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fluffymiyaa · 3 days

Text

Waste The Night

Painting!Gojo x Painter!reader x Painting!Geto

Summary: In a haunting twist of fate, your tragic painting suddenly springs to life, its sorrowful characters and somber scenes manifesting before your eyes.

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You decide to start your morning by making breakfast. Just a simple omelet and a nice, hot cup of coffee. You eat it quietly, enjoying your morning routine as you watch TV. Then suddenly, there's a knock at your door. You furrow your brow, wondering who could be visiting your house this early in the morning.

You quickly finish up your nearly-done omelette and rush to the window, trying to discreetly peek outside. Your eyes widen in shock, and your body starts shaking when you see the police car parked outside your house. The sight sends a wave of fear and confusion coursing through you.

What? What's going on? What happened? What did i do?

Your mind races with a thousand questions as you approach the door, each step heavy with apprehension. What could have prompted the police to come to your house? You rack your brain, trying to recall if you've done anything that might warrant their attention, but nothing comes to mind. Your pulse quickens as you reach for the doorknob, your hand trembling slightly. With a mixture of fear and determination, you twist the knob and swing the door open, bracing yourself for whatever awaits on the other side.

You face the two police officers, their stern expressions sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart races as you try to maintain your composure.

"...can I help you, sir?" you manage to stammer out, your voice trembling with apprehension.

"Ms. L/N Y/N, correct?" One of them addresses you, his tone serious and probing.

"Y-yes, that's me..." you reply, the words barely escaping your lips as you struggle to keep your voice steady.

The two police officers glance at each other, a silent exchange passing between them. One of them retrieves something from behind his back, and your eyes widen as he holds up your phone. How could you not have realized your phone was missing? Your furrow your brow in confusion, wondering how they came to possess it.

"Huh...yes, that's mine...but how?" you manage to ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty and concern.

"Miss, please come with us to the police station." one of the officers replies, his tone firm yet respectful.

"What? No! I didn't even do anything!" you protest, your heart racing as panic begins to set in.

The officers sigh, their expressions sympathetic yet resolute as they try to maintain control of the situation. They show you a picture of a familiar old man - your manager.

"Do you know this man?" they ask, their eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition.

You gulp, feeling a lump form in your throat as you nod in acknowledgment.

"Yes...he's my manager." you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The officers nod, their demeanor becoming more serious as they continue to speak.

"He was found dead in the hallway just 50 meters from here. There was a long, sharp cut on his neck, indicating that someone had slashed his throat. Based on the condition of the body, it is estimated that the incident occurred in the middle of the night or early morning, as the body was still quite warm when it was discovered. We have called an ambulance to take him to the hospital, and we are currently trying to contact his family, including you." they explain, their words weighing heavily on you.

"So what I'm saying is, miss, you are the first suspect in this case. The last time the victim had contact was with you." they conclude, their gaze unwavering as they hold up your phone as evidence.

Your mind races with disbelief and fear as you try to process the gravity of the situation unfolding before you.

You freeze in place, a wave of shock washing over you, followed by a surge of panic that leaves you sweating and trembling. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you struggle to comprehend the situation unfolding before you.

"W-wait, there must be a misunderstanding! I-I didn't have the phone with me! Someone must have stolen it from me! Please, you need to trust me! I'm innocent! Somebody must have framed me!" you stammer, your voice trembling with desperation and fear.

The officers exchange a glance, their expressions unreadable as they listen to your frantic pleas. Yet, despite your protests, their demeanor remains stoic and unwavering, their duty to uphold the law evident in their unwavering resolve.

"Save that explanation at the police station, miss," one of the officers responds sternly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a heavy heart and a sense of dread gnawing at your insides, you nod weakly, realizing that you have no choice but to comply. The weight of the situation presses down on you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you feeling helpless and vulnerable.

You take a deep breath and follow the officers as they lead you towards their patrol car, your mind racing with unanswered questions and fears of what may await you at the police station.

Your gaze shifts to the handcuffs encircling your wrist, a stark contrast against the soft fabric of your pajamas. These hands, once so adept at wielding a paintbrush with grace and precision, now rendered powerless and confined.

Alone in this sterile white room, the silence weighs heavily upon you, broken only by the rhythmic whirring of the fan above. Each breath feels labored, as if the air itself has grown thick with uncertainty and fear.

The door creaks open. A figure steps into the room, their footsteps echoing against the sterile white walls.

It's a detective, clad in a crisp suit with a stern expression etched onto his face. His presence alone sends a shiver down your spine, amplifying the feeling of unease that has settled over you like a suffocating fog.

"Miss Y/n, good morning" he says, gesturing towards the lone chair positioned in the center of the room.

Oh yeah what a good morning

You comply silently, the handcuffs rattling as you move, a constant reminder of your current predicament. Sitting down, you feel small and vulnerable under the detective's scrutinizing gaze.

He takes a seat across from you, opening a file with your name written on it in bold letters. His eyes flicker over the contents before fixing on you once more.

"We have some questions for you regarding the events of last night," he begins, his voice firm yet measured.

You nod slowly, your heart hammering in your chest as the gravity of the situation sinks in. This is far from the peaceful morning you had envisioned, and you can't shake the feeling that your life is about to change in ways you never imagined.

"Where were you last night?"

The officer's gaze remains fixed on you, probing for any signs of deception or evasion in your responses. You swallow hard, the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you like a heavy burden.

"I was sleeping, in my room." you reply, betraying the nervousness that grips you.

He nods slowly, jotting down notes on a pad of paper as you speak. The scratching sound seems to echo loudly in the otherwise quiet room.

"How do you feel about him being your manager?" he inquires, his tone measured yet insistent.

You hesitate, searching for the right words to convey the mix of emotions swirling within you. "He... uhm, he's good at his job," you finally manage, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears.

The furrow in the officer's brow deepens as he continues to study you intently. "Ms. L/n, does your manager ever mistreat you?" he presses, his voice taking on a more serious undertone.

Your mind races, recalling the countless arguments and disagreements that have punctuated your working relationship with the now-deceased manager. "Well... it's just normal arguments," you offer hesitantly, attempting to downplay the significance of your conflicts.

But the officer doesn't seem convinced, his scrutiny unwavering. "Do you have any feelings of hatred towards him?" he probes further, his gaze piercing through your defenses.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the weight of his question. "N-no... not at all," you stammer, though a nagging doubt lingers at the back of your mind.

"Ms. L/n, I need you to answer the question truthfully," the officer presses, his tone firm yet not unkind.

Your hands tremble slightly as you respond, the weight of the interrogation bearing down on you.

"I do" you admit

The officer's gaze remains steady, his eyes searching yours for any hint of deception. "Do you know if he engaged in inappropriate behavior, such as harassment towards someone else?" he asks, his voice soft yet probing.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, struggling to find the right words amidst the chaos of your thoughts. "W-well, he has a bad temper," you offer tentatively. "I think he may have had a lot of enemies."

"Enemies, huh? Does that include you, miss?" the officer inquires, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you meet his gaze, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. "No!" you exclaim, a surge of frustration and desperation rising within you. "I told you, I have nothing to do with this! Somebody else must be trying to frame me!"

The officer raises a hand in a calming gesture, his expression remaining composed despite your outburst. "Please, Ms. L/n, I understand that this is a difficult situation, but I need you to remain calm and lower your voice." he advises, adjusting his glasses with a practiced motion.

You take a deep breath, attempting to steady your nerves as you nod in acknowledgment. Despite your fear and uncertainty, you know that maintaining your composure is crucial if you hope to convince the officer of your innocence.

"Do you perhaps know somebody else who harbors ill feelings towards your manager?" the officer probes further.

Your mind races as you consider the question, recalling the various individuals who had clashed with your manager over the years. "Uh... I have some people in mind," you admit hesitantly, careful not to implicate anyone unfairly.

The officer nods, gesturing for you to continue. "Can you say their names?" he prompts, his voice calm yet insistent.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before naming those who had openly expressed their dislike for your manager and had been heard saying disparaging remarks about him.

"Are any of them aware of your security password?" the officer inquires, his brow furrowing in thought.

"Hm... Miko? She's one of the closest to me," you respond, your mind racing as you try to recall if you had ever shared your password with her. "But I never thought she's the one who stole my phone..."

The officer nods, jotting down notes in his book before closing it. He rises from his chair, his posture professional yet empathetic. "I think that's it for today. You can go home," he informs you, his voice carrying a sense of finality. "But you must remember, you're still a suspect. The police will continue to monitor you."

As he walks towards the door, he pauses, turning back to face you with a somber expression. "Oh, and I think you might need a lawyer." he adds, his words hanging heavily in the air as he exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon you.

As you step back into your house, a wave of exhaustion washes over you, leaving your body feeling heavy and your limbs weak. You can hardly muster the energy to move, let alone eat. Your appetite seems to have vanished, replaced by a gnawing feeling of anxiety that weighs heavily on your mind.

Collapsing onto the nearest chair, you curl up into a ball, seeking solace in the silence of your empty house. The minutes tick by slowly, each passing moment adding to the weight of the burden you carry. You glance at the clock, its hands seemingly frozen in time, mocking your sense of helplessness as they stubbornly refuse to move.

As you sit there, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on your shoulders, you feel a surge of panic rising within you. The thought of finding a lawyer seems like an impossible task, especially considering the overwhelming number of options and the uncertainty of who you can trust. The exorbitant costs associated with legal representation only add to your distress, leaving you feeling trapped and helpless.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to comprehend why this is happening to you. You've always tried to live your life with integrity and honesty, yet now you find yourself thrust into a nightmare of accusations and suspicion. It feels unfair, unjust, as if the world is conspiring against you for reasons beyond your understanding.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the sobs that threaten to escape your throat. The weight of uncertainty and fear bears down on you, making it difficult to see a way out of this predicament.

"What should i do..? Why is this happening to me?"

You cry until exhaustion overwhelms you, and you don't even notice as you drift into sleep, your head resting on the table. Once you slowly wake up, your body jolting in panic as you glance at the clock.

"Shit, how long have I been asleep?"

It's already 3 pm. Feeling too restless to eat, you grab a pudding from the fridge and quickly devour it. Then, you make your way upstairs to your studio.

As you enter the room, your eyes land on the paintings of Suguru and Satoru on their canvases. You long for their comforting presence right now. Absentmindedly, you pick up a brush and examine it, lost in thought.

Suddenly, a light bulb seems to illuminate above your head. An idea forms in your mind.

"Wait, if I can't find a lawyer, maybe I can just make one?"

You chuckle at the absurdity of the thought, imagining crafting your own lawyer from brush, paint, and canvas.

But then you pause, considering the idea more seriously.

"...I mean, it's not a bad idea. And I wouldn't have to pay him or anything, right?"

Lost in contemplation, you sit in silence, the idea lingering in your mind as a potential solution to your current predicament.

"God..im gonna get real in jail if they find out it's a fake lawyer."

Your hand slowly dances on the canvas, skillfully shaping the figure as you contemplate what personality to imbue him with.

With each stroke of the brush, you pour your passion and determination into creating this imaginary legal representative. Despite the absurdity of the situation, your focus is unwavering. After all, you refuse to entertain the thought of ending up in jail.

As the painting begins to take form, you infuse it with characteristics that you believe a trustworthy lawyer should possess: intelligence, confidence, and a hint of charisma. With each brushstroke, you mold him into the ideal representation of legal expertise and competence.

In your mind, this painted lawyer becomes more than just a creation on canvas. He becomes your lifeline, your protector against the unjust accusations looming over you. And as you continue to paint, you feel a sense of empowerment wash over you, knowing that you are taking control of your own destiny, one brushstroke at a time. You drop your brush and let out a satisfied groan as you admire your creation. The image of the lawyer stares back at you from the canvas, exuding an aura of confidence and intelligence.

"Ah..i end up making him good looking. Well, what's the harm anyway." you mumble to yourself, a faint smile playing on your lips.

Stretching your tired muscles, you take a moment to appreciate the sense of accomplishment that comes with bringing your idea to life. Despite the unconventional circumstances, you can't help but feel a sense of pride in your artwork.

