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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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my hero

— Walking alone in the middle of the night isn’t the best of ideas, but that’s okay, you had a hero waiting to save you.

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, pwp, exhibitionism, strangers fucking, dirty talk, praise, belly bulge, attempted kidnapping

word count: 5,197

a/n: and we’re back! sorry for the super late uploads, I hope you can forgive me. pls enjoy, I had fun writing it :D

kinktober day 18 main kink: exhibitionism | kinktober masterlist

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You really needed to stop walking the streets so late at night.

It was a bad habit you’ve grown in the past few months. Your building anxiety and untouched, restless energy made you bounce around your apartment. But you didn’t go anywhere, couldn’t do anything but pace from corner to corner.

The wood of your apartment floor must have been streaked with the dye of your socks, and you swore you could see the small indents from where you drag your feet to and fro your wall. The restless energy you had was untouchable, and your friends soon became worried about you. Eventually, after one night of taking a new 5,000 steps in the small living room of your apartment, your friend said to go for a run.

Sure, it was six in the evening, and yeah, maybe the spring night was cold, but Jesus fuck please, your pacing made them anxious. So, that’s how you began your journey of running at night because your once six pm runs evolved into eleven pm jogs. You had always been one to carry your pepper spray in your pocket and had a concealed sharp key in your fist as you ran. You were still prepared, even if you never ran into a situation that caused you to need either item.

But tonight was different as it always was.

You were dressed in your black joggers and a dark grey sweatshirt.

The slight chill of the fall night barely seeping into your skin that was hot with your exhaustion. It was late out, and as you went from a jogging pace and slowed into a stroll as you entered the park approximately two blocks away from your home, you stopped.

Stretching your arms over your head, you stretched out your slightly sore limbs and took in the tranquility of the park at night.

The park was a beautiful one, in your opinion.

It was thick with trees; every ten steps you took, there was a new tree. Wooden benches and picnic tables littered the floor and winding concrete everywhere, showing just how great the place could be to enjoy while the sun was out. There was a playground by the entrance you came through and a basketball court at the gate you exit from.

Altogether, it was beautiful and simple.

But as you pressed the sleeve of your sweatshirt to your forehead, wiping the beaded sweat on your skin, you froze when you heard the sound of leaves crunching behind you.

You froze as you turned around, your eyes wide and lips falling open when you saw a man stumbling toward you. There was no reason to panic, probably, you thought as he looked occupied on his own phone, his head down, his steps quick and focused. But there was no denying the small, almost horrible feeling that pooled into your stomach as you watched him approach nearer and nearer.

You grabbed the pepper spray that was in your pocket as a premature, ready to fight movement, your feet moving to get out of the path in case he tried to do anything. Your breathing was soft, not entirely too loud, but to you, It seemed to ring loudly in your ears as he got nearer and nearer.

He passed by you, his eyes not even trying to look your way as he went one step, two steps, three steps away from you. You wanted to sigh in relief about your stupid freak out; of course, it was nothing, it was always nothing, so there was no reason for you to freak out. But then he stopped, and you were too late to see the twitch in his shoulder, the way he spun around faster than you could scream and tackled you to the floor.

His hands were all over you, grabbing you, shoving his dirty, grimey hand into your mouth to silence you, fisting into your mouth so that even your biting, snapping closed jaw was stupid weak against him. Tears welled in your eyes as his knee buried into the center of your lungs, shortening your breaths as you struggled to get the pepper spray from your pocket.

You found that you couldn't.

You couldn't grab the canister from inside your pocket as the man's smile grew wider, terribly cunning as you struggled to do all that you could to get him off you.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Weak.

Tears began to stream from your eyes, the fear that twisted and rotted in your stomach festering like a stench as you cried against his fisted hand. You wouldn't be heard, wouldn't be seen. You were being assaulted with no way of being saved because no one went out here this late at night. You cursed your inability to do anything on time, cried that your dumb anxiety only felt better after running for an hour, and your lungs burned with the slowly depleting oxygen coming to your veins.

But just as your eyes were beginning to close, your hope and ability to wish for the best outcome was simmering into nothing but ashes and smoke, something large, hard, and fast knocked onto the man on top of you. You gasped for air as you immediately turned onto your side, your hands and knees buried into the dirt floor as you gasped and choked for air.

There, finally, was the sweet taste of grass and nature that filled your senses, but your watering eyes fell onto your attacker and the... the man?!

Your savior was another man.

His red hair still somehow easily discernible in the darkness of the night, and his large, strong muscled body absolutely punching and keeping your attacker down.

"What the fuck is your problem, man?!" your savior demanded, his hand grabbing the hair of your attacker and slamming his bruised and swollen face to the ground, the win most obviously won by your savior. You looked at the anger-fueled rage on your saviors’ face, the way his eyebrows were knitted together, and how his lips were pulled back into an angry snarl. The fight had been obviously won by your savior, and you couldn’t help but keep staring as the workout clothes clad savior took a few more deep, almost shaky breaths before he turned his gaze onto you. “H-Hey? Are you okay? Call the police, and I’ll keep on this bastard!”

“I-I’m fine!” your voice rasps, your hand rising shakily from the floor to softly rub your tender throat. “I’m fine, it’s okay! You can let him go!”

Your savior freezes, his eyes looking at you like you’re batshit crazy, and honestly, you probably are, but you don’t want to deal with writing up a police report or anything of that. It just wasn’t worth it since you ended up okay.

“You… do you want me to let him go?” your savior asks again, his eyebrows shot up, obviously not buying your words in the slightest.

You nod your head, you collapse down so that you’re sitting on your knees. Exhaustion is slamming into your body post the sudden demanding rush of adrenaline.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you smile weakly as your red-headed savior frowns. He sighs, obviously not in agreement with what you wanted to do, but he turned his attention back down to your attacker, who was still struggling against his weight and strength.

“You’re going to get the fuck out of here, or else I won’t hesitate to kick your ass and call the cops myself,” the man snapped, shoving the man further into the ground for good measure before climbing off of him. The red-headed angel walked in front of you. His considerable height incredibly intimidating to even you as the man on the floor wheezed before running off, his tail between his legs until the echo of his feet hitting the grass can no longer be heard.

“Wow, that was crazy,” he spoke softly to the wind, his hands resting on his hips before he turned his head to look at you, his eyes wide with concern. Even with the minimal light of the light post in the park and the moonlight that barely pierced through the canopy of tree leaves, you could see as clear as day that your savior was handsome. There was a scar over his right eye, and his red hair was styled and pushed back with a bandana. He had a windbreaker on and gym shorts but still looked ridiculously handsome. He turned to face you, crouching as he spoke, “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you flush, your eyes dropping to your dirt-covered hands that rest on your lap. “I’m fine now, at least. That was pretty scary, I have to admit.”

“Fuck, I bet,” the man agreed, his head nodding as he drops onto his butt. “I’m glad I decided to come through the park to get to my car today. Typically I walk all the way around this park.”

Indeed seemed like fate, you thought, your smile spreading small and thin on your face. “I was running; it helps with my restless energy. But, this is the first time anything like that has happened.”

“I’m sorry that had to happen at all,” he frowned, his face full of genuine remorse and guilt. “That was entirely cowardly of that asshole to do; I’m glad you weren’t hurt, though.”

“Ah, I got thick skin,” you slightly joke, enjoying the way the sweet smile spread on his face. Remembering your manners, your eyes shut, your head shaking slightly at your rudeness. “Um, I’m y/l/n y/n, though. Thank you for saving me from whatever that could have become.”

“Kirishima Eijirou!” the man cheerfully introduced himself too. “And it was no problem; literally, any good person would have done what I did!”

Modesty was somehow disgustingly, hotly attractive on the large, muscular stranger, and you wet your lips as you stretched your body closer to his. “It wasn’t just ‘no problem,’ though,” you state, matter-of-factly. “You quite literally saved my life; you’re a hero. You’re my hero.”

Although you couldn’t see the color flushing against his skin, you were without a doubt that he was blushing as profoundly as his hair if the riddled embarrassment in his eyes and face had anything to say about it.

“I-I, oh, aha, um, well, that’s very kind of you to say! I was just trying to be a manly guy, and really that was nothing?” Kirishima embarrassingly rambled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as you found yourself drawing nearer and nearer to him.

Your warm hand found itself pressing onto his strong knee, your upper body leaning even closer to his flustered state. His eyes were shifting everywhere, not quite looking at you, but would linger on your body as you drew nearer and nearer. For some reason, you couldn’t help the jarring sense of attraction you had for your hero before you, the way the familiar warmth in between your legs made your voice hum as you grew nearer.

You wanted to show him just how grateful you were to have had him saving your life.

“That was nothing? You saving my life was nothing?” you tease, your words slow and thick on your tongue as you find yourself by his side, mouth brushing teasingly soft against his jaw.

“W-Well, of course not! It was a valuable life, don’t get me wrong! It’s just me doing that was nothing! I’m no hero!” Kirishima stammered, his voice in a soft whine as goosebumps flashed across his neck, where your breaths warmed his skin.

“Hm, that’s too bad,” you whisper, your tongue wetting your lips as you drew in closer. Your heart was hammering loudly in your ears, but you didn’t care, way too transfixed on the way the heat emitting from between your legs demanded Kirishima’s cock. “I like showing my gratitude to heroes in the world, ya know?”

His face finally turned to you, his wide eyes meeting your half-lidded ones in an electric gaze. No one spoke; only the softly chirping crickets and the wind brushing through the leaves made noises.

“Y-Yeah?” he whimpered out, his voice weak and caused great pleasure to crawl down your spine. “How do ya’ suppose you show your gratitude?”

You hum, thinking about it, but as the adrenaline from your attack finally was replaced with the blatant, blistering want for the huge red-headed man before you. You find yourself straddling his lap, slowly sinking onto him. Your knees once more buried into the soft, dewy grass of the park.

Your arms wrap around his neck, his eyes wide and incredibly expressive as his large hand’s press to your waist.

“Any way you crave me,” you speak with finality, placing the future of your actions into his hands.

“Holy fuck,” Kirishima curses, and without a second more of hesitation, his lips and mouth are crashing against yours.

There’s something unworldly attractive about making out with a practical stranger in the middle of a public park at nearly midnight. Your hands move possessively against his back, fingers digging into his fabric as he draws you nearer, your torso pushed tight against his. His lips move expertly against yours, the sharp points of his teeth dragging and biting into your bottom lip until he pulls away, your lip in his teeth, his eyes dark and full of lust. That lasts less than a few seconds as you’re back on him, mouth desperate against his, tongue curling into his mouth to move languidly, possessively against his.

His body radiates heat, the warmth of his body quickly seeping past the sweaty thickness of your own sweatshirt as your hips begin to roll against his growing bulge.

“S-Shit,” he gasps, your lips trailing down his hot neck, his throat muscles clenching as he gulps. Your smirk against his skin, sucking and nibbling on a concentrated spot as he helps you to roll your hips against his hot, thick length. “I-I don’t live nearby; it’ll be a bit of a drive.”

“I’m two blocks away,” you confess, pulling away from the dark purple and red bruise on his neck that makes you drunk with lust. “But I don’t think I can make it.”

Kirishima splutters, his hips instinctively bucking against your slowly throbbing core that sends your teeth biting into his thick skin again. “Do you wanna, fuckk… Are we gonna—?”

“Don’t tell me my hero is afraid to fuck in public?” you tease, your hands traveling down his tight, muscular torso. You admire the way you can feel his trembling abs against your hands, and you grin when his head dips backward when your fingers find their way against the waistband of his sweats, your weight shifting harshly against his cock as you tease along his upper crotch. “It’s late. No one’s around. I got a strong man to protect me. And I want him now,” you speak against his jaw, your lips pressing hot kisses between every sentence.

You notice that his eyes are red as your lips come up to brush against his, teasing the both of you as neither of you moves to seal your fates. Your position on the situation needs to be resolved, needing an answer from him.

“Whatcha gonna do, big guy?” you asked, lips ghosting against his, and at that moment, you shiver at the way his pupils expand to the edges of his iris.

His mouth is against yours in a renewed passion, lips pressing and pushing fervorously against yours, making you tremble in his arms, completely lust-taken. You kiss him back with equal force, hips rolling against his in your accepted need.

“Fuck, you know what you’re doing, huh?” Kirishima gasps the moment you grind your increasingly wet cunt against his mountain bulge in a way that has his hips snapping up towards yours. You laugh, teeth pressing onto his lower lip and pulling away, eyes focused on his through the curtain of your lashes before you let go of his lip.

“I aim to please,” you bat your lashes, your hands working their way under the waistband of his shorts. “Now, you want me to suck your dick, or what?”

You had never seen a man’s face go through such wild, intense agreement. The blackened look in his eyes and the way a shiver so obviously tittered down his spine had you smiling like a champion.

Mouths came back together in a blazing, needing kiss; you shift up onto your knees, the kiss becoming a clash of sharp teeth and simmering tongues. Blindly, your hands come down to his shorts and assist him in getting his pants off. Shock and amusement rushing through you the second you feel the top of his cock slap the back of your ass. The heat emitting from the skin burning through your own layer of clothes.

With your lips sucking onto his tongue, your hand moves behind you, grasping and pushing the throbbing, thick cock between your ass cheeks. And for a moment, for a few painfully slow grinds, you press him to your ass as you grind against him. Kirishima moans loudly, his hands shifting all over your body, fingers rubbing your skin from the dips of your hips to your soaking wet cunt.

The air is static, disgustingly hot that you swear with the heaving, panting breaths emitted from both of your mouths, you swear you can see the condensation.

“C’mon baby,” Kirishima rasps, his tongue finally permitted back into his mouth, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your throat. “I thought you were going to suck my dick?”

“What if I don’t want to anymore?” you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, your thumb that is on his cock pressing onto the slit of his dripping cock. “What if I want you in me now?”

“Suck my dick with that pretty little mouth of yours, and I promise you — your hero promises you that I’ll fuck you better then any other fucker has,” Kirishima grunts into your skin, his biting kisses bruising your skin.

Well, you didn’t need to be told twice.

You shift backward, the tip of his pre-cum leaking cockhead spreading his pre-cum all over your own leggings. But that doesn’t faze you, nor do you care enough as you finally get to see the near monstrosity of a cock Kirishima has.

Long, thick, veiny, and with curly soft black pubes.

“Not a natural redhead?” you tease, your body leaning down, making sure to accentuate your breasts as you begin to slowly stroke his thick length. Kirishima can only shake his head as your tongue pokes out to give his swollen head a kitten lick. “Mm, I bet you look hot with black hair too.”

There’s no room for a second opinion for your mouth sinks entirely onto his length, just enough to be the slightest bit uncomfortable, but the results were immediate. Kirishima’s head slammed to the wood of the tree, his hands gripping your head as you bobbed against his length. The musk and scent of his dick were strong yet pleasant. You found yourself sinking lower and lower onto his size, pleased with the way he was tearing into his bottom lip to keep his ringing moans from being heard, his fingers tugging at the roots of your hair as he meets your sinking mouth in sloppy, restrained thrusts.

Your tongue traced the bulging veins on his length, swirling and twisting around his girth, a desperate attempt to show that his size didn’t scare you, that you were taking him all in. But his lust clouded gaze on you thrilled you. The pure, unadulterated passion that settled on his eyes and gaze made you shiver; he was so responsive, moaning, and gasping for you in every right action you made. But you want to get bigger, bolder reactions out of him, and closing your jaw just the slightest bit, you let your lower teeth scrape just gently against his sensitive skin.

The result was immediate, and much wanted.

Despite the immediate relaxation of your jaw and throat, Kirishima burying his entire length down your throat made you choke, gagging as your nose buried into his pubes. He was entirely large, uncomfortably thick in your throat as your muscles flexed and fluttered around him.

“Take it, take me all in,” Kirishima gasps, his hips shifting into small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your awaiting mouth. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You are so good at this shit, baby. F-Fuck… you’re amazing! So fucking perfect!”

The praise makes you whine, the drool that seeps from your mouth helpless and joined with the tears of discomfort from your eyes. But you continue to impress him, continue to let him fuck your mouth and throat wholeheartedly without restraint or worry.

Soon, the wet gagging noises fill the air, your throat feeling raw as Kirishima is unashamedly fucking into you with more significant, more powerful intent. He praises you without hesitation, the words curling warmly into your gut, making your cunt throb and demand attention as you hollow your cheeks. Kirishima nearly howls at the vacuum sensation, the lustful, long noise growing in his lust as you raise up to his cockhead, your tongue lashing around the salty pre-cum that is weeping from his swollen tip.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, wait!” Kirishima gasps, his hips bucking wildly, trying to go further into your mouth again. But your grip and commanding are more robust than he could ever be, and he can’t sink his cock further into the wet heat he so craves. “Wait, wait, wait! I want to cum in you, baby! Please let me cum in you!”

You’re off him immediately with a sharp, loud pop.

His eyes are unashamed in his request, and you think about the issues of an absolute stranger busting a nut inside of you. Your tongue dips out of your mouth to lick the pre-cum that’s dribbled onto your lower lip, and you whine at the back of your throat.

“O-Okay.”

