the toilet and hoisted you up.

He spun you around, cheering to himself in a laugh.

"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that?" He said as he set you down on your feet. His hands lingered on your waist, not inclined to let you go anytime soon. When you shook your head, he lowered his lips to your ear. "I've wanted you since the moment you since the moment you walked into Scoops." His lips met the shell of your ear then. "Since I saw you walk into my 5th period History."

You pulled away in shock, looking at him with wide eyes. When Robin had introduced you, Steve had acted as though he didn't quite know who you were. "You remembered me? But you-"

"You thought I was gonna waltz up and introduce myself as the guy that crushed on you all of his senior year? I don't think so." He pinched your cheeks when you blushed. "Had to be cool, hard to get. Chicks dig it."

You jabbed him in the ribs lightly. "Do they now?"

"Well, you certainly did."

Another jab, this time stopped as he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. "You're an idiot, Steve Harrington."

He kissed your knuckled gently.

"Yeah, maybe. But I got the girl, so how much of an idiot can i really be?"

The answer was a lot. But that didn't matter. Steve liked you. Maybe even loved you, and you'd forever be grateful for the gang of middle schoolers that sent you out on late night shopping trips because of it.

[octuscle]

I was wondering if you could help? I like the guy I am but I’m very plain like I know I’m very average. Average body, height, dress sense… Everyone I know just seems way more interesting and I worry I’m the boring member of my friends. Could you help me stand out from the crowd?

Putting on a light gray suit was extravagant by your standards. And indeed not a bad strategy to stand out from the crowd. All the other men at the congress wore dark gray, sometimes dark blue at most. You were one of the birds of paradise here. When you look in the mirror before your speech, you get nervous. Since you bought the suit, you've put on a few kilograms. The jacket stretches a little over your stomach. You prefer to leave the button undone. You think about whether it was right to choose a tie and pocket square in the same color. You have to talk about your division's forecast in front of 2,000 colleagues. Of course you know the slides inside out. But you have stage fright. You feel sick.

You are called to the stage with "The next speaker is Mike from Controlling, who is going to talk about business development". You go through the column of figures on the slides. There is a commotion in the auditorium. Yes, controlling is boring. And reading out figures is not exactly the best entertainment. But you're not here as an entertainer either.

You have to take off your jacket. For one thing, you're getting warm. For another, it restricts you. You have to move around the stage. There's nothing more boring than people standing rigidly at a lectern. You pause briefly, turn around, study the figures, turn back to your audience and present your vision for the next quarter's business development.

You know exactly how many people are disappointed when you don't show them your tight ass. But damn, your front is not to be sneezed at either. The Autitorum hangs on your lips. Your slides are exemplary. You are a natural rhetorical talent. And yes, you are fucking hot!

The white spotlights become a light organ. The fog machines kick in. You are the show act at the end of the first day of the conference. You take off your T-shirt. The women (and a few men) scream. And for a few seconds, which feel like hours to your fans, you simply stand on stage, silent and motionless.

Then you take the microphone and ask if everyone is ready for rock'n'roll. The screaming gets louder. And you rock the house.

Average? Nothing about you is average.

[emoani]

n/a: sorry for the delay, but here we are with the third chapter

chapter three

A while has passed since you last saw the man in his armor. You no longer knew how to count how many days. In fact, I was already used to it when Vader went on missions. It wasn't like he could spend all day walking hand in hand with you, he had an empire to take care of.

And longing wasn't really the reason you were now walking through the ship's corridors looking for information. Well, not only that!

Vader didn't talk much about Darth Sidious, it's not like he needed to talk much. The reports were horrible and you hated him a lot, firstly for having forced your father to sell you to him as a slave (but Vader took pity and took you as his wife), and secondly because you knew how Sidious tortured your husband emotionally and physically. And now once again this appears to have happened. Vader was somewhere injured "learning a lesson".

- Can I help you, ma'am? - You hear the robotic voice of a droid and turn around.

- Yes, of course. Give me information about Lord Vader.

- What types of information exactly?

- Why isn't he here yet? - you asks a little impatiently. - Oh yeah. It seems that Lord Vader, because of his disobedience was severely punished.

Your heart hurts with worry, and your breathing becomes unregulated. Vader's health was already limited after Mustafar. These types of "lessons" could just take your husband away from you forever!

- Where is he? Is he really hurt? What did he do?

You ask everything at once, and you don't even notice that he is raising his voice and drawing the attention of everyone who passes by. The droid simply tells you to follow him. He takes you to a small meeting room. When the droid told you everything that had happened, you listened attentively, just nodding your head and repeating that you wanted to see him.

But the information given was that he, Vader, didn't want to see you. He still wasn't ready to let you stay by his side during such a sensitive moment. You tried to understand, but you still felt upset. Even more so because of the other information that was given to him. "He was in the company of a former servant of his late wife."

(...)

You sighed irritably, staring at your own reflection, combing your hair before going to the specific room for meals. You didn't like eating there, and preferred to eat in your room. It's not like it was very different from that huge, empty room where you ate most of the time alone. If you had to listen to someone from the Empire kissing your ass today... You could kill that person.

But it wasn't a stupid room that was making you angry, it was the fact that you knew who Vader spent the last few days with. Did you ask yourself: How similar were they? Does he have some kind of relationship with this woman? Was she a lover? Or were you the lover?

Now will you be exchanged for her? His thoughts were interrupted by the click of his bedroom door opening.

You didn't even realize it took so long for a droid to come get you. You liked that one in particular because he was more chatty and it wasn't like you could trust many humans!

- We're here, ma'am - he announces and opens the door. You thank him and enter that boring, white and undecorated room.

There was a lot of food on the table, which was a waste because you didn't have an appetite. Your stomach churned with emotions as you stopped thinking about that waste of food and looked at the room itself.

Then you saw it. The Sith himself, Darth Vader was sitting there in a chair on the other side of the table, motionless in all that armor.

- Hello wife - He greets you in his modulated voice, as if nothing had happened.

You continue standing in the same place, and you are shocked at how he could come and say just that after having left you so worried. So many tears you shed. This man is a...

- I can hear your thoughts, I wish I remembered - Vader says without any emotion.

- And I would appreciate it if you didn't - You answer him seriously and sit down, preferring to look at the table than at the man you were missing.

- I thought you would have a different reaction when you saw me - Vader observes after a while, as you remain silent.

He really must have been finding it strange, you were usually very happy when Vader showed up to accompany you to your meals. You thought the gesture was beautiful, because he couldn't literally eat with you, but he offered his company and you talked a lot during those moments. But not now, you couldn't understand your own emotions. You missed him every day, and now that he was there... you was upset! Why was he with that woman? That bitch ...

- ENOUGH - Vader slams his fist on the table, you close your eyes because of the noise - Never refer to any of Padmé's servants that way again!

- AND I ALREADY TOLD YOU NOT TO INVADE MY THOUGHTS! - You scream back, more hurt by it all.

Vader stands up and starts walking towards you, his breathing getting louder. You get up too and face him without fear.

- What's happening with you? Why are you acting like this? - He asks.

- I have the right to act like this when my husband almost dies and I discover that he was in the company of a woman from his past!

You don't give him any more opportunity to say anything. He just turns and leaves that room, leaving him alone and reflecting on his words.

You had lost your hunger.

[hyuuukais]

.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general, character death, blood, chan is very much in pain

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN • FIND ME (1.8k)

Waves crash against a beach that shouldn't exist, especially not in the middle of a populated city. Darkness eats up your surroundings, allowing you to just barely see the man standing at the edge of the water. He stands still, untouched by the wind or rain, or the ocean water drowning his ankles. He's not in the same clothes as you last saw him, but instead a short-sleeved white shirt with matching bottoms. From what you can tell, he's not wearing shoes, bare footprints imprinted in the sand only just beginning to dissolve.

Calling out to him would be of no use; he won't hear you, and even if he could, would he turn around? Or has he realized this is his chance to leave you and choose his own fate? Has Yeonjun manipulated him like he did you? Before you can change your mind, you keep going. With an arm up to shield your eyes from the spray of water, you keep going. Mental walls keep your doubts away, and you keep going. You are determined to have the last laugh.

Cold water hits your skin, soaking your pant legs in one go. You really should have taken your shoes off before getting in.

"Chan," you can barely hear yourself, placing an arm on his shoulder. "Ah!"

You jolt away, hand burning a bright red. On his shoulder is a handprint singed onto the white material, the same shape and size as your own. Up close, you can see his eyes are closed and his nose is dripping blood, decorating his shirt like an inkblot, the red colour appearing black in the night. Reaching out physically clearly isn't an option, not wanting to burn him or yourself again. So you stand in front of him as close as you dare, closing your eyes and willing him to come back to you.

-

Wheezing, coughing, tears brimming. Similar symptoms to when Minho passed out in your living room, except Chan is fully awake on the floor of the hospital. You're lying in a bed less than a foot away from him, your ex hovering over your motionless body, and he can't do anything; can't move, can barely breathe, and every time he does try to move his head swims so intensely he thinks he'll throw up. His arm has started to reappear slowly, painfully.

"I could take her," Yeonjun breaks the silence. "Not like you can do anything about it in your position."

The occasional threats he's been spewing out have started to mean nothing to Chan. If he were to do something, he'd have done it by now. What is he waiting for? Or is he dragging this out simply to watch everyone suffer? To Chan, that seems likely.

A burning pain covers his shoulder and he hisses, bringing a hand up to feel the warmth. There's a tear in the shape of a handprint where the fabric of his shirt should be.

"Chan."

"Hello?" Chan attempts to sit up, vision blurring and black spots entering the edges of his sight, but he manages to prop himself up on the bed leg.

"Chan," he hears again. "Find me, please. I'm here."

And he knows exactly who he's hearing now. "Y/n? Where... where are you? You're here, but you're not really here, are you?"

No one answers, not even Yeonjuns taunting. Yeonjun, who should still be where he was sitting by your body. Yeonjun, who is no longer there.

-

He crashes onto a car parked on the street, glass breaking and the horn honking loudly. Pain has been a foreign concept up until now, an aching sensation spreading through his back while people gather around to watch his next moves. Jeongin gasps, sliding off the roof of the car and crumbling into himself on the ground. A wet feeling covers the back side of his body, but he doesn't dare touch it. Maybe it's better not knowing the damage done.

Struggling to stand up with wobbly legs, Jeongin uses the car as support. The crowd has only gotten bigger, but they don't do anything. No one tries to touch him or hurt him; no one approaches at all. As he walks through the horde, they part slightly to let him limp through. When he finally reaches the edge, there's a small cat waiting for him, looking up at him with big eyes and rubbing against his leg. It bounds forward, stopping to look at him expectantly.

"Want me to follow you?" His voice comes out shaky, distant.

Of course, the cat doesn't reply, only waits for him to step forward before it continues on. It doesn't look back again, trusting Jeongin is following closely. The night has turned cold, so, so cold, and he shivers intensely as they walk onto a street with fewer buildings, less protection. Walking is becoming harder, limbs growing numb. Whether that's from the cold or the pain in his back, Jeongin ignores it regardless. He doesn't know how he got here, only that he needs to make it back to you and the others.