With a deep breath, you remind yourself that desperate times call for creative solutions. And if your painted lawyer can help you navigate through this legal ordeal, then his good looks are just an added bonus.

Feeling a surge of determination, you gather your resolve to face whatever challenges lie ahead, knowing that you now have a unique ally on your side, even if he exists only in paint and imagination.

"Now the problem is..i don't know when he's gonna become real!" You cried out, frustration evident in your voice.

"Please please become real in the morning till evening! Not in the night please please please!" You beg in front of your painting, your desperation palpable.

What a scene it must be, if somebody else were to find you in this position—on your knees, pleading with a two-dimensional figure. They would undoubtedly be puzzled, perhaps even weirded out by the sight.

But you don't care about appearances right now. All that matters is finding a way to ensure your painted lawyer materializes at a time that's most advantageous for you. So you continue to beseech, your words echoing in the quiet of your studio, hoping against hope that somehow, your plea will be heard and answered.

"What are you doing?" You hear someone's voice, and as you turn around, you see Suguru looking at you with a puzzled expression, while Satoru regards you with a mixture of concern and pity.

"Oh no..is she losing her mind?" Satoru expresses his worry, his brow furrowing.

"I think she is." Suguru agrees, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

You flush with embarrassment, realizing how bizarre your actions must appear to them. But you don't know how to explain yourself, especially considering the circumstances. All you can do is hope they won't judge you too harshly for your desperate attempt to summon a painted lawyer to aid in your defense.

You quickly get up, trying to conceal the painting behind your body, although it's barely covered.

"You guys are surprising me! Don't show up like that!" you exclaim, feeling caught off guard.

"And so are you. Besides, why are you hiding it behind you? The canvas is way bigger than you." Suguru remarks, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Satoru takes hold of your wrist, his expression one of curiosity mixed with concern.

"What are you trying to hide from me?" he asks, his tone gentle yet probing.

You glance between them, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. How do you explain the bizarre situation you've found yourself in?

Satoru gently pushes you aside to get a better look at the canvas. His eyes widen in surprise as he takes in the figure of another man painted on the canvas. A pang of unease and hurt tightens his chest.

Suguru narrows his eyes, studying the scene with intensity.

"What's the meaning of this? Explain." he demands, his tone icy.

"Are you cheating on us? Are we not good enough for you?" Satoru's voice trembles with a mix of hurt and confusion as he confronts you.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you try to find the words to explain

"Wait, no! I can explain! Please, hear me out! I-I need him!" you plead desperately, feeling the weight of guilt and fear pressing down on you.

"You don't need us anymore?" Satoru's voice cracks with hurt and confusion.

"N-no! T-that's not it! P-please, I just..." Your throat feels dry, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you struggle to speak. It's all too much, the overwhelming weight of everything that's happened crashing down only in one day.

You break down into sobs, unable to contain the flood of emotions any longer.

Satoru and Suguru rush to your side, their faces filled with concern and apology as they try to comfort you.

"I'm sorry, y/n... Please, just take a breath," Satoru says, squeezing your hands tightly in his.

"Hey, calm down." Suguru murmurs soothingly, gently stroking your cheek in an attempt to calm your trembling.

"Let's talk about this calmly," Suguru interjects, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. He takes a step closer, his eyes soft with concern. "Y/n, we're here for you. Just explain to us what's going on."

Satoru nods, his expression a mix of worry and understanding. "Yeah, we're not going anywhere. You can tell us anything."

You take a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself enough to explain. "I... I made him because... because I didn't know what else to do. I'm in trouble, guys. The police came to my house today... they think I had something to do with my manager's death."

Suguru and Satoru freeze in dread as news of the police's arrival sinks in, a heavy silence enveloping the room. That night, driven by uncontrollable impulses, they acted rashly, blinded by a desire for vengeance. Unbeknownst to them, their actions inadvertently shifted blame onto you, leaving you to bear the weight of their mistake.

As tears continue to stream down your face, they exchange guilt-ridden glances, debating if they should tell you or not.

"Wait a second, Y/n." Suguru interjects, his voice tinged with urgency.

They step away from you, huddling in a corner, frustration evident on Satoru's face.

"What are we going to do?" he mutters in frustration, his mind racing for a solution.

Suguru closes his eyes, grappling with the weight of their actions.

"This is on me. I should have been more professional, ive been doing this for years but my recklessness led to this. I dont know what makes me so uncontrolled that night." he admits, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

Because it was you.

Satoru look at you who still slump down on the cold floor. He cant seeing you like this it hurts him.

And so Suguru, he put you in danger and he was behind all of this.

"It's not just your fault. We did this to protect her, but we've only made things worse." he insists, his voice filled with remorse.

"We need to clean this for real this time." Suguru agrees, determination flickering in his eyes. Satoru turns to you, resolve in his gaze.

"I'm going to tell her," he declares.

"Wait what?"

Satoru turns back to you, steeling himself for the inevitable confession.

"Y/n... we..." Satoru begins hesitantly, but Suguru interrupts, his voice strained with uncertainty.

"Satoru, don't." Suguru stopped him.

"But i can't lie to her!"

Suguru exhales heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration, his eyes filled with remorse.

"Fine."

With a heavy heart, they turn to you, their expressions fraught with sorrow.

"W-what is it?"

"Y/n... we're the one who killed your manager" Satoru confesses, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

The revelation hits you like a sledgehammer, sending shockwaves through your entire being, leaving you feeling as though the ground has been pulled out from beneath you.

"H-huh?"

Ik this isnt make sense, lets just pretend theres no cctv or they managed to avoid them im literally so dumb😮‍💨

Thanks for the notes, reblogs make me feel more appreaciated<3

Tags: @ceramic-raven @beastofthetrees @r0ckst4rjk @gothiccwhore666 @barryatsumu

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ivantillz · 3 days

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can u write a fic of ivantill navigating their feelings after the kiss if they were both saved by the rebels

Till was annoyed. He was also feeling a lot of other things, undoubtedly, but annoyance was at the top of the list because why wouldn't they just let him see Ivan already?

"Can you please stop pacing?"

He paused mid-step and glanced over at Mizi.

"I just found out one of my friends who I honestly thought was dead has actually been alive this whole time and my other friend is currently being operated on after nearly giving his life to save me. Sorry if I'm a little antsy."

Mizi gave a small smile, undeterred by his bluntness as usual. Or what used to be usual. Till wasn't so sure what had or hadn't changed.

"He'll be okay, I promise." Even as she said it, her eyes were drawn to the closed door. They couldn't even hear anything through the thick metal. "You heard them; the wound was pretty minor. Just grazed his side."

Till pressed his lips into a thin line, hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Why did he do that?" he asked, barely louder than a whisper. Mizi stood up and crossed the hall, drawing him into a hug. He used to dream about this - having her undivided attention - but now it did little to ease the terrible pain in his chest.

Sniffing once, he hugged her tight. She didn't say anything, even as began to cry into her shoulder.

It was nearly two hours before the door opened and one of the healers - Mizi had introduced them but honestly Till couldn't remember her name; he had been kind of traumatized at the time, okay? - stepped out.

Till tried very hard not to focus on the blood staining the front of her shirt. "He's stable," she said.

"Okay, great." Till didn't even wait before trying to push past her; she didn't budge. "Come on! I just want to see him."

She smiled politely. "I didn't say you couldn't. Just try and be quiet, okay? He might be doze in and out, don't try to force him to stay awake."

Till pursed his lips. "I know," he grumbled. Mizi joined his side.

"Thank you," she said. With a shared nod, the healer left. Inside the room was the other healer; he quietly set a rag on Ivan's forehead before also leaving the room.

"He still has a slight fever," he explained. "If he asks, you can refresh the rag." He pointed to a bucket on the table with what Till could only hope was clean water.

Once he was gone, Till walked over to the bed and sat down. Mizi sat on the other side of the bed. Ivan hadn't stirred since they walked in.

He looked bad - terrible, even. His skin was even paler than usual, there was a bit of crusted blood still at the corner of his mouth, dark circles under his eyes.

But he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

"I'll just stay until he wakes up," Mizi said quietly, staring at him. "I just want to make sure he's okay."

Till had almost forgotten he wasn't the only one who had been wounded by what happened. He suddenly felt a little guilty.

"You don't have to leave," he said instead.

She smiled over at him; there was something about the look in her eyes that made Till feel exposed. He didn't like the feeling. "I think you two need to talk."

He didn't argue, even if the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about what had happened. Any of it.

Ivan woke up about ten minutes later; he was groggy, as expected, voice hoarse and scratchy.

"Here." Till moved without even thinking, grabbing a cup he had noticed on the table a little earlier.

Ivan was too weak to even hold it. Till adapted quickly; he held the cup to his lips and tilted it back a little. Once Ivan was done, he set it aside again.

"So," he licked his lips. "I guess this isn't heaven, huh?"

Mizi laughed softly. "Not even close. But you're safe here, at least."

He sighed, groaning a little as he tried to sit up. Till moved quickly, gently grabbing his arm to help him. He wasn't even sure if he should be moving yet but he wasn't about to fight him; that just seemed like asking for even more trouble.

"I really expected to die up there," he said once he was settled, the rag fallen at his side. Till grabbed it, plopping it in the bucket for now.

Mizi pressed her lips together. "I think I'm going to go see if they have anything that'll be easy enough on your stomach," she said, gently touching Ivan's shoulder as she stood.

"I'm not hungry," he replied automatically.

She clicked her tongue. "Too bad; you need to eat to recover."

Without waiting for a reply, she swept around the bed and paused just long enough to squeeze Till's shoulder once before leaving the room.

The silence was almost suffocating.

"You weren't really choking me," Till blurted.

Ivan side-eyed him. "Of course not," he said slowly. "Did you really think I would?"

Till opened his mouth, closed it. "I'm not really sure of anything anymore," he admitted quietly.

"It was just a ploy," Ivan continued, looking away. "I don't know. I just needed them to believe it."

It was silent again for a few beats. Till stared at his hands.

"You could've killed me," he said eventually. "I didn't care."

He chanced a look; Ivan was still staring ahead at nothing, his mouth a tight line. "I would've never let that happen," he said and for a moment Till wasn't sure what he meant until - "I would've done anything to ensure your safety."

And that was the crux of it, huh?

Till thought of Ivan's hands around his throat, surprisingly gentle. He thought about his mouth. His lips. He had kissed Till like he was searching for something. Like he needed something.

"You kissed me," he said. It felt weird, finally saying the words.

Ivan snorted, shaking his head minutely. "I did." He side-eyed Till again. "I know it was selfish of me. I know."

"But if you could do it over again, would you still kiss me?"

Till wasn't even sure what had motivated him to ask. Ivan smiled; it was almost sad. "Probably."

He nodded. He wasn't upset. He wasn't even sure if he had been upset, in the moment, not for longer than a second. Mostly he had been confused.

But now that he had time to think on it, he wasn't so confused anymore.

"I never knew," he mused quietly. "I mean." He looked up, suddenly a little angry. "You never told me. You should've told me."

All that time he had been chasing after Mizi and a part of him had always known it was never going to happen. She had loved - she still did - love Sua.

Time wasted. He had never even considered...

"There was no reason to burden you with my own feelings," Ivan said evenly. "I'm selfish, maybe, but I didn't want to make things even more complicated for you."

Till breathed out through his nose. "You really think you were doing that for my sake?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice level. "You think you had the right to decide what was best for me?"

Ivan stared back at him, eyes as dark as ever. "I don't understand."

"You kept it from me," Till continued, pressing a hand to his chest, "because you were scared to say it. You were scared of how I would respond."

Ivan let out a humorless laugh. "We both know how you would've responded, Till." He sighed. "This is a pointless argument to have."

He still wasn't getting it. "No," he said, leaning closer. "We don't know how I would've responded because you never gave me the chance."

"Just like you gave the same chance to Mizi?" he shot back.

Till pressed his lips together. "That is not the same and you know it. Sua loved her back. It was different. I - " He paused, biting the inside of his cheek.

Suddenly the fight was drained out of him. Ivan eyed him warily.