His response to your approval is immediate.

You shriek in slight fear when he tugs you up onto your feet, twisting you and shoving your back against the cold hardness of the tree he was resting upon. Your breathing is unsteady, heart absolutely pounding in your throat as his lips consume yours again. Just as you did before, you melt into his kiss, his touch as his hot, calloused fingers shove your shorts down your legs, exposing your throbbing, wet cunt to the cold air.

Hissing at the contact, you feel your voice being smothered by a wet moan that escapes your mouth. Kirishima has his cock rutting between your wet folds, his fingers leaving lasting bruises on your waist.

“Want you so badly, baby,” he grunts, his mouth swallowing your moans and pitched whines as you grind against him, shaking against his hold. “Want to see you take me all the way in.”

“Put it in,” you keen, hips bucking and thrusting faster and faster against his waiting cock, your actions pathetic and needy. “Put it in Kiri, I want you in me, fuck me already, please fuck me.”

In what you could only describe as being the strength of god, Kirishima lifts you up, hands shifting from your soft waist to the mounds of the flesh of your ass and pressing you into the tree. You squeak, embarrassed, and entirely self-conscious of your weight despite the lust haze clouding your mind. Your struggle in his arms is fruitless, his broad, thick chest pressing up against yours as you find your mind absolutely melting when his thick cockhead pushes against the clenching wet cavern of your cunt.

“P-Put me down,” you gasp, squirming despite the fire that burns in your core and cheeks. “I-I’m too—”

“I’m your hero,” Kirishima speaks calmly, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes locking on yours in such a way that was too intimate for strangers, too world-shifting for two unknowns. “I can carry you just easy, ya know. These muscles aren’t just for showing off.”

The grin on his face is childish, almost too boyish if it wasn’t for the fact that his eyes held that profound, pristine promise and want for you. So, in an action that has your back arching against the wood, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your legs tightened firmly around his waist as he buried his cock into you.

Melodious moans echo between your mouths, horribly silenced by your crashing mouths because, dear god, you’re fucking in a public park.

He kisses you with a passion and a soul that strips you bare, and his hips begin to fuck up and into you without hesitation, the full feeling in your core stretching and fluttering with every driving intent from him. In and out, his cock goes into you, up and down your hips grind against him.

It’s a synchronized dance, a coming of your bodies that sends your toes curling as he begins to fuck into you just a bit harder, just a tad faster. It makes you shiver, makes your fingernails bury into his skin as you moan and beg for his name.

Kirishima curses as you clench around him, his hand grabbing your wrist and slamming it onto the tree, holding it there as he fucks you with growing strength and speed. Every snap of his hips sends a burst of colors to the back of your eyelids, and every squelch of your meeting, sloppy wet sexes sends a blabbering, incoherent sentence from your lips.

“More, more, more,” you beg, the tree trunk absolutely uncomfortable against your skin, but you can’t feel it anymore; you don’t care about the pain. You crave it, you want it. “Give me more.”

The curve of his cock, the girth, and the veins that drag up and down your puffy velvet walls are driving you insane. He holds insane power with every admittance of his cock in your clenching cunt, and he buries his nose into the crook of your neck and nods his sweaty head.

“Can you take it? You gonna be able to take my cock fucking you entirely?” Kirishima gasps, almost as if he was afraid of hurting you, and for some reason, that makes your brain shut down.

Fingers buried into the dyed red hair at the nape of his neck, you tug his head back, your legs tightening around his waist so much that he can’t fuck you anymore. The both of you are there, staring at one another as you hold him, bottomed out in you, your stomach stretching just a bit from having him entirely within you.

“If you don’t fuck me with everything you have,” you breath, your nose brushing against his, lips avoiding his that seek yours out for contact. “I’ll scream.”

“You seem like a brat,” Kirishima teases, his hold shifting on your ass, pressing you even more uncomfortably onto the tree.

“I’m just a girl who knows what she wants,” you bite back, allowing him to shift your arms so that you were supporting part of your weight onto the tree, allowing for a better balance.

“Brat,” Kirishima enunciates, his lips spreading into a teasing, seductive smirk.

But before you could fight back, before you could argue that you were, in fact, not a brat, Kirishima begins to fuck into you yet again. Your jaw drops immediately, the burning nearly exquisite pain-filled pleasure of his untapped strength fucking into you.

Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the tree was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Kirishima’s fingers shove into your mouth, silencing your words and noises as he fucks you again and again and again.

“You’re so fucking loud, baby,” Kirishima chuckles, his voice strained with his exertion of energy, his hips slamming so powerfully into your clenching core that his balls were slapping against your soring ass with no restriction. “So fucking loud, but we’re not in the place for you to be wailing my name unless you want to be caught. Do you wanna be caught, is that what it is?”

You shake your head pathetically against his fingers, your tongue lazily swirling and inserting itself between his parting fingers as you moan. Your head is spinning, the overstimulation of his conquesting cock, the rising orgasm in you, and the thought of someone walking through the park and seeing the two of you fucking under the yellow light of the park light making your walls flutter. His cock twitches with the flutter, and the both of you moan inexplicably loud.

“Such a good wet cunt,” Kirishima gasps, his fingers beginning to reciprocate the length and rhythm of his pounding cock in your throat, something you take without a second of hesitation or doubt. “I’m so glad I got to be your hero today, aren’t you so glad?”

“Mm-mhmm,” you gag around his fingers, your hips bucking with near madness as your vision swims with lust and need. You were so happy that he found you, so delighted he saved you, that he was your hero.

But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.

“C-Close,” you manage to gag out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose.

Kirishima nods, removing his fingers from your mouth, the string of cold saliva dangerously cold against your blazing hot chin. “I want you to look at the way your belly bulges when I fuck you, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum, baby.”

You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering cock. And just like that, you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Kirishima, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him.

Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure before the both of you sink to the grass. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.

“So um,” you rasp after a moment, the silence warm and comfortable. “You gonna walk me home?”

“Depends,” Kirishima mutters into your sweaty neck.

“On?”

“Will you give your hero your number?”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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diaco1968 · 4 years

Text

Thrill

Shigaraki Tomura x f!Reader

WARNINGS! +18, lemon/smut, heavy NONCON!, Forced! , implied cheating, dirty talk and degradation, unprotected, yandere-ish

The sound of the sharp knock resonating off the walls of the otherwise completely silent apartment had you almost jump out of your own skin, a cold sweat immediately beeaking out all over your back despite the heavy warm blanket you were under. You muted the video even though you assumed it was already too late for the unwelcome guest not to have heard it. Another sharp knock and you knew your assumption was right. Either way you quietly slipped out from under your blanket, feet meeting the cold floor and worsening the already cold shivers rolling down your spine, no one had business visiting you at 3 in the morning. Reaching up you looked through the peep hole. The silhouette of a familiar person with light hair was visible but mostly blocked by a smear of something dark across the glassy cover making it extremely difficult to make out the face.

This time instead of the sharp knock, fingers almost gently rapped over the wooden door as if the person knew you were standing right on the other side, the rapping playing a familiar and serie rhythm. Eerie because you only knew one more person who knew this rhythm.

Your hand rose and your fingers wrapped around the doorknob all on their own accord. The rude knocking was his way of respecting you actually, cause you knew as well as he did that this flimsy door could not stand in his way if he had decided to come in already. Chills from your cold feet on the floor made the whole experience worse than it needed to be. With a quiet shaky intake of breath and a shake of your head to regain your stoic composure you pulled the door open slowly, enough space so that your whole frame was in the doorway and not more, one hand still on the door for emotional support.

And surely you needed that.

He was way more terrifying than you remembered him from last time. His white hair glowing and almost reflecting the moonlight that seeped inside the corridor from the window at the end, the white light engulfing and giving his form a ghostly appearance, with bright crimson eyes staring at you expectantly. And that was not the only crimson in the mix. A big splash of red was covering one whole side of his face as it had either dripped down from his own head, which was likely cause strands of his hair was also still dripping with crimson, or had sprayed onto him from some other poor soul, down his neck, disappearing in the black of his shirt, making it look even darker, all the way down to his left hip. He was leaning his bloodied hand on the doorway, looming over you with his nonchalant yet completely insane face, lips slowly parting into a smirk, knowing by the pale look of your face that he absolutely had not given you a choice for this surprise meeting.

"May I use your shower."

Your jaw went slack staring at him with an open mouth as you clutched the door unable to answer what wasn't really a request.

"Of course, what a dumb question."

He pushed off the wall and gestured for you to get out of his way as he pushed the door wide open, stomping right past you. Feeling way out of your comfort zone you glanced left and right in the corridor before succumbing to your fate and closing the door behind you, staring at the muddy bloody shoe prints going to your living room. You followed them and watched him kick his shoes off in the middle of the living room on the creme carpet, lean in to look at the pictures over the chimney, scoff then make his way over to the kitchen.

"That's not the bathroom-..."

He totally ignored you as he went to the fridge grabbing a cold beer, all the while making sure he smeared everything with the blood on his hands.

His eyes glanced sideways towards you as he chugged the bear in one go, putting the bottle on the very edge of the counter.

"Ahhh."

His eyes locked onto yours, beginning to show a slight bit of annoyance. And as his mouth split open into a wide grin he tipped the bottle over the edge. It hit the floor with a noise that sounded way louder to you than it should've before it shattered on the kitchen tiles.

"Oops. My bad."

Your eyes snapped onto him from where they previously were glaring at the broken bottle on the floor, grinding your teeth together in annoyance.

"The bathroom is the other way."

"I know."

You hissed out from your clenched teeth and he waved his hand dismissively, stepping over the glass and walking towards your bedroom. Of course he was going to use the master bathroom. What else. He stopped in the doorway to the bathroom and looked at you.

"Join me."

You crossed your arms over your chest this time glaring at him directly.

"I see no need for that. You're a big boy."

He faked a pout before shrugging his shoulders and stepping into the bathroom.

"Well I thought you wanted me gone as soon as possible. Apparently not, so I'm gonna take my time then."

You shook your head and sat on the edge of the bed, every single muscle in your body rigid from stress. How long could he take anyway?

Apparently too long.

An hour of chewing your lower lip and tapping your foot nervously later, you decided to check up on him. You knocked on the door but got no reply. Three times. So you opened the door slowly and carefully to peak inside. Unlike what you had imagined the bathroom wasn't filled with steam from the shower. But sure enough he was standing under the running water. You stopped yourself before you could rake your eyes down his body you went to close the door.

"Come on now, it's nothing you haven't seen before."

"Shigaraki."

You whispered in a scolding tone but didn't close the door, instead staring at his eyes.

"Eh? What happened to Tomura? Or the one I like more, Tomuooo~"

He attempted to mimick your voice with a whiny needy tone and remembering exactly what he was talking about you flushed bright red stammering.

"Oh my gosh... fuck off..."

He laughed, the sound taking you aback not recalling ever having heard him laugh.

"Fine, but seriously. I need your help."

He turned around to show you the half ass cleaned wounds on his back.

And of course you had to inspect so you stepped inside to take a closer look at the gashes. Two long angry stripes across his middle back, not bleeding anymore but spots of dried blood still sticking around them.

"No way I'm gonna blindly scrub at those. They hurt like a motherfucker."

You heaved a sigh finding the reasoning legit. After all you were used to seeing such wounds yourself. You grabbed a towel for the lack of a better option, finding out that he was too far inside the shower for you to reach. Not wanting to hear his retort on telling him to get closer you decided to step in and that's when the cold water ran over your hands and slid all the way down your arm inside your sleeve.

"Shit! Why so cold?!"

"Why not. Not how he likes it?"

You clicked your tongue annoyed and pressed the towel to his back a little too harshly making him hiss and glare at you from the corner of his eye. If you were completely honest it was a terrifying glare but you didn't budge and instead started to scrub away at the skin lightly enjoying the silent tease-less mood. Not for long though.

"Speaking of him. Where even is he?"

'As if you don't already know.'

You bit back your retort and settled for somthing else.

"We were and are not going to be speaking of him."

As if to emphasize, you scraped the towel a little harder over his skin and watched as his shoulderblades rolled and rippled right under the skin but he ignored it.

"We're not? Having a naked man in his shower makes you feel guilty?"

Your nails dug into the towel and you paused.

"Shut it."

"No. He is away working, not even dreaming of his little fiance being unfaithful to him. Trusts you a little too much, huh?"

"I said shut it!"

You growled and slammed the towel onto his back, right into the gashes. His shoulders twitched angrily and he reached back and grabbed you right before you could storm off angrily. A loud surprised gasp left you as your back got slammed into the wall, cold water from the shower pouring over you and soaked you to the bone in a matter of seconds.

"And I said no."

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp or wiggle away from under the onslaught of cold water to no avail.

"Fuck! Let me go!"

His hands grabbed at your wet heavy hoodie ripping it enough to make space to slip it off your shoulders and expose your chest then let it hang around your waist. With your hands still inside the sleeves you felt bounded by the tight heavy cloth unable to do anything but struggle in vain.

"He has no idea his fiance, the love of his life, is secretly a villain fucker, does he?"

"I am not!"

"The love of his life? Cause we both know you ARE a villain fucker."

"Stop!"

"Stop? But you don't really want me to, do you?"

His fingers wrapped around your neck tightly, pressing you harder into the wall forcing a squeak out of you before he shut you up by pressing his lips onto yours and his tongue shoving into your mouth, making you turn your head to the side with a cough.

"You don't want me to stop cause he doesn't screw you like I do,"

His fingers tangled in your wet locks like snakes slithering through the grass, tightening on your scalp with a fist full of hair and forcing your face back towards himself and running his lips over the side of your mouth.

"He doesn't grab you and force you down in your place like the little whore you are-"

"We were on a break! It was one time!"

"It was not one time."

He pressed you into the wall harder with his body, freeing his hand and grabbing your panties. The flimsy fabric turned to muddy dust and washed away down the drain. His hand immediately replaced it and cupped your heat roughly. And for once you were glad for the running water, you could not stand his comments on the moisture gathered between your legs otherwise.

"To your credit, you did try to be a good girl. You just couldn't stay away from me. It must be thrilling, huh?"

You pursed your lips staring at the ceiling trying not to focus on his fingers running all over you, as if he couldn't decide what to touch first. They ran from your sex to your hips, back to your ass then over your breast, pausing to enjoy the erect nipple rolling it harshly between his fingers, making you bite your lower lip.

"Tell me. Which one is your derive? Is it the thrill of being used like a fucktoy by a villain and not knowing if I would dispose of you afterwards?"

He slipped his hard cock between your thighs, tugging your hair down to expose the length of your neck to him, leisurely kissing sucking and nipping on the soft skin as you shut your eyes and opened your mouth to breath cause the water was now angled right in your face.

"Or are you thrilled by cheating on the poor fucker with his enemy and not getting caught?"

You started thrashing your arms and managed to free one before he pulled you over and slammed you back into wall by your neck again making you Yelp and cling to his wrist tightly.

"Is this really how you want to go? Half decayed and well fucked in his shower? And imagine he is the one who will find your body too... tragic."

He was bluffing... he was definitely bluffing... right?

"Is it?!"

He roared in your face, his voice echoing off the walls and you found yourself trembling in his hands, shaking your head no.

"Then be a good bitch like the horny little slut you are and cooperate."

You felt as if his words smeared over you and make your skin tingle with filth. He was right, you were not used to this kind of treatment. And your quivering legs and throbbing pussy was evidence enough that you did in fact find this thrilling.

Sensing your submission he freed your other arm from the hoodie, throwing it away before leaning down to hook his arms under your legs, picking you up and positioning you over his cock, the tip proding between your folds and poking at your hole. And unceremoniously thrusted himself all the way in, by letting you drop down onto his lenght. You gasped at the sudden stretch, arms flying from the wall to wrap around his neck to hold yourself steady as he stepped away from the wall, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"Mmm your tight cunt never ceases to impress me. Does he fuck you at all?"

"... please stop..."

He chuckled and grabbed your ass with your legs draped over his arms and he started moving you over his cock, the position had you unable to do anything except cling to him tighter and clenching constantly around his dick from the hard angle, moaning into his neck. You could see the goosebumps on his skin and it oddly managed to give you a satisfying feeling.

Untill all sense was drawn out of your head as he started thrusting into you while he moved you up and down, drilling into you deeper and deeper each time. You screamed as your whole body went rigid and hard shivers ran down your spine, your toes curling as you came hard with his cock still screwing into you roughly, your scream drowning out into a quiet gaping mouth.

"Fuck... you used to be way harder to please. Missed me a lot, yeah?"

His nails dug threateningly into your hips but you refused to reply.

He pressed your back on the wall again, moving your legs all the way up over his shoulders, not bothering to pull out while changing the position.

"Still stubborn I see. No problem. I know how to deal with you."

"You're a one night stand gone wrong!"

You spat as you glared at him. Should not have said that. Should. Not. Have.

His fist found its way back into your hair and he pulled it up to expose your neck again.

"Is that right?"

He leaned all the way over you as his hips picked up a bruising pace, slapping against your ass with each thrust with a loud sound. His lips latched onto your neck and he started sucking on the skin. Shocked you went to push against his shoulder and he tightened his fist in your hair, forcing you to grab his arm instead from the pain burning on your scalp.