Eventually, the cat stops at an intersection just outside of town. On a nearby post, there's a bouquet of flowers hanging on by a ribbon wrapped around it, a photo stapled underneath of a little boy and his parents. The ground around the post is damp, a small puddle forming right at the base.

"Why did you bring me here?" But when he turns the cat is gone, someone standing with their back to him in its place.

"You need to stop interfering." The man turns around, metal glinting in his hand.

Everything happens quickly, the rush forward and the warm, wet liquid running down Jeongin's chest and stomach. He can't move, hitting the ground soundlessly with the man standing over him. The taste of copper fills his mouth, his nose. There's nothing he can do except lay here and wait for the night to take him, droplets of water hitting his face softly.

It's starting to rain.

-

Soft hands touch your face and the aggressive sounds of waves crashing fade around you. Your eyes flutter open, revealing Chan, who's holding you and looking at you like he's been away for a long, long time. Instinctively, you pull away, but he holds on tighter, wrapping one arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, hand in your hair. He's shaking, barely stable. And he smells really good, too good for someone who was previously standing in the sea covered in blood. The warmth of his body is so tempting to lose yourself in, but you know better.

"Chan." You pull away again, not leaving his arms, but giving enough space to look him in the eyes again. "You found me?"

"I will always find you," he whispers. "Always, no matter where you are I'll find you. Just call my name and I'll be there."

A smile breaks out on your face. Despite everything, you feel safe with him, almost happy. His nose nudges yours, breath on your skin. It's almost enough for you to not realize the icy feeling creeping up your back, or the way the world around you has been consumed by light. Now you really pull away, despite Chan's whining. You've never seen this room before, but you're dressed in the same white that covers the walls, the same white you found Chan in.

In the middle of the room stands a mirror with two frozen figures in front of it. You immediately recognize them; Minho and Jeongin aren't moving, not even breathing by the looks of it. Frozen tears lay halfway down Jeongin's face, and Minho's fist is stopped seconds away from the reflective surface, white clothes stained bright red.

"What is this place?" You ask, more to yourself than anyone else.

You're finally here, a voice whispers in your ear. Are you ready?

"Ready?" You walk a slow circle around the mirror, stopping on the other side; both are reflective. "Ready for what?"

To get married, it says. Or to end it all. Really, the choice is yours. He thinks he's in control of this, of you, but he's not. That is, unless you keep letting him be.

"No, I won't let him." You don't need to ask who 'he' is, standing your ground. "He doesn't get to be a part of my life anymore. I have a plan."

That's it.

You walk back to Chan, whispering in his ear, and he stares at you as you pull away. He opens his mouth to speak, but you place a finger on his lips. This was all you could think of and you couldn't have any possible doubt in your mind about it. Walking over to the frozen bodies of your friends, you whisper in their ears knowing they may not hear you wherever they are. You don't even know if they'll be with you when this happens. Up close, you notice a red stain growing bigger on Jeongin's chest, but there's no source from what you can tell. When you touch him, you get the same zap as you did with Chan.

When you go back to the mirror, the surface ripples ever so slightly, a smaller version of yourself standing in front of you. She's shrunk into herself, a dark bruise hidden behind the messy hair in her face. Your heart aches looking at her, at you. Beside her, a shadowed figure places a hand on the back of her head and she flinches, hair being pulled tight, but she doesn't make a sound. You can feel a hand on your own head, but no one pulls. Someone is stroking your hair, soothing you instead of scaring you.

"Can you see this?" You ask, voice barely audible, somehow too loud in your ears at the same time.

"Yes," Chan answers. "Yes, I can."

You reach out, hand touching the mirror. It takes a minute, but she brings her hand out too, pausing in fear of the shadow behind her when he shifts forward. His chest is pressed against her back, his unoccupied hand wrapping around her neck lightly. With a surge of courage, she flies forward, and your hands clasp through the boundary.

A flash of pain hits you; you would have fallen to the ground if not for Chan's hold on you. The feeling of him starts to fade, and you open your eyes, not registering them closing in the first place. You're lying on a plush couch, and when you move, you feel your skirt ride up. Someone enters the room as you sit up, not having a second to recognize the room you're in.

"Hyun's outside in the car when you're ready." Yeji sits next to you, placing a hand on yours which lays on the skirt of your wedding dress, fingers clawing into the material. "Are you sure you want this?"

Deja vu hits you strong, memories of this conversation happening a different way playing in your head.

"Tell him to come inside," you decide. "I'm getting married."

●

notes • we're getting married yall!!!!!!!!!!!! also, rip jeongin, u will be missed king. unless, yk, ur not actually dead yet. who said that?

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing @3rachachoo @linosjureumi @thebrownemo @tfshouldidohere @channie-143 @frogieeheart @kangaracharacha @skzswife @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @palindrome969 @laylasbunbunny

TAGLIST CLOSED ^^^blue means i can't tag you

[shu-box-puns]

Shell-Shocked

(Neteyam x Reader)

Previous Chapter <- Part 3 -> Epilogue

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Summary: Eywa loves you, but not enough to save you. So good luck taking care of yourself.

Word Count: 6,934

Metkayina Reader uses they/them pronouns.

<”Someone is going to die.”>

Ronal simple statement nipped at your heels and quickened your steps. It made neteyam lighter in your arms, as adrenaline ran rampant through your bloodstream. Usually, you would have found it difficult to carry Neteyam for so long, but somehow, lying limp and injured in your arms, it was easy. As if Eywa had transformed your rage into additional strength. Your heart pounded like a thousand tsurak wings taking flight, headed straight for a dangerous but glorious battle. 

As you strode purposefully across the white sands of Awa’atlu island, Neteyam’s brother hurried to keep pace. The boy glanced periodically from your stony face, to the village that lay ahead. Its occupants beginning to prepare themselves for sleep. 

<”Stick close to me.”> You hissed quietly. 

<”They won’t let me in.”> The boy whispered, looking moments away from peeling away from your side and disappearing off into the darkness. Instinctively, your tail curled around his waist, not holding, just encouraging to keep in stride with you. You had seen his concern for his brother, had witnessed his reluctance to abandon him even after you had gotten there.

<”Hold onto me.”> You growled under your breath, <”no one will harm you.”> For Neteyam, you would fight tooth and nail for this weird boy, who looked at you with wonder and badly concealed mistrust. 

Hesitantly, he reached out and curled his ridiculously small hand around the end of your tail, his fingers squeezing slightly to still their shaking. The sensation did not bother you. As a toddler, Tsireya had tended to do the same thing to ensure she didn’t lose you whilst playing or when wandering aimlessly around the village.

At some point during the exchange, the course sands had given way to the familiar spring of the walkways as you entered the village. The boy stuck close to you as you passed the outer pods of the village. Predictably, your presence was detected rapidly, as several heads popped out of the walkways. Adults who had watched you grow from a child, appeared in the openings of their pods, and upon catching sight of you, immediately leapt into action.

<”GET THE TSAHIK!”> Someone’s father ordered, sending a flurry of boys to run full pelt down the walkways to the heart of the village.

And without you so much as having to open your mouth, the village came alive.

Hunters emerged from their pods, spears in hand, shouting orders to one another as some called for their tsuraks, whilst others followed the bloodied trail in your wake back to the island. Parents ushered their gawking children back into pods, whilst kids your age stood motionless on either side of the walkways, bug-eyed and motionless.

To think, not even an hour ago, your roles had been reversed. The mood had been amusing as Neteyam carried you out of the village for a much needed talk. Whereas now, the mood was heavy and suffocating. Neteyam lying limp in your arms with his head pressed heavily into your shoulder.

Two women approached to take Neteyam off your hands, but you found yourself holding him tighter, your lips peeling back to snarl at them. Their sympathetic looks made you feel sick. Neteyam groaned in your arms, his hand weakly clutching at you even as his strength failed him. You hushed him lightly, trying to soothe even as your own heart pounded painfully. 

The women did not try to take him again, and instead flanked you as you hurried to Ronal’s pod. One stood at your elbow, hands half raised in case you faltered, and barely spared the boy a second glance, whereas the other strode ahead to clear your path to the Tsahik’s hut.

The air was tense as you rounded the woven structure and pushed your way through the string curtains. 

Ronal was already laying down an assortment of herbs and shells beside a bed roll near the fire. Her expression faltered at your appearance, her hand half reaching out before she collapsed her fingers with a snap and allowed a professional calm to overtake her features. 

<”Set him down here.”> She instructed plainly, reaching up to steady Neteyam’s head as you knelt beside the mat and gently lowered him. You latched onto the authority in her tone, allowing it to guide your foggy mind. 

You felt numb. Or like you were holding your breath and simply drifting at the bottom of the open ocean. Any emotions you had had slipped away, leaving behind a cold fury that burned in the hollow of your chest.

Another set of hands appearing in your peripheral, weathered and large. Steady and comforting as they gently supported Neteyam’s back. Tonowari’s expression was grave as his eyes raked over the damage. 

Neteyam winced at the movement, his eyes fluttering behind their lids but not opening. It sickened you to see him so pale, his freckles barely illuminated in the dim pod. His back hit the mat, and the boy cried out, a hand flying to your forearm and holding on with painful tightness as he gritted his teeth. 

<”Tsireya!”> Ronal prompted, the rest of her instructions not reaching your ears as the pod exploded into a flurry of movement. 

The bitter bite of herbs stung your nose as Ronal gingerly lowered herself to Neteyam’s side, Tonowari supporting her arm as she tried to get comfortable around her pregnant belly. In the background, you could hear Tsireya scrambling for bandages, for ingredients and fresh water. Her tail thrashed anxiously, threatening to upend countless stacks of Ronal’s carefully organised stash.

<”What happened?”> Someone asked you, but you couldn’t pinpoint who. Neteyam was still clinging to your arm, barely hanging on. 

Someone called your name. A hand fell on your shoulder, but you were too overwhelmed to respond.

At some point, Neytiri and the rest of the Sully’s burst into the pod, only for Tonowari to intercept the kids and Jake. You heard Neytiri’s knees hit the mat beside Ronal before the teary eyed woman snapped for something to do. Anxiety rolled off of her like a miasma. 

<”What happened?!”> She yelled, with all the authority of a future Tsahik. Blarily, you blinked and glanced up.

Her eyes were wide with panic, whilst over her shoulder you could see Jake pacing and the kids greeting their demon brother. Kiri had the boy in an uncomfortably tight looking hug, her shoulders shaking with what could only be described as stomach churning sobs. The boy clung right back, his fingers digging into her back as if someone would rip him off of her at a moment's notice.

You did not know what to say or how to even begin explaining what had happened. Your throat was tight, your mind slow and sluggish. The world seemed to still be moving at its usual pace around you, but you felt stuck in time. Frozen and distant. A moment in time you were terrified of shattering. 

Your mouth opened with an audible crack of your jaw, but nothing came out. Neytiri glared back at you, looking at you as if you were something small. Something untrusted. 