"You what?" he asked, looking cautious and almost nervous. Till had never seen that expression on his face. He always looked so in control of everything. It was nice to be reminded he was really just human like the rest of them.

Till swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I think I could've liked you, Ivan. If only I had known."

Ivan stared at him like he wasn't really seeing him. "No," he said, too fast. He looked more scared, here, than he had up on that stage.

"Didn't factor that into your little plan, huh?" he asked; without asking, he pulled the rag out of the water and wrung it before leaning forward to gently scrub away the dried blood on his chin. "I don't think I ever really liked her, not in the way I thought I did."

Ivan was silent, his jaw clenched.

"I was just - I needed something. An escape. A dream. She was nice to me. Pretty..." Till sat back. "I think I just really wanted someone to care about me."

Ivan glanced at him briefly before looking away again.

"But this whole time I was blind to see I had that," Till felt his eyes burning. "Maybe you weren't as obvious about it, maybe you had your own way of showing it, but... that doesn't matter." He tossed the rag aside and reached for his hand; Ivan stiffened as he grabbed it but didn't pull away. "I would like to have a second chance."

Ivan stared at their hands. "You don't owe me this," he said, voice still carefully even.

"I'm not offering anything because I feel like endowed to you," he squeezed his hand, hard. "You know me well enough to know I wouldn't do that. Now stop fighting me on this and look at me."

Ivan lifted his head.

"Thank you, Ivan," he said, staring into his eyes - dark, yes, but warm, comforting and familiar - "for caring about me, even when I couldn't see it."

Ivan opened his mouth, closed it. He squeezed his hand back. If Till didn't know better, he would even say he was blushing a little.

Maybe he would always have a bit of regret for not really seeing Ivan earlier. Maybe Ivan would apologize many more times for kissing him without permission. Maybe he would try to apologize for hurting Till, even if he didn't. Not really. All the pain he had felt - the real pain - was cured the moment he had known he would be okay. Maybe they would still struggle a lot, have bad and good days, but maybe that was okay.

#alnst #ivantill #alien stage #ivantill fic #alnst till #alnst ivan #alnst mizi #mywriting #hope u enjoy anon!#ivantill requests/prompts are open to all btw #they rly help motivate me soooo

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graphicpepsi · 22 hours

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risk (nsfw, mdni)

OR: what happens when König gets bored on a mission and you just happen to be with him..?

König sighs, leaning back and adjusting himself for the third time in ten minutes. His sniper rifle sits loosely in his hand. Bored eyes scan the environment one final time before they land on you.

"Bored yet schatz?"

"No," You lied, "Just tired."

You had begged him for months to let you come on one of his missions. You wanted to see what a day at work looked like for him. And after months of trying (and months of the older man telling you it was too dangerous) he finally obliged and brought you along.

You wanted to match with him, so you wore camo cargo jeans and a black shirt. Even though he said this was a run-of-the-mill boring mission, adrenaline still coursed through your body at the feeling of it. König next to you, his giant arms holding a gun, the scent of his musk and cologne intoxicating in the confined space.

"I'm bored." He says as if it weren't obvious, breaking the silence. He lets the rifle fall down beside him as he stretches his arms out.

His eyes were trained on the open window infront of him. You were positioned on the highest floor of a nearby apartment complex. He told you his job was to watch for terrorists and shoot to kill.

You bounce your leg anxiously. König couldn't understand what excited you so much about tagging along with him, but it made him happy to see you like this.

Besides, you loved seeing him in his gear. Although you'd never admit it to him. To you, he was a gift from fucking god when he towered over you like that; tactical helmet, cartridges strapped to his chest, utility knives strapped to his thighs- it made him look twice as big, if that was even possible.

Watching his gloved hands unload & reload shells into his rifle could make you drool.

You look up to see his blue eyes locked on you.

"What were you thinking about, love?" He asks. His mask hides the expression beneath those unrevealing eyes.

"You."

"Ja?"

He has to be smiling, you think.

"You come on my mission to distract me?"

"You're distracting me." You correct him, " 'ts not my fault."

He pulls you closer to him in one smooth motion, his strong hands gripping your waist harshly. You're so close to him you can feel his mask move in front of you after each exhale.

"I distract you?" He repeats, tilting his head. His voice drips with knowing curiosity.

You don't try to hide the way your thighs squeeze together at the sound of his thick accent in your ear, the feeling of his giant hand on your side.

"Kö.." You breathe, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, pretty?"

You climb onto him, settling yourself down on his knee, your legs dangling on either side. He breathes out a low chuckle, like he can feel you pulsing on his knee or something.

"You want this, schatz?" He guides you back and forth on his knee with his hands, moving your body like putty, dragging your wet pussy along his thigh.

"Mmfh, please König," You bury your face in the crook of his neck, grabbing at his chest and shoulders for support.

He slides you back and forth, relishing in the way you roll your hips into his knee to get more friction. He presses you down firm as he pushes his knee against your pussy, dragging you up and down until you're a whining mess on top of him.

You're so wet but it's not enough to cum, and he knows it.

You whine into him, pathetically. "More," You try to hump his leg the best you can, but the minimal friction it gets you almost hurts.

"Poor baby," König murmurs, "Can't cum?"

You grab his shoulder as hard as you can, frustrated, even though you know he can barely tell. He grabs your hair and yanks your head out from his neck.

"Such an impatient little brat."

You roll your hips down into him as a response, mind a little hazy.

"Please Kö, so wet f'you." You mumble, looking into his eyes with puppy dog ones. He nearly growls at that. He loves when you get all riled up.

Before you can protest, he flips you around on his lap so you're facing the window, sitting in between his legs.

"Tell me if I need to shoot, ok Schatz?"

Your heart pounds at his voice in your ear, but even more so at the hand groping your pussy, thick fingers dipping into the waistband of your cargos.

"Wh- König, I don't know how to- oh, fuck."

He sinks a finger into you, sliding into your wet hole easily, like your pussy was made for his fingers.

He fucks it into you, slowly, curling it and then adding another one, then another one, and another one.

Four of his thick fingers pump inside of you, curling in just the right spot and vibrating against your pussy. He uses his thumb to press against your clit, pinching it and shaking it underneath him.

Just like that, you're reduced to a moaning, wet mess on his fingers. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, eyes screwing shut with pleasure as he starts shaking his fingers inside of you, thrusting them in and out hard.

"König, Köni, I'm gonna cum, König-" He does nothing but speed up his hand at your whines, and it's not long before you're cumming on his fingers, creamy white seeping in between the cracks. He fucks you through your orgasm, slowing his hand down finally as he curls his fingers inside of you, fucking them slowly into you before taking them out entirely.

Your legs are vibrating, and if he wasn't supporting you you'd definitely fall.

He rests his hand on top of your wet pussy, the warmth of it making you moan. You're so sensitive that just the feeling of his rough palm against your puffy clit makes you whine.

"You gonna cum for me again kitten?" He rubs his palm roughly against your pussy before slapping it hard.

You bite your hand, muffling a loud moan because it caught you so off guard.

He spanks your pussy again, harder, "Get that fucking hand away from your mouth, brat." He slaps your cunt over and over again, your clit pulsing after each spank.

It only took a few rough spanks before you were cumming again, back arching against him with a loud whine.

"Sh, sh, good girl." He strokes your pussy, almost comfortingly before pulling your cargos back up and pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as you come down, panting.

"Oh, hang on."

He hoists his rifle up to his shoulder, takes a second to aim, and then pulls the trigger, sending a shot directly into someone's head.

"There we go."

He sets the rifle back down and pulls you back onto his lap, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

"You did so well, little liebling, good girl." He coos into your ear, stroking your back.

All you can do is nuzzle into him and try to catch your breath.

A/N: that picture made me FERALLLLL y'all wouldn't even believe how i was actin writin this like barkin woofin growlin grrrrrr gyatt DAMN is this man fine. If y'all want me to write sumth just lmkkk thanks for reading

#konig x reader #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig fanfiction #konig mw2 #könig #könig cod #cod smut #konig smut #konig call of duty #könig call of duty #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #könig x you

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 days

Note

What would your headcanons be for the 141 in nursing homes? As in old ass man.

Maybe some extra characters as well? 👀

I'm splitting this up into 3 categories: Physical appearance, personality/behaviour, and overall shenanigans.

John Price

Went bald but still has a killer mustache and a ridiculous amount of body hair and yet all the hair he has left has gone grey. Is SOOO wrinkly. His eyes are hooded/droopy beyond fucking belief.

He's 100% a "Back in my day..." old man. Has def gone half-deaf. Is both a flight risk AND a fall risk but refuses to use his walker/zimmer frame. Is the first one up in the morning, before the staff even changed shifts (consequence of early rising all his life in the military)

Insists on being called 'Captain' by the staff, gives everyone the stink eye if he gets called 'John' or 'Mr.Price'. Sometimes still wakes up dreaming of Makarov and/or Shepherd and spends all day grumpy. Staff hates him.

Simon Riley

Does not go wrinkly. Instead, his skin gets taut and he loses weight and muscle, and becomes skinny/frail. Is VERY hunched over.

Has def lost most of his hearing as well. Is impossible to talk to. A conversation between him and Price spirals from a topic to the next because they misinterpret each other's words. Blasts his fave TV shows (The Price is Right) at top volume all hours of the day.

Has dementia or some other brain degenerative disease, which means he's often lost/confused... So it's not uncommon to see him walking around carrying a cane or umbrella like it's a rifle because he thinks he's still a soldier. Has scared the shit out of night staff by sneaking up behind them with a mask on (where did he get the bloody mask?) and nearly stabbing them with a syringe-like it was one of his knives.

Johnny MacTavish

Does not make it to a nursing home, he's already dead.

Kyle Garrick

Has gone grey but not that wrinkly. Still looks surprisingly good for his age. Is very charming. Wears colourful shirts (Hawaiian and not), and has a nice style... but still wears that stupid bloody hat of his. Has VERY bad hip pain from falling out of helicopters so much.

Is SOOO sweet and polite, and charms all the old ladies AND the nursing staff, every kid that comes visit other grandparents LOVES him. Is the least annoying senior at the nursing home. Also has terrible hearing. Spends his time shouting at Price and Simon to have a conversation.

Still gets taken to veteran/war remembrance days by his family and watches the parades and such... only to look at helicopters with disdain in his eyes and curses them out with a fist.

Alejandro Vargas

Has not gone grey but is a healthy salt-and-pepper. Still keeps his little stubble OR an anchor goatee. Wears glasses now, but they're those types that transition into sunglasses.

His hearing is ALSO shot. Has very shaky hands so he keeps dropping things, especially his pills. Talks crap about everyone with Rodolfo (they gossip in Spanish so no one can hear him.) Is never grumpy. Loves playing cornhole and pétanque.

Is 100% a cougar hunter. Has a silver-tongue and is still so attractive that he just seduces ALL the old ladies. Some of them were still married to their husbands (who were ALSO in the nursing home) and he STILL flirted with them.

Rodolfo Parra

Rudy has gone chubby, wears glasses, and still stays clean-shaven. Wears cardigans and corduroy trousers. Is on a wheelchair.

Is very polite. Spends his time reading in the garden, and likes tending to flowers. Loves a good gossip with Alejandro. Loves playing cards because it's the one game Alejandro cannot play, is very smug about it.

Falls asleep suddenly after meals. Hates Philip Graves with a fucking passion. Hates him so much he still wakes up dreaming about the betrayal in 2022 and gets MAD about it. Wheels himself to Alejandro's room every time and complains. "Pendejo de mierda, Graves."

#asks #moots #cod headcanons #crack headcanons #I promise it's crack #do not take this seriously #I will fill this out with the rest of them tomorrow

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sourlove · 19 hours

Text

YANDERE ROCKSTAR 🎸 INTRO FIC (200 Follower Special!)

TW: HE GETS YANDERE LATER ON. NOTHING REALLY IN THIS ONE, CARRY ON

THANKS SO MUCH FOR 200+ FOLLOWERS! ENJOY!

(FEMALE GROUPIE READER)

Smoke billowed from Axel's parted lips as he ran a hand down his face. The club was hazy and jampacked with drunk people grinding on each other. It would have been too much if he had been a part of the sweaty throng, but Axel had the luxury of watching them from the balcony of the VIP section.