"What are you doing?! Stop!"

He changed the spot and started sucking another deep purple mark on the other side, before moving lower and sinking his teeth into your chest.

You yelped loudly digging your nails into his shoudlers and in return he move his mouth again biting your other breast.

"Fuck! Fuck! Stop! He will see those!"

"That's the point you dumb cunt. And that's not all either."

Feeling your distress had you clenching around his cock again he moved his hand and started rubbing your clit roughly as you squirmed and struggled.

"I'm going to cum soon with your dirty pussy milking me like that..."

Your breathing was ragged and you were moaning on each thrust and he absolutely loved the way your face scrunched up im horror from the realisation. He leaned in to whisper into your ear.

"That's right. Now tell me, are you a dirty little whore?"

"Please! Please don't!"

You were now half sobbing as you pleaded and gripped onto his shoulders.

"Answer me then. Are you a cheating filthy fucking whore?"

"I am! I'm a cheating whore! Please!"

"Oh but you're not any whore. You are mine. Your thirsty little cunt is all soaked for me alone. Right?"

"Yes! Only for you!"

"Do you think of me when he fucks you?"

You hesitated and he did not like that, delivering a harsh wet spank on your ass.

"Ah! Y-yes!"

"Yes what?"

You were now definitely crying, tears streaming down your face as guilt and pleasure mixed into your system, clinging to him desperate for some little comfort.

"Y-yes I think of you.. when he... when he fucks me..."

"So you missed me a lot, didn't you?"

"I missed you a lot..."

"Address me properly."

"I missed you a lot Tomuooo~"

And with that he rammed himself into you one more time, warmth exploding in your lower belly as to your horror he spilled his load inside you. Your whole body went limp, dread and fear gripping your chest and your throat. He turned off the tab and it was all silent except the sound of the last few droplets hitting the tiled floor before the silence was broken by his evil chuckle.

"Good, cause I'm far from done with you."

#tomura shigaraki x reader #Shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x reader lemon #shigaraki x reader smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha lemon #bnha #mha

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cobaincreates · 4 years

Text

touch pt. 3

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (female receiving), 18+

count: 4k+

final part of touch! thank you so much for reading!

— — —

“just get the silver one with the straps. i think the purple is a bit too close on the magenta side.”

“i can wear my heels with this one.” sarah agreed, turning her hips. “do you still have those silver earrings from work? the long, dangly ones?”

“i think so, yeah. i’ll bring them over later.” you nodded at your phone screen, watching sarah fiddle with the dress she had on. the lighting from the fitting room made the dress look darker than it really was in the picture she originally sent you.

“what’s kie trying on?” you asked just as a notification popped up at the top of your screen.

rafe:

meet me on dock @ noon?

your stomach twisted as a smile immediately graced your lips. you quickly swiped out of the facetime session, hoping sarah didn’t see, as you went to reply.

“i think she’s looking for a pair of jeans she saw the last time we came. the ones with the stitched back pockets.” sarah said.

okay :), you sent.

you were met with the ceiling when you went back to facetime, staring at a small orb reflecting from the light.

“hopefully she finds them,” you said and checked the time again as you started to think about changing out of the pajamas you were still in.

you had the day off today, which so far had amounted to you skipping out on a shopping trip with sarah and kiara and settling for being lazy around an empty house. it wasn’t so bad, but you were ready to get a move on, rafe’s text motivating you.

“john b’s calling me. i’ll talk to you later?” sarah’s face suddenly appeared on the screen as she picked her phone up, her shoulders now bare. you held a peace sign above your messy bed-ridden hair and tossed your phone aside when you hung up.

it was impossible not to be smiley and giddy as you scoured your dresser for clothes to wear. who could blame you when you’d spent nearly every night this week staying up late to text back and forth with rafe. it felt like you were dreaming, like you were living in an alternate universe where you actually got something you wanted. a month ago, you never would’ve guessed that you’d be getting ready to meet up with rafe, much less be fooling around with him.

it was difficult to describe how you felt about it. obviously, you were happy and bubbling with excitement, so much so that you thought you were going to throw up anytime you reminisced on the time spent with him. you tried not to dwell on the fact that you were technically sneaking around with him, but it had only been a few times so did it really constitute as such? you knew you had to tell sarah; the only thing stopping you being that you just weren’t sure when a good time would be.

when you had gotten home the other day from the marsh, you quickly closed yourself in your room. there was no reason to hide the grin within the privacy of your own space, so you let it stay there, your cheeks hurting so much by the time you went to sleep. you couldn’t believe you’d finally kissed rafe and you even caught yourself pressing your lips together, trying to trap the sensation of it there, and closing your eyes.

and rafe finally getting a taste of you? fuck, it was perfect.

back in your room, you quickly finished getting ready. as you sprayed some perfume just for the hell of it, you thought about where you were going if he wanted to meet on his dock. you tried to picture him waiting for you. would he smile when you were too far away to see it? would his skin tingle with vibrant energy, just waiting to touch you? you swore you felt that same sensation every time you thought of him.

by the time you pulled up to tannyhill and grew closer to the house, you spotted him patiently waiting on the dock. his dad’s boat was there, rocking ever so slightly in the water. rafe looked up at the sound of your car and you parked it beside his truck, a fast-approaching heat spreading up your neck at his open windows. it was like they were encouraging you to have the thoughts of being in the back seat.

you only brought your keys with you as you got out, your phone sitting in the cup holder along with a few receipts you’d been meaning to throw out. rafe watched you as you walked over the grass and toward the wooden planks of the dock. he squinted an eye shut to watch you and you wanted to tell him that that was what the hat on his head was for, if only he turned it around. instead, you smiled at your feet.

“where is everyone?” you said over the few yards you hadn’t closed yet between you. your feet brushed over the planks, going down the small slope to where rafe was standing at the back of the boat.

“ward is out of town,” rafe said, lifting his chin a bit. “rose is doing whatever rose does with her girlfriends, wheezie is on the computer, but she’s leaving soon.” you came to a stop a couple steps away from him, fiddling with the keys in your hand. “and sarah is with kie today, which i’m sure you already knew,” he smiled at the end, like he was satisfied to have you all to himself.

“mmm,” you hummed humorously. “are you taking me out?” you asked, jutting your chin to the yacht.

rafe looked over, giving you time to run your eyes quickly down his chest and lower half. you adored the blue button up he had on, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. wasn’t he hot?

“we can’t exactly go anywhere since ward would kill me,” he looked back at you, smirking, “but i figured we could hang out here.”

“hang out?” you smiled, biting the inside of your lip slightly and tilting your head.

he nodded, his hand slipping from his pocket and extending out to you. you stared back at him as a familiar feeling pooled in your lower abdomen, one you’d felt many times around him. you never wanted it to go away, and maybe it was ridiculous to think in such a way, but you never wanted to feel it for anyone else.

pushing your keys into one hand, you reached out for his and held on. he held it firmly as he turned and went to the back platform to step onto. you followed all the way inside, feeling the cooler atmosphere in the shade. it didn’t look any different than the last time you’d been on it, just tidied up a bit more.

you set down your keys on the dining table and turned your back to lean against it. rafe was already watching you curiously.

“are you going to come over here?” you weren’t sure where it came from, but you couldn’t help yourself from asking.

he broke out into a smile and stepped closer until his feet were in front of yours. you laughed, almost nervously, and let your eyes trail up his form. stopping at his torso, you put your hand out to touch one of the buttons on his shirt. he touched your waist, causing you to breathe in shakily. he shuffled closer, your hand now pressed against his stomach and spreading a warmth up your arm. you could see his forearms flex for just a split second.

“i’ve been having a lot of fun with you, you know.” he said.

“have you?” you smiled.

you let your eyes resume their trail up his chest, gliding over the hollow of his neck, skimming his jaw. finally, your eyes connected with his.

“yeah, i have.”

“sneaking or fooling around?” you asked, moving your arms to circle around his neck. your chest pressed to his, nearly having you breathe deeper as your shirt exposed a sliver of your stomach. rafe could feel it, his palms warm over your skin.

“mostly the fooling around part.” he said proudly, holding back a smile as if it would scare you.

you had to admit that’s what you’d been enjoying too. fuck, there had been nothing more thrilling than having rafe cameron between your legs, in his truck, with no one around. it wasn’t like you to sneak around, and while it had been fun, you knew sarah needed to know.

you hummed, looking up at his hat and teasingly taking it off to place upon your own head. he brushed his newly disheveled hair then smiled down at you, his head slightly tilting. you wondered if you looked as good as he did in the hat.

“do you think sarah would kill me if she knew?” you asked seriously, not wanting to put a damper on the mood, but it had been something on your mind lately.

“no, she’d probably kill me.” he stated.

you laughed, glancing out the door to the bow of the boat, knowing he had to be right. “i have to tell her,” you sighed, imagining it for a moment. you didn’t want her to be upset.

but you had known sarah for so long that you knew in your heart she wouldn’t be mad at you. she couldn’t. if anything, she might be a little weirded out, but she would embrace it, just like you embraced john b. it had been so weird, but so right for them to get together. maybe she’d feel the exact same way about you and rafe. then again, you and rafe weren’t dating, were you?

“i’m having fun with you too,” you said, quieter this time as if another person might’ve been on the boat with you.

you looked back up at him, searching his eyes. you weren’t sure why you suddenly felt so scared, so anxious for saying that aloud. he had already admitted the same thing, so what was there to be afraid of?

a soft gasp fell from your lips as rafe pulled you closer, his hand slipping over your bottom. his eyes seemed to darken, although you couldn’t exactly tell if it was from his face moving closer. either way, it added to the pooling in your abdomen.

“sucking my dick or me eating you out?” he asked, his voice laced with lust.

you couldn’t help the blush sparking in your cheeks, heating your skin up faster than if you were to sit in front of a fire. you opened your mouth to answer him, instead watching as he disappeared and moved to your jaw. his mouth was warm and slick over your skin. you slipped your eyes closed and tightened your hold around his shoulders. god, you didn’t want him to stop.

“both,” you remembered to say, answering his question.

rafe squeezed at your ass, simultaneously moving your hips closer. you let out a breath when you brushed against him. he moved from your jaw then and found your lips.

“i thought we were just hanging out?” you teased, continuing to kiss him back in between the words. he was insatiable at the moment, never once letting you get too far away.

“we can if that’s what you want.” his breath was hot and growing heavy by the second. you smiled at the double meaning of his reply and pulled away slightly to shake your head. fuck no, you didn’t want to just hang out.

dropping your hands to the table behind you, you lifted yourself up and sat before tugging him in between your legs. you locked him in place with your thighs and reached up to connect your lips again. he obliged, running his tongue along your bottom lip in question. you happily allowed him access, making a small noise as you felt the pooling seep to your undies now.

his hands settled on your thighs for a little, gliding against your skin and sending shivers in each direction. you pushed your chest against his, wanting nothing more than to touch him, to feel him, to have his hands everywhere on your body. you nearly groaned in agony just wanting to ask him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. but it wasn’t long before he brought a hand up your side and rested over your breast. it was so warm and cupped you so nicely that you contemplated just letting it stay there, but your arousal told you differently.

pulling away, you managed to take your shirt off fast enough that you should’ve won the world record. you knocked rafe’s hat off while doing so, hearing it fall to the table behind you.

“fuck,” rafe swooned over your exposed chest.

he slipped an arm around your lower back, pulling you closer to the edge of the table and simultaneously against his bulge. you moaned and arched into his hand on your breast again, his grip gently kneading over your bra. what would his lips feel like there? you almost wish you could’ve found out the other day in the truck, but this…this was better.

feeling rather curious, or just very horny, you decided to rub your hips into rafe’s, feeling how hard he was. you felt the muscles in his back turn to steel, the noise against your lips contradicting it. his hand dropped from your breast to join his other at your lower back and you reveled in the way he gripped you tighter against his own body.

“fuck, i want you rafe, please.” you said, feeling the throbbing in your lips from kissing so much. you felt it just as much behind your shorts, your undies were practically drenched. you were so wet and you didn’t want to wait anymore for him to know it.

“i-i want you too,” he panted, loosening his grip.

he was very reluctant to pull away, to lose touch of you, but he was quick and excited as he pulled his shirt off, ripping some of the buttons. it made you laugh, your chest heaving for breath as you watched. he reached for your shorts next, moving fast and taking them off with your underwear at the same time. you didn’t mind, drawing your lip between your teeth, lifting your hips as you watched him do so. he pushed his bottoms off, fishing in his pocket for a condom he cleverly packed.

you drank in the sight of him, your thighs clenching together at the sight of his arousal and the dark curls surrounding him. for a second it felt like you shouldn’t be looking, that this was too private and not meant for your eyes, but once you looked up at his face and took in the way he was doing the same exact thing to you, you melted.

“you’re fucking pretty, you know that?” he said as he came back in between your legs, pushing your hair out of your eyes, and giving you a firm kiss.

“seems like you tell me a lot.” you answered and reached out to touch him gently. he sucked in a breath as your hand wrapped around him, your fingers registering that lovely vein again.

you could probably stare at your hand all day and revel in that vein, but instead you lifted your head and attached your lips to rafe’s neck. his hands went behind you so he could open the packet and it probably would’ve taken him a shorter amount of time if you weren’t sucking a mark into his skin and slowly rubbing him. he moaned lowly before getting the packet open successfully. you spent a few more seconds on his neck, then licked over the spot and pulled away.

rafe’s hand came over your wrist. he squeezed lightly then pulled your hand to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to your palm. he held your hand for a moment while he leaned in to press a kiss to your mouth. “can i taste you first?”

“o-okay,” you nodded quickly. “yeah.”

you practically reeled as he crouched down to his knees in front of you and brought a leg over his shoulder. you moved to the very edge of the table, having a slight thought of falling completely off, but you had a feeling rafe would catch you or you’d both laugh it off.

those thoughts completely disappeared as rafe put his mouth on you. you pulled a lip between your teeth, watching him as he did.

“fuck, you’re so wet for me.” he noted and gripped your thighs before licking a long stripe up your folds.

one of his hands slipped from your leg and you wondered what he was doing for a second, before you saw the muscles flexing in his shoulder. that got you even hotter, knowing that he was touching himself while having his mouth on you. you nearly couldn’t think straight as he licked you again. he dipped into your entrance and you swallowed a whimper when he decided to leave you like that.

you watched him stand back up and lick his lips as he rolled the condom on, your stomach flipping and rolling in anticipation. you swallowed thickly and looked up at rafe when he was ready, his hand gentle as it appeared on your hip.

“are you ready?” he asked in a deep breath. “if you want to stop, just tell me, okay?”

“okay,” you nodded with a small smile.

you spread your legs wider and looked down at the same time as rafe so you could watch him. you breathed slowly to relax, watching as he guided himself to your entrance and slowly moved inside of you. your mouth fell open as a result, your arms nearly giving out. he opened you up the more he slid in, his palm on your thigh pressing more and more until he was completely inside.

“s-shit,” you panted and let your head fall back for a moment.

you breathed, closed your eyes. you tried to remember everything. you wanted to remember everything about this moment, about what it was like to have rafe inside of you. christ, you’d been in this same spot a week ago, daydreaming about his damn arms and veins and whole entire being. you’d lusted after him, tasted him, had him taste you, and now here you were. how the fuck did you get here?

you took a deep breath and leaned your head up. rafe’s mouth was open, his grip now like a vice on your thigh.

“fuck, you feel so good,” rafe said. “just like i imagined.”

you nearly whined at that and pressed your thighs into his hips to hold him in place. you licked your lips and pulled his mouth to yours, inviting him to move finally. he pulled his hips back slowly, holding onto you before moving back it. he did it a couple times, trying to get you used to him. fuck, he felt amazing.

rafe set a pace, his hand making a home on your lower back while his other held your leg up behind your knee. you couldn’t get enough of his praises each time he pulled away from you.

“god, you’re perfect,” he moaned, slipping his tongue into your mouth. “you fit so nicely around me, baby.”

you also couldn’t get enough of that damn pet name. it sounded even better falling from his lips in this exact moment.

“you’re taking my cock so well.”

with that praise you couldn’t help the way you fluttered around him, squeezing him tightly and causing both of you to moan. he almost lost his rhythm for a moment but got it back as he kissed the corner of your lips down to your jaw. you kept your eyes closed, you found it easier so you could focus on just feeling him.

he pressed kisses down your neck, stopping at a few places to nip. it tickled you and aroused you at the same time, if not more. a minute later, he found his way to your breast, your back arching again to push into his mouth. his tongue appeared, flicking over your nipple.

“rafe,” you moaned louder than before and tightened your legs around him as you felt that coil wind up. “go f-faster.”

he groaned against you, the vibrations traveling all the way down to your core. he picked up the pace and groped you now, giving your breast a squeeze while his tongue flicked again. his teeth skimmed over it before he bit down gently, making your hand fly to his hair to keep his head where it was.

his thumb appeared on your clit and you had a feeling that he was about to completely ruin you. his mouth popped off of you and he leaned in for a kiss, his lips wet and swollen. wrapping an arm around his shoulders, you cried out as he grabbed a tight hold of your hip and picked up the pace, your skin starting to smack. you felt yourself squeeze around him as his tongue played with yours and it was almost too much that you had to pull away from the sensation.