<”What?”> She asked slowly, dangerously. <”Happened. To my SON!?”>

Your ears flattened at her increase in volume, but you did not cower. Not with Neteyam clinging tightly to your arm as Ronal applied salve and pressure to the wounds. 

<”They shot him.”> You finally said, your voice small and pathetic but audible. You swallowed, the world finally slowing down to your pace as you forcibly blinked the fog from your eyes. Neytiri did not demand that you specify who ‘they’ were, because you both knew who you were referring to.

<”They shot him, and I killed them.”> The words dripped off of your tongue. As fowl and forbidden as they were disturbing. You swallowed loudly, <”I killed all of them, any of them I could find.”> Their dried blood was tight and flaking around your chin, the copper still staining your tongue. 

Neytiri’s righteous rage faltered. She blinked, some of her fury subsiding as she looked at you in a new light. Probably taking in your exhausted, blood stained appearance, your own bullet wounds bleeding sluggishly. Absorbing the way Neteyam held onto you, despite her presence. Something seemed to click in her mind and she softened. 

<”All of them?”> She pressed. 

The numbness was subsiding now, leaving you feeling weak and shaky. Neteyam’s grasp on you was a grounding for you as it was no doubt for him. 

<”All of them.”> You promised. 

Tsireya broke the staring contest between you and Neytiri by handing over bandages to Ronal, who instructed you to help her move Neteyam into a sitting position. You complied, allowing Neytiri to help as you tucked Neteyam’s head into your shoulder and held his hand. Ronal shuffled closer and began meticulously covering up the bloody wound with soothing green.

The commotion of the clan beyond the pod and the Sully siblings anxious whispers were the only sounds as Ronal did the best she could. 

<”He will sleep.”> Ronal said simply after coaxing Neteyam into swallowing a sleeping draft. 

Tsireya took the statement as a dismissal and quickly exited the pod in the last direction Lo’ak’s stressed pacing had taken him.

Neytiri however, didn’t move as she sat unnervingly still. 

Ronal was gentle as she continued to speak. <”He will still be here if you look away.”> Ronal soothed with a steady hand to Neytiri’s shoulder. <”In the meantime, whilst he rests, you must check on your other children. They need you as well.”>

Neytiri looked torn but, at a soft sniffle from Tuk, managed to convince herself to pull away. On silent feet, she padded across the pod, ducked through the curtains and threw herself into her mate’s arms. Jake caught her automatically, with the arm he wasn’t using to hold Tuk, his expression grim as he simply held her. 

Ronal smiled sadly after her before pointedly turning her back to you, a silent offer of privacy.

You remained sat where you were, stuck to Neteyam’s side, simply holding him and regretting everything that had led up to this. If only you hadn’t been an idiot. If only you had fought harder against going to the island. If only you had ignored the shells or worked up the nerve to do something about them. If only you haven't told Aonung about anything. If only-

You cut the thought off and focused on carding your fingers through Neteyam’s braids. He grumbled weakly at the contact, his grasp on your forearm loosening a fraction as the sleeping draft began to take effect. 

<”You’re going to be okay.”> You promised quietly as he began to drift away. Little by little, his strength left him and he slumped deeper and deeper into your arms. <”Eywa made a mistake. The black shells were not meant for you.”> You were talking more to yourself than Neteyam at this point, but you had to speak the possibility into existence. <”Surely She would not be so cruel.”>

Neteyam did not respond as sleep finally claimed him. His grasp on you grew lax, so you gently laid him down. He looked as still as the dead, reclined on his back with blood seeping through the thick bandages, but not hardly as peaceful as someone who had already passed on. There was still fight in him, you knew. You could see it in the tense set of his jaw, the way he was still somehow clinging to that bloodied token. It’s soft pink shells, now a steaky seashell pink from his blood.

What had he been trying to tell you before everything happened? 

You squashed that thought too. It would only be cruel on yourself to entertain it.  

With a shaky breath, you backed away from Neteyam’s mat, something squirming and melancholic writhing deep in your chest. You felt your lower lip threaten to wobble, despite your best attempts to keep your expression neutral. With a wet breath, you bit your lower lip and stood. 

Across the fire, you caught sight of Aonung watching you, his expression grave. You hadn’t even noticed him slip into the pod. He looked at you with pity now, his demeanour screaming fear and vulnerability. If you had felt more stable, you might have gone over to soothe him. But right now, you knew you were one wrong look away from harming yourself or someone else, so you headed for the pod exit instead. 

The sun was beginning to emerge from behind the moon when you stepped out from the pod. Your gaze immediately went to the beach, to the hunters milling around in the white sand and ducking in and out of the trees for an enemy that was no doubt long gone. 

A short distance away, you could see the human in the embrace of a sobbing Kiri. She had swept him up in her arms so that his feet could not touch the floor, to which the boy clung back fiercely. 

Around you, the village was abuzz with organised chaos. Hunters carrying torches, combed the beaches, the island forest and the bay upon their skimwings. The fishermen sported extra weapons before venturing out of the reef for the morning catch. Even children lingered in the doorways of their homes, reluctant or unable to sleep with all the noise.

And amongst it all, you stood motionless outside the Olo’eyktan’s home, your fated potentially dying within. Regret sat bitterly on your tongue, it enhanced the stickiness of the blood on your skin, sharpened the sting of sand grinding into your thighs. Your muscles were beginning to ache harshly now, whilst your injuries smarted with every movement, and yet you felt nothing but fear for Neteyam.

>_<

A wall of shadows blocked out the morning sun some time later.

You were curled up and tucked out of sight of the main walkway, behind the Olo’eyktan’s hut, your knees drawn up to your chest and your tail curled around your feet. Mud and blood still obscured the ripple pattern of your stripes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get into the water to clean any of it off. Irrationally, you were convinced that any time spent away from the pod, might be the last precious seconds of Neteyam’s life.

And although you were nothing to him, you still wanted to be close by. Even if all you ever would be was just friends that fell out over something dumb, even if he did not have the time to see you as more, you still wanted to be there. You wanted to be able to look back and know that you had stayed. That you had tried your best with what you had had at the time.

Tsireya stepped forward first, leaving Lo’ak and Aonung exchanging uncertain looks whilst Kiri and the human remained further away. 

<”How long have you been here?”> Your friend asked softly. She knelt before you, her expression pinched but kind. You didn’t dare meet her gaze and curled in tighter on yourself. How pathetic you must look. Couldn’t they leave you to grieve in peace? Surely they didn’t expect you to be a supportive pillar after the evening you’d barely survived through.

Aonung was the next to step uncertainly forward, but he did not speak. His movements were slow and obvious, as if he were approaching a cornered animal. With surprising gentleness, a hand fell to your shoulder and squeezed. 

It was like someone had brought down a knife hilt on a rock. Your expression split and the tears immediately began slipping down your cheeks. You felt yourself crumble, as your ears folded and you shoved your face into your knees to try and stop them from seeing.

Tsireya made a wounded noise before she was pressing into your side, her arms around you and squeezing tightly. You collapsed against her, no longer the seasoned killer, no longer a protector. Just a kid. A scared little kid that was in desperate need of some reassurance.

<”I, I tri-tried-”> you sobbed against her, fighting to keep your words steady only for your panicked sobs to fuck them up before they could leave your lips. <”I tri-ied so har-hard to, to, to pro-protec-t him-”> <”I know you did.”> Tsireya hushed you, as Aonung’s hand slid up to your head and began gently combing through your braids. Tsireya began to gently rock you. <”I know you did.”> She promised. <”I know you did everything you could.”> <”I’m-I’m so-rry-”> <”You don’t need to be sorry.”>

<”Sorry.”> You repeated anyway as your friends held you together. “<”So sorry. Sorry. Sorry-”> <”Just try and breath.”> Tsireya soothed, <”you did wonderfully. Spider is all right, and Neteyam is going to be just fine.”> You didn’t dare contradict her. Not with Lo’ak looking like he was on the verge of tears himself. But there was a very real possibility that Neteyam wouldn’t pull through. People died all the time. What made Neteyam any different from all the other hunters that were killed by those aliens?

<”Children, what are you-”> Tonowari suddenly spoke up, appearing around the corner of the hut, only for his voice to stop in its tracks when his eyes fell on you. <”Oh. Oh Y/n.”> He said softly, softly enough that you suspected he thought you would splinter apart if he spoke too loudly. <”Aonung. Tsireya. Bring them.”> 

His children obeyed easily, and you were too shattered to bother fighting it. Hands guided you to your feet, held you tenderly by the wrists and smoothed down your braids as you were guided away from the Olo’eyktan’s hut to your own just down the walkway. 

Absently, you noted that Lo’ak did not follow. Although his eyes tracked the three of you, his feet remained rooted in place beside the Olo’eyktan’s hut. Standing guard in your stead, you decided. It eased something in you to know that he would remain whilst you were shepherded away. 

Numbness dulled your senses as you were guided down onto a mat. Tsireya’s hands fell away from your body as the clinking of jars sounded from the shelves you kept your salves on. Across from you, Tonowari lowered himself down onto his knees with a grave expression, whereas Aonung hovered at your back, still standing with his hand ghosting against your shoulder, as if expecting you to topple over at a moment’s notice.

You were tired, you realised. Drained and more exhausted than you had ever felt following a training session. And boy, what a training session that adrenaline filled adventure had been. If you weren’t confident in your reflexes before, you were now fully assured that you could hold your own in a fight - given the right incentive.

With care, Tsireya deposited her findings down beside her father, before kneeling beside him in the typical position she would take up when assisting Ronal with her duties. 

<”I am capable of patching myself up, you know.”> You croaked, wincing at how tight your throat sounded. The statement sounded weak, even to your own ears. 

Tonowari nodded in that infuriatingly neutral way of his that both validated and debunked your claim. <”Perhaps.”> He agreed half-heartedly, taking the water filled sponge that Tsireya passed him with a thankful nod of his head, <”but I would feel better if you allowed us to help you.”> <”Do you even remember how to bandage a wound, Olo’eyktan?”> You challenged before you could stop yourself, startling a small smile onto his face.

<”It’s Tonowari to you.”> Tonowari repeated for the hundredth time, he paused in the conversation to shuffle closer, carefully taking your chin in one hand whilst the other began wiping away the blood stains clinging to your chin. <”And with children like you,”> he continued, <”I have never fallen out of practice.”>

As if summoned by the rustle of leaf bandages, Ronal chose then to slip into the hut. Her eyes cut rapidly across the scene before her, a nod of approval following her quick assessment as she stepped in further. <”I see you have begun without me.”> 

<”You were busy, my Pearl.”> Tonowari returned easily, focusing now on taking your hands in his and getting at the blood drying between your fingers and under your nails. 

His mate clicked her tongue, but offered no further comment as she took a slow circle around your back; assessing the damage. <”There are exit wounds.”> She noted aloud, eyes raking over the peppering of bullet holes shot into your legs and torso, <”but due to Eywa’s design they have already begun to clot.”> 

Something in you eased at her soft reassurance. Thank the Great Mother for her foresight. Without the thick layer of fat tucked beneath your thick skin, usually intended to insulate you against the freezing temperatures of the deep sea, there was no doubt you would also be in the Olo’eyktan’s hut clinging to life.