He sighed and took another drag of his cigarette, dropping his head back against the seat. He shouldn't have come here.

"Axe! My man!" An arm slung over Axel's shoulder and he was greeted with the unwelcome face of the Jailbird drummer, Max. The man grinned at the distaste on Axel's face. "Jeez, man, you've been so uptight lately. Should I get some girls?"

"Get off me," Axel grumbled. He couldn't even be bothered to shake him off. "You know why I'm fucking stressed."

Max hummed in understanding and handed him a bottle of beer. For the past few days, Axel couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. Jailbird's new album was supposed to come out in a few months and for the life of, him, he couldn't stop mulling over the title track. It was the most important song in the album, one that should be guaranteed to make headlines. One that he hadn't written yet.

"Would you look at that?" Max mumbled, causing Axel to glance towards the entrance of the VIP lounge. The bass guitarist, Eli and the pianist, Maryanne, came in laughing. But they weren't alone. They were followed by a gaggle of girls, all awe-struck and giggling at whatever story Elijah was telling. Max immediately gravitated towards the group, followed by the other guitarist Riley.

Axel stayed seated and sipped his drink, ignoring them when Max tried to pull him into the conversation. He didn't have time for this. Normally, he would be working his charm on some poor girl, using her to blow of some steam and slip away once he was done.

But there was an itch he couldn't scratch tonight. One that had him snapping at the only girl who dared to try her luck with the lead singer and guitarist of the band. Everyone steered clear after that. He needed some kind of inspiration for the fucking song and nothing in this club was helping.

Axel was nearly done with his third cigarette when his eyes drifted and suddenly met yours. E/C eyes widened and immediately darted away. He would have thought nothing of it if you didn't glance back after a few seconds, looking embarrassed when you made eye contact once again. He smirked and took you in for the first time that night. Now there was a surprise. There was something striking to you. You were dressed the same as the other girls and seemed starstruck by everything, just like them, but there was a freshness to you that intrigued Axel.

Before he could register his thoughts, he beckoned you over. You blinked and looked around. He shook his head and pointed directly at you, grinning. You stood up shakily and walked to him, looking like a newborn fawn in your precariously high heels.

"H-hi," you said, standing next to the couch.

"Hi. Come sit." Axel made room for you, just enough that your thighs still touched. You twisted your hands nervously as he drank in the sight of you.

"Um, i-it's nice to meet you. I'm a huge fan."

"You like Jailbird?" he asked. "What's your favorite song, then?"

You jumped when his hand played with the collar of your blouse. It was cute, like you. A bit revealing, Axel noted, as his eyes drifted over your cleavage, but nice. Simple.

"Oh no. I mean the band is awesome, but I'm really just a fan of you." You ducked your head shyly. "I like 'Starlight'."

He laughed loudly, surprised. "You know Starlight? Fuck, that's an old song. I don't believe you."

'Starlight' was one of the few songs he performed alone, when Jailbird was just a dream that only he and Max believed in. Axel only ever sang it once, at a random talent show and he didn't even place on the board. It had been a blight in his career, one he buried with new albums and songs that topped the charts. So he was genuinely surprised to see you reach into your bag and unfold a creased flyer for the talent show, dated years ago. On the back, was his old signature, a rough scrawl that he hated but remembered.

"Shit." Axel squinted at the paper, suddenly sober. "You-you really were there..."

"I don't think you would remember me," you babbled on, oblivious to his internal thoughts. "I wanted to ask for a picture, but you didn't look so good, which I understand because you were robbed! I-I mean, you obviously deserved first place, Starlight was-is amazing!"

Axel didn't like to be reminded of the time when he was nobody, when nothing he ever wrote was good enough, especially not Starlight. It was his first song, his favorite song, until all he got for it was scattered applause and a participation slip. The band was formed and Axel had a new sound, a new meaning to his songs. Starlight did not cut it anymore.

And now, here you were, digging up his dirty past, holding it to his face. And showing him how much you loved it. It was humbling. Axel didn't like to be humbled. But he liked you. He liked you very, very much.

"Ever had a shotgun kiss?" He asked, interrupting your rant. You blinked again and shook your head.

"Oh no, I don't smoke, sorry."

"You could start," Axel said, holding his cigarette up. He took a long drag and grabbed you face, squishing your cheeks to part your lips. He smirked when your breath hitched as your mouths met and chuckled when you coughed, pulling away from him. "Not bad, starlight. Just needs some practice." He held out his bottle and you took a tentative sip, smiling shyly. Cute.

"You're much nicer than you look," you commented. Only to immediately backtrack. "N-not that you look mean or anything! It just seems like you prefer being alone..."

Axel hummed, lighting another stick. He held it up to you and stared at you with an eyebrow raised. You grimaced but wrapped your lips around it anyway. When you stopped coughing, he said, "You should listen to your instincts. I'm not so nice, starlight."

He watched you fiddle with the hem of your skirt for a moment, before glancing up at him through your lashes. "Well...what if I don't want to listen to them?"

Suddenly, Axel wanted nothing more than to leave the club with you on his arm. He grinned and stood up, offering his hand to you. "Oi, Max! I'm heading back so don't wait up!"

You blushed as your friends cheered, and Max gave Axel a thumbs up. "Where are we going?" Were you really that clueless? Axel would have a lot of fun ruining that innocence.

"Just you wait, starlight," he purred into your ear, nipping at the soft shell as you shivered. "I'm going to change your life."

Hours later, in his hotel suite, as his sweat cooled and his heartbeat slowed, Axel's mind buzzed with ideas. The inspiration he had been desperately searching for rushed to him as you nuzzled into his neck, sleepily.

"What did you say your name was again, starlight?"

"Hmmm? Y/N."

"Fuck that's a pretty name," he breathed.

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N...it looked like he had a title for the song. All he had to do was start writing down and tweaking the lyrics. But that would have to come later. Axel pulled you closer and drifted to the first peaceful rest he'd had in weeks, with your name still on his tongue.

Y/N...

A/N: Hope you guys love Axel as much as you love Lucas! If you enjoyed, leave a like, comment and reblog. Or drop and ask for anything you had in mind. Loves ya xxx

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jxtina-86 · 2 days

Text

Control

Part of the Roman/Katherine series - this follows on a few months after the The Request where these two decided to level-up their escapades.

Two things inspired this. This promo which makes my brain short-circuit every time I see it and this GIF series. Especially the first one. Jesus Christ. Anyway - credit to the owner (and @thesamoanqueen for finding that first one MONTHS ago when I first had this idea).

Oh and I spent way too much time hunting around for a certain item that features in this and reading the reviews - my search history is beyond rescue at this point.

Warning: Sexual content/descriptions

Rating: MA

Comments/reblogs/likes all welcome!

****

Katherine rolls her neck slowly, easing the tension that's built up from sitting still for too long. Stretching her arms up briefly, she drops her hands to her face and pushes her glasses up to rub her eyes.

Letting the frames fall back into place, she blinks at the screen. She clocks the time in the corner and knows she should shut her laptop down and come back to it in the morning with fresh eyes. But yet…

Her brow furrows as she re-reads the last few paragraphs. She knows it's a bad habit - she should leave it alone, let the words sit and breathe a little longer before she edits, but in moments of frustration, such as this one, she can't help herself.

Her finger hovers over the delete button for a second before she shakes her head and retracts her hand. Spinning slowly away from the desk, she once again pushes her glasses up onto her head. Closing her eyes, she slowly pieces together fragments of the intended scene in her head.

His hands, one gliding down her body, fingers tugging… the other cupping her face, turning it to his.

His body pressed against her back, firm, strong. She melts into his embrace, her body loose and willing as his fingers slip between her legs.

Her thighs open, welcoming him and she relishes in the groan that vibrates through him as he teases the exposed and sensitive skin.

A loud buzz.

No. That's not right.

Her eyes flicker open and she sees her phone lit up. She already knows it's him before she even spots the name.

Back at the hotel x

She swipes to reply but he sends through another message before she finishes.

You better be in bed, baby girl. It’s late x

Busted, she grins at the screen as she taps out a reply.

I'm working x

Go to bed x

Make me x

She chews her lip, waiting as she sees that he’s typing. There’s a brief pause and then…

She grins as both her face and his flashes up on the screen - a new photo she took the last time they were together in the back of a cab on the way back from a bar. The smirk on his face and her wide eyes give away the fact that his hand, not seen in the photo, was sliding over her thigh and between her legs as she’d taken the snap.

Her skin tingles at the memory, but Katherine still leans back in her chair in mock defiance as she answers the video call. Yet the second she sees him, her resolve begins to crumble - even she would admit that was inevitable.

Roman is standing in a hotel bathroom, in a pair of grey joggers that are slung deliciously low on his hips. Katherine physically has to suppress a whimper, her eyes unsure of where to look as she takes in his chest, abs, arms, face, the faint imprint of his dick against the grey material.

Roman smirks, leaning forward to tower over the phone he has propped on the vanity.

“See something you like?”

“Always,” she replies, not missing a beat.

“You should be in bed. It’s nearly midnight there, baby girl.”

“I know. But I was mid-flow.”

“Bullshit,” he chuckles. “You wouldn’t have replied if you were.”

Katherine pouts in response.

“Bed,” he tells her. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Will you?” She tries not to sound too hopeful.

Roman scrapes a hand across his face. “This was your idea, baby girl.”

She pouts. “I didn’t realise a four-week stint was on the cards.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“No, Ro…”

“Someone dropped the ball, my schedule got fucked. I swear to God, I gave ‘em fuckin’ hell.” His brown eyes stare at her pleading through the screen.

“So when are you back?”

“Saturday.”

“So three extra days?”

“Yeah…” he exhales slowly. “I’m sorry, Kat.”

She forces a smile. “It’s okay. Shit happens.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you. Dinner on Saturday. I’ll take you to that fancy sushi place you’ve been telling me about.”

“It’s booked up for weeks, I tried.”

“Good job you got yourself a man with contacts then.”

“How-”

“Uh-huh, I got contacts, that’s all you need to know.”

She smiles. “Okay, okay. Thank you. I can’t wait.”

“For you, anything.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Anything?”

A deep laugh echoes through the screen. “Oh, you really are trying it on tonight, baby girl.”

“Four weeks, Ro,” Katherine whines, unashamed of how much of a brat it makes her sound.

He shakes his head. “Firstly, this was your idea. I’m just playing my part. And secondly, it’s only a few more days. Plus,” his voices drops an octave. “You’re doing so well.”

A shiver curls down her spine. “Yeah?”

He nods slowly, his head rocking to the side as he eyes her. “You can hang on a few more days.”

She knows he’s right - it was her idea.

And she also knows that if she does default on this agreement, there’s no real consequence. He’d only take it further if she asked him to.

But the way he embodies the character she demands of him - a man in charge of her pleasure - makes her feel that she owes it to him to carry out her part.

She didn’t quite imagine it would end up like this - what had started as the occasional teasing play had quickly evolved. The sex had been pretty fucking wild before she’d made the request. Now it was off the charts.

Now she could only cum with his permission and more crucially, only in his physical presence.

In past travel stints, they’d survived on phone sex, purring down the phone at each other, listening to each other’s breathless moans, slick fists and fingers and the occasional gentle hum of a toy.

Now he’d pull her back from the brink, even from miles away with just one solitary word she finds she can’t ignore. Stop.

It had been equal parts delicious and torturous. Katherine had countdowns set on her phone for each trip away, waiting for his return. But even then, he’d take his sweet time, watching her writhe in frustration until he relents and tells her ‘now’.

But four weeks. Four weeks was not the plan. And nor was an additional three days.

He interrupts her thoughts. “Did a package arrive today?”

She blinks. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

“Go open it for me.”

She does as she’s told - the spell is wound too tightly to refuse him anything at this stage - and heads for kitchen. “Why’d they send it here?”

“I asked them too. Knew you’d be in to take it and saves me getting a redelivery or going to the depot.”