“holy— f-fuck. rafe, i'm s-so close.”

“you gonna come for me?” his breath blew across your face, overly warm and heavy. “come for me. i want to feel you come on my cock, baby.”

his thumb timed up with his hips now, making your eyes prick with tears as you squeezed them shut tightly. you gripped rafe’s shoulder, trying to hold onto something as you felt it coming.

“that’s it, come on. i got you.” he coaxed you through it so gently that it made you want to sob.

instead, you cried out as you reached your climax, feeling yourself pulse and squeeze around rafe as you came over him. your whole body twitched and tensed as rafe kept circling your clit, helping you through it. you moaned lowly from your chest, your head falling backward and your eyes relaxing. you had no idea rafe was so close behind until his forehead fell to yours and his thrusts slowed. he pulled out and thrusted hard, doing that a few times until he came undone too. you felt him pulse inside of you, emptying into the condom in spurts. you wished you could taste it again.

you drew your face into his neck, still gripping his shoulder. your palm was sweating against the table behind you and you wondered how you lasted so long holding yourself up the whole time. your heartbeat gushed less in your ears as the minutes went by and your body relaxed against rafe’s. you still felt so full, wanting to keep him there longer.

pressing a kiss to that hollow between your neck and shoulder, rafe rubbed your back soothingly. “you did so good, baby.”

you hummed into his skin then pulled away to brush his hair and kiss him softly. “thank you,” you said quietly, not exactly for the compliment.

you made a noise close to a whine when rafe moved out of you. you knew he had too, watching as he pulled the condom off and tied it closed. he went to the trash bin in the kitchen to toss it while you reluctantly moved off the table. you slid, looking back to see a small mess you made with rafe on the surface.

just when you were about to ask rafe for something to clean it up with, he came back with a rag already in his hand. he held it out to you and you smiled, knowing he got it for you. you cleaned between your legs than folded the rag a couple times before wiping the table clean.

rafe’s hand came to your sides, caressing softly over your skin. you smiled at his chest, touching his arms and warming up at the thought of what you two had just done. he pulled you closer just to hold you, his hands roaming to your back. it was comforting to have the silence to touch each other, to just be for a few quiet moments.

“as much as i would love to just stand here with you, i'm a little paranoid that someone can easily see in here.” you said after a while, looking right at the open door to the back deck of the boat.

“maybe you should’ve thought about that before we fucked on the table.” rafe said and you could hear the stupid grin on his face.

you nudged him away jokingly as you laughed, but he switched to a serious look when he tugged you back by the hips. you swallowed as you felt him against your thigh, nearly ready to go again. you looked up at rafe, biting your lips together to keep the grin at bay.

“do you want to go inside?” he smiled softly, glancing down at your lips.

“yes,” you nodded.

you pulled away to pull your clothes on. rafe teased you with your undies, holding them out for you to take, then snatching them out of reach. you jabbed him in the side until he gave them to you, a teasing grin on his face.

your shirt settled around you and you looked at rafe just as he caught your wrist and tugged you closer. his lips connected with your cheek and he hugged you against him, warm and solid. it was familiar, something you didn’t think you’d be able to say about him. you looped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him back.

“what?” you asked when you pulled away, finding another dumb smile on his face.

“think we could do this again sometime?” he searched your eyes, glancing down at your lips.

you laughed and rolled your eyes, knowing that’s exactly what you were about to do once you got inside the house. why would he ask such a silly thing?

“of course,” you said anyways before pushing him away to get your keys.

you headed inside with him, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. you wondered how you looked, walking into tannyhill with him. you knew by the smile on your face that you were happy, and you guessed that he was too by the way he was holding you against him.

“wheezie?” rafe shouted into the house as he closed the door behind you two, his hand clasped tightly around yours.

silence followed his voice as you looked around the entryway, trying your best to hear for wheezie’s movements, or anybody’s voice. coast clear, you wanted to say but rafe beat you to it.

“fuck yes,” he sighed happily and pulled you by the hips to him. you laughed against his lips, kissing him back as you kicked your shoes off.

the next few seconds were filled with stumbling up the stairs like two drunks, pausing every so often just so rafe could kiss you, rafe making grabby hands at you and hardly letting you go. it’s a wonder how you even made it up the stairs. you giggled at him once you got into his room, him quick to toss his shirt to the floor, and closed the door.

—

“hello?”

your head snapped to rafe beside you, who was still working on catching his breath. sarah was home and you immediately panicked as you sat up.

“anybody home?” she called again, sounding so sweet like she was.

“up here!” rafe shouted, bare ass as can be and making your jaw go slack.

you smacked his thigh, the sound cracking sickeningly, before you scrambled off the bed to pull your clothes on.

“stop hitting me,” he laughed and lifted himself up to watch you stumble putting your shorts on.

“fuck off!” you whispered as if you had a chance at avoiding the impending situation. you pulled your shirt on roughly, completely forgetting a bra as you walked out of rafe’s room.

you managed to close his door completely and meet sarah at the top of the stairs. she looked up at you, surprised, carrying a few shopping bags.

“hey?” she greeted. “i could’ve sworn i heard my brother instead.”

oh beautiful, sweet, smart sarah. was there any way out of this?

“i need to tell you something.” you said quickly and bit your lip anxiously.

sarah lifted an eyebrow at you, searching your face. you took an unsteady deep breath in. she won’t be mad, she won’t be mad, she won’t be mad. there was no way you could postpone this. this had to be done now otherwise you’d never forgive yourself. it’s so simple! you just have to say the words, just admit it. sarah, listen, i'm sl—

“you forgot this.” rafe’s voice came from behind you, making your stomach drop and sarah’s eyes completely divert over your shoulder.

turning slowly, you were absolutely mortified to see him holding your bra so comfortably. and he looked so proud too. god, you were going to kill him. that’s it, you were going to kill him. well, it had been nice while it lasted.

“oh my god,” you and sarah said at the same time.

⭐️taglist of beauties & babes!⭐️

@tovvaa @fttayla @dontjinx-it @moniamaybank @drewstarkeygf @cheshirecat107 @jjmaybankzz @obxcunt @honeyyhemmings @dvakat @macey730 @twinklelilstarkey @disrecpectful @prettylilwolf-blog @jjcanloveme @ityagirljay @oopsiedoopsie23 @ohhersheybars @igotmajordaddyissues

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron obx

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violets-page · 3 years

Text

Safe and sound |K.E|

Katniss Everdeen X Reader request

MASTERLIST

If you want to get super in the feels listen to ‘Safe and Sound’ by Taylor Swift and/or ‘Lover, Where Do You Live?’ by Highasakite

Gonna be the first to send in a request for my wifey katniss. I would love to see a relationship between katniss and a fellow district 12 person before and after she is sent to the hunger games. It can be platonic or romantic even though I prefer romantic (I’m a sucker for a gooey love story). I was thinking how either the hunger games changes their relationship for the good or bad, it either pushing them closer once she returns alive or the show she had to put on at the capital with peeta making the reader push her away. I love all your fics and your writing is so good, I would love to see what you come up with but no pressure!

In the woods, you could pretend like you two were the only creatures on the whole planet that existed. That the world was your jungle gym, where you swung carelessly and laughed freely. You wandered through the woods alone, It didn't scare you, Katniss was somewhere close by. She had promised to knap you a bunny or two so you could make a new sac for foraging.

Your fingers trailed along the vine of wild raspberries. They were not ripe yet but in a few days... You should make sure to point them out to her so she can come back and get them.

The cracking of sticks behind you made you whip around, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when Katniss’s smiling figure hopped towards you. She pointed to her sack a grin on her face

“I got three,” You shot a smile to match hers before grasping her hand and dragging her to another part of the woods.

“Where are we going?” Her hand was warm in yours and you let yourself soak up the memory.

“I need to show you something.”

Her hand was warm in your cold and dirty one, you hope she didn’t mind the dirt now staining her hands, transferred there from your fingertips.

You brought her to a bush, putting your hand up to stop her from walking into it. You raised a finger, pointing at it but carefully avoiding touching it.

“That's stinging nettle, don't go walking into it, you’ll get a nasty rash.”

You looked up to find her peering off in the distance her eyes squinted to see through the sunlight. You glanced around her to see a deer munching on some grass a few yards away. You huffed, nudging her sharply in the side.

“Katniss! come on, what if I'm not here one day to tell you this stuff.” She looked at you quickly a small frown on her face.

“Why are you so worried about not being here?” You quickly looked down and away from Katniss. As far as she knew your name was only in once.

“Y/n? how many times is your name in?”

“42.”

The silence was physically painful as she stared at you. You fiddled with the ends of your sleeve, actively avoiding her gaze.

“Why?” This was the part of the question you had been dreading.

“You were so sick last winter, so I...” It dawned on her, all the medicines you brought and the food, the firewood, and the clothes. She never questioned how you got them. She should have. You turned around once you had gotten enough berries, keeping your eyes trained carefully on the ground.

Neither of you spoke.

* * * * * * * *

When Prim’s name was called you were shocked, You truly expected it to be you. When Katniss volunteered you were even more shocked. You should have expected it though, she would have done anything to save her sister. You didn't even get the chance to grab her hand and tell her you loved her before she was standing on the stage. Tears pricked your eyes as hers met yours. You were to busy staring at her to hear the boy’s name.

* * * * * * * *

When her lips hit his you froze. You had to put your hand on your chest because you weren’t sure if your heart was still beating. Every detail seemed imprinted in your mind. The way her eyes flickered down to his lips for just a moment. The way you did when you kissed her.

You had never hated anyone, you despised watching the games and felt your heart aching for each dead kid. But when the blonde boy came on the screen. you found yourself silently cheering at each step he came closer to death. And each night you would feel guilty, wondering if in the morning her might be gone. But every morning you awoke to find him alive the guilt would disintegrate.

They were the last two left, you felt a sick sense of pleasure at the thought of watching her kill him. All your fears and pain would die with him. Wipe that innocent smile that everyone seemed to love off his face. You hated how he looked at her like she loved him. Heck, maybe she did but you wouldn’t allow yourself to think in that direction.

You watched them stand in the center her bow loaded with an arrow but not pointed at anything. Your brow furrowed when she tossed it to the ground.

When she grabbed the berries you froze.

* * * * * * * *

You shoot through the woods in search of Katniss. Tree branches scraped at your arms as you brushed them away, she was crouched down in front of a bush of dark blue berries. Your eyes darted over to her fingers where she was observing one. Your eyes widened in horror as she raised it to her lips.

“KATNISS!”

You flung yourself onto her, pushing the berry away and causing you both to topple down the small hill. She looked at you in scared confusion. You were on top of her, your body sprayed flat against her, knocked there when you went tumbling. You didn’t allow yourself to think about the scratch on your forehead or the leaves in your hair as you started scolding her.

“What the hell are you doing? trying to kill yourself?”

She shook her head quickly, brows furrowed.

“What, no.”

You glanced up the hill where the innocent-looking bush lay untouched.

“Those berries will drop a 300-pound man in minutes.” She quickly looked to the small pouch attached to her hip, when you looked at it you noticed a pile of the berries tumbling out.

“They were for you.” she stared at the berries in horror, quickly turning the bag upside down to dump the rest out. You let out a soft chuckle, relieved she was okay.

“You’re not getting away from me that easy Katniss.” She rolled her eyes, snorting softly before tangling her fingers in your messy hair, pulling your head down to place a deep kiss against your upturned lips.

.* * * * * * * *

Those berries.

You knew them. You had shown her them, and now she was going to kill herself to save a boy neither of you cared about. Or at least neither of you should have cared about. You watched her raise the berries to her lips and wanted to scream at her. Your breath caught in your throat, you could get any air in. You were drowning in heartbreak. Instead, you let a soft no tumble from your lips.

This was the end. She was gone forever.

Your hand rose to your mouth as you let out a choked sob. It felt like you were dying. The breaths finally came as you coughed on them. Breathing in short strangled breaths as your fingers trembled, the tears would never stop.

You watched her stand there with this boy. He was going to be her last kiss. The world faded away as you watched her stare into his eyes. Those should have been your eyes. She whispered something to him as they lifted the poison berries to their lips. Those should have been your lips.

And then the voice came on. You couldn’t hear a word over the ringing in your ears. Your hand gripped the fabric over your heart as you cried out in relief when their hands dropped. She was alive. She was okay. This should have made you feel better, but the image of her staring into his eyes, their bodies nearly pressed together as they held hands, wouldn’t leave your mind.

* * * * * * * *

When she came back everything felt strained. You couldn’t meet her eyes and every touch felt forced.

The kitchen was silent other than the knife scraping against the potatoes and the soft crunch of you grinding herbs. It was giving you a headache, the stress of it all. Pretending like nothing was wrong when in reality you were breaking at the seams you had carefully sewn around your torn heart. It was too much for you. The silence. The pain in your heart.

“Katniss.”

You were with her in your family’s shack, you had refused to go to her house. Even though it was large and warm with beds and working furniture. She hummed in acknowledgment not looking up from where she sat peeling potatoes.

“What happened in there?” You knew what had happened, you’d seen it. What you didn't know was how it felt, the whispers and secrets off camera as they struggled to survive.

The sound of the scraping knife came to a jagged halt but you couldn’t bring yourself to look over and gauge her reaction.

The silence grew too loud and you forced yourself to gaze up at her. She was staring down at the knife in her hand, when you glanced at it you could see bright blood against the blade. “Did you cut yourself?” You rushed over to her, lifting your apron to wrap it around the slice on her thumb. She just kept staring at the knife, her face frozen in a horrified expression.

“Katniss?”

The anger and frustration faded when you saw her broken eyes shoot up to you. She looked petrified, her hands still holding the knife trembled under your grasp. The silent unshed tears shattered your heart as you ran your fingers through her hair. She hadn't worn it in a braid since she came back and your fingers kept catching on small knots. She leaned her head against your stomach and sobbed. You pulled the bloody knife out of her tight grip setting it on the table behind you before turning back to look at her. You shushed her, untangling her hair as her tears soaked through your blouse. Her hands slowly moving to wrap around your waist.

Katniss didn’t cry, not in front of you or anyone else. Not when her dad died and not when she left for the games. They had changed her, that much was obvious. You’d been so fixated on her with a boy that you had failed to think about everything else that was going on in the arena.

The people she had to kill, the people she had to watch die, knowing there was nothing she could do to help them. And then, at the end with Peeta, Maybe that was her trying to save them. Maybe she knew that they wouldn't let her die. It didn’t matter to you anymore. She was here with you, in your arms. She was yours. She had been before the games and she remained when she returned. It didn't matter what had happened between her and Peeta in the games because, in the end, she had chosen you.

You swayed slightly as her sobs quieted down. You bent down to kiss her forehead, your hands cupping her cheeks as her hands gripped your wrists.

“Your safe here Katniss. No one can hurt you now, or ever again. I promise.” She nodded her head a few times, trying to reassure herself of your words. You gripped her hands, rewrapping your apron tightly around the cut on her finger.

You hadn't wanted to examine it till she calmed down, afraid that the blood would send her into another frenzy. You kept her hand clasped tightly in yours, Her eyes were glazed over as you led her to her house, yours lacked the medical supplies needed in the case that the cut was worse than you thought. The gated community was huge and quite intimidating. You felt your heart pound as you neared the large black gate of the ghost town.

Primrose stood in the kitchen washing vegetables, she looked shocked when she saw you, opening her mouth to speak but quickly snapping it shut at the sight of Katniss. “3rd room on the left, 2nd floor.” You nodded at her with a small smile before leading Katniss ever so slowly up the stairs. The appearance of her bedroom seemed to snap her out of her daze as she straightened a bit and turned to you.

“I'm okay.” Her smile was sad but she was trying to brighten it up. You frowned at her.

“Don't lie to me.” She sighed, she knew you and knew her lying skills. There was nothing she could get away with.

You sat her on the bed peeling your apron off her wound. The blood had dried and stopped but you wanted to make sure it wouldn't get infected, It was deep and spanned from her fingernail to the base of her palm.

Primrose appeared carrying alcohol and gauze, setting it on the nightstand before hurrying out. You watched her retreating figure before turning back to Katniss, who was staring up at you.

“Hand.” She held it out and you grasped it carefully, as to not rub your fingers against the exposed wound.

You soaked a piece of the gauze with the alcohol before wiping the blood around the cut. You were avoiding the cut itself because that would be the hard part.

“I thought of you.” You looked up at her with a furrowed brow, the gauze slipping over the cut causing her to hiss and you too look back down.

“When I kissed him. I thought of you, and how all I wanted to do was come back.” You chewed your lip remembering the way your cried yourself to sleep, repeating in your mind that you never wanted to see her again.

You wanted to forgive her, to shove the memory away and embrace her with open arms, to kiss her like you used to. But the image wouldn't leave your mind. You closed your eyes and tried to picture something else. Katniss, alone in the woods, falling asleep to the memory of your lips. Your heart calmed and you opened your eyes to find her eyes desperately searching your face.