The healing session that followed was comforting and familiar. Tonowari finished cleaning off the worst of the blood and mud before beginning to patch you up with Tsireya’s assistance, whilst Ronal rested her swollen feet by reclining back on your hammock, offering pointers if Tsireya forgot a step. Meanwhile, Aonung continued to hover, a ball of anxiety, watching intently as your wounds were treated and covered by layer after layer of soothing green leaves. 

<”And you’re all set.”> Tonowari narrated with a proud smile as he secured the last bandage. <”Now, I recommend a full night of rest and plenty of food, and with any luck you’ll be back to being a nuisance in three short weeks.”> With a roll of your eyes and a huff, you staggered to your feet, much to Tonowari’s annoyance. <”Yep, sounds nice.”> You said dismissively, having already decided you didn’t have time for ‘three short weeks’. 

<”Um.”> Tonowari joked good naturedly as you hobbled past. <”What did I just tell you?”> He made no move to stop you. <”I’m going to rest.”> You assured him, <”I’m just going to do it out here.”> <”Y/n.”> Tsireya whined softly, sounding close to tears. <”Your body is tired. It needs rest.”> <”I’ll rest once he’s awake.”>

<”Don’t be so stupid.”> Aonung jumped in, his hand once again taking hold of your elbow. With a growl, you shrugged him off. The younger boy flashed his fangs in response, but refused to back down. <”You’re no use to anyone if you drop dead from exhaustion.”> <”I’ll literally be sitting-”>

<”Y/n.”> Ronal cut in, her tone enough for your current sentence to die on your tongue.

<”Tsahik?”> <”In your vision, who held the black shell?”> Her tone was uncomfortably calm, a start contrast to the tense way she held herself. Slowly, you turned back to her, finding the calculated gaze of the Tsahik fixed on you.

<”Neteyam.”> You said with a swallow.

She hummed thoughtfully. <”Perhaps, but earlier, the new Sully boy told me he saw Neteyam pluck the black shell from your hair. Is that true?”> Expression scrunched in confusion, you nodded. Ronal sat up with too much speed for someone as pregnant as her. <”You stupid child! You did not tell me you were the one in possession of the shell in your vision.”>

<”I never actually held it. Neteyam was giving it to me.”> The explanation did little to calm her. 

<”How could you leave out something so crucial? It was meant for you. This was supposed to be YOUR dying day, not Neteyam’s!”> She was on her feet now, looking moments away from panic. Your throat went dry again. <”Well shit.”> You breathed before glancing out of the pod towards the sky. <”Well, eclipse isn’t long over. There’s still time.”> Aonung’s expression twisted as he lightly pushed at your shoulder. <”Do not joke about that!”>

<”Sorry, sorry.”> You waved him off before continuing out of the hut. 

This time, none of them tried to stop you. Ronal’s muffled voice began speaking as you turned the corner, Tonowari was quick to jump in. You blocked them out, unwilling to hear anything else. You’d survived. Neteyam would hopefully pull through. What else was there to discuss?

Stiffly, you hobbled back to the Olo’eyktan’s hut, as the sun slipped fully out from behind the moon, bathing the village in the full force of its light. As you passed the hut, you peered in through the beaded curtain to find Neteyam laid out on his rug, pale and bandaged, his jewellery removed and Neytiri softly combing back his braids. In the weak light, you could make out his laboured breathing, could see the sweat beading on his brow.

Alive; for now. You reassured yourself, before stepping away. 

>_<

As eclipse stole all light from the sky, you prayed that the glow of Neteyam’s freckles would not extinguish with the end of the day.

You hadn’t moved in hours. Your muscles were stiff from disuse and your bandages in need of changing. But no one asked you to move. 

It wasn’t until the bioluminescence had turned on, that Tonowari found you again. This time, he did not try to coax you away from the hut, and instead sat down beside you. He leant back on his hands, head tipped back to look at the stars as you sat together in companionable silence.

It was quiet enough that between the rhythmic laps of the waves, you could hear hushed voices from within the Olo’eyktan’s hut if you really strained your ears.

<”I can’t sleep yet.”> You said, before he could tell you to rest.

Tonowari laughed softly. <”I was not deluding myself into believing I could convince you.”> He admitted lightly, <”although, it is getting chilly. Would you not feel more comfortable sitting inside, where you can see him? Keep an eye on him.”>

Wordlessly, you shook your head.

Tonowari did not push, his arm slid around your shoulder and gently pulled you into him, allowing some of his warmth to transfer into your cold limbs. <”I understand this is hard for you.”> He soothed, <”but you are handling it remarkably well.”> The gentle praise was almost enough to reduce you to tears again. <”There is no comfort I can offer you, for a pain this deep and personal.”> <”I don’t need comfort.”> You stubbornly denied, hating the way your voice threatened to shake. <”I just need him to wake up.”>

>_<

Neteyam woke up around noon the next day. 

You were passed out against Tonowari’s shoulder after spending a restless night watching the water, when Lo’ak came charging out of the Olo’eyktan’s hut yelling, <”HE’S AWAKE! GUYS HE’S AWAKE!”> 

In a scramble of limbs, the other Sully kids - who had also been lingering outside the hut since the end of eclipse - tripped over themselves to get through the doorway. Energised by their eagerness, you followed suit. 

Chuckling lightly to himself, Tonowari helped you up, pushing at your lower back when your knees faltered in the doorway. <”Go on.”> He encouraged lightly, pushing again until you finally stepped out of the sunlight and into the low light of his home.

Neteyam was still laid out on a mat, expression pinched as Neytiri kissed his forehead and stroked his braids. <”Mother, I’m fine.”> He kept insisting, unable to keep the laugh out of his voice. She refused to relent. 

<”Never, scare me like that again!”> Neytiri threatened between kisses, pulling back to hold her son’s head in her hands, her gaze piercing. 

<”I won’t.”> Her eldest promised, and judging by the narrowing of her eyes, she didn’t believe him. She relented regardless, allowing Jake to crowd in close, alongside the rest of the family. 

There were lots of tears. With little Tuk crowding in close for a cuddle, whereas Lo’ak tearfully offered jabs about Neteyam being more careful next time. His brother rolled his eyes, calling Lo’ak a skxawg, which just made Lo’ak’s watery grin grow. Kiri watched from the sidelines, her hand in Neteyam’s but otherwise offering no words. After checking his son over, Jake rocked back on his knees, content to hold Neytiri. 

<”Wait, where’s Spider?”> Neteyam asked suddenly, to which the boy from before was quick to shuffle forward. Amongst so many blue bodies, he had almost melted entirely into the background during the reunion.

<”I’m glad you���re okay.”> Spider offered with a tight smile. 

<”Yeah, me too.”> Neteyam sighed, before another thought struck him. <”Your mask-”> <”We’ve switched it out.”> Jake jumped in, quick to soothe the sudden anxiety out of Neteyam’s tense body. <”Bob and I took it far away and dropped it in a current. With any luck, the rest of those fuckers are merrily sailing the archipelago.”> <”That is good.”> Neteyam offered.

<”It will give you a chance to heal up, and for us to move on.”> Your breath caught painfully in your throat at the same time as several other na’vi in the room. Neteyam and Lo’ak both looked panicked, whereas Kiri looked appalled at having to uproot her life again. Tuk was still cuddled into Neteyam’s side, oblivious to what her father had just implied.

<”Dad,”> Lo’ak spoke up, <“you can’t be serious.”>

<”It isn’t safe for us to stay here.”> Jake pressed. <”We’re putting this clan at risk if we remain. Best to slip away now before more recoms come.”>

<”But we have lives here.”> Lo’ak pressed. <”We have friends.”> He glanced at Tsireya who looked moments away from breaking down in tears. Her ears were lowering as realisation dawned. Lo’ak’s tail began whipping to and fro as he turned back to his parents. <”And you’re just expecting us to uproot all that again.”> <”Lo’ak-”> Neytiri tried to sooth, but the boy was already on his feet.

<”No. I’m tired of running.”> Lo’ak snapped, and he looked it. They all did. <”They’re never going to stop. Quaritch isn’t going to leave us alone just because we disappeared again. We need to fight back. We need-”>

<”Lo’ak!”> Jake repeated more firmly, cutting his son off mid rant. There was no anger in him this time, no spare energy left to scold him for speaking out of turn. <”As your father, I need to keep you safe. All of you. And I’m sorry, but this is the only way.”> Jake continued, his voice stern and as unmoving as a cliff face. <”As soon as Neteyam is strong enough to mount his ikran and stay on it, we’re going. And that is final.”>

Lo’ak glared right back at him, his tail raised high in silent challenge. But he didn’t bite back this time. Instead, he squeezed Neteyam’s shoulder in far well before turning on his heel and storming from the hut, Tsireya falling into step beside him.

Jake sighed tiredly, deflating a bit. His expression was pinched as he looked from the entrance of the pod, to his remaining children. You could practically see the decision weighing down on his shoulders, how the guilt had sapped his energy as much as his anxiety had. 

<”Rest, Jake-Sully.”> Tonowari suddenly spoke up, making himself known for the first time. Amidst all the commotion, he had slipped into the background just like you, a silent observer to the scene. <”You too Neytiri, today has been stressful.”> <”But-”> Neytiri began only for Tonowari to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

<”Do not worry, Y/n and myself will be around should Neteyam require anything.”> Uncertain, Neytiri glanced from the Olo’eyktan to you. Your eyes met, to which you nodded once. Neytiri must have seen something she trusted in the gesture, because she relented. 

<”Thank you, Olo’eyktan.”>

With that, he coaxed the pair outside, leaving Neteyam with Tuk still cuddled under his arm and Spider and Kiri fussing over him. You watched them for a moment, your heart suddenly aching with the slowly dawning realisation that this sight now had a time limit. For however long it took Neteyam to heal, there would be an imposing countdown in the background, ticking closer and closer to their departure. 

You swallowed with a dry click of your throat. To think, a day or so ago, you’d almost figured it out. There might have been a chance at salvaging your relationship with Neteyam, but now? Was there even a point?

<”Um, Y/n?”> Kiri said aloud, startling you out of your thoughts. <”Oh good, I thought you’d fallen asleep with your eyes open or something.”> Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. 

Pulling yourself off of the wall, you shifted further into the room, feeling out of place in an environment you often frequented. <”Do you need me to get you anything?”> You asked carefully, eyes finally meeting Neteyam’s and finding him looking back. The expression he wore startled you into silence.

There was pain there, hidden deep in those golden depths. But also a relief. A pride. Strangely, you saw no fear, despite everything he’d watched you do. Despite how he’d watch you tear apart na’vi twice your size and enjoy it.

<”Get over here.”> Neteyam ordered, wincing as he waved you closer. You hesitated, glancing from his bandaged injury to his pleading look. 

<”I don’t want to hurt you.”> <”Don’t care. I want to hold you. Now, get down here.”> <”Why?”> You asked stupidly, hyper aware of the other three glancing between the two of you uncertainly. 