She nods, placing the phone against a mug on the counter before finding a knife to slice open the box. “What is it?” she asks as she peels back the flaps of the box.

He smirks. “You’ll see.”

“What’s with the mystery?” Katherine grumbles lightly as she rifles through the packing paper that fills the box. Her hand finds a smaller box - two in fact. She tugs the first free and casts Roman a curious look. “A new phone?”

“For you.”

“Why-”

“Find anything else?”

“Yeah, I-” she stops as she pulls out the other box and sees the image on the front. She raises an eyebrow. Looking back at the phone, she sees the wicked smile playing across Roman’s face. “You’re a bastard, you know that right?”

“What?” He winks. “Can’t I treat you, baby girl?”

“This,” she taps the box. “This is not a treat. This is a torture device.”

“Don’t be too hasty,” he smirks. “Read the box.”

She scans the blurb and then looks back up at him. “Oh…”

“Not such a bastard after all, right?”

“Perhaps,” she throws him a wink. “But Ro… it says it needs a Bluetooth connection to set up and link to more than one phone.”

“Two steps ahead of you, baby girl.” Grinning, he tugs a phone from his pocket and flashes it at the screen.

“You planned this?”

“Well, I didn’t quite plan not being with you to try it out together but actually, this works just as well…”

Katherine can feel her heart starting to pound as she opens the box and the vibrator slides into her hand. “Pretty,” she tells him with a grin.

“Turn the phone on. Passcode is your birthday.”

She does as she’s told and when the phone boots up, she clicks on the solitary app on the homescreen. A second later, she jumps as the vibrator starts to hum in her hand and she looks up to see Roman grinning at her. He twists his hand to show her the app opened on his second phone too, his thumb on the screen sliding slowly up. As he does, the vibrations gradually increase and Katherine feels her breath catch in her throat.

“All in my control,” Roman murmurs, his dark eyes meeting hers through the screen.

She nods, almost hypnotised.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby girl.”

“You… you are?” Katherine feels a tremor down her spine at the thought.

“Only if you do exactly what I tell you.”

“I will.”

“Good girl.” A whimper escapes her before she can stop it and he scrapes a hand over his face and down his neck with a deep chuckle. “One day I’m gonna see if I can just make you cum by saying that over and over again…”

“That,” she breathes shakily. “Would be one hell of a dangerous talent.”

“More dangerous than this?” His thumb is back on the app and the vibrator jolts once again in her hand. “Bed, baby girl.”

She doesn’t need telling twice. She eagerly gathers the three devices in her hands and makes her way to the bedroom. Propping up her main phone against the lamp on the bedside table, she awaits his next instruction.

“Strip. Slowly.”

Taking a step back so he can see her fully, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of her tight shorts. Turning away from the screen, she wriggles her hips as she slides the material over her ass before slowly bending forward.

She hears a sharp intake of breath from behind her and glances over her shoulder. Roman’s eyes are dark with lust and his tongue slips out to wet his lips briefly as his head tilts to one side. “Keep going,” he breathes.

With a grin, she edges the shorts down her legs before she slowly straightens. Turning back to face him, she crosses her arms to grab the hem of her shirt before pulling it up and over her head. Cool air hits her breasts and she cups them, her thumbs brushing over her bare nipples.

“Fuck,” Roman groans. “Keep going.”

She shakes her head. “Show me first.”

“Show you what?” he says, taking a step back and dropping his gaze down for a second. He drops a hand to the waistband of his sweatpants and tugs them an inch further south but not far enough.

“Show me what’s mine,” Katherine whines softly.

“What’s yours, huh?” He glances up, his hand letting go of the waistband and dropping instead to palm his dick through the material. “You’re gonna be in a whole world of trouble when I get home.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Missed those sweet fuckin’ lips on my dick,” he groans. “Fuck, keep touching your tits baby girl.”

She does as he requests, her fingers gently circling her hardening nipples and she’s rewarded almost instantly. She bites her lip, her head rocking to the side as he pushes his sweatpants down and kicks them away. It still takes her breath away every time she sees him naked - every part of him is chiselled and toned to perfection and she can’t quite believe her luck that she gets to explore every part of him.

She watches, transfixed as he takes his hard dick in his hand and pumps it slowly. She closes her eyes briefly and remembers the last time they were together - on her knees in front of him, hands loose on those deliciously thick and taut thighs of his. She’d gazed up at him, her brain still foggy from the intense orgasm he’d bestowed on her moments before, her mouth open as he fisted his dick with one hand, the other wrapped in her hair.

“Get on the bed,” his voice cuts through her thoughts and it takes her a second to remember where she is.

She steps forward and readjusts the phone on the bedside table, making sure he can see her and she can see him.

“What were you thinking about?” he prompts as she settles back against the pillows.

“Our last time together,” she sighs. “I’ve thought about that night every fucking night since.”

He grins. “Me too.”

“And the morning after…”

“That too,” he agrees.

It had been equal parts rough, messy, fast, slow, tender, loving. He’d pushed and pulled her body in ways that left her unsure which way she was lying, facing, standing. He’d growled in her ear commands to wait, stop, cum, knees, open wide. And then he’d scooped her up, carried her to where she lay now, and cocooned her in his arms until she fell asleep.

The following morning, every movement was slow and gentle - he’d adorned every inch of her with soft, warm kisses, making his way down beneath the sheets and made slow, lazy love to her, his body pressed firmly against hers, his hands cupping her face to kiss her as her legs at wrapped around his waist.

“Stop,” Roman murmurs and Katherine realises her hand is on her stomach. She feels her cheeks flush as she blinks at the camera.

“I…”

“You’re forgetting something.” He lifts the spare phone into view. “I’m in control, remember?”

She nods, reaching for the toy before taking a shaky breath of anticipation. A second later, it begins to hum softly in her palm.

“Squeeze them tits for me again,” he tells her and she notes the soft rasp in his voice already.

She obliges him, her free hand palming her breasts for a moment, awaiting his next instruction.

“Pinch your nipples for me.”

She gazes at the screen, feeling the haze starting to cloud her mind. He’s leaning against the vanity again, one hand out of sight that she knows is back fisting his dick and her mouth waters at the thought.

“Now with the toy.”

The vibrations hum through her body as she glides the toy across her breasts before circling one nipple and then the other, making both impossibly long and taut. All that’s missing is his hot mouth and tongue on them and she tells him so, drawing a shaky ‘fuck’ from him before he resumes control.

Literally.

The vibrations kick up a notch and Katherine’s back arches in response as she continues to drag the toy over the sensitive skin of her breasts. She lets the toy slide down to her ribs for a second, finding the spot that makes her squirm from any touch, her head flooded with the memory of Roman discovering it for the first time and practically latching onto it until she begged him stop through squeals.

“Uh-huh,” he corrects her and she returns the focus to her breasts once again. “Better. But I need to know…”

“Know what?” she manages to get out as she swirls the tip of the vibrator around one nipple again and again.

“How fuckin’ wet you are.”

She lets her free hand drag over her stomach slowly, her legs spreading. She can feel how wet she is already - the combination of the situation, the toy, him, her imagination all make it inevitable. She lets her fingers caress her inner thighs for a second before she slides two fingers across her wet slit.

“So wet,” she tells him with a groan.

“Show me…”

She pushes her two fingers inside herself briefly, letting out a moan as she does. She pumps them slowly, once, twice before she holds her hand aloft to show the glistening mess.

“Taste yourself.”

She bites her lip for a second, holding his gaze before she rubs the tips of her fingers across her bottom lip and then swirls her tongue around them. She grins at the screen, watching Roman’s eyes clouding with lust and wonderment.

“I taste good,” she murmurs.

“I know,” he rasps. “I’m gonna eat that pussy up all fuckin’ night when I get home, I swear. You’ll be beggin’ me to stop.”

“Never,” she promises. “You between my thighs, why the hell would I tell you to stop.”

“My favourite place, baby girl. And you might not be telling me to stop, but I sure as hell have to hold you still to get you good.”

“That just makes me wetter,” she teases. “I miss you, Ro.”

“I miss you too, Kat,” he says softly. “I had a whole other plan for this tonight.”

“Yeah? Tell me…”

“I was gonna drag that damn toy over your entire body. Real slow too - I wanted to hear all those breathy moans you give me when I’m teasin’ you.” The rasp is back in his voice and Katherine can feel her skin start to prickle in anticipation once again. “Do it, baby girl. Do what I’m saying.”

She lets out a soft moan as she moves the toy down her body at last.

“All the way,” he encourages. “That’s it… across your stomach, tease them thighs for me…”

Katherine’s eyes close as her back arches as the vibrations near her core. She’s not sure how she’s going to last beyond a minute when this toy is inside her.

“Slow,” Roman’s voice echoes beside her. “Spread those legs for me.”

“Ro…” she whines.

“Almost,” he promises as she bites her lip as the vibrations relent for a second. “Tease your pussy for me, talk to me…”

“Fuck, Ro…” her voice catching in her throat as she runs the toys over her wet entrance. “Like when you tease me with your dick, making me beg for it…”

“Just like that, baby girl.”

“Or when you spit and blow on my clit,” she gasps, her back arching at the thought. “And then you wrap your… your arms around my waist so I can’t escape… Ro…”

“Keep going…” The vibrations kick in again for a split second, just as she drags the toy over her clit and she yelps in shock. His chuckle fills her mind and she doesn’t need to open her eyes to see the wicked grin on his face.

“I… I need it,” she gasps.

“Keep teasing,” he tells her. “You know how I love to make my dick nice and wet with your juice before I fuck you… Do exactly that…”

His breath hitches and her eyes flick open to see that he’s moved - no longer in the hotel bathroom, he’s on the bed, the phone angled so that whilst she can’t see his face, she can see the length of his body. She groans as she sees his hand, slowly pumping his dick, his thumb swiping over the tip with every other stroke.

“Kat…” he breathes. “You listening to me?”

“Yeah,” she moans.

“Push it inside you.”

She gasps as she does. It’s the first time he’s let her put a toy inside her for four weeks and even though the toy is far smaller than what she’s used to, it feels impossibly big. Her back arches as she slowly pushes it deeper inside herself, her breath ragged at the sensation.

Rocking her head to the side, Katherine glances at the screen. Roman has moved again so she can see his face. His dark eyes glint wickedly at her as with one hand he still grips his thick cock and the other flicks the vibrations up a notch. Her whole body starts to hum and she lets out a strangled whimper.

“Do not,” he half-growls slowly. “Cum. Not until I tell you.”

“Ro…” she gasps. “Please…”

The vibrations stop and she’s left panting and squirming whilst he chuckles at her from a thousand miles away. “Too much, huh?”

“You…”

He grins. “I’m going easy on you, baby girl. This is nothing compared to Saturday…”

Katherine can feel her brain start to short-circuit. “What… what about Saturday?”

“That’s for me to know.”

She groans in frustration and then gasps again as the vibrations start again. Her hands grip the sheets tightly, twisting them around her fists as she tries to anchor herself to the bed.

“Breathe,” he tells her and she lets out a shaky breath in response, unable to stop herself from doing anything he says.

Through hazy eyes, she gazes at him through the screen, watching his hand grip his dick firmly and his abs tense. His head rolls back for a second and she wonders what he’s thinking.

“Tell me,” she moans.

“Tell you what?” he replies throatily.

“What you’re thinking about.”

“You. Always you, baby girl. You grinding on me, sliding up and down my dick.”

She nods, her eyes closing. “Your hands on my tits… then up to my neck and pulling me down to kiss you… Flipping me over onto my back, pushing my…” she gasps as the thought swirls around her head. “My legs up over your shoulders so you… you can go deeper… Ah, fuck…”

“That’s it,” he groans. “Wrapping my arms around your legs so they don’t fall and fuckin’ you hard and deep…”

“Twisting me over,” Katherine’s mind is overdrive now, snippets of past encounters flashing before her. “Pulling my hips up, pushing my head down so you can fuck me even harder…”

She’s not sure how she’s getting the words out. Her body is on edge, the toy throbbing inside her, pulsating even and every part of her is tingling. Her mind races on, imagining Roman pulling out of her with a growl and flipping her back over, his mouth on hers for a second before he slides down her body and wraps her legs around his head. What a combination that would be, his tongue and mouth on her clit whilst the toy hums inside her.