You leaned down a soft kiss against her lips as your hand reached to cradle her neck.

“I'm with you, always.” With time the memories would fade, until then you let her lips bring you comfort and her hands bring you peace.

_____________________________________________

#katniss everdeen #katniss and peeta #the hunger games katniss #katniss #katniss x peeta #katniss x gale #katniss x reader #katniss x you #katniss x y/n #peeta #peeta mellark #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #thg trilogy #thg katniss #thg #x reader #finick #gale thg

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jisungsmysugadaddy · 3 years

Text

𝕋𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤-ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙

𝕄𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕝 : soccer game!au, night time!au, angst, boasting, acts of kindness, friend to friend tension, swearing

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 : After the soccer game, Hyunjin asks to walk you home and on your way there a few.. questionable things happen that begin to make you wonder how does your friend really feel about you.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 1.5k

"LEE KNOW! LEE KNOW! LEE KNOW!", Is what the crowd was chanting. You're running on the field with Minho and the rest of the team passing the ball to one another trying your best to make sure the other team doesn't get it, one of your teammates kicks it to you. The ball stays rolling with you. "Y/N! OVER HERE!", Hyunjin shouts at you. You attempt to kick the ball, but then... Your left foot, which was the foot that was holding you up, slid in the grass causing your other foot to miss the ball when you tried to hit it. You fall right on your ass. Hyunjin tries to make his way to help you up but instantly got distracted by the rest of the screaming players. The ball continues to roll, but one of the players from the other team ended up getting the ball instead of someone from yours.

The timer is about to go out for the last round of the game. As the opposing team is about to make a goal and win the game, Lee know swoops in and steals the ball and directs it to the other team's goal. He had three other players on him, all trying to get the ball from his feet. At the last second...He makes the goal. "YEEEEEEESSSSS!!!", Everyone from our teams stands shouted. The score on the score board changes for the last time.

Home: 37

Visitor: 36

After watching everything unfold while you were on the ground, Hyunjin finally came over and helped you up, apologizing for not doing so earlier. You then reassure him that it's okay and shortly joked about how you got a good front row seat of Lee know winning the game tonight.

You two make your way back to the locker rooms to have your usual end-of-the-game team meeting. When you get there you see Lee Know and gave him a high-five. “Nice job out there Minho”, you praise. “Thanks, bet you got a good view from the ground”, he joked. He was lucky you two were friends and that he was only kidding, otherwise he would’ve gotten a slap to the face. The team got in a circle around the coach, you manage to wedge yourself right between Lee Know and Hyunjin. Even though you were basically being suffocated from the smell of sweaty boys and musky body spray, you still tried your best to pay attention to what the coach was saying.

“Alright, team!! Another win right under our belts. I’m proud of you guys tonight for playing a good game out there. I saw each and every one of you give it your all on the field. Especially you, Lee Know. Not to put you in the spotlight or anything but you showed some incredible foot work out there.”, the coach went on and on for about a few more minutes while everyone else was either giving lee know the side eye or staring off into space. Lee Know just stood there, nodded and smiled modestly at everything the coach was ranting about. At this point it was pretty clear that he was the favorite on the team, but you didn’t care as long as he wasn’t an arrogant asshole about it. With Hyunjin’s sweaty body slumped over your shoulder, he whispered nonsense in your ear causing you both to giggle. The coach notices in the middle of his rant, “Is something funny over there?”, he asked sarcastically. With you being completely over the coach you don’t hold back what you’re really thinking. “Yeah, I think it’s funny that you’ve made most of this team meeting about Minho as if he’s the only person here.”. Some of the players were shocked that you actually said that, but were thankful that you spoke for the rest of the players. “Plus... I want to finish the kimbap I had before the game.”. The small tension in the room was then broken by the giggles of everyone there, including the coach. He looked at his watch and saw that it was almost closing time for the venue of the game. “Alright everyone, go get your stuff and head home. I’ll see you guys at practice on Monday.”

As you were packing up you asked Minho, "Hey do you have any plans tomorrow? Cuz I was wondering if could help me with a couple moves." You could see in his face that he was conflicted about something. "Sorry Y/n, I'm busy tomorrow but how about Sunday?". You wanted to relax on Sunday but you needed the extra practice so you settled for that day. "Yeah" you said with a disappointed face. He saw your face but didn't say anything about it and left after a quick wave goodbye.

Right after Lee Know left you in the locker room, Hyunjin approached you with his stuff in hand. "You want me to walk you home tonight?" He asked. You responded knowing that having a nice stroll with Hyunjin on your way home would make you feel better. "Yeah we can do that tonight." You grabbed your stuff from your locker and exited the property with Hyunjin by your side.

This wasn't the first time Hyunjin offered to walk you home and you accepted. I mean you are basically neighbors, he just lives a few blocks down the road from your house. With you two living so close together he could come over to your house whenever he wanted, which sometimes worried you. Lately Hyunjin has been wanting to be around you more often than usual. To the point to where it sometimes seemed like he was obsessed with you, but to a certain extent.

Hyunjin was always nice to be around which made your little trip back home much more enjoyable, but your arrival took longer than expected when you stopped at a convenience store for a few snacks. Hyunjin tapped you on your should as you passed by the store and nodded his head towards it, "Wanna get something before you go home?", he asked. You went on and let him treat you to some yummy snacks. You both walk in together scan the store to see what you could possibly want. Once you spot a pack of cookies and chips in the back, you speed walk your way there with no hesitation.

"Ooh this is a new flavor", "No get this one, this one's better", are some of things you and Hyunjin we're whispering to each other. With a handful of purchased snacks in both of your hands, you stop by the ramen section and make yourself and Hyunjin a bowl of sesame noodles since he argued that they're the best, even though he doesn't like sesame oil that much.

As you were you enjoying your food, Hyunjin couldn't help but stare at your face. Out of instinct, he stops eating his noodles and rests his head on his palm, all with a soft grin on his face . You noticed Hyunjin staring at you and asked "What? Is there something on my face?" Your question is what made him realize he was staring, he then snapped out of his dazed state and apologized. "Oh sorry, I was thinking about something." You giggled a little bit at the fact that he was just watching you eat. Your giggle caused him to do the same thing to help himself feel less embarrassed.

You and Hyunjin exit the convenience store with your snacks and a satisfied tummy. Returning to your route back home, the two of you are just goofing off telling jokes and just saying a bunch a weird but interesting stuff, which was what friends did. In that moment your entire mood was lifted. You and Hyunjin we're literally skipping your way home. SKIPPING! But you were both laughing at the same time because of that. It was all fun and games till a motorcycle came zooming down the alley way you guys were in and Hyunjin had to grab your hand to pull you away from the oncoming vehicle. You squealed out of shock because it all happened so fast. "You okay?", He asked. "Yeah, I'm fine.", You replied.

At this point your house is only a minute away and Hyunjin walks you to the front door . While you two are having your last conversation before you get home, you noticed he couldn't even look in your direction as you're walking. The thought quickly goes over your head when you realize you're at your destination. "Okay well, thanks for walking me home tonight.". "Anytime", he said with a grin. As you two separate that's when you realize... You two have been holding hands since the motorcycle situation. His warm, soft, hand was clasped with yours the entire time and you didn't even notice.

By the time you had all your thoughts organized, Hyunjin had already left your front door and headed to his own house. So you slept on everything that happened that night, but the idea that was forming in your head was too mind boggling for you to rest.

#stray kids #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids minho #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin stray kids #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin #stray kids lee minho #skz lee know #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz minho #skz hyunjin #skz fluff #skz drama

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fanficsandfluff · 3 years

Text

The Wake-Up

Finally, I've crossed a fic idea off my daydream checklist! Enjoy!

Fandom: MCU, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, some Cass and AJ, a smidge of Sarah

Words: 2,010

Bucky hadn’t felt as well-rested as he had on Sarah’s couch, even despite being woken by her two boys. So, yes, maybe he did keep accepting offers to stay over. It helped his mental well-being, so what? He sought the rest and relaxation. Sam hadn’t even been there a few times, but it was still as welcome as ever. Sarah cooked great food. He brought her flowers the last time he slept over, and he loved the bright smile that sprung to her face.

“We need to clear a guest room all for you,” Sarah joked at the dinner table on one particular summer night.

“You can take Uncle Sam’s room when he’s not here!” Cass announced through a mouthful of grits.

Bucky grinned at all the jests and he knuckled Cass’s shoulder, “Oh, I’m sure Uncle Sam wouldn’t mind at all,” he always smiled whenever he heard ‘Uncle Sam’ being used to address the new Captain America. Brought a lot of nostalgia back, and even turned it into something positive.

But on the couch he remained, at least for the upcoming night.

Sam pulled up at 3 am, the whole house asleep. He had to get used to seeing Bucky on Sarah’s couch, but it was finally starting to become less surprising. As long as he was on the couch and not in Sarah’s bed, all things were fine by him. Sam tiptoed in after shedding his boots at the door, easing into the comfort brought to him just by being in the house. He adjusted the blanket by Bucky’s feet and pulled another corner over his bare arm, non-metal.