Neteyam frowned, looking at you now as if you were being stupid on purpose. <”Because you scared me half to death tackling trained soldiers, got shot several times, and then carried me across half a beach like I weighed nothing. The least I can do, is give you a hug in thanks.”>

At Neteyam’s nonchalant confession, Kiri glanced at you with newfound respect clear in her expression. 

You ignored her, <”you don’t need to thank me for that.”> You said truthfully, to which Neteyam nodded. And deep down, you knew he understood what you meant. That he knew you would have played far dirtier, would have fought harder if it would have saved him. 

<”Maybe not.”> He agreed, <”but I would like to.”> Again, he extended his arm, inviting you to fall into it. With every heartbeat that passed, you were finding it harder and harder to resist. Your expression must have crumbled, because Kiri finally lost her patience and gave you a firm shove. Once you were moving, you couldn’t stop. With your own bandaged wounds pulling from the sudden movement, you dropped down on your knees at Neteyam’s side, before carefully enveloping him in a tight hug. The arm not cuddling Tuk curled tightly around your shoulders, pressing you impossibly tight to him. He was a warm, solid weight within your arms, and that in itself was more reassuring than periodic glances through the gap in the curtains. 

Neteyam’s arm was a steady pressure across your back, firm and comforting, even more so when his hand shifted to gently cup the back of your neck, applying lovely pressure. For the first time since the guns had gone off, you found yourself breathing easier. 

<”There you go.”> Neteyam coaxed softly as you melted further into his side, most of your body lying beside him on the mat instead of on top. 

Someone chuckled quietly, before getting elbowed. <”The hell was that for Kiri!”> Spider whisper shouted, earning himself another hard knock.

<”Do not ruin this.”> Kiri whispered back, barely quieter than her brother. <”You have no <i>idea</i> how painful the last few weeks have been because of these two.”>

<”I just thought the purring was a cute touch!”> Spider hissed back, to which you abruptly realised you had in fact begun to purr now that you were finally in Neteyam’s arms. Strangely, it was a struggle to muffle it with how relaxed your body had become.

<”Look what you did!”> Kiri growled.

<”You know we can hear you,”> Neteyam cut in smoothly, <”right?”> 

Neither of them replied. 

Neteyam continued to periodically squeeze you, applying alternating pressures until you calmed, falling limp and compliant again. Perhaps later you would regret acting so openly affectionate, but for now, held securely in your fated’s arms, you couldn’t care less.

Surprisingly, it was Kiri who cracked first. <”Well, whilst you two are doing, um, that I’m going to go and speak with Dad.”> There was some rustling, which you assumed was her getting up. <”I’m going to try and talk him out of moving.”> Neteyam grimaced. <”Good luck with that. He seemed pretty set.”> She chuckled dryly. <”Well, we’ve all got to try. You just stall getting better to get me enough time to work on him.”> The way she said it implied that Jake was vulnerable to her charm. <”Tuk, I need your puppy eyes.”> <”Aye aye captain.”> Tuk grinned, giving Neteyam one last parting squeeze before hopping up. In her absence, Neteyam wound his other arm around your back, letting out a soft sigh. 

<”Do you think they’ll manage it?”> Spider asked as the two ducked out of the Olo’eyktan’s hut. 

<”We can only hope.”> Neteyam said sadly, <”best keep an eye on them.”> 

Taking the hint, Spider hid a little knowing smile before getting up and following. 

It was quiet in the hut without the three of them, almost peaceful with the rhythmic lul of the waves and the distant chatter of the clan all around. 

<”Thank you.”> Neteyam repeated again, a soft purr starting up in the back of his throat. <”You don’t need to thank me-”> <”No, listen. Please?”> He insisted, tail thumping lightly against the mat. You went still, giving him a large enough opening to say his piece. He took it. <”You didn’t have to protect Spider, he was my responsibility, but you did. You protected both of us, even though you were mad at me, and you didn’t have any reason to put yourself in that kind of danger on my behalf. So thank you, you’re incredible.”>

Something large and uncomfortable blocked your airways as the full force of his words hit you. How there was nothing but gratitude in his tone. A soft sort of awe that left you reeling. <”Thank you for waking up.”> You said stupidly, for lack of anything better to offer. <”Now we’re even.”> <”Almost.”> Neteyam agreed, his arms slackening slightly. <”Could you pass me my jewellery please? The whole bundle?”> He lifted one of his hands off your back to motion to the pile in question. 

Nose scrunched in confusion you complied. With care, you scooted off of him to retrieve the bundle and offer it to him. Neteyam took it out of your hands with a soft hum, his fingers carefully carding through the pieces until he unearthed the token from before. 

The soft pink of the shells looked gorgeous in this light, despite the flecks of blood that had dirtied them. Neteyam made a face at the sight of the mess, to which you wordlessly retrieved a bowl of water from beside the rest of Ronal’s healing supplies. 

<”Thank you.”> He said again as if he hadn’t already thanked you at least three times in the last few minutes. With care, he took a moment to lightly dip the necklace into the water, before gently rubbing the blood out of the woven knots. The angle was a bit hard on his shoulder, but he worked well enough with one hand.

<”What I was trying to say before,”> Neteyam said, <”before everything went sideways, was that I want to be more than friends. I want to get to know you with the intention of fulfilling what these shells suggest.”>

<”I see.”>

<”And,”> Neteyam continued, <”that if you hadn’t overheard Lo’ak and gotten the wrong idea, that I would have gladly accepted your courting gift if you had presented it to me.”> <”You would?”> 

<”Of course I would have.”> He promised, glancing away from his task to smile warmly at you. 

It was only because you had already been looking at him that you’d noticed a shell caught in one of his braids, previously obscured by his head. Thankfully, this one was not black, or grey, it was not blue or green. It wasn’t even white.

It was small. Clearly a suggestion by the Great Mother. There was hardly any pigment to it, and in the wrong light, you would have certainly mistaken it for white. You didn’t need Ronal to tell you to know that it represented new love, or at least some form of blossoming adoration. It was no longer a sign for the fated, but a symbol of what Eywa predicted would one day come to pass. 

The thought unclenched something in you, allowing you to return to the present quickly enough to accept Neteyam’s courting gift as he handed it to you. <”Thank you.”> You offered, carefully lifting the gorgeously woven piece to your neck and securing it in place. 

Neteyam smiled. <”It looks good on you.”>

Previous Chapter <- Part 3 -> Epilogue

[vinetae]

HENTAI TIME

Genre: Drabble, SMUT, Hentai related themes

Summary: Basically Jungkook fucks you while forcing you to watch his anime/hentai.

A/n: MIW = Motionless In White. It's my favorite rock/metal band, and I thought Jungkook - acting all emo and ish- would be suiting for him lmao. Enjoy.

_____________________________________________________________

"Marie, what we had was special, we can get it back again!" Marie turns to face the streets, avoiding direct eye-contact between herself and Derek. If she were to have looked into his green, emerald eyes, she knew she wouldn't be able to face the reality. They'd just - as usual - slip back into each others arms, thinking that one night, nothing could touch them. Only to wake up with crusted tears and flushed cheeks. An empty spot where he's supposed to lie-

"Fuckk. Yeah, just like that." You sigh, closing the hard cover of your book. Your eyes wander over to your boyfriend who'd been intensely invested in the cartooned TV show know as 'anime'. You never really cared for it. Much rather preferring to imagine your stories than having watch them. Even more so watching them in a language you couldn't understand.

"Oh! Oh! I'm coming!" The high-pitched voice actor practically screams at the male protagonist. The two lazily sat in a porcelain tub, her sitting unrealistically reverse cowgirl style on his lap. Your boyfriend had taken on a certain liking to these videos. Not so much as taking action while consuming said material, just out of curiosity. You shake your head, trying to block out the overly done voices of his show.

"No, Derek. This-" Marie motions between the two. Rain fallen heavily upon the streets. Soaked from head to toe, the two stand in the freezing rain. Both pulling at strings they knew they couldn't hold. "This can't happen again. I won't do it to Ja-"

"OH MY GOD, YES, OH GOD YES, FUCK ME HARDER. OH YES, FUCK IN COMING"

That's it!!!

You stand, throwing your book to the plush of your boyfriend comforter, making a b-line over to his computer desk. Just as you turn his chair around, your eyes catch on the two characters in a very compromising position now. The girl's; face down ass up position is taken by the main character's harsh thrusts. The animated girl's enormous breasts bounce roughly against her face. A chuckle escapes your lips. Your boyfriend had been just laying back in his chair perfectly fine.

Until you looked a little closer.

For far away, it'd just seemed as if he was enjoying his favorite sit-com with his MIW oversized hoodie cascading down his figure. If one were to take a closer looked, you'd see his hand shoved down the entirety of his pants, small palming motions moved under the fabric of his sweats. His head leaned back against the plush pillow of his gaming chair, a sheet of sweat gleams on his shiny face. Staggered breaths are sucked in as his stomach muscles clench over so often.

He was getting off to this?

"JUNGKOOK!" You yell, removing one half of his headphones from his ear. He startles, practically jumping from his chair.

"What!?!? Where's the fire!!" He sporadically checks the rooms, watching for any signs of danger.

"Apparently on your dick from rubbing it so much." You fold your arms across your chest, sending him an annoyed look. He gulps, finally taking notice to the quickening screen playing on his monitor.

"I...I was just looking something up and this all of a sudden-" You stop his rambling by holding your palm up. "Save it, Kook. I don't care if you get off to it or not, just don't make me listen to it as well." His head tilts at your request.

"How'd you... I had headphones on though.." A embarrassed flush washes over his expression as he lowers himself back into his striped, sleek black gaming chair you'd gotten him two Christmases ago.

"Well obviously they weren't plugged in. I don't wanna hear 'Oh god, yes! Fuck, Harder please!' while I'm trying to cry to my book!" You see the outline of his Adam's apple bob up, then back down again. Why did his hoodie all of a sudden feel so constricting?

"S.. Sorry, babe." He shyly replies, taking a few looks over your newly noticed figure. The daisy-duke like pajama shorts did no aiding in the softening of his cock. Your V-neck tank top hung dangerously low, revealing the dip between your breasts. Your messy bun sits perfectly atop the crown of your head. Little strands falling from here and there. He couldn't help the growing tent forming in his sweats.

"Baby.." He softly calls, as you glance up wondering what he's needing now.

"What?"

His gaze leaves the computer screen that now has the ending clip flashing in his face, telling viewers to subscribe for more uncensored content.

"Come on, baby. Let's watch it together?" You scoff, picking the hard cover of your book off the sheets.

"No thanks, I'd rather stuff a cactus up my pussy."

Your comment catches his attention quickly. (As if you already didn't have it.)

"How about i stuff your pussy instead?"

Now THAT made your head turn. It had been a couple weeks since you both had actually gotten down to it. His schedule and yours had never really aligned to be able to have any time alone together. But now since your boss had given you a week vacation, you had more than enough time on your hands.