“It’s like you read my mind,” she hears him groan and only then does she realise that thought has spilt out of her mouth.

“I just…” she whimpers softly as she feels blood rushing to her ears. “Ro…”

“Not yet…” The hum of the toy inside her ebbs slightly and she tries to steady her breathing to slow down the surge of pleasure rattling through her.

“Please…” she chokes out.

“Soon,” he promises. “I got you, baby girl. I promise.”

Fixated on the screen, she watches as his leg twitches and she knows he’s close. “I wish I was there, Ro…” she starts, watching his head roll back onto the pillows. “My hand where yours is right now. My mouth too, running my tongue up and down your dick, taking you all the fucking way…”

“Shit… Kat…”

“Keep going,” she tells him, enjoying the thrill of telling him what to do for once. “You gripping my head, pulling me back and telling me to open wide so you can cum on my tongue…”

“Kat…” he growls, his eyes closing tightly as he gasps and she watches enthralled as he cums, his fist pumping himself dry as she moans at the sight.

“Ro…”

His chest rises and falls as he sinks back against the pillows for a second and then she squeals as the vibrator jolts back to life inside her.

“I got a request,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” Katherine manages to get out, her body tense with anticipation as her back arches yet again.

“Saturday. My flight gets in at 5. I’ll be at yours by 7. You better be ready.”

“I will be,” she promises.

“Wear those heels that I like. The black ones. And that dress that makes your ass look amazing.”

“Done,” she groans. “Anything else?”

“The toy.”

“What… what about it?” Her breathing is getting more laboured as she twists on the bed.

“I want you to have it in you already.”

“Ro… no…”

“Oh yes, baby girl. I’m gonna tease you all fuckin’ night. I want my dessert nice and wet after dinner,” he chuckles.

She can picture it now: sat in a dark corner of the restaurant, one of his hands casually resting on her thigh whilst with the other he sends powerful vibes quite literally her way. She can see herself gripping the table, trying to compose herself as he grins wickedly and then leans towards her and whispers dirty thoughts into her ear.

“I told ya I was gonna eat your pussy up when I got back. I just wanna make sure it’s perfect for when I do…”

“Fuck… Ro…”

He chuckles. “Take my sweet time with you till you’re a fuckin’ mess. Squeeze and pinch your tits as I do, make you taste yourself on my fingers, fuck you with that damn toy until you scream my name, baby girl…”

She’s on the edge, right there, waiting for that word, begging him to say it.

“Then I’m gonna fuck you slowly… Pull all the way out and then push back in inch by inch so you feel every single part of my dick buried inside you…”

“Ro…”

“Tell you what a good fuckin girl you are…”

Her eyes roll back as she balances on the edge, her breath caught in her chest, the vibrations too much now. There’s no way back, even if she tries, she’s right there and she’s going to…

“Cum.”

She falls, with a gasp that echoes around her head. His name tumbles from her as every inch of her body erupts with force and she feels herself twisting and writhing without shame before him.

Her head throbs as she comes down from the high and she tenderly unclenches her fists from the sheets.

“You okay?” Roman’s voice cuts through as always, pulling her back. “Talk to me, Kat.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs, her eyes still squeezed shut as she grounds herself back in the here and now.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”

She twists her head towards the phone and opens her eyes slowly. His face fills the screen, his eyes wide and full of concern like they always are after moments like these.

“That was amazing,” she reassures him as she reaches down between her legs to remove the toy. Her own eyes widen as she feels how wet she still is. “Jesus, Ro… I think you made me…”

He laughs. “Just imagine what I can make you do on Saturday.” He tucks his arm beneath his head and not for the first time tonight, she wishes he was there next to her, wrapping his big arms around her.

“You’re serious about what you said, aren’t you?” She picks up the phone, bringing it closer to her as if that will make a difference to the distance between them.

“Deadly serious.” He eyes her for a second. “But only if you’re up for it.”

She chews her lip. “I am…”

“You don’t seem sure.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

Despite the space he offers her, she can’t find the words. Not the right ones anyway. She can’t tell if it’s the post-orgasm haze or something else, but she can’t put into words the disconnected thoughts running through her head.

She can feel him watching her, so she smiles to reassure him.

“Tell me,” he murmurs. “Or… Can I tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“If you’re worried that I see you differently because of all this shit we do together… You best believe that ain’t true.”

She stares at him in disbelief. How…

“I do this for you because I wanna make you happy, baby girl. You wanted to explore it, I was right there with you. But that doesn’t change how I see you. It’s just a tiny part of what we do together. I think you gave me an opportunity to tap into something too and I like it. But I like you more.”

She blinks. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Read my mind.”

He grins. “I know you, baby girl. Inside out. Literally,” he winks and she feels her cheeks flush. “But seriously, Kat. I’m not here just for this. This is just a bonus. At the end of the day… I just want you.”

Her heart flips. They’ve skirted around this for months - she’s bitten her tongue far too often not wanting to ruin it in case he was just looking for a casual fuck.

“I just want you too,” she hears herself whisper and his eyes light up at the words.

“I’m still doing what I promised you earlier on Saturday,” he tells her. “But on Sunday morning, I’m gonna show you exactly how much more you mean to me than just that.”

“You always do,” she says softly.

“What do you mean?”

“You do that already. Whenever we have nasty sex, the next time you’re treat me like glass.”

Now it’s his turn to blush and he runs his hand over his face with a grin. “See? I can’t hide it.”

“Hide what?”

“I’ll tell you Sunday.”

But she already knows.

Fin x

So... votes for a follow-up? Wanna see how Saturday unfolds...? Or Sunday...?

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns #roman reigns imagine #romanreigns #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic

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sparrowrye · 2 days

Text

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 3

Synopsis: Alastor disappeared for 8 years, leaving you confused, crushed, and angry. You spent those years building up your new self and protecting the haven from dangers left and right. What will happen when he returns to the new changes? Will he return anytime soon? Could you even go back to the way things were?

Previous part

Part 3: missing time

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Please don't be upset," I begged Reagan.

"I'm not!" She sounded too chipper as she stepped up onto the newly finished porch. Alastor and Husker were talking a few paces behind us. I noticed Alastor's attention focused heavily on the expanded haven. He had yet to know how much more there was than what he could see.

Reagan left the front door open and skipped the stairs two at a time. I let out a sigh as I walked over to the broken frame on the living room floor. I knelt down and casted the glass together, melting them in place and refurbishing the wood frame.

I placed it back in its rightful place as Alastor walked in. His cane tapped the floor as he crossed the room. He looked different than how I remember him, somehow. His features seemed sharper and the air about him was different. Or maybe it was because it has been too long since I last stood in the same room as him.

"I would love to hear what happened in my absence." He gently gripped my fingers and placed a kiss on the back of my hand. "We now have all the time in the world."

"Mère?"

Alastor turned sharply at the French word for mother. Standing at the base of the stairs was Nym and Thatcher. Their hands were clasped firmly together and Thatcher hid slightly behind his older sister.

"Who is he?" Nym asked Reagan, who stepped into view from the stairs.

Ah, this was why she had been chipper.

"Who are they?" Alastor hissed. "How do they know that word?"

"I taught it to them," I said calmly, walking over to the young pair.

"How do you know that word?"

"One of your books." I knelt down beside Nym and Thatcher and held out my clawed palm. They habitually placed a free hand on it. "This is Mr. Alastor, my dears. He is my soulmate."

Their eyes turned to him, uncertain and unsettled. I didn't blame them. His appearance wasn't a kind one, even though gentlemanly, and it made me think back to when we first met in the alley. How long ago was that? Twelve years?

"Quite a pleasure to meet you two." His free hand touched his chest as he gave a very short bow of his head. He made no move to come near them.

I stood up and let Thatcher clasp his sister's hand again. Nym suddenly looked up at me and asked quietly, "I thought we didn't like him."

My eyes immediately went up to Reagan. She grimaced before meeting my intense stare. "I told them my feelings about him when they asked." She held up her hands in pretend surrender.

"We'll speak later." I knelt down again to be level with Nym. "He has been gone for a while and we weren't sure when he was coming back. But we do like him."

That last sentence felt strange, almost forced. I pushed off my knee and asked Reagan to make them breakfast. She silently obliged in an effort to get back on my good side. I didn't blame her for her feelings towards Alastor, but I did blame her for involving the two youngest family members in matters like this.

I noticed Lucas waiting at the top of the stairs. I thanked him for giving us space and let him walk into the kitchen to help Reagan. He gave a curt nod to Alastor who didn't return the gesture.

He put his cane behind his back, claws gripping it dangerously tight. "I see you've filled the house with new souls."

"I had to fill the void after you left." The comment made his ears nearly flatten. I stood an arm's length from him and stuffed my hands in my pants pocket. Still in my plain night clothes, I felt oddly out of place in front of him in his usual suite and bow tie.

My anger and hurt lingered, and something told me it was going to stay that way for awhile.

"I wasn't expecting you to..." he trailed off in an effort to find the words.

"To create a family?" I offered.

"I suppose that's a way to put it."

I could feel our bond had already reattached itself. Yet it wasn't the same as it had been before. I still couldn't hear his thoughts and his feelings felt far away. Even so, I felt an ugly emotion hidden somewhere inside him.

Husker, Charlie, and Vaggie came to the rescue a moment later. They too had mixed feelings of his return but Charlie seemed the happiest out of all of us. The tension between Alastor and I felt tight enough for a knife to slice right through it.

"Come see what we've done with the place." Charlie urged him out the door. I let her take him out of the house and went to talk to Reagan.

****

Alastor walked absentmindedly behind Charlie. None of this had happened the way he had expected.

He certainly wasn't expecting his soulmate to be angry with him. He had been hoping she would be grateful, relieved, and happy to see him physically back in this realm. Although, he should've expected some type of negative reaction given her sensitive nature.

Which seemed to have faded quite a bit.

He wanted to know more and fast. She went through a serious amount of change, as much as the haven, and he wanted to get to know every inch of her new personality. Why couldn't time move faster?

He would need to have a discussion with her regarding the two new children, as well. He never liked children, which was odd given that he started to fall for his soulmate when he saw her tender love towards them, and having them under the same roof as him made something prickle uncomfortably under his skin.

The haven had turned into a city. He was shocked to see stores, restaurants, apartments, and more. They had progressed in such a short timeline, shorter than he'd ever seen a group of people do. He wondered about the community. He could see Demons and Humans alike being friendly towards each other as he walked down the street.

How close was everyone? How communal were they? How did they resolve disputes with greater numbers? The answers to these questions and more wouldn't come until he spent time around this city.

He had never been bothered by the vastly growing civilizations, cities, or towns in previous centuries. Even in Hell it never bothered him to see construction complete a project within a couple months or years. He had always been an observer, a journalist, and information gatherer.

However, this time he actually felt left behind. It made his smile turn ugly.

The stares and slightly more crowded streets further down didn't go unnoticed. He could hear the shocked whispers and the quick explanations from parents to children of his persona. It soothed his pride to know these people were aware of his reputation, as well as his connection with their great protector.

Dragon Demon, hm? he noted to himself. Certainly better than Snake Demon.

Finally—finally—Charlie finished chatting closer to noon and allowed him to return to the house. He caught sight of the two children running down the hill. They casted worried glances at him as they passed.

If Reagan was bothersome, he could only imagine what those two must be like in the house.

Vaggie, Reagan, and Lucas said goodbye as soon as we heard Alastor walk in. Husker remained behind with me, tail wrapped several times around my own, as Alastor's red figure came into the kitchen. I felt more on his level now that I was adorned in my usual dress pants and light colored top.

"What do you think?" I asked.

"Of what?" He placed his cane in front of him, claws folded over and gripping the red cover.

"The haven."

He turned his head as if viewing it from here. "It's grown an impressive amount."

There was an awkward silence between the three of us. I wanted to spew everything at him. I wanted to talk nonstop, to explain everything that has happened, to tell the finest details.

But there was a piece of me holding back. Not with the words, but with actions and emotions. Hurt was still an overwhelming feeling despite his explanation of his disappearance.