Sam smirked to himself. He always assumed Bucky possessed superhuman senses, so someone who decided to even step too close while he slept would be pulverized immediately. But no. The guy needed the sleep, he supposed. Bucky’s breathing pattern didn’t even change when Sam adjusted the blanket. Hmm… he could use this.

~~~

“Shhh, shhshh, hey guys,” Sam kissed his nephews on their foreheads when he woke them purposely later that morning. Dawn was just creeping over the bayou, shimmering the lights on the water.

“Wait, shh, you gotta stay quiet or you’ll ruin it,” Sam had his hand atop AJ’s head and he ruffled it around, making the older boy giggle.

“Ruin what?” Cass whispered.

“We’re gonna wake Bucky. The guy’s just always sleeping, isn’t he?”

Both boys shared identical grins, “Yeah, totally!” AJ slipped his glasses onto his face, Cass following suit.

And so the plot begun. Sam went to the bathroom with his nephews and gathered shaving cream after Cass had pulled a feather from his animal project from school. Sam explained what they’d be doing with these tools, since they’d never pulled this prank before (wow, Sam felt old).

AJ and Cass were practically vibrating with anticipation and giddiness. The trio snuck their way to the couch. Sam sprayed the shaving cream on Bucky’s metal hand since he knew how to not make the spray noise come out so loudly (and his human arm was tucked behind him on the couch so he couldn’t get to that one, okay? He didn’t go for the metal on purpose, he isn’t that cruel).

Sam pointed to Cass first as the three of them stood by Bucky’s head, hiding behind that edge of the couch, crouching. Cass stood and swiped the feather across Bucky’s forehead. No reaction. He gave it to AJ. AJ, more methodical, wiggled the feathered tip on the bridge of Bucky’s nose. Now he got his nose to scrunch, brow to furrow, but his arms stayed put. Sam next. He got the feather to move closer to Bucky’s nostrils.

“So close…” Cass whispered in the smallest voice, hands covering his mouth. AJ also put his own hand over Cass’s hands covering his mouth because of the comment.

Sam kept it up, even swiping around Bucky’s cheeks, when-- WHAM!

The boys both exclaimed, Cass jumping up and down excitedly while giggling. Sam laughed loudly, holding his stomach. The noise was a loud metal clang when metal arm connected with skull. It was hilarious.

Bucky shot up with a start, feeling his eyes covered in some kind of gook, and he practically gave himself a headache. He heard all the laughter and he sighed deeply.

“Gross…” he grumbled and wiped his eyes, not realizing his hand was the cause. He ended up smearing more shaving cream across his eyes.

“You got a little something…” Sam spoke, holding back more laughs. Anything to mess with Bucky was the highlight of Sam’s day.

Bucky got enough shaving cream off his face and wiped onto his pants to see again. He eyed the boys first, knowing he could scare them off quicker. He growled.

“Go go go!” AJ directed his younger brother, ushering him back towards the bedrooms, the two shoving each other and tripping over each other along the way.

Bucky’s eyes went to Sam immediately after.

Sam had to think quick. Run from a super soldier and inevitably get caught, or wake Sarah because there’s no way Bucky would do anything to him if Sarah was--- yeah, nope, not willing to face Sarah’s wrath either. Sam bolted out the front door, hearing the screen door clatter behind him. Not two seconds later he heard it clatter again, meaning Bucky was hot on his trail.

Sam ran through the yard, weaving between trees, feeling the dewy grass get kicked up under his bare feet.

Bucky threw himself at Sam when he had the shot and they both propelled forward, rolling in the grass for a few feet.

“Ow! Shit, Buck!” Sam exclaimed, groaning, feigning more pain than he was actually in.

Bucky was atop Sam, not falling for the act for a second. It took Sam a moment to look up and he burst out another laugh, unable to help himself. Bucky still had a white-painted face full of shaving cream, just now looking more smeared than goopy.

“You know you’re so dead and you’re still laughing? Where’d you get the balls…” Bucky tried to sound menacing, he really did.

“Nahah, no, you--” he cleared his throat, buying time so he could formulate a way out from under the Winter Soldier, “It’s good for your skin. Moisturizing. You look good.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes and his metal hand snapped to Sam’s when he tried to move, wrenching it up above his head. Sam was pinned. Now was the time he was getting nervous.

“It was all AJ and Cass, I just thought you should know.”

“Mmhm,” Bucky, man of few words, looked up and down Sam’s torso. He had him pinned. Now what to do. Bucky poked at Sam’s protruding rib. He did it again to the few above that one, making a little path of pokes.

Sam shifted under him, uncomfortable. His face looked much less jovial now. Annoyed. Good.

“Oh Sam, buddy, you never told me you were ticklish,” he drawled.

“I’m not--I mean, just stop. I’m sorry,” Sam apologized.

Bucky’s eyebrow actually raised. That was the whole fun of the game. Coaxing the apology. But of course Sam went and ruined that. Nice guy.

“For what?” Nice recovery, Barnes.

“For waking you up.”

Bucky allowed himself to quirk the corners of his lips, “Gotta be more specific than that,” and his one hand dug into the ribs on Sam’s right side. His fingers groped for the spaces in between and massaged his way in. Sam bucked and laughter was torn from his chest.

Sam was ticklish and only Sarah knew. Of course she knew, being the older sister. But dammit, he was never planning on Bucky Barnes figuring it out. And this was exactly why! The guy would be devastating!

“No! NohohoHO BUCKY!” Sam twisted side to side since that’s all the mobility he was allowed.

“What else are you sorry for? Here, I’ll give you the list,” as Bucky spoke, he had to raise his voice over Sam’s desperate giggles, hand switching to clawing at the other’s belly, “You woke me up with a prank. So there’s that. You lied and blamed AJ and Cass for something you 100% planned. You ran from the scene of the crime. Am I missing anything, Wilson?”

“Screhehehew you!” Sam got out before laughing louder as Bucky’s hand scratched at his armpit, “Stop! Stoppit, you fuhucking cyborg!”

“Oho! I’ll add that! Aaand, oh, and you lied to me about you not being ticklish. You said ‘I’m not,’” Bucky imitated Sam in a very stupid voice, “when clearly you are. Very. Very ticklish.”

Sam was pulling on his arms as much as he could without injuring himself. His veins popped, muscles straining. He was useless like this. Defenseless.

But he was laughing.

That was kind of nice.

Bucky contemplated letting go and allowing Sam to squirm. He liked having him at his mercy like this, though. Made him feel powerful… Hm.

Bucky kept Sam pinned with his vibranium appendage, and he wiped as much of the remaining shaving cream off his face as he could with his right hand.

Sam coughed as he sucked the humid morning air into his lungs. By now he didn’t know if the moistness he felt all along his back was from the dewy grass or from his own sweat.

“No, man, dohon’t,” he saw the absolute mischief painted on Bucky’s gleeful face and his raised shaving cream hand. Bucky planted his palm on the side of Sam’s face, chuckling to himself after the act.

“Aw, you-- you’re real gross, Barnes, you know that?” Sam spit out the imaginary shaving cream that got in his mouth.

“I think I’m just being fair,” Bucky pushed up Sam’s sleep shirt with his free elbow and he started tracing patterns with shaving cream along Sam’s belly. That got Cap giggling all over again.

“Buhuhucky, noho!”

“Keep giggling, Sam, it’s only gonna make me want to keep this up.”

Sam would swear up and down that that particular comment didn’t make him blush, but oh boy he felt his cheeks get warmer.

“I don’t g-gihiggle, asshole!”

“Oh, no?” Bucky switched to scratching at Sam’s taught tummy, the shaving cream making the experience extra slippery, causing Sam’s laughter to jump in pitch.

“I”m sorry!” Sam squeaked out before Bucky could even change tactics again.

Bucky chortled, “For…?”

“Everything! Eheverything you sahahaid!”

“Aww,” Bucky smiled. He pulled his metal arm back and just sat on Sam’s waist, still basking in the glow of winning like this.

Bucky leaned his head down closer to Sam’s, “I forgive you,” he said curtly. He watched the last few huffs and breaths of light laughs leave Sam’s lips. He could get headbutted being this close to Sam’s own face. Or kissed. Wait--

Bucky climbed off of Sam, sitting beside him in the grass. He pulled up the bottom of his shirt and wiped the shaving cream fully off his face.

Sam jabbed Bucky’s abs when the shirt came up and the Winter Soldier twitched.

Sam smiled wide. Bucky, eyes squinted at first, soon relaxed his face and allowed himself to smile back.

“Don’t do that again,” Bucky pointed a vibranium finger at Sam.

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“You made Cass and AJ very happy.”

“Yeah, well…. They don’t need to prank me to be happy.”

“Yeah they did. Being mischievous. It’s all part of being little kids,” Sam sat up, head tilted Bucky’s way.

“Still.”

“Okay, I was trying to be thankful, jerk. Thanks for handling it like a good sport.”

Bucky looked over at Sam and he held his gaze for a few seconds. Did Sam like what just happened? Or was that just praise for him for not ripping Sam’s nephews limb from limb? Restraint?

“Oof, that brain malfunctions a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Sam was right back to teasing, “Code red!”

Bucky chuckled, head bowed. Sam, proud as ever to get that smile from the Winter Soldier, nudged him.

“You’re so stupid,” was all Bucky could think of saying. Sam laughed.

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tardis-ghost-blog · 3 years

Text

Did that feel real to you? (Simm!Master x Reader)

Rating: E For explicit sexual content Summary: The Master and you share a dream. Literally.

-0oOo0oOo0oOo0-

Ever since he had found out that being near you caused the drums to be a tad bit quieter, the Master had hired you as his personal assistant. Most of the time you only had to tidy up on the Valiant now, or make him tea. And in return you allowed him to connect your minds every so often.

At first it had been a strange, almost frightening experience, but after a few times you came to enjoy it. Nothing was happening, you two only sat there, the Master with his hands around your head and sometimes his forehead on yours. And sometimes you just watched his face becoming calmer, peeked at his lips that were so close to yours...

You had quickly found out about the drums and about his origin. You also learned that he could become downright insane if the sound in his head became too loud. And those times frightened you, because you could never be sure what might happen.

So when he came in that day and you spotted his deranged look, you were already about to quickly leave the room. But he grabbed you, tried to drag you back into the room and managed. You still wanted to get away, only help him later, when things had calmed down.

But the Master caught you again, pushed against your shoulders, making you drop backwards, where your knee pits hit against something. You got out of balance, fell over the sofa rest and onto the soft fabric. The Master rushed to you, his eyes were dark, clouded by madness. Hastily you got to your elbows and crawled backwards a bit, but he was already at your side, knelt in front of the sofa to grab your head within in hands.

"Make it quiet," he demanded and brushed his mind against yours, not waiting for your barriers to loosen, but simply tearing them down.

You couldn't hold back a sob as you felt his energy surging through your head. It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, but one that made you feel so horribly vulnerable. And it drained you like nothing you had ever experienced before. The few times you had shared minds hadn't been that intense, not that forceful. Not so desperate.

Tiredness overcame you, no matter how hard you tried to fight it. A silent battle, you lying stretched out on that sofa, him kneeling next to you, shivering as if it were ice cold in the room. The image faded, slipped away into a black void.

"'M sorry," you heard the Master whisper, his voice strangely clear and free of the previous madness. "I need this. Just for a while."

Him apologizing... that was a first. But you no longer felt drained, only wanted to sit there for another while with closed eyes.

"You could have just asked," you mumbled back and felt weirdly... light.

Why were you sitting anyway? Just now you had been lying on your back. When your eyes opened, you found yourself suddenly in a completely different place. Perplex you looked around the silent forest, dense green spread all around you, soft grass grew under your fingers. The Master sat next to you, hands clawed into his hair. Some moments later he relaxed, threw his head back to sigh out a painful breath.

"Master?" you asked. "What... is this? Where are we?"

He looked back and opened his lids, blinking tiredly at you, then your surroundings. His eyes widened in mild surprise. "Huh? Mhm... right. Seems like I... slipped into your dreams."

"My... hey!" you protested and slapped his arm. "Those are private, you jerk!"

It appeared he was feeling a lot better now, according to the mischievous chuckle he answered with. "Och, don't whine. You might be the first human to have this experience." Cheekily he stuck out his tongue and got to his feet. "Although... I'm not entirely sure in whose head we are. Probably a bit of both."

You grunted annoyed and got up too. "Then wake me up again."

The Master turned, grinned.

"Nope!"

He let out a childish laugh and jumped from a stone, striding deeper into the forest.

"Hey! That's not fair!" you shouted after him. "First you overpower me like that and then you keep trampling over my private stuff."

"Mine too, just for your information."

"Okay, whatever." You crossed your arms as you halted near a clearing. It actually looked really nice. The vibrant green, the small creek that ran through the grass. "Wait... if this is a dream and we are aware of it... does that mean we can manipulate it?"

"Mhm..." The Master tilted his head a little. "Usually yes. But since we share it..." His eyes closed for a moment and the scenery changed. Trees vanished into dust, grass melted into the ground and suddenly you stood within the overgrown ruins of what once might have been an advanced civilisation. "Okay, that works..."

The scenery was quite beautiful in its melancholic state of long gone destruction. But right now you were not in the mood for something like that.

"Let me try!" you inquired and also closed your eyes. "Where could we go?" You thought for a moment, but your subconsciousness seemed to have picked up on your wish a lot faster than you. The smell of salt and water caressed your nose, a soft wind made goose bumps form on your forearms.

"The sea?" The Master asked, a smile audible in his voice. "Always a good choice. Bit boring, though."

A smile widened on your face as you took in the surroundings. It wasn't a place you knew, more like a collection of images, or rather the idea of sea that lived in your mind. There wasn't that much sand, more rocks, actually. You loved to climb around and be sprayed by the hitting waves.

And the weather was amazing! Perfect temperatures. Not too hot, not cold, either. Your ire was forgotten in an instant and you didn't even mind the Master following you as you explored the shore for a bit, picked up some seashells to admire how real they looked - and felt. As did everything else; the water, the wind, the sun.

You sighed happily and pointed at a round pool that had been formed between the rocks, too perfect of a spot not to investigate further.

"Let's go for a swim there, shall we?" you asked, beaming over your face. "Everything feels so real! I bet the water is amazing."

"Probably." The Master laughed and you joined in, happy to see how relaxed he was now. Here, the drums didn't seem to bother him and you had learned before that he could actually be quite the nice company in moments like these.

"But wait... I need some proper clothes." Again your eyes closed and you imagined the most comfy bikini you could think of. Nothing too revealing.

And still you suddenly felt eyes on you, wandering over your form. When you turned you found the Master not only staring at you with a subtle smile, but also now wearing only swimming trunks. Black, of course.

"Like what you see?" he wanted to know, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You snorted out a laugh and pointed down into the round basin. "I might be impressed if you jump down from here."

"Here?" The Master didn't seem impressed as he glanced down. The pool was maybe three or four meters below you. "That's not even a challenge," he mocked and promptly jumped.

Surprised you squeaked, your mind running a million scenarios at once how he might smash his head on a rock or maybe... No. This was still a dream. Immediately you relaxed and giggled to yourself. Nothing could happen to you here. So you did the only logical thing and jumped down too.

Air rushed around you, followed by the cool grip of water. You resurfaced with a happy laugh and swam around a bit until you found the Master again. He stood nearby, the water reaching only his waist. Behind him was wet rock that he leaned against with folded arms and still this calmly, satisfied expression on his features.

"Nice idea," he complimented. "Haven't been to any sea since... a long time ago."

It was seldom that he spoke about the past and you weren't going to ruin the moment by digging deeper. Instead your eyes wandered over his form, curious if you would find anything that set him apart from humans. This was the first time you saw him with so little clothes after all, his skin glittering with water drops, hair dripping.

"You look completely human, you know that?" you mocked and trod in front of him. "I had almost awaited you'd have... I don't know... scales maybe?"

A grin split his mouth and he let out a laugh. "Maybe I do and just altered my appearance in the dream?" He poked out the tongue between his teeth.

"Nah, I don't think so." You chuckled and couldn't resist running a finger over his forearm, feeling the skin and muscles.

He let you, simply watched as you trailed up and halted, raising your hand right over his chest, before gently placing it over the spot between his hearts. It was just a dream after all, no harm done in exploring a little.

When you looked up, the Master hadn't moved, but the black in his eyes had widened, was fixated on your face.

"Everything feels so real," you finally stated, your voice weirdly thick. A nervous laugh escaped you. "Strange to think this is only a dream."

He huffed. "You never had a dream before that was so real you had trouble distinguishing it from reality after waking up?"

"Yeah, but... it's different being conscious in it." You ran your hand through the water in front of you, almost so close to the Master that it brushed against him. "I wonder," you mumbled, thinking about just how close you stood together. "if everything feels so real."

The warmth pooling into your belly definitely did. And the heat you felt shooting right to your core when the Master suddenly grabbed your hip with both hands also did. His thumbs stroked along your sides, his eyes darkening a little more. Your gaze wandered down, wanting to break through the crinkled surface of the water to look between the two of you. Curiosity.

His hands left your hip and instead were on your arms, slowly caressing your skin until they reached your fingers. You let out a sigh, happy about the cool water so he wouldn't see you flush. Or did you anyway?

"That feels real too, doesn't it?" the Master murmured, almost absently. His hands left you and he used them to heave himself on a flat piece of stone nearby, his lower half still hidden under the water's surface. "Enjoy the water." The smile was back. "We're actually not in a hurry."

"Won't we wake up anytime soon?" you wondered, boldly stepping closer to him.

"Not if we don't want to." A mischievous twinkle was in his hazel eyes, the boyish smirk arousing you more than it should.

Shit. You shouldn't be aroused at all. He was still holding your entire planet captive. And no matter how nice he sometimes was to you, he still could be mad and dangerous and... You felt eyes on you again and only then realized your hand was again playing with the water between the two of you. When had you stepped so close? His knees were barely a finger width away from your belly. And your hand... Would this feel so real, too?

"I didn't even know you Time Lords can share dreams."

You stepped even closer, right between his legs, your skin touching the stone on which the Master sat. His head slightly tilted backwards, but his now clearly dilated pupils kept staring at you as if he was just waiting.

"Now you know," he said. "It's a nice thing. You can do whatever you want. Experiments, just having… fun."

"And no real consequences," you finished the thought. For a moment your eyes locked with the Master's.

His lips twitched slightly. It seemed he was perfectly aware of what you contemplated doing. So you did, dipped your hand below the water and let your fingers brush over cloth and the obvious bulge in it.

The mere fact shot another wave of arousal straight between your legs. Another, bolder movement along his erection didn't help either and when you sheepishly glanced up the Master had his eyes half closed, his breath hitching when, instead of your fingers, you let your palm run over his length.

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest all of a sudden and he leaned forward, catching your hand. "You've always been staring at me. You want me so badly, little one?" Was there really a hint of threat in his voice?

"Experimenting." The corner of your mouth twitched upwards. "It's only a dream, innit?" Your free hand crept forward, wrapped itself around his dick through the trunks.

His eyes rolled backwards the tiniest bit, his head dropping against yours as a grin blossomed on his lips. "Didn't know you were dreaming about me," he teased, breath shuddering delightfully when you started to slowly stroke him.

God, you wanted to feel him without those trunks, suddenly yearned to let your fingers wander over every inch of him, teasing, fondling, feeling every vein, every ridge. "Right now I do," you said breathy. "Don't worry, 'm pretty sure this is the first time."

Again he shuddered, hot breath ghosting over your lips. Then, with a swift movement that took you completely off guard, he grabbed your sites again and dragged you upwards, right into his lap with a loud splash. Both of you were hidden below the surface still, the water on your skin shimmering in the sun. A moan escaped your lips when your clit rubbed against his length, the wet cloth only adding to the friction.

Before you could even form a thought his lips crashed onto yours, one hand on the back of your head, the other slipping into your bikini pants. When you wanted to do the same to him, however, the hand vanished, grabbed your thigh and dragged you so flush against him that you had no chance to get anywhere near him. His lips were soft and warm, coaxing another moan from yours right as his fingers slipped back under your cloth and brushed against your swollen clit. Another finger slid down below your folds, teased the entrance for maybe a second too long.

You squirmed from your own need, opened your mouth and deepened the kiss, tongues stroking sensually against one another. His fingers finally pressed into you. The Master swallowed another moan, moved back and forth inside your heat, added a second finger and kept his thumb on your clit.

All of your senses were overblown with need and want and the smell of his skin, the taste of his tongue. You couldn't help but rock against his hand and also his erection in the same movement. He groaned, tried to keep you from moving while his fingers pumped in and out of you.

Somehow, though, you managed to slide back enough to fit your own hand between the two of you and promptly use the opportunity. Teasing fingers moved to the waistband of his trunks, slipped inside when there was no protest. Your hand wrapped around his dick firmly and finally you could do to him what he did to you. And he felt great in your hand, sliding up and down your palm, your thump teasing the slit and the sensitive area below. Even through the water you could feel a drop of precum, imagined how it dissolved in.

A low growl of pleasure rumbled through his heaving chest, his second hand vanished from your head, his mouth retreating. You wanted to look, wanted to see what you did to him. Damp hair clung to the Master's forehead, a perfect match for the glimmering sheen of sweat and salt water on his skin.

Again you firmly stroked up his length, hyper aware of his shuddering breath and jittering eyes. His free hand was between your breasts, the bikini simply gone. Carefully he pushed against your torso, bending you backwards a little, so you would have less opportunity to move on him.

His sight, the position, the thumb massaging your clit in firm circles, the fingers pumping in and out, hitting at all the right spots inside of you, it made you want to move again, made you desperate to find out whether or not you could really climax in a dream.

But the fingers vanished. You whimpered when you realized he wasn't going to continue. With both hands he grabbed your head and kissed your wet lips, fierce and hungry and groaning into your mouth when you boldly continued to stroke him.

Seconds later the Master broke the kiss, panted. "That real enough for you?"

All you could do was to swallow and nod with gleaming eyes. His mouth hovered over yours, hot breath ghosting your lips, his eyes fluttering shut. But there was also a blossoming grin and suddenly you realized that you were both completely naked now.

Right in that moment he grabbed your bum, lifted you up from him and sat you on the stone while he slid down from it. You wanted to protest, wanted to grab his arm, but he didn't vanish, as you had feared. Instead the Master positioned himself between your legs, grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to him on the wet stone so his dick could stroke through your folds and rest at your throbbing entrance.

If there hadn't been water you would have laid on your back, but now you kept yourself upright on your elbows, watching, enjoying how the Master teased your entrance. His eyes sought out yours. "You're ready?"

"Are you kidding me?" you moaned, too far gone for any modesty.

The Master chuckled, leaned forward, snaked an arm around your middle and pulled you up for another kiss, the head of his shaft still at your entrance, almost slipping inside when you moved slightly. But he wouldn't let you, held you in place and grinned against your lips at your desperation. The height of the stone aligned you perfectly and again you shifted your bottom, felt him slip into you the tiniest bit, already enough to spike the pleasure, the anticipation.

"Make me," he ground out, breathing heavily, almost restrained.

You let out a moan, tried to push yourself closer and him deeper. The Master gasped, pressed you against him for a mere second, but pulled out of you again, his look as desperate as you felt, breath quivering.

And you knew what he wanted, your brain still somewhat functioning, maybe more than his, in this very moment. Despite his own urge for control he slightly rocked forward, silently groaned when your centre swallowed the tip of his dick again. You could feel how much he had to hold back, how he still couldn't help but let himself sink in just a bit deeper, fingernails lightly scratching your back.

"Master," you moaned and felt him twitch against your folds. He wanted to be in control. He needed you to fully give it to him. "Master," you almost whimpered and he slid even deeper, not yet there, but also not horribly far away.

He carefully pulled out again, not all the way, only a little. "Beg me," he ground out. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you." You swallowed a groan when you felt him slightly move again, wondered how long you both could continue this without bursting. You had no intention to find out, leaned closer to his ear, muttering, "I want you to fuck me, Master."

And that was enough. He gripped your hip with both hands, pressed you flush against him, his length finally slipping inside. Both of you let out moans and for a short moment the Master stopped, his breath heavy and somewhat shaky. One hand dropped to your bum, his lips crashed on yours again and he moved, made you moan into his mouth when he pulled back out, only to slam back inside. He repeated it a few more times, building a rhythm that was both desperate and controlled.

You were barely aware of the water around you, of the sun and the wind. All you felt and wanted to feel was the Master moving in and out of you. You cried out when he hit an especially sensitive spot and he tilted you slightly backwards to get a better angle, the kiss getting sloppy as his pace sped up, stopped completely after a moment, both of you lost in the building pleasure. You let out a small groan each time he hit that spot inside of you. His hand slipped down your front, thumb circling firmly on your clit, adding to the tightening coil.

"Master, please," you groaned.

And he sped up his pace, kept his thumb moving. You sensed how close he was, felt that spot again, and again and you cried out, clenched and panted as the climax rushed through your body and set every nerve within it on fire. Your nails dug into his skin, you walls clenching around his slowing dick and with shuddering breaths you moaned out the orgasm, could feel its aftershocks ripple through you each time the Master thrust himself deeper. He was still slowing, still aware of your oversensitive state, but unable to stop himself, and you encouraged his action by rocking against him, another aftershock making you shiver when you felt him hit you deep inside.

It felt just too good, you wanted him to snap, started to speed up your own rhythm until he dug his fingers into your sites and almost stilled, suddenly capturing your lips, but only to make you swallow his groans while he pulsated and spilled himself inside of you.

The sound of wind and waves returned to your ears as the Master released your lips. Breath still calming, heart still racing. The Master pulled out of you, turned and hopped onto the stone next to you.

The scenery changed, but only slightly. Suddenly you lay next to each other on dry ground, flat stones, heated by the sun, your feet splashed by nearby waves once in a while. Both of you wore clothes again, light summer trunks and shirts.

You sighed content, still feeling your body calming.

"Okay,that felt real," you muttered with a smile. "I wonder what happened to our bodies."

"Sleeping." The Master answered.

"No shit." You laughed and slapped his arm playfully. "I mean, uh… you know."

He chuckled and looked at you, head resting on folded arms. "You might wake up a bit aroused," he teased. "But that's it. Nothing new while being around me."

A wink was cast in your direction, made you laugh. "Don't get high on it. When we wake up, first thing I'll do is slap you for being such a prick before."

His face darkened in an instant, eyes darting away almost as if… he felt guilty? Probably not.

"Is it quiet now?" you asked softly and his gaze returned.

"It never is. Not fully." He smiled and the expression was warm. "But it's so much more bearable with you around."

"I'll still slap you." You poked the tongue out. "And maybe laugh at you for having a morning boner."

The Master grinned and turned around to lay his head right next to your ear. "Dangerous idea."

"Oh?" You turned too, facing him. "Why would that be?"

Instead of an answer he snaked an arm around you and pulled you flush against him. Definitely no need to wake up, here, you realized. The wolfish grin on his face also didn't help. Neither did, that he grabbed you with both hands to turn you both and in a way that you ended up sitting on him.

Alright. You grinned back. No waking up yet, then.

#the master x reader #doctor who fanfic #fanfiction #smut #doctor who #the master #reader insert