"You wanna what?" You tease, standing on the rounds of your knees atop his comforter. He inches closer, wrapping a hand around your side, lips coming to brush the shell of your ear.

"You heard me."

"No." You smirk, circling your arms around the base of his neck, pulling your bodies flush together.

______________________________________________________________

"Fuck, baby!" His palms come to rest at the side of your hips, stilling your motions for a second.

"Hold on, lemme restart the video." You chuckle, continuing to bounce on his hardened cock. His hips buck up into yours, head falling off the side of the bed to watch the video upside down.

"Maybe riding wasn't the best decision" He retorts, leaning his head up ever so often to get the blood rushing back so he wouldn't loose consciousness. You smirk, snaking your hands to press at the sides of his throat, cutting off the airway just a bit. Your hips slow down, moving at a torturous rate. His eyelashes flutter open, watching as your breasts bounce at the same speed your riding him.

His hand comes up to toy with the curves of your breasts before tweaking the erect nub between his index and thumbs. "Maybe" You reply, leaning down to move your hand away from his neck, onto the backs of his head, gripping his roots into a firm grasp. His head lunges forward at your motion, a moan slips his lips.

"Fuck!" He whines, hips rising from the sheets to fuck up into your abused cunt. His hand reaches forward to rub harsh circles against your throbbing bud, your head lulls back at the overridden pleasure. The small studio apartment bedroom fills with choked moans and skin slapping to overpower the once silence atmosphere.

"F-fuck, Kook- coming!" You whine out, as his hands come to grips the flesh of your hips, slamming your hips down onto his harshly, while simultaneously thrusting his up to meet yours in the middle.

Both of your sounds override the cheap studio recorded ones playing from his small computer. Your back arches to his grunts.

"Yeah? Cream my cock, baby girl. Fuck- milk me for all I've fucking got. Look at you, coming undone just by the anime you said you hated. Fuck- I didn't know you were such a voyurist, babe. Watching two people fucking turns you on? My God, what a dirty little slut you are. " Well, that wasn't exactly true, but you weren't in a position to argue.

His grip slams your body down onto his, the tip of his cock harshly slamming against your cervix.

"T-Tell me" He pants, flipping you both over to have you on all fours. His tattooed hand reaches forward to keep your eyes focused on the anime in front of you both.

"Tell me how much you love it." You whine, the overstimulation getting far too much control over you.

"I love it! I love it, Jungkook- please!" You smirks giving your ass a good smack before continuing.

"No, not me fuck you- Tell me how much you love the hentai, or I won't let you come." You're practically making your lip bleed by this point.

Anything to get you the release you deserve.

"I love it! God, I love all of the h-hentais! I-I wanna watch all of them each time we f-fuck, please! Want you to fill my pussy while cumming to that girl's huge ass tits! I wanna watch as you cum to those stu- amazing tit-fucking videos! Kook- please! Please!" You scream, burying your face into the pillows.

"Yeah you do. Don't worry babe," Just as he reaches forward you rub a few more circles against your aching clit, the coil in you snaps. You fall to the mattress, panting harshly as he finishes out, quickening his hand over his base of his cock, before hot beads of cum shoot out and onto the round of your ass. The hot, sticky substance drips to the dip of your back, creating a tiny pool of cum.

He flails forwards, following pursuit if your exhausted figure. His hand comes up to brush away a strand of hair from your face, giving your nose a quick eskemo kiss.

He chuckles to himself, replaying the night over and over in his mind.

"She loves it."

____________________________________________________________

No Jungkook, she didn't love it.

But, she loves you.

[dokk-fukuro]

NSFW Alphabet [Ranpo Edogawa]

A/N: Minors not allowed, SMUT

۞₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪۞

• A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Edogawa usually spends a lot of energy in the process, so he prefers to do nothing, remaining motionless for a while. However, if he has strength left, you can count on a hot bath and eating goodies. He's sure you need to replenish your strength;

• B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) It is very difficult for the greatest detective to say which part of his body is his favorite. He loves all of himself, but if he has to choose, then these are the eyes, because you look into them with such love during foreplay. Ranpo is attracted to you by your waist. He loves hugging you in a breathtaking way, or digging his fingers into it when you're on top;

• C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Cleaning up after your act of love is a tedious task for him, so Edogawa prefers to cum in a condom. If you use other methods of contraception, he will cum inside you with great pleasure;  

• D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He likes to mentally bet on what kind of underwear you're wearing this time, so if he's wrong, which is very rare, Kenji stares at the sweets on the table in front of him, incomprehension. He also often imagines you under his table with his dick in your mouth, but when no one is there;

• E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He wasn't particularly interested in sex before you came into his life, so Ranpo only has a theory in his head;

• F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Any position in which he can look into your eyes. Eye contact is very important to him during the process;

• G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Ranpo is very serious at such moments. If most often he can be caught behind childish behavior, then, left one on one, all “childishness” comes to naught;

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) He obviously grooms them, but does not shave smoothly, because it is energy-consuming. Plus Rampo doesn't have that much patience;

• I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) The romance is a bit off about him. But you can’t say that Edogawa is a hopeless stoic in moments of unity with you. Candlelight dinner or endless declarations of love are not worth waiting for, but his emotions towards you are deep, even very;

• J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Very rarely, and then on condition that you do not have the opportunity to retire or see each other at least for the time of mutual caresses;

• K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He likes when you wear glasses. Edogawa gets really turned on because they make you strict, which is very appealing to him. Bites and a collar around your neck also turns him on;

• L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Ranpo doesn't like being interrupted, so he only allows himself to touch you in places where you can be guaranteed to be alone. He likes to do it with you at his place or at your place, especially in the bathroom. Enjoy each other, and immediately tidy yourself up. Two birds with one stone!

• M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) When you are strictly dressed and bite writing objects. He likes to see glasses on the bridge of your nose, a white fitted shirt and a tapered skirt. And if you bend over his desk to hand over the papers he needs... Fukuzawa will have to work really hard to find both of you;

• N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Never do anything against your will. It is important for him that both of you enjoy making love, although it seems from the outside that he is selfish. Also, Ranpo does not accept filming of your act of love, even for personal, home viewing;

• O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He's very good with his tongue. It is, in general, no wonder how many lollipops he sucked. Edogawa loves when you sit on his face, but also loves when you sit between his legs;

• P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Measured and smooth. Rampo is mostly free at the ADA office, so he sees no point in rushing there. But there are days when the greatest detective only wants to hear you crack your voice beneath him;

• Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Doesn't like much, but resorts to it when there is no time to enjoy you properly;

• R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Experiments are of interest to him. This dilutes your intimate life, but he doesn’t really like doing anything risky, because this may imply that you may be seen, or you may be hurt; 

• S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He is not very hardy, because thought processes also take away strength, so he lasts for one or two rounds;

• T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Toys brighten up your moments of love, so he has a couple for you;

• U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Ranpo doesn't like it when you tease him, so all your attempts are futile. Even more, he easily turns your teasing against you;

• V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) If you bite him on the earlobe, he’ll most likely make a sound very close to a moan. Ranpo actually takes a lot of effort not to start moaning, especially when you take his cock in your mouth;  

• W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) One day he asked you for strawberry syrup. You're a little puzzled by this, since Edogawa doesn't use them because he thinks the syrups overpower the flavor of the dessert. At that moment, you could not have imagined that your body would be his main dessert in the evening; 

• X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Pretty wide dick, about 5.91″ with a slight curve to the right towards the middle. The head is of medium size, there is a small protruding wreath along the length;

• Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Average. Edogawa is not particularly interested in intimacy, but it cannot be said that, in principle, nothing in sex does not cling to him;

• Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Very fast. It doesn't matter how tired he is. Rampo just doesn't want to wake you up if you go to sleep before he does. He can't stop himself from stroking your face or brushing your hair out of your eyes, so he tries to fall asleep long before the idea comes into his head.

[beaker1636]

Hello everyone! I’m Bree and this is my little corner of the internet! I write for Motionless In White primarily but also Bad Omens and Black Veil Brides! I am open to smut, fluff and angst! I try to post requests and updates as quick as I can but it sometimes takes awhile because I am a full time teacher and a mom! If you have any questions just ask :) even if it’s just because you want to ask me a random one like a favorite color or something, I love getting asked things and talking to all of you! My master list is in this post below, hope you all enjoy!

Side note, I created a tag “#bree sucks at fanfiction” as a joke but now it’s the easiest way to find and search for all my fics because I always tag everything that 🤣

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Thank you @ladyveronikawrites for helping me make my masterlist pretty and creating the Motionless In White and Bad Omens headings for me 🥰

Key:

Smut: 🔥

Fluff: 💕

Angst: 💧

Chris

Halloween Surprise 💕

Christmas Miracle 💕

Christmas Miracle pt. 2 💕

Fight and Make Up 🔥

Fireworks 🔥

Mic Stand 🔥

Busted 🔥

NSFW Alphabet 🔥

Donors Wanted Masterlist 💧🔥💕

Vinny

First Date 💕

First Kiss 💕

Roomate 💕

Lying To My Family 💕

First Christmas 💕

Bad Day 💕

There For You 💕💧

Christmas Lights 💕

A New Year's Kiss 💕

Caught 💕

Streaming 🔥

Streaming Pt. 2 🔥

Streaming Pt. 3 🔥

Finally Home 🔥

Masquerade 🔥

Stress Relief 🔥

Playful Kiss (Smut and Fluff) Proposal 🔥💕

Baby It's Cold Outside College AU 🔥

NSFW Alphabet 🔥

Ricky

Drunken Kisses 💕

Love At First Meeting Pt. 1 💕

Love At First Meeting Pt. 2 💕

The Scavenger Hunt (Multi Part) 💕

Coming Home 💧

I'll Be Home For Christmas 💧

A Love Reunited 🔥

Rainy Day 🔥

NSFW Alphabet 🔥

Ryan

Engagement 💕

Snowball Fight 💕

Single Lyrics (Multiple Parts) 💕💧

Car accident 💧

Let's Get Deep ft. Justin 🔥

Justin

Tour Confessions 💕

Baby's First Christmas 💕

Good Girls Get Presents 🔥

Whole Band

The Alphabet Game 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Headcanons/ Preferences

Meeting Their Family For The First Time

How You Met/ Realizing They Liked You

How They’d Comfort You After A Loss

How You Met

Noah

Unexpected Visitor 💕

Accidents Happen 🔥

Tied Up 🔥

Stress Relief 🔥

Sweet Dreams 🔥

Nicholas

Permanent Mark 🔥

Nick

Jolly

Headcannons/ Preferences

How You Met

[arkiliastuff]

The Angel of Music - Part One

Ricky Olson x Female Reader

N/A : So this is one is (probably) going to be a very long fanfic that I will do in several parts. I got this idea on my mind one day, I felt very inspired about it, and thought it would fit into Ricky's vibe somehow (jhfkjdfdh). I'm very excited to share this one. I had much more fun and felt more comfortable by writting in this format, so I'm certainly going to keep it :D

Warnings : Some fluff and angst. Romantic tension (idk how to call it)

Next PART TWO | PART THREE

─━────༺༻────━─━━─━────༺༻────━─━━─━────༺༻────━

It was the end of September. Autumn leaves falling from the trees in your city, with the air getting colder and rainy. Because of the cool breeze, you tried to cover up your nose and neck with your scarf. Walking in this weather didn’t bother you though, since you liked it. But you didn’t want to get sick. Your voice and throat were very important for your job as an opera singer. 