"Why the children in the house?" he suddenly asked.

"Nym and Thatcher?"

He nodded. His smile was showing his teeth.

"They were trouble cases. I grew attached the more I worked with them and the house was too empty."

"Do you intend to keep them as you've done with Reagan?"

"You hate children?" I inquired.

"You could put it that way," he lifted a single claw and let it tap back on his microphone.

"That was something else I didn't know," I said slowly, "But yes, I intend to let them stay. At least until they're older."

His movement made me jump, quickly moving from his spot at the counter to right beside me, hand extended. "Perhaps you should tell me more. I would love to hear what has happened."

I looked between his eyes and his claw. It felt like a dream still, like I was going to wake up feeling even more crushed by his absence. Husker tightened his grip around my tail, seemingly grounding me in reality.

Surely this was real.

He lifted one eyebrow. He's trying.

I placed my black claw in his palm and watched as his red claws slowly encased my hand. His skin felt tough yet smooth and his claws were smooth and cool to the touch. A zip of energy bounced between us, making our hearts race higher than normal.

It felt like he was being incredibly careful. He wasn't really pulling me—more like guiding me—to the bright living room. I wasn't fragile but it seemed that was how he was treating me.

My protest fell short when he brought me over to the couch. He sat down so we were facing each other but I made sure to keep an inch of distance between us. Husker sat on the chair closest to the window, his presence not going unnoticed by his master.

Alastor hadn't let go of my hand. He rested his cane on his lap and locked eyes with me. A single claw gently rubbed the back of my hand.

"I have been waiting to hear your voice. Please, enlighten me about the past eight years."

My mouth opened but no words came out. I had wanted to tell him about everything but when the opportunity fell at my feet, I was silent. So much had happened, where did I even begin? It felt awkward, too, sitting there with his full attention on me. He felt familiar yet strange. Why was this such a problem?

I casted a glance to Husker for help but he wasn't willing. His tail whisked about his feet as he leaned forward on his knees for the sake of his wings. When I looked back to Alastor, his smile seemed strained, if not nervous.

"Perhaps a look into your memories would suffice? At least to start," he offered. I nodded without thinking. It was too late to reject the offer as his mind gently but firmly melted with mine.

I tried to block off a few memories but that seemed to alarm him. He tried pressing for those memories and when he couldn't get through, he looked at the events around it.

"You made a deal with someone?" he demanded, suddenly pulling out of my mind. My ears pinned at his tone. "Who?"

My mouth did the thing again. I clasped my claws tightly together and hugged my tail suffocatingly around my leg. My eyes glanced up to Husker for aid.

Alastor turned sharply to his servant. His gaze wasn't questionable — it was murderous intent. He stood abruptly and slammed his cane loudly on the floor. Husker's eyes went wide, fur stood straight up, and claws dug into anything he possibly could to give himself momentum.

He lunged for freedom but it was no use. Alastor barely lifted a claw to send him choking to the ground, tentacles pinning his limbs to the hard floor. I jumped in front of Alastor and grabbed hold of his hand, my magic attacking his own.

He let go of Husker and instead grabbed my arm in return. His magic bolted through me too fast and without warning to put up any proper boundaries. I felt exactly where he was searching, and right as he found his answer, my cell phone started to ring.

He withdrew from my mind as his head slowly turned towards the front door where the phones lay hidden in a drawer. He stared for a moment, the house utterly quiet except for the horrid ringing that felt like the seal of my death.

His eyes found mine out the corner of his eye. "You have ten seconds to explain the confines of this arrangement." His grip was crushing my wrist.

"I-I...I'm...I defend Vox's stations and he...he promotes the Haven. He's not allowed...to go...he can't come into the Haven at all. Physical or technological."

He was silent for a moment.

His eyes were staring at me, his head still turned away but single eye locked with both of mine. The phone had finally silenced and now all that could be heard was Husker's ragged, scared breathing and the ticking of the clock on the mantle.

I gently pulled my hand towards my chest and he let go. He said, "Last I remember you refuse to make deals with anyone."

"I made deals with you," I reminded softly.

"Aside from me."

I looked down at my claws. "Things changed. I needed to find ways to keep the haven safe."

"And giving your soul to Vox was going to do that?" he shouted, spinning to face me.

"Yes!" My head snapped up at the aggression. "Promoting the Haven meant we could have more people to defend it and more people to believe it's important enough to leave alone. It also keeps Vox on our side rather than against. He's a pain in the ass to deal with but he has the resources."

Alastor's snarl grew.

"Besides, I didn't give my soul to him. It was a soul binding contract for both parties."

His shoulders lowered at that. He casted his eyes to the side in thought. I reached down to help Husker back up to his feet. I gave him a reassuring squeeze on the paw and let him disappear out the kitchen door, leaving Alastor and I alone.

He had one hand on his cane and the other covering his eyes when I turned back to him. His antlers were still big, meaning he was incredibly frustrated still.

"I'm sorry." I kept an arm's distance between us. "I did what was needed to survive."

Gaze still casted away, he withdrew his hand from his face and held it out to me. I calmed my shaking before place my hand in it. He pulled me close then let go of my hand to put it on the back of my head. He pressed his lips to my forehead and took a slow, long, deep breath.

His antlers shrunk back to their normal size.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"I've missed so much time with you," he mumbled against my skin.

"We live for centuries. There's still time." I tried for a lighter tone.

He let out another breath. "I suppose you are right."

I flicked one ear up. "Say that again."

"Say what?" He pulled away to meet my eyes. Was he always this much taller than me?

"You never say that. Say it again."

His eyes stilled as he thought to the conversation. His realization was obvious when he lifted his eyebrows. "No."

"Say I was right. Say it again." I stepped closer so I was invading his personal space even more so.

"No." He moved his claw from the back of my head to my face and gently pushed me away.

"But it was so sweet of you," I laughed and pulled his hand off.

The phone rang again. I grimaced as he turned his head like an owl to stare at it.

"Maybe you'd like to see your old pal again?" I offered, "He's been obsessed about your return."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

oooooOOoooOooOOoooO

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Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

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void-of-unparalled-chaos · 2 days

Text

Okay so time for me to dump my thoughts on the Underworld Saga because I am going insane and tbh I'm not sure how coherent this will be because my brain is mostly keyboard smashing.

The Shades: "When does a man become a monster? 558 men who died under your command. CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! CAPTAIN! Why would you let the cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy?"

Okay so the harmonies of the Shades are amazing! But also this whole bit is just so... haunting. The call back to Just a Man and Ruthlessness does something to me. Could you imagine being screamed at by the ghosts of everyone you've failed? Also Jay confirmed that the shades in this song are just repeating their final thoughts in life. They drowned begging for their Captain to help them and died wondering why he failed them. This probably fucked Odysseus UP.

Odysseus: "I keep thinking of the infant from that night. I keep thinking of the infant from that night."

I swear I can hear the PTSD in his voice holy shit. Also Astyanax's music box motif being played in church bells in the back. I never would have noticed it if not for Jay's behind the scenes videos but knowing it's there makes this bit so much better.

Odysseus: "Polities..."

I was not nearly as wrecked at this bit until I saw this post mentioning that Odysseus quiet little "Polities..." is a mirror of Polities strangled "Captain..." when he died and now I will never be the same.

Odysseus' Mom

I am not exaggerating when I say I cried during the watch party. Everything about this is heartbreaking. His mom was thinking about him in her final moments. "Odyssues when you come home I'll be waiting" except she wont be. The shocked defeat in Odysseus' voice with "I took too long...". He's right there in front of her, but her shade just doesn't register him. They are so close physically yet still separated by death. Also the fact that Jay's mom voices her that is so sweet omg.

The change from "Here in the Underworld the past seems close behind" to "But in the Underworld your past is always close behind."

STTAGKDUKFUTAATUFOUCOUXGJXG

THE STRINGS!!!!! AND THE PIANO!!!!

Tiresias' voice is so haunting omg

Mason absolutely NAILED prophet who is constantly being shown everything all the time at one I love it sm.

The lyrics in this song are just.... so good. And the foreshadowing is top notch

Jay's voice acting for Odysseus' is also great in this.

The distress and frustration in "We've suffered and sailed through the toughest of hells. Now you tell us ur efforts are for NOTHING?!" and the absolute anger in "WHO!?!?!" (Its you, Ody. See your about to go through a complete change in morals about 5 minutes from now and become a completely different person).

THE DESCENDING ORGAN FOR THE SECOND CHORUS MY JAW DROPPED

Jorge don't think I didn't notice the Hunchback of Notre Dame, Hellfire, vibes at the end I see you.

This is my favorite song released in Epic so far and I am not normal about it at all.

The GUITAR! THE ELECTRIC GUITAR!

For those unfamiliar and being dragged along this nonsense post, Odysseues character is associated with the guitar. The acoustic guitar is when he is softer, kinder, and more "human" while the electric guitar represents him at his most brutal, ruthless, and "monsterous". This song is his turning point to which he is done being merciful. He will do ANYHTING to get home.

"Oh Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves..."

Really taking Poseidon's lesson to heart there.

Odysseus: "AND IF I GOTTA DROP ANOTHER INFANT FROM A WALL IN AN INSTANT SO WE ALL DON'T DIE? THEN I'LL BECOME THE MONSTER! I WILL DEAL THE BLOW!... SO WHAT IF I'M THE MONSTER?"

Ayrsgstusigxjgsutaut holy shit holy shit holy shit-

Play this back to back with Just A Man for some psychic damage. What an end for Act 1!

#epic the underworld saga #epic the musical

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fandomfluffandfuck · 17 hours

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I've always had a thought of Pornstar au with Stucky but I never have enough time to write one, mainly bcs the words won't come out and i fucking hate myself sooooooo

I'll just punch my idea here for you bcs so suddenly, I can't stop thinking of Pornstar!Seb HAHAHAHA but I'll stick with my original idea of STUCKY instead of Evanstan although I do love those two idiots AHJSSJJE

Right uhm, anyways, this prompt started off with well, porn, obviously bcs I'm a budding artist who wants to practice nsfw stuff (ehem😌😌) and the first place I went to for pose references were Porn sites

I was hit with sudden inspiration out of nowhere when I got reminded that Steve was a fucking artist SJIDHEIJEUR my mind is then consumed by the idea of one Steve Rogers, scrolling through a porn site looking for pose references when he stumbles into a single account

It's nothing special to be honest but what catches his eye is the full sleeve tattoo on the stars left arm. Curious, Steve checks the account out and discovers Winter_Soldier who's got quite the following. Steve is immediately enthralled at the sight of the man and his silky brown hair, the only thing visible about his face being his bright steel blue eyes. Winter is thicc, chest big enough you could fuck a dick between it and a pair of thighs Steve's sure enough could crush a water melonn NGHHHH don't even get Steve started with his dick, a pretty thing thats anything but little

Bucky might like to bottom but he could fuck if he wants, those sessions where he'd bring another pornstar over for a joint video and he'd practically fuck them to the mattress. Steve salivates at the thought of getting bedded by Bucky, brain just gone at the idea of having Bucky spread on his bed for him to take or of Bucky between his legs, ready to fuck him stupid

He's so adventurous too, his videos containing multiple angles of him fucking his thick ass onto an equally thick dildo, voice slightly muffled from behind the mask but still loud enough that Steve could pick up his mewling ramblings. Winter has a seductive voice that melts to a whine whenever he's got something in him and What's supposed to be Steve looking for pose references and practicing his anatomy's ends up with him furiously jerking off to this gorgeous man

Steve has never seen someone so enticing before, the way Winters body would curve and bend, slick hole making way for the thick dildos he liked to shove in. He fucks and liked to talk, his god given voice rumbly as he spoke to his audiences, taking requests or just simply dirty talking GOOD LORD AJDHWJRHRJJEEJ Steve can't take his eyes off the monitor and his hand off his dick, eyes always coming back to the intricate robot like design of Winters left arm

Somehow, Steve manages to finish his practice but not before he nearly bled himself dry with how much he jerked off. His sketch book suddenly filled with a brown haired masked pornstar. Some hour later, he stumbles out of his room and into the shared kitchen of the dorm he's renting. He nearly trips when he finds his roommate James cooking some dinner

He's been rooming with James for nearly a year now but they're not really close (yet). In Steve's opinion, he's too pretty for his own good and Steve can never talk straight or properly whenever James is the one he's conversing with. James is very sweet though (he told Steve he could call him Bucky bcs that's what his friends call him), voice soft and always drowning in the oversized hoodie he favours. He's not small by any means, with a wider set of shoulder than Steve but he's definitely shorter by a couple of inches.