104 notes · View notes

raendown · 3 years

Link

Just crawling out of my hole real quick to say that no one else used that stupid prompt generator they apparently wanted for @madatobiweek so I did it myself. The one I pulled was “blood”.

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2500 Rated: T+ Summary: If he thought really hard about it Madara still wasn’t sure if he would be able to remember what it felt like to live.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

And All That I Loved, I Loved Alone

If he thought really hard about it Madara still wasn’t sure if he would be able to remember what it felt like to live. The freedom to run, the touch of grass under his feet, the taste of anything that wasn’t plain gruel with its minimum basic nutrients, it was strange how easily the memories faded. Then again, he couldn’t even remember how long he’d been here so who was he to say how quickly memories of his previous life should fade? All he knew and all he cared about was that Tobirama had been gone for three winters now.

This would mark the fourth when it came. Standing in line to receive his morning bowl of slop, Madara cast his eyes to what little sky he was allowed to glimpse and tried to remember the color of the eyes that used to watch him in the night. Red, of course, but what shade? What forgotten fruits and gems had he compared them to when they danced in the glow of torchlight? The air was growing cold again, frost gathering on the manacles that held him in place to sleep at night, and already Madara couldn’t recall the feeling of warm fingers pulling him close. Precious memories and they too were fading. Like so many of the others here liked to say, there wasn’t anything this place would not take from you. Some of the men who’d been worked until their fingers were little more than bone had even forgotten their own names. Madara once vowed to never let himself fall in to that state but without Tobirama everything here was so much harder and after waiting for so long he’d begun to wonder if maybe it hadn’t all been a fantastical dream.

Had he imagined the soft touches, the hoarsely whispered promises? To ask would be to risk knowing.

Several spaces ahead in line, a woman fell, body sagging and crumbling to the side. Her bowl clattered as it rolled away across the rocky ground. Madara stepped around her with everyone else as the line continued onwards, implacable, undeniable. Eventually someone would come to take the body away; he could only hope they got around to it before she bloated and filled the whole area with the stench of rot. Their unwashed bodies were stench enough - or so he’d been told by the latest additions to his work team. Madara couldn’t remember what the world smelled like away from unwashed bodies and the scent of burning metal.

They were building something, that much he knew, but asking questions generally resulted in losing blood and if there was one thing Madara had kept of himself it was that he was a very fast learner. He watched and he learned to keep his mouth shut. He observed and he learned that the guards were unkind to those who met their eyes. He listened and he learned that there really was no way out of this place.

Maybe he’d imagined it after all. No one had ever escaped this prison, that’s what everyone said. And if no one ever escaped then either his dying mind had crafted the illusion of Tobirama to keep him sane or the man had indeed once been real only to die in making his attempt at the impossible. Madara closed his eyes, shuffling along with the slowly moving line. He supposed it didn’t matter what the truth was. Whatever the case, Tobirama was not here and Madara felt the lack of him in every cell of his body. The few memories of imagining that were left to him were precious, hoarded like secrets to be remembered in the night and soothe him to sleep, dreaming of places his waking mind could never conceive of. Giving up on those little bits of himself were all that kept him from becoming like the wraiths that gibbered in their cells at night and cackled as their bloody hands worked the mines day after day, rattling the air around them with insanity like a siren calls a sailor to their doom. No, Madara was hopeless but he was not quite ready to give in to that.

Eventually. Some day. He knew his fate just as everyone here learned at some point. If they didn’t die from the lack of sun where their prison was sunk just below the earth’s surface then the exhaustion of their daily labors would do it. Madara couldn’t say what they were building, that wasn’t for someone like him to question, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. They could be constructing absolutely nothing just for the sake of punishment and it would all be the same to them, collapsing at the end of every day covered in sweat and dirt and their own filth. Endless cycles that began the day they arrived and ended long after forgetting that they had not always been here. Madara himself struggled to so much as envision a world outside of this place, let alone recall who he might have been, all the places he might have seen. Was Madara even his true name? Only the past would ever know.

Shouting from one of the farther encampments rose suddenly and Madara ducked his head low in time with everyone else. Any show of interest in whatever was causing such a commotion would be taken as a desire to get involved, something that would no doubt lead to punishment. Everything led to punishment here. It took breaking and reforging in to a shell of shattered pieces to go even one full day without punishment and that was only if you didn’t count their daily labors as a punishment unto itself. The entire line of prisoners before and after him bowed their heads, eyes on their own filthy toes, watching the cold dust rise as they shuffled along in search of food.

When the noise drew closer Madara wasn’t the only one to squeeze his eyes shut as though hoping he could disappear in to the shadows until whatever nonsense was happening had passed over them. The line moved and he moved with it. Foreign sounds echoed off the rough hewn walls around them but the only thoughts in his mind were reserved for prayers that Cell Block Fourteen would not be denied their morning meal for someone else’s stupidity.

A flash of light made him flinch away on instinct. Long burns scars on his back had taught him years before to be wary of anyone bearing torchlight. Then it flashed again and he realized it wasn’t dancing the way a flame should. The anomaly was enough to light a spark of curiosity in him that should not still have the energy to live, canting his head in time to watch something rise and fall, catching the light as it did, something long and shining. Not creating light but reflecting it. Madara watched it rise again and the curiosity was there, if dull, to wonder at the dark substance that sprayed from its tip. Strange, he could have sworn there was nothing to dull that shine the first time it raised. The prisoner in front of him stepped forward and Madara drew his eyes away. Not his business. He knew better than to look, he scolded himself.

Tobirama would have looked.

It was this thought that left him open and vulnerable to a scream that shook him down to his core, different from the others because this one was close enough to reverberate through his skull, real in a way he couldn’t escape when he looked round a second time just fast enough to watch a long blade slide through flesh and bone to come out stained on the other side, cold steel parting the crest of the guards’ uniform. He wasn’t the only one who looked. Suddenly the screaming was all around him as the line scattered and Madara was just slow enough to get knocked to the ground, nearly trampled in the stampede of terrified prisoners.

Somehow it was even more frightening from here where the constant thunder of flight knocked him back again and again, unable to regain his feet and unwilling to let his head be crushed. Madara rolled back and forth, dodging the flying limbs as best he could, and counted the new bruises on his legs out of sheer habit. At least these came without the price of blood. He’d had worse. Still, he was glad when there finally came a break in the rush, just enough space for him to roll his feet underneath him and stand. He stood to see a new world descending on the one that had subsumed him more years ago than he knew how to count.

Flashes of steel drew the eyes in too many directions at once. Blood sprayed through the air, stained the dirt and the walls and the heavy armor that marched inexorably forward. Prison guards lay dead and dying in broken heaps. One of them had been pinned to a wall by a long polearm weapon and Madara was morbidly fascinated to see the body thrashing against its own will. Good, he thought distantly, now they will know the pain we felt at their hands.

And then. Oh and then.

There he was.

Limned in golden torchlight with a face as implacable as the tides themselves he came, sword in hand, steel in his eyes. Madara knew those eyes. Had looked for them when his world was darkest and dreamed of them when all hope had left him. Had clung to the memories even as they warped and faded. Oh but he knew those eyes and the voice that roared beneath them. Three years apart had put muscle and flesh upon his bones, filled out the body now cased in metal, but Madara would have known him by the corner of an elbow glanced around a corner.

Tobirama had come. Promises whispered in the dark made real.

For all the chaos around him and the occasional body that tossed him from side to side Madara could do nothing but stand utterly still and watch as Tobirama cut a path through the bodies in front of him like they were nothing but chaff and shadows, white skin stained as red as his eyes and entirely unbothered by the death he wrought. The sword he carried rose and fell, swooped and slashed, death in the form of a dance, and Madara could not imagine that anything more beautiful could exist in any world. If there were a god then surely they had chosen this man as their avatar on earth, the instrument of their will. In every direction prisoners panicked and guards called out the alarm but in those moments as he watched the rebirth of his own dreams Madara knew safety for the very first time.

He realized that he might by his very refusal to move stand out from the writhing chaos around them only when he felt a hand close around his throat and a fire he hadn’t known was still there inside him flickered to life. Embers long buried coughing away the dust of imprisonment, both hands coming up to pull at the fingers choking him in a protest he would not have had the strength for only an hour before. Now was different. Now when his eyes fell closed against the fading air in his lungs he knew there was something to fight for, scrabbling and kicking with withered limbs, gnashing teeth when a second hand came around to cover his mouth. The taste of blood was a triumph he hadn’t known in so long he nearly stopped moving just to savor it.

As the world turned hazy it occurred to him that this might be the end and the thought was not a terrible one despite his instincts to fight. The awakening desire to live. So long he had spent in the darkness, so much time alone and uncertain, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that an end like this would be anything but a victory. Did he not have vindication? Proof that Tobirama was real, alive, that everything they shared had been as true as he remembered in the dreams that gave him warmth through the frosted nights? At least he would die with a kernal of happiness fluttering in his belly like something forbidden. One last grand rebellion to the ones that had made him so miserable for who even knew how many years.

Oxygen rushed back down his throat so fast he nearly choked on that as well when the hands upon him fell away. Madara coughed through the taste of dust and blood, stumbling back until his eyes could focus again and then struggling to clear his mind, to understand what he was seeing. Shining silver and dripping red. Fear and shock and some instinctual plea for mercy all twisted together in an ugly grimace as the guard who dared to touch him spent his death throes on the point of a steady blade. When the body fell it was gone from his mind as easily as that. What could ever possibly hope to hold his attention with a face like that staring back at him with such adoration?

“You came,” Madara croaked, voice hoarse with disuse and thick with emotion.

“Did I not promise?” Ah but Tobirama’s voice had always been a honeyed rumble, a caress upon the ear like nothing else. Time and distance had only made his tones all the sweeter.

His fingers were gentle, even encased in steel as they were, but even if he had been rough and unthinking Madara would have fallen in to his arms just as easily. Because he had indeed promised and he was here now keeping that vow. Keeping the dreams they had spun together alive, weaving new possibilities with nothing but his steady and undeniable presence.

Trust was not something easily come by in this place where only pain existed. It had been three long years since Madara knew what trust could feel like, the taste of absolute certainty that he could rely on anything but his own efforts. He knew it again now, after three long and endless years, resting his weight fully against Tobirama’s chest and closing his eyes. Chaos strained and flowed around them. Death rang out in echoes that flickered back against themselves over and over and over. Madara knew none of it. His world had been darkness, despair, and desperation, had been struggle, sorrow, and strife, and all of it had been worth it now to feel the arms that circled his waist and pulled him in close, the hand that cradled his neck like something so very, very precious. Tobirama had come. Whatever came after they would face it together again as they had before and that was all Madara could ever - would ever - need.

In the darkness where once he expected to die Madara learned again what it was to live.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #medeival au #sort of??#fanfiction

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mortiz888-blog · 6 months

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Dethatching A Lawn: A “Deep Clean” For Your Green. #SaveYourGreen

Intro: Keeping a green, perfect lawn that causes neighbor envy, can become a daunting task to many homeowners. From mowing to aeration, the list is long, and the costs can add up to some real pocket pain. However, one of the least known about, and lowest cost, lawn tasks that can make a real difference has long been Dethatching a lawn. Dethatching is a very long-practiced lawn care technique, and produces very reliable results. So, let’s take a quick dive into the basics of dethatching, how often you should do it, and why you shouldn’t overdo it either. Related Reading What is “Dethatching” a Lawn Anyways? Dethatching a lawn is the process of removing a layer of dead and living material that builds up in between grass crowns and the ground. This layer of “thatch” blocks sunlight, harbors disease and organisms, and prevents the proper absorption of water and nutrients into your lawn’s soil. Removing this layer regularly, usually during Spring, allows your lawn's organic layer, known as the “Humus”, to be better exposed to sunlight, water, nutrients, and seed. Traditionally, dethatching was achieved with very extensive scouring of the turf with a metal rake. Newer options include lawn mower attachments that use the inertia of your gas-powered machine to achieve the same results as manual raking. Many lawn care professionals have tools that mechanically spin blades, or “teeth”, into the soil to very effectively pull up even the deepest, thickest layers of thatch. Any option will most likely include the process of cleaning up the debris removed from the ground and disposal away from the lawn. How Often Should You Dethatch Your Lawn. What is dethatching for a lawn? Lawn Dethatching companies near me. As mentioned before, allow thatch to remain in your lawn harbors pests and diseases, and also blocks sunlight and nutrients. It is important to expand on this to really understand how your lawn really benefits to decide how often to do it. Pests: Insects, such as Sod Webworm and chinch bugs, use the cool, dark layer of thatch to rest and breed during the hotter months. These pests feed on the crowns and blades of your grass. This causes Yellow, wilting spots on lawns. Disease: all fungus thrives in dark wet conditions. If water is allowed to “stand”, or pool, in areas of thatch, this allows Fungal diseases to thrive. Fungus on lawns manifests in all sorts of colors and shapes, but most are very damaging to your lawn’s health. Sunlight: This one probably goes without saying much. A thick layer of thatch blocks sunlight to the soil, grass root, and beneficial organic matter. Without sunlight, grass has roots have difficulty participating in the process of photosynthesis. Nutrients: The process of getting nutrients to your soil, and grass roots, includes various forms of absorption and adsorption. Both of the processes are mechanically prevented from happening when blocked by thatch. Even spreading or spraying fertilizer and other supplements will prove ineffective in this scenario. So the big question still stands: “How Often Should I Dethatch My Lawn?”. In order to know how often to perform lawn dethatching, you must assess all the preceding factors regularly. Along with checking for visible thatch buildup, you want to make sure water is not pooling, fungus is not forming, and insect damage is not present (especiall7 during the hotter months). As long as these things are kept to a minimum, most lawn care professionals recommend dethatching once a season in Spring, before your first mowing. Many homeowners and pros may perform a second dethatching in Fall, usually after the final leaf cleanup. https://youtu.be/CBvHBlFp1-s?si=sT-gi_MR6m4RD2xN Why You Shouldn’t “Overdo” It When Dethatching A Lawn. As with anything in life, being too “extra” when dethatching a lawn can prove to be detrimental. The reason why can be analogous to brushing your teeth too hard. At some point you are just removing the protective enamel and doing more harm than good. With lawn dethatching, going too deep with your chosen tool, or not observing caution with the “pulling” up process, can rip your grass out by the roots and damage your soil. In this case you would be approaching legitimate roto-tilling rather than dethatching. Conclusion Dethatching your lawn can be one of the least costly, and most beneficial lawn care tasks you can take as a homeowner. While professional tools and techniques are worth the extra investment, it is well within your ability to DIY lawn dethatching. Remember that leaving thatch in your lawn harbors pests and diseases. You should think about dethatching in Spring, and possibly again in Fall, if your lawn needs it. So remember, dethatching your lawn is like a “deep clean” for your turf. Related Posts Author Bio Michael Ortiz [email protected] (860) 213-4569 GreenTeamSave.com Mike Ortiz is a licensed Pesticide Supervisor in the State of Connecticut. Mike has 22 years in the Landscape and Lawncare industries. He has owned and operated his own Lawn Care Chemical company, Green Team Lawn Care, for 12 years now. Mike has written expert articles for his own blog for over 6 years now. Read the full article

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patchies · 4 years

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Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not... Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1+k

Author’s Note: Basically, all this chapter contains is scavenging and conversations. I hope you’ll enjoy!

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 2: Introduction

After you had deemed leaking your information safe, the both of you spoke most of the night away in whispers. With the exception when a rustle was heard from the outside, worried it's another creature ready to attack. That is until you deemed it important to catch wink of sleep.

You're the first to wake up to Nick loudly snoring. One glance at the window lets you know the sun is brightly shining. The rays softly hit your face and you watch as the small particles dance in the gleams of light. There are no curtains in this particular room, proving it to be quite early. Eight in the morning seems to be an adequate time to wake up by your guess.

You look over his resting body and whack Nick in the head, which prompts him to wake up with a jolt. Frantically looking around for the source of his pain until his eyes connect with yours with burning annoyance, “Are you insane?!”

His exclamation is loud. Very loudly in fact, and that prompts you to slap a hand against his mouth to quiet his yells, “Are you insane? We don't know if the creature is still out there or if there are more of them! Have you seen what it looks like and what it can do?”

The whisper is firm and harsh, sure of the fact he hasn't seen it. The image from the night before makes you shiver. It's sinking sharp teeth showing up, which makes you shake your head to get rid of the image. A dead Shadow is certainly not on your to-do list, but you have an inkling it'll eventually come to that if you like it or not. An inevitable decision will have to be made for your survival in this place.

He apologetically looks into my eyes and his puppy eyes cause my hand to lower… Not before delivering a sharp punch to his arm. Nick whines out and clutches his injured arm.

“I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking and to be truthful, you made me yell at you,” he shakes his head at me with a mocking smile. Your face showcases an unidentifiable emotion and that makes Nick nervous.

“I can make you yell more,” you start tauntingly, “after I serve you as a main meal to that Shadow.”

“Stop! Why would you make your friend a meal for the– “he thinks back to what you referred to it as,”– Shadow?”

“Yes, I think it suits the appearance of whatever it is,” you reply back with a slight laugh, “And to answer your question. I'm pretty sure your annoying ass would taste delicious for the creature.”

Your mood has started to increase little by little after having someone at your side who's fighting for the same as you. Hope was lit up in you at the thought of an ally after you had talked through the abyss yesterday. Engrossed in getting to know each other and making your goals clear before you get into any alliance with someone.

Nick just laughs along with you, slapping his knee as if you told a great joke. Yet you didn't. At least it doesn't look that way to you. Sure, you laughed, but it's not that funny, come on…

“So, you think my ass tastes delicious?” He suggestively wiggles his eyebrows.

“Oh,” you devilishly smirk at him, “I'm sure it does, but not to humans.”

• • •

After both of your morning routines that consist barely of any proper hygienic setting, you both deem it important to stretch and even decide to venture outside. You've both settled on finding a new base and spoke about it during the night. Possibly a sturdier and a stronger house that can be easily fortified. First, you'll have to find something like that and then go scavenging for some planks, nails, and food, though. That is if there aren't planks and nails in the newfound house already.

Later, you find yourself wandering around the neighbourhood. You haven't stumbled across any Shadows, yet, which you are extremely thankful for. It seems they just vanish during the day and reappear during the night. It's just a theory of yours, though. Nick was against the idea at first, but after being out for more than an hour, he begrudgingly agreed with you. Finding it useless to argue with you anymore on who's theory is the right one.

You wander around the neighbourhood while chatting about some stupid things.

“Do you think that house would be good?” You point towards a two-story house that looks to be enough for plenty of people. There's still a sign stating, ‘For Sale’.

“Abandoned and looking good?” He happily questions, “Hell yes, we're taking this!”

“Well– you technically cannot take a house just out of blue or at all,” you sigh.

“Shut up! Are you objecting? It's not like we know if there are any other people except for us. We could be stranded here alone,” he states sadly.

The sad look on his face only lasts a couple seconds before he breaks into a big grin and takes you by the hand. Tugging on your joined hands and almost sending you tumbling to the ground face first if it weren't for you catching your stability in time. You're seriously surprised by his strength when he's happy for something. You just shake your head at that and start to follow him willingly. Though, you're still on high alert for any possible dangers. Nick doesn't show any reluctance to going straight to the house, so at least one person must stay on guard.

As your feet carry you across the chalky pavement with ease you wonder what happened to this world. The buildings don't look to be in the best shape and the streets are presumably swarmed with Shadows at night. Some lampposts look to be broken and rusty, flowers envelop them in a conspicuous design and lie on the ground, while the rest don't even seem to be working anymore. At least not on this avenue. The grass and flowers overgrow the buildings and concrete. Nature visibly winning against human inventions. Houses are sprayed with different slogans that you presume were left behind by people that are long deceased. The most appealing and provoking to you is, ‘Blood for the Blood God’ and ‘We have some unfinished business, green boy. I hope you're ready’.

Who left them here and what do they exactly mean? There are a few ideas of their meaning swarming your head, but you know better than anything to presume certain things. Some are better to not be answered at all either way. Are the people who made them still alive or long gone? Do they turn into Shadows? What are Shadows even made of and how can you kill them? Can you kill them?

I unfortunately can't answer you, Reader. You'll understand later. Or will you be left with no clue up until the end?

You're already through the doorway when your thoughts fade to dust. Nick has decided to wander off on his own and search the house for any possible materials or food and water, so you set to do the same. It honestly isn't as huge as you thought it would be. Nevertheless, there's still enough for the both of you.

You roam the lower floor while Nick makes sure to scavenge the upper. Therefore, you scout the living room first. There, you can see ruined wine cabinets, a completely scratched sofa, a dismantled bookshelf, shattered vases, broken chairs, and side tables. The mess is accompanied by pieces of glass and clay. You thank the stars for wearing shoes. Your feet would've been pierced by so many sharp shards if it weren't for them and you don't think you'd even have enough medical supplies to assist your wounds. Not like you'd voluntarily step on them, but having this cluster of broken glass right here can prove disadvantageous in the future.

The planks from the wine cabinets and bookshelf can be used for boarding up the windows. Thankfully, those look to be still intact. You can't use the sofa for sleeping, therefore the only usage is barricading the door. If you can even move it all the way to the front door. The chairs' legs can serve as temporary weapon parts along with the glass if you're successful in finding tape. If not, attaching some nails to them with a plank should suffice.

After you make sure you've searched everything, every nook and cranny of the living room, you walk to the kitchen to find a relatively clean place. From the looks of it, you're pretty sure the stove isn't working. The cabinets hanging off of the wall contain some stale chips and chocolate and that fact presses you to leave it as a last resort. You move onto the lower cabinets, only to come face to face with no food, but they hold some remains of tape and scissors. Nothing edible or drinkable. You then try turning the faucet on, but no water comes out. A disappointed sigh leaves you and you move onto checking the last place: the bathroom.

Upon closer inspection, you're able to deduce there's just bunch of pills way past the expiration date and you can't even tell what type of pills they are since the packaging and label is gone. The toilet and shower are meaningless. Well– not completely. You can still use the toilet to satisfy your needs. It doesn't sound appealing, but it'll have to do if anything.

“What have you found?”

That question causes you to slam your head against the cabinet under the sink you've been rummaging through and you have to take a second to recollect your thoughts and rub the pain away. You send Nick a glare, to which he just replies with a wink. Closing the doors, you stand up and adjust your clothes.

“I've found some planks, chair legs, nails, glass and clay. The sofa is unfortunately fruitless for sleeping, but we can still use it for barricading the front door. I can explain the usages of the former to you later,” you both exit the bathroom, but you continue with your dialogue, “I also spotted some pills, which are out of expiration, so I would be against swallowing any of them. They might not hurt you, but they might as well be like swallowing a pill with no effect. There's some chips and chocolate. Both stale, so our last resort. Water doesn't work either. What have you found up there?”

“I haven't found much,” he scratches his head, eyeing the brown satchel hanging at his side. You throw him a suspicious look about the accessory hanging at his hip, but don't mention it in hopes he'll enclose more information regarding it.

“I gave you a full report of what we have in inventory and you give me just one sentence that contains no information whatsoever?” you shake your head in disbelief, turning the corner and stopping in the middle of the kitchen.

“No! I was getting ready to tell you everything,” Nick argues with you, but you won't let him slip so easily. A teasing gleam shining in your eyes that he doesn't like in the slightest.

“Oh, yeah? I hear no words coming from your mouth, except for bullshit.”

“Let me speak, for fuck's sake,” he grumbles, which you just reply with a wave of your hand, “We have a pretty soft bed up there that has enough space for the both of us, but if you're not comfortable being in one bed I can always take the floor. Courtesy and all that crap, but I wouldn't be against sharing the bed with you. Anyways, there are plenty of planks from demolished furniture, small number of nails and a hammer. I also found some arrows, but there is no bow, so we can just use them for stabbing people's eyeballs.”

You hop up onto the kitchen island, kicking your feet in boredom. Quietly apologising when you kick his thigh by accident from the proximity, “And you told me you haven't found much… Anything else worth mentioning?”

“No. There isn't anything important on the second floor that I'm aware of. Save for the stuff I already told you about.”

“If I discover something valuable, I'll use those arrows to stab your eyeballs. Mark my words, mister.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes me, and you reach over to flick him in the forehead.

“So, can we agree on using this house as our safe place and base?”

“For sure,” he rolls his eyes at the seemingly stupid question. “Do we have any other choice?”

Though, what you aren't aware of, there's a hooded figure spying on your progress and conversation from across your building. A crossbow on their back, loaded with a poisoned arrow. They hold an uncertain smile, wonder and worry flashing through their eyes at the same time. Though, their expression turns stoic afterwards, quietly slipping further into the dark night.

#technoblade #dream #sapnap #apocalypse au #reader insert #mcyt x reader #mcyt #techno #dream team #dream x reader #dreamwastaken #l'manburg #shadows #??? x reader

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chipsfics · 4 years

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Part 1 - Introduction/Invitation

Part one of my currently-unnamed Inanimate Insanity fanfiction :)! Feat. Tissues and Yinyang. Some shipping but not a whole lot ;)

Rated: PG (A few heavy themes)

Hope you enjoy and much more to come !! :D