And today was another day of rehearsal at the opera. So you woke up early this morning to enjoy the drizzle. You weren’t freaked out walking there alone. You liked that spooky atmosphere. Usually you didn’t go to the opera this early. You preferred going there when the evening came and going back to your home when it was pitch black.

Your coworkers were worried about you when you did that. So they convinced you to come earlier in the morning, so you could go back to your flat, safely. Even though they did ask you if you wanted them to accompany you or drive you back home, you always declined, enjoying being alone. 

You didn’t want them to tag along because your introverted and anxious ass was too scared to ask them or even bother them with your problems. Plus you didn’t even know if you could trust them. So you made up an excuse : being alone was easier for you to be aware of your surroundings. It made you look paranoid sometimes but you were always cautious, giving a dead look to the people glancing at you.

And so your coworkers started to call you the “Lone Wolf”. You didn’t care about the nickname, if they were mocking you by saying it, you were more appreciating it. It made you look cool and mysterious.

You finally managed to arrive at the opera, easily and safely. When you saw the security guard waving at you to welcome you, you nodded your head as a salutation.

“Good morning, miss” He said to you politely.

“Good morning Alfred” You replied “ Are the others here ?”

“Hmm.. It seems you are the first of your singer co-workers who have arrived. But you’re the second to be early at the opera this time”.

“Oh ? A rival ? That’s interesting. Who is it ?”

“A musician from a metal band called Motionless in White. He asked me if he could train himself at the opera today. I said it was open for few hours before your group arrived, miss”

Motionless in White ?! Your heart skipped a beat. You’ve heard this band’s name before. It was one of your favorites you listened to during your youth. You were such a hard fan of their music.

Thank you for letting me know, Alfred. Well, I better go and start to warm up my voice. Have a nice day”

He replied to you very respectfully, letting you enter the opera. Alfred wasn’t the real security guard’s name. It was actually you who gave this nickname to him, since you were always struggling at remembering names. And the first time you saw the security guard, so respectful and polite, it reminded you of the butler in Batman’s comic books. You couldn’t help yourself but letting out your thoughts at that moment. Surprisingly, he took this nickname very well and didn’t get upset about it. He was even playing along with you. Since that day you kept calling him Alfred.

He was the rarest human being you tolerated in this job. To you, your coworkers were too much and were making you uncomfortable, with their hypocritical behavior, by asking questions about you, pretending they cared. They always ended up socializing between them, anyway. So you tried to avoid them as much as possible, barely talking to them. 

You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize you were already in front of your dressing room. You unlocked the door with your keys, but before entering, you noticed, in the corner of your eyes, something shiny on the floor. You crouched, looking closer. It was a black metallic key attached to a string. A necklace ? Someone probably lost it. You picked up the key, keeping it in your jeans pocket until you find their owner. And, in case you couldn’t find the owner, you could give it to the lost items office, which was also Alfred’s responsability. 

Once you changed your casual outfit to your scene one, a white shirt with black pants, you locked up your dressing room and headed to the main stage, with your music sheet in one hand. As you got closer to the main stage door, you heard a melody. A guitar sound.

And then, a voice. A beautiful voice. Almost divine. Someone was singing. You felt shivers running through your spine. It was so magnificent to your ears. But also it was very melancholic. As you were getting few ideas about who this musician was, you finally decided to pull the door knob, getting in.

The stage was illuminated by the chandelier, just above. Though it wasn’t the only thing that was enlightening the room. As you went down the stairs, you saw a silhouette of a man, short dark haired, sitting on a chair, playing his guitar with an intense focus. He was wearing a lot of black clothes, a sleeveless jacket that was revealing his arms covered with tattoos. You noticed he had few of them on his neck as well. As you got closer, you realized who this musician was.

Short dark hair, pale skin, blue grayed eyes… It was Ricky Olson for sure. You’ve listened to the band's music for a long time and loved a huge majority of their songs. You loved the lead singer's voice, but the one who interested you more was Ricky. Each time you could hear his voice, in a Motionless song, you were excited. His voice was enchanting. You couldn’t stop listening to it. Plus his personality was so adorable you were melting every time you watched his numerous tour vlogs. Yeah you were an absolute Ricky’s fangirl.

Seeing him alone, in front of you, at the opera of your hometown, was making you crazy. The more you were getting closer to him, mesmerized by his voice and play, the more you could feel a heat wave overwhelming your body. Your heart was beating so fast in your chest, you thought you were having a heart attack. At this rate, you were convinced that even Ricky could hear your heart pounding so much.

As he heard your thoughts, he lifted up his head, looking in your direction while he stopped playing. The sudden silence in the room made you feel a pressure on your shoulders, like you were caught up on something. You felt the urgent need to explain yourself.

“Erm… Hello.. Sorry for interrupting you. I didn’t mean to. I’m actually an opera singer who practices here.” You muttered so awkwardly, choking on your words.

Ricky stared at you with his icy eyes, perhaps gauging you, as he let you talk. But, oh my God, even like this, you knew you could die happily. His gaze on you was so deep. It made your cheeks blush.

“An opera singer, huh ? I see.” He said abruptly, surprising you a bit.

Gosh, even his talking voice was so soothing and divine. His quiet tone didn’t help to calm down, though. It was the opposite.

“Don’t worry about interrupting me” He kept saying “I am the one who came here, in the first place. Pretty unusual for a metalhead, right ?” He chuckled softly.

You were about to pass out on every word this man was saying to you. It was very bad. You loved hearing him laugh quietly, already.

“It’s fine… The security guard told me about it. You can stay if you need to… So, hum.. you are ?”

“I’m Ricky Olson, from Motionless in White. You can call me Ricky”

“I’m Y/N” You said, your voice shivering. “Enchanted to meet you. I’m a fan of your band.”

He arched a brow, a bit stunned, but he kept his sweet smile to you.

“Well, thank you ! That’s very flattering coming from an opera singer. I wasn’t expecting that at all. What a pleasant surprise.”

A pleasant surprise, he said. He gave you an indirect compliment but still… It made you smile. He said you were pleasant… You threw away this random thought coming in your mind. Come on, it wasn’t the time to make weird scenarios.

“I've been a big fan of metal and metalcore music since my childhood. So that’s not new, for me. I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover” You tried to joke nervously.

Ricky giggled as an approval. Oh God, you loved hearing his sweet and quiet laugh. It was so cute.

“Plus, metal and opera singing have more in common to what we might think. And I want to combine these two different styles, if I get the chance to perform on my own.” You added, feeling more brave to talk, all of the sudden.

“Oh really ? Well, I can’t wait to see you perform one day.” He said, with a shy smile, and then looked at your sheet. “What were you rehearsing on ?”

You almost forgot your music sheet you were holding in your hand, too absorbed and excited by the conversation.

“Oh ! Erm… It’s a musical about the Phantom of the Opera.”

“I’ve heard about it” He said, his curiosity peaked. “I watched a movie about the musical. Very impressive. Who are you playing ?”

“The main protagonist girl, Christine.” You replied timidly. “ And I need to practice the part where she follows the Phantom in his cave, below the stage.”

“Can I see it ?” He asked so politely you felt your heart melt.

You lend him the paper, not daring to look directly at him or even touching his hand by accident, even if you wanted to. You didn’t want to make things awkward for him. He didn’t seem to notice your embarrassment as he was reading the script. Just a minute after, he lended you back your sheet, a serious or a poker-face look on his face.

“If you need a partner, I can be the Phantom for your rehearsal. I have memorized his lines. They aren't that long. It’s to make it up to you for disturbing your workplace.” He said as he owed you something.

You felt your jaw drop. You didn’t even believe what you just heard. Ricky... offering his help to play the Phantom for you ?! He didn’t need to apologize or even to feel like he owed you. The opera was open to the musicians after all. You were too happy about his request. Even if it was for a few minutes long, you thought you were gonna pass out for the second time. Also you were very amazed by his photographic memory to remember lines in such a short time.

“Well, you don’t owe me anything. Don’t worry about it. But, if you don’t mind, it would be an honor for me to rehearse with you” You cleared your throat.

You saw him smile, again, looking down on his shoes awkwardly. Then, he removed his guitar and chair away, trying to get some space. It was so thoughtful and adorable of him. Did his cheeks get pink colored just now..?

You turned your back on him, slapping your cheeks to get your focusing back. You did a few voice warm ups, before getting into your character. The kind, innocent and beautiful Christine. Your complete opposite. 

You didn’t even remember how your coworkers and manager agreed to give you such an important role. They were always saying your voice was fitting her. You weren’t sure if they were mocking you or not about it. Either way, you didn’t like that role. It was putting you out of your comfort zone, making you more vulnerable than you already were.

But strangely,  in front of Ricky, you didn’t mind being vulnerable. You barely met him, for real, only for ten minutes, and yet it felt like you knew each other for ages. His presence was making you feel more at ease. Almost reassuring.

Once you were ready, you shifted to face him, waving your arms with grace as you were dancing.

“In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls me, and speaks my name.”

You spined on your feet, slowly getting closer to him while keeping singing.

“And do I dream again. For now, I found The Phantom of the Opera is there… Inside my mind.”

You paused, remembering the piano notes playing while you danced quietly. Then it was Ricky’s turn. He took a step forward to you and reached a hand in your direction, like a gentleman. You could tell something has changed in his temper. As if his aura was getting more mysterious and sinister.

“Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me, in glance behind. The Phantom of the Opera is there… Inside your mind.”

Oh God, you were having goosebumps when you heard him sing so low, and yet, so divine. He was so elegant by singing these lines. He was charming and elegant all the time, but this… This was different. Both of you were getting closer to each other, each time you were singing. Your turn came again.

“Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear...”

“It’s me they hear.”

Then the part where both of you were singing along came too.

“Your spirit and your voice, in one combined. The Phantom of the Opera is there…”

“...Inside my mind…”

“...Inside your mind.”

Ricky was getting closer to your face, gently putting a hand on your back as if you were dancing together. You didn’t push him away. You were too much focused on your role and on his. He glanced at you with his blue iced eyes which was making you melt even more inside.

“In all your fantasies, you always knew. That man and mystery…”

“... were both in you.” You finished.

This time felt like the two of you were talking directly to each other and not as your characters. At least, that’s how you felt. Both of you kept singing together, your voices harmonizing. You remembered the next coming verse was the one you were the most struggling with, while Ricky was making you spin gently on your heels.

“Sing for me, my Angel of Music.” He said.

“He’s there… The Phantom of the Opera.”

“Sing for me.”

As he said, you began to vocalize gradually, getting higher and higher.

“Sing, my Angel of Music.” Ricky ordered.

You obeyed, getting even more higher.

“Sing for me.” He repeated more deeply.