Steve's always ogling at Bucky whenever he could and he always thinks that his hair is pretty but a detail catches Steve's eyes with how he tied his hair in a messy bun as he cooked. It looked similar with... Steve freezes on the spot, staring at Bucky like an idiot. There's no way right?? It must be just a coincidence!!

Instinctively, Steve's gaze falls onto Bucky's left arm, covered with the long sleeves of his hoodie. Steve has never seen Bucky with his clothing off or just a simple sleeveless outfit and Winter did have a few tattoos, the most prominent one was the full sleeve on his left arm... Steve shakes himself. His roommate can't be the pornstar he's suddenly addicted to, that's just rude to assume

When Bucky calls him to share the dinner, steel blue eyes curved in a somewhat familiar smile, Steve's throat dries and he doesn't know if he hates or loves the possibility of his absurd idea

In the end though, it's not him who makes the official discovery. Instead, it's Bucky who makes the reveal when he finds one of Steve's sketchbook laying around, filled with sketches and practice of a familiar brown haired star in different positions and angles

Steve's all bashful at being caught with his 18+ content and Bucky practically drills his new obsession out of him with a glint in his eyes. When Steve confesses the fact that he's been having fantasies about Winter and woke up every morning with a boner, religiously coming to check Winters account for updates or live sessions, Bucky practically grins like the cat who got the cream, the shy facade giving away to Steve's dirtiest dream

"So you like my voice huh?" Bucky murmurs where he's coiled like a snake on the couch, his eyes going lidded as his voice dropped a few octaves. Steve is frozen at the other end of the couch, surprise and something else shimmering in his guts

"Tell me, Steve.. Do you keep coming back to my account because I provide you with good practice material or is it because I turn you on?" Bucky practically purred, uncoiling and starting to crawl his way to Steve. Considering that their couch isn't that big and neither of them are small, Steve suddenly has his dreams on his lap

"I just needed practice," he weakly says and Bucky's lips curve into a smirk that would follow Steve to his dreams, face finally full with his bright eyes. Ever so slowly, Bucky leans until he's got his lips straight to Steve's ear, squirming on his laps and arms around his neck

"I could give you a live modelling session," he whispers, breath hot against Steve's flushed skin. He shivers and Bucky's next words makes his hand come up to Bucky's waist to squeeze tightly.

"And if you want a live demonstration with yourself included.. well, I can give you that too."

AHAHAHAH I don't know what to do with this prompt but plssss it's been haunting me (HAH), anyways, tis just a tease but they basically fuck (obviously 🙄🙄) and we can have the dynamic of Bucky happily expanding Steves sexual experiences and Steve happily allowing Bucky to expand his sexual experiences SKWJJEJEJE

-🫠🫠

related to this

I feel that, words are hard, but don't downplay what you have because what you have FUCKS!!

Also, I love that. Sometimes you gotta go to the source for references 👀 I get it. That is SUCH a great idea, though! I fuck with that so hard! Artist!Steve looking for inspiration and stumbling onto pornstar Bucky... 😮‍💨😮‍💨

And pornstar Bucky, who's thick with INK?

Kill me. Oh, wait, you already have!

Jesusss.

He's a switch, too? I'm salivating. The mask?? The whimpering? I'm being murdered! 😫 WOOF he does sound so damn enticing. Fuck.

THE PLOT THICKENS!

Roommates??

I do not have words. Brain scrambled. Useless. I am fucking obsessed with the idea of Steve going from avid consumer of Bucky's pornography to being a part of it. Living his fantasy. Actually.

Yes!! I would love to see this written because imagine all the shit they could get into! All the kinks they could explore (especially exhibitionism, getting off to being watched). All the toys that I'm sure Bucky has. Expanding on how it comes out, too, would be so good. Draw it out. Build it up. Does Steve catch him shooting porn when he's supposed to be out? Is it not confirmed like that? When does Steve see him without long-sleeves on for the first time? Is it in private? Is it in public, and he has to act normal? Does Bucky make Steve stutter through it and ask himself if he does porn, by chance, or does Bucky easily handle it, grinning and nonchalantly confirming it? Plus, building up to Steve's first time on camera would be killer. His nerves and excitement and then his embarrassment when he gets on camera and he's so revved up that he cums so fast.

God.

You could go so many ways!

Either way, written or not, this AU is going to live rent-free in my head because 🤌🏻yes🤌🏻

Imagine all the "roommate walked in on me" fantasy porn they could shoot 😮‍💨😮‍💨

#asks #🫠🫠 anon #anon provided writing #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky

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kamari2038 · 7 months

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The real reason Connor has such great emotional intelligence is because he has a sense of taste, apparently

#No matter how hard I try I can't prevent my brain from IMMEDIATELY jumping to this game #even when I'm still trying to forget its existence so I can go back and properly enjoy it again...#no I'm still not coming back yet but nearly #nearly #dbh #detroit become human #dbh connor #dbh hank #connor and hank #tech news #ai #artificial intelligence

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udog · 11 months

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I absolutely adore how you draw rito and especially Revali! I still can’t get enough of him no matter how much time has passed. I know it’s been a while since you last posted—be it because of life or art block, or both—but I still will offer you my sincerest gratification for the artwork you have deemed worthy enough for us to see! I hope the Rito in Tears of the Kingdom provide us with the same kind of “inspiration” (brain-rot) as in BotW. Even if Revali probably doesn’t make a big appearance; and possibly even Harth as well 😩

this was 😭 so nice to come back to HWUEUFHEJEEHEB THANK YOU 🥹 revali may not be in totk but hey at least harth is ‼️‼️ I have. bigger issues with another particular rito that isn't in totk though 😒

sorry all I could provide was a messy sketch ‼️ idk it probably has to do with reagan 🤥

#totk #where are you kass... WHERE AR EYOU #I'm not dead guys !! I accidentally logged onto here last night and nearly died when I saw people were STILL sending me anons #😭 I'M SORRY I LEFT YOU GUYS FOR SO LONG I LOST INTEREST and although totk may be fun... it is not the same 😔#ay I still haven't finished though ☝️‼️ so u never know !!#actually I do know my favorite character so far is rauru 😮‍💨 I see a man with long hair n fold bro I'M SORRY IT'S JUST THE WAY IT IS #also . I seem to make new social media accounts for different interests I have so there is more art by me in other corners of the internet!#you'll just never know it was by me specifically❤️! BWIDJFJD sorry !#I THIINK I may come back to post some totk art here though ... not sure about that yet though #I said though twice there that was excessive smh but that's too much to retype I think I'll just die #n e way if anyone sees this hi 👋 ‼️#old habits die hard I cannot stop typing here for the lfie of me bro #OK I'M DONE

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daesungindistress · 1 year

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GD's thoughts on Still Life's lack of promotions in 2022

#🥺😔#so he (and possibly the rest of bb) wanted to do more with the song after all #probably yg held them back and down as usual #bigbang #gdragon #gd #still life #spring summer fall winter #the four seasons #gdivision #when all of bb renewed their contracts with yg in 2020 I was happy about the news #yet I remember a lot of vips being upset #not because they wanted bb to come to an end but because they didn't believe yg would give them the opportunity and attention they deserved #especially in the wake of burning sun #I think at the time I didn't fully realize just how stifling the agency could be toward their artists #now though... nearly 3 years later... that's changed #and I'm very excited to see what the guys will do for themselves now that they've broken away from yg #(still waiting on gd's contract news though... that's three down one to go)

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ichorblossoms · 2 months

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rereading some of my ttw writing the other day brought the story more to the surface my brain again but my brain's not latching onto anything abt it in particular atm so it feels like the equivalent of having an animal or small child staring at you expecting something when you don't have anything for them

#i did draw serena on stream earlier that's not nothing #but yeah i set the writing part of the story down a few months ago bc i'm unsure how to kickstart the early~middle part of it #all with the intention of coming back to it ofc. i mean honeybee was (and still is) nipping at my heels then so i needed the shift #and i do think that'll happen a few more times bc it is such a long story in my mind #but now it mmmight be coming back around? hard to say really #playing p5r might help coagulate some other ideas i have for the story similar to how discel did a few years abck #ideally i'll have a significant portion of honeybee's first draft done before i delve back in to ttw tho. that's at nearly 28k but #i don't have as much Plot Meat in there as i want yet #not that i have full control over what oc brainrot i currently have either but #rambles

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rival-the-rose · 2 months

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I have. So much bitching to do

#it's just bitching nothing serious but #ok so the surgeon i work for is at a conference rn #so all of sx team is hunting for hours #the only options are to work er or drive nearly an hour at six am to work for a diff surgeon #i chose that option bc fuck er #then last minute that option was cancelled for today #so i told my partner that if er really needed me today they could call me in #(my partner is working er swing shift bc that's their natural schedule and even tho they don't love er they take any chance they can get)#so they call me in at three for what should've been an easy quick fb but turns out it's actually a 4.5 hr disaster #that i was scrubbed in for all of #so now I'm just now getting home and i need to be back at work in 8 hrs #which is not even what's pissing me off the most #it's that the surgeon apparently is coming home early??? and cutting two cases??? and non sx team ppl who don't need sx training #are gonna be doing it???#they don't need hours they don't need sx experience #at least if you're not going to call in your team then train new ppl? and don't make your team travel hither and yon just to make rent???#I'm just very tired and so painful(i injured my neck and still can't look to the left)#and i don't do well with changes to my routine esp when they're completely unnecessary and benefit no one??#and also this all means that the five or so hours i worked today is all I'm gonna see my partner until Friday... and we're gonna be on call #i love this job so much but at this rate I'm gonna be down nearly a full week of pay this month and yet still had to miss every tkd class #anyway #i still need to shower and then sleep #so I'm done bitching

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luveline · 6 months

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𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses).

requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.”

Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.”

Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs.

“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you.

He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat.

“What time is it?” you ask.

You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?”

“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.

“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.

You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.

Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds.

He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.

You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic.

You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him.

You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling.

He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him.

His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed.

You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips.

“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.”

“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.”

He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one.

You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.”

“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.”

“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.”

“Can you sit up, at least?”

“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?”

“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard.

You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Was that a dracula impression?”

“I command you.”

You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out.

And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.”

“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him.

Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?”

“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.”

“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.”

“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…”

Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity.

“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.”

“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.”

“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.”

“But for how long?” you ask.

Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to.

You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms.

“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?

“Do you want to start now?”

You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.”

“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.”

You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now.

You shut your eyes.

He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums.

A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?”

Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say.

“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while–” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life.

It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along.

“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath.

Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.”

“Do you want to?”

And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too.

“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–”

“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.”

Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?”

“Remus–”

“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.”

“So you like me?”

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.”

“Oh,” you say, lifting your head.

Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.

“You first.”

Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo.

“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder.

“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess.

Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.”

“After that?”

“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely.

You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed.

—

Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud.

Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid.

He flinches.

You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but.

I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite —why are you so far away? Can he hold you?

What are the rules here?

Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay.

He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep.

He should let you sleep.

“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm.

“Mm?” you hum.

“I need to ask you something.”

You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do.

“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.”

“I just need to ask you something.”

“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness.

The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?”

It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you.

He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him.

“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple.

“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.”

Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense.

The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?”

Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek.

“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate.

“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.”

“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says.

“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.”

“Please don't!” you say.

You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways.

Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.

“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say.

“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight.

Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it.

“I'm chucking them out!”

“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?”

“What?!”

You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?”

Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm.

“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”

“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.”

“James,” you say softly, all sympathy.

Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company.

“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.”

Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him.

A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off.

Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease.

There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D <3

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