You did as he said, feeling your voice getting so high pitched, like an angel would’ve sounded. It was so graceful, you even surprised yourself by doing it. You didn’t think it was possible for you. Yet, you felt you were soon getting out of breath and tried to hold on for the last part.

“Sing for me !” He said louder.

And so you gave every breath you had left in your lungs. Pushing your voice to its limits. As you were screaming. Screaming for the Phantom in front of you.

You managed to hold ten seconds of the scream before stopping. Ricky looked at you with widened eyes, impressed and captivated by your performance. You were catching your breath as you saw his mouth moving, talking to you. But you didn’t hear what he said as he was interrupted by loud applause coming from the stands, which surprised you both.

“Bravo ! Bravo ! Absolutely stunning !”

You recognized the voice. It was your manager’s, ruining this beautiful moment you had with Ricky. You knew this wasn’t a good sign for you. You just hoped that eccentric man wasn’t going to drag Ricky too, in to whatever mess he was planning…

[riseofamoonycake]

May i request ROR Lu Bu x cryokinesis! reader? Powerful and formidable mortal sorceress whose power govern the domain of ice and froze, another Einherjar who could be on par with the gods.

She is aloof and cold, but not unkind. It's just that...her appearance and overall look is just too intimidate to make anyone (even some gods) don't dare to approach her.

So here we are!! Sorry for the long waiting and... hmmm... sorry also for the angst ;-;

Gone With the Snow

🌨️ Pairing: Lu Bu x Cryokinesis!sorceress reader

🌨️ Warnings: mention of sex, angst

🌨️ 

Whenever Lu Bu touched you, you forgot who you were. No more curses, no more threats, no fear: the terror disappeared, the cold stopped, and you were just flesh that yielded under the rough but careful hands of the Flying General.

Your belly stretched and blossomed like a spring meadow, it met the man’s abdomen and rubbed against it; your legs trembled at every caress and closed around his pelvis, trapping him with the greed of someone who has always had too little and at a certain point finds the world in their hands, and you enjoyed every push, every bite on your snowy skin, every gaze capable of melting even the ice floor that you sometimes created, because the sensations were too many.

Where has all this gone now?

They called you the White Queen: motionless, cold and marble, beautiful as Death that comes in winter, clear and pure as a January morning. You have always moved with the tranquility of a soul that apparently doesn’t care about others; you learned and worked in silence, refining every technique to control the snow and ice, but without hiding who you really are: a person who still dreams, who still has feelings, but who prefers silence to chatter and the tranquility of the frozen lakes, echoing of memory and sleeping life, to the movement that comes with the summer.

With his impetus, with the fire he has inside, Lu Bu brought the hottest summer over your head, but without hurting you; only he could manage to make you love the warmth, and to recognize that under the snow maiden appearance, there is a heart that beats and does it strongly.

But where are you now, where are you?

He has seen what you are capable of: not only in the heart of the blizzard, making the frozen flakes and puffs dance according to your wishes, placating and raising icy storms with an unsuspected and marvelous skill; but also towards others, those you alone look at, the last ones that very few notice. Lu Bu was beside you when you tried to save that child from the river whirlpool into which he had fallen, and you also succeeded; there was when you made sure that the snow didn’t block the streets of entire villages, allowing people not to lose their way home; there was every time you checked that the gems were growing well, buried in the womb of the earth, so that the most wonderful flowers would then blossom.

For years Lu Bu has always been a constant, a shadow that always leaves a trace, a grin among the trees covered with heavy white veils, sharp teeth on the skins and prickly like pins, like hands immersed in fresh snow; but you loved every moment of that love, of the fire that beaded scarlet on your white lips, of a feeling of belonging you have never felt anywhere.

You were my home. I only lived next to you.

“No god or man has ever wanted you for himself, why?”

You moaned more forcefully when these questions reached you, always in the hottest moment of the love making. Lu Bu thrust harder into you, frowning at your silence, staring at you as you threw your head back and his strong fingers squeezed your breasts until they sank into your flesh. They are afraid of me. Everyone fears me, but you don’t. You stay, you thought, but you didn’t say anything: your sensitive body, touched only by him, drank all the attention it received like earth in need of rain, and every stimulus that hit your skin was refracted around it, doubling in intensity. You didn’t even get a chance to try to answer.

Lu Bu just grinded his teeth in front of your sealed mouth, open only to let out moans of all sorts, then he came out of you and threw himself on your body to bite your belly, thighs, and even your inner lips, rummaging inside you with his tongue, clinging to your hips while your legs locked his head between them and he was a prisoner of you, and you of the pleasure his mouth gave you; and whole hours fled away like this, between a storm of flames and a dream of happiness.

That world is over now. Happiness died with him.

When they called you together for Ragnarok, to help men make their value known to the gods, to defend and guard them, you knew what you were getting into: there was no occasion to delude yourself, nor did you think about it for a while. Either victory or death, the rules were clear right away: and you both accepted without fear. You made love for the last time, without desperation or yearning, as if nothing had to change; and then you waited for your turn.

Before the First Fight, you stayed with Lu Bu the whole time. You were full of energy and motivation; you were filled with hope and desire to show what you have always been, what you have always wanted and for which you would fight until the end of the reality. “Gods and men will see me for what I really am”, you murmured to the man, stroking his arm with your nails and greeting Red Hare with a pat on the muzzle and a kiss on the mane, “and you too will be there to look at me. Look at me fight for us.”

He smiled in response to your convincing tone, with his mind already in the Arena, every second a little further away from you; and you let him go because it was right, without fear.

But now, now the fear is there.

Your eyes are still fixed on the Arena, on the exact spot where until a few moments ago stood Lu Bu, your beloved general, the only soul who ever knew and loved you; but all is gone, even thoughts are declined with a language that smacks of loss, for the God of Thunder has taken the victory and the Nilfhel now contains all your man’s dreams and wishes and breaths. You are alone now.

Alone.

Helplessly, dazed, you watch Chen Gong, Red Hare, and all of Lu Bu’s army mourn their lord; you watch them enter the Arena and offer themselves as a gift to Thor because, like for you, a life without Lu Bu is meaningless, and being devoured by thunder; and you continue to stare at the fights without hearing anything, motionless as a statue. The ice stays inside you, not a snowflake covers your skin: in a flash of thought, you wonder if your abilities aren’t gone forever.

And finally, mindfulness strikes you at the heart. There is only one thing you will have to do now, the last solution you would have thought of before and the only way that opens before you now. “Forgive me, humanity,” you murmur then, stepping back slowly, “I’m afraid you should look for another champion. I’m sure you will understand me.”

You leave the Arena behind you with the same silence with which you wandered through mountains and valleys, cold and distant, without a soul; no one sees you go, but everyone notices the snowfall that briefly covers the place and the ice flowers that rise in the heart of it, where your heart once was.

[starlite-sin]

*kicks open door* Y'ALL FUCKERS WANT KATE THE CHASER HCS CAUSE I LOVE HER???

-All the proxies (there's more than the four??) live in her house which was made bigger by the slenderman's influence

-She's the second youngest proxy (23), but the first one to join. As a result, she knows how to work around alot of Slenderman's rules.

-Major oldest sister vibes, especially towards the female pastas. Since a lot of them were children and didn't get to experience the teenage years they should have, she works to try to get them makeup, merch, toys, concerts, etc.

-Nina, Clockwork, and Sally go to her for literally everything (boys, tv, books, music, etc)

-Tried to help Tim break his smoking habit but then they both realized they were going to die far to young anyway so they just gave up on it

-Prefers fruity drinks (lipstick lesbian, pina colada, etc) over harder liquor.

-Southern and can have a very pronounced accent.

-Has been made fun of for it

-She has these glowy sabers instead of her knife

-Also incredibly flexible to a concerning level

-Her room is mostly dark since bright lights gives her migranes at best and completely puts her out of commision at worst

-She still sleeps with stuffed animals

-Rogue buys her a lot of them

-Can and will fight the boys and can generally win

-Simps for Tim but will not admit it (she is me and I am her)

-Motionless In White, Dark Divine, Black Veil Brides, etc are her go to bands

-Also really likes Bath and Body Works scents

-She doesn't really have an opinoin on Brian since he doesn't talk to her much

-Suffers from PMDD so her PMS is a new level of bullshit and she turns into an emotional wreck at anything

I got more but this is getting to long already

[nerdraging4point0]

Fic Trailer

Disclaimer/Announcement: I promised or rather teased you all with a new series. While this fic may feature real people, both from Bad Omens, Motionless in White, and other band's across our metal-verse. In no way does any of the following story reflect them, their behavior, their actions, or anything that makes them the individual and very real people they are. For the sake of the story their names and likeness such as face, body (within reason), and mannerisms have been adopted. The following is a work of Fiction and should be considered as such. I want to say thank you to @synthetic-wasp-570 and @tearfallpixie for helping me brainstorm the idea. I love you guys!!

Noah is a partner at Samuri Tech, a tech company that provides research and development for new and wide range of technologies. Coming from nothing and building his way up in the company, he is well respected amongst his friends and colleagues, except for Bryce. Company partner who believes that Noah's attitude about work is careless and unprofessional. Noah does not do well as the suit and tie type of guy, often preferring to work from home instead of going into the office.

Callie works for Samuri Tech as a software analyst while she has been there for nearly a year, she has kept her head down with little interest in anyone around her. One day while rummaging through projects that had been either discarded or otherwise not proposed, she ends up finding her way into a system labeled 'Project Spiderweb' a program that is designed to attract black market criminals via the web and trap their servers immediately reporting them to the authorities.

She doesn't delete the program, thinking it to important, she emails the original creator proposing that they continue their work. Originally, Noah is furious that she got hold of one of his old projects-as he is very critical of his work and as he says, 'it was in the trash for a reason', but one night while out at the bar, Callie is harassed by some men and Noah steps in to help. He only intends to give her a ride home, but the way she is holding onto his waist on his bike and how he can't help but rub her knee and calf while he rides leads to a lot more than that.

Steamy emails, secret dates, and nights of crazy sex. Noah finds a passion in him that he'd thought died a long time ago. When their perfect arrangement is threatened, Noah must use all the intelligence and passion he has to make sure his world doesn't come crashing down.

[crepuscular-coyote]

If you are ever bored, you should try searching for songs about your kintype(s) on Spotify (or any other music platform!)

There were a surprising amount of songs with coyote in the title, but my favorites were Coyote by Midnight North and Coyote by Chris Webby and Skrizzly Adams. There were also some instrumental tracks, like Coyote Wedding by Martin Klem and Coyote by WYS.

Jaguar didn't yield as many good results, but I did like Jaguar God by Mastodon.

I had even worse luck with deer. Deer Song by Kina Grannis and Deerstalker from the Honkai Star Rail soundtrack were the only good ones in my opinion. Many songs are instrumental, so if you prefer that then you'll find a wonderful selection of music awaiting you.

Lastly, werewolf had several good options but I'll leave it at Werewolf by Motionless in White and Werewolf's Eyes by Birch Book.

I hope you find some cool new music to listen to. Tell me all about your favorite finds!