~~~~

Unlike Tissues, Yinyang knew he was going to be eliminated. Yin did, at least. He figured after a certain amount of time, the viewers just saw him as... Annoying. He had used up his entertainment value- Inanimate Insanity had packaged and squeezed dry his "quirks" of any and all comedy until they were just problems again. He was sure his other half knew elimination was at least a possibility- He was probably too preoccupied with his own thoughts, which sometimes blended together with Yin's. A lot of... "Everyone here hates me," and "I hate everyone here." Seemed like the situation was stressing them both out.

Weeks later, After they were all freed from the closet, Yinyang watched the episode where he was eliminated. Yinyang cried, not because he lost, but something kind of got tangled in his brain watching the way he acted. He was grinding his teeth watching the playback, Yang holding back tears and Yin letting them flow freely. If only, if only, if only. Needless to say, he didn't really remember a lot about what happened cooped up in that tiny closet. He mostly hid in the corner and tried not to grind his teeth down to his gums. Tissues, on the other hand, barely knew what was going on. One place to another, off a plane, rushing from iceberg to dodgeball court, grass field to bleachers- Next thing he knew he sneezed himself through a portal and ended up cooped up in a closet. Once the dizzy feeling cleared and he ended up face down, alone, in an empty closet with a locked door- One thing was abundantly clear: He lost. As usual. When another contestant stepped through the portal, the relief he felt was overwhelming- and as the closet filled up with eliminated contestants, the sense of relief he felt was replaced by self loathing and shame- Everyone else pretty much all hated him. As usual.

When they finally got a breath of fresh air, space to move around, personal rooms and even a breakfast juice bar- After everyone who came in contact with him was thoroughly sprayed down by Soap, nobody hated him anymore. They just didn't talk to him. Although, when he walked in the hallway, Soap would follow a safe distance behind him and clean where he last stepped with disinfectant. That didn't really help his self-esteem.

One quiet afternoon, everyone was still trying to settle into their new (but much nicer) living situations, Tissues got paired with the roommate who hated him the most. One Trophy horseplay, who was the one who stomped his face in more than a couple times while stuck in the closet. Of course, due to the technological advancements of melife, Mephone brought him back immediately after he got the death notification- bzz-ding, Tissues died again, to Trophy's frustration. Living with Trophy, he tried to keep all of his stuff in one corner- And he was kind of being shoved over by Trophy's ever-growing collection of sports equipment. Apparently he had nowhere to put it except for cluttering up their shared bedroom. He didn't have much things anyway- and he spent most of his time in the front game room. Tissues, Yinyang, and a few wanderers in and out every day in that same room, that same dinky game system, the same 4 outdated platforming games. He didn't remember the names of those old things, and he wasn't great at them anyway- It'd surprise you, but he didn't have the best hand-eye-coordination.

Yinyang was also bad at them. He'd argue and curse and throw the controller and tug at the wires, Tissues would follow slowly behind him in co-op play. It was fun to play with someone who had the same skill level as he did, and it seemed like Yinyang had mellowed out a little from his appearance on the show- Having a bit more freedom and alone time seemed to make Yang calm down and Yin become cheerier and more friendly. If Tissues could say one Inanimate Insanity contestant was his friend- It was Yinyang. They had something big and terrifying in common- They were both freaks. The unlovable tend to find a way to love each other.

~~~~

Yaaaawn. Tissues stretched and looked at the clock- 11:30, about 3 hours earlier than when he usually woke up. He wiped the drool off his face, got up and feverishly brushed his teeth. He realized the breakfast bar was still open for another 30 minutes- More like 25 now that he'd dragged himself out of bed. OJ wasn't the world's most attentive hotel owner, but the breakfast bar seemed like something he was passionate about. There were rumors that he refilled the cereal dispensers by himself and doesn't let anyone else do it. Soap always threw a fit when someone else did the chores for her, although she seemed to have a quiet respect for OJ's breakfast bar. Tissues took the elevator down- He didn't trust himself to go down the stairs because of his vertigo. Lo and behold, someone else bumped into his hand reaching for the down arrow. It was Yinyang!

"O-oh, go ahead, you first," Tissues said bashfully.

"No, you first!" Yin chirped. "I assume we're both going down?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna try and catch the last wave of breakfast, guyse. I'm not usually up this... SNIFF. Early," Tissues said, and jammed his finger into the down button, which started to glow a faint yellow.

"Wait, is the free breakfast thing still open?" Yinyang said, "The one where you can make waffles with the little do-it-yourself waffle iron?"

"Is that what that is? I thought it was just a weird smoothie dispenser. I thought the stuff that came out of it tasted like waffle batter," He sniffed.

Yinyang laughed. Tissues would have been peeved, but it didn't seem like Yinyang was laughing AT him. That, or just the fact that his laugh was crisp and clear as a ringing bell. Tissues didn't think he heard him genuinely laugh a whole ton of times. It was nice.

As they waited for the elevator to come up, Tissues noticed one of Yinyang's eyes blinking and drooping. Yang's side seemed to be sleepier than Yin's- His body lagging to one side until he had to jerk back into a standing position. Was it possible for one half to fall asleep and the other half to stay awake? DING. Tissues' train of thoughts was interrupted by the elevator door sliding open. They stepped in, and for the entire ride down Tissues fought as hard as he could not to sneeze- In a closed place like an elevator, that could be very annoying. More annoying than usual. The elevator ride was mostly silent and awkward- It seemed that Yang almost tried to fight on what button to press, but he was too tired and hungry to cause any trouble this early. It was a Saturday after all, the slowest days in the hotel, and once they made it downstairs to the breakfast bar, there didn't seem to be many contestants looking for something to eat so late. Tissues grabbed a paper plate and put a blueberry muffin on it, and got a small paper cup of orange juice. He noticed Yin and Yang were having some sort of quiet argument about what to get for a drink. Tissues couldn't help but overhear-

"Coffee." Yang spoke in a harsh whisper. "Not today, Water." Yin replied. "Coffee." "Juice, then." "Ok, Fine." "Apple juice." "I want orange." "Not today. Apple Juice feels more..." "Pure?" "Yeah." "Bull." "Let's just get our food, I'm too tired to argue." "..." "..." "Me too."

Tissues seemed distracted, until Yinyang moved down the line and bumped him further down. He looked away, face flushed, and moved to the couch, flicking on the TV- He felt like he had just intruded on Yinyang's privacy, but Yinyang didn't seem to care. He'd grabbed apple juice and a pastry of some kind, filled with cream cheese. Yinyang and Tissues ate together, Tissues sitting on the carpet and Yinyang on the couch close by, both staring at the gameshow program that was playing on TV- something that aired often, it was starting to get old. That and the fact that the episodes are hard to tell apart. Same host every time, same backdrop, same formula. Because of this, Tissues' mind couldn't help but wander, and so did his eyes. Yinyang was focused intently on the tv, one hand, Yin's, tapping the sides of the paper cup and the other, Yang's, lifting the pastry to his mouth and taking a bite. They seemed to have figured out a good way to eat without arguing.

"So," Tissues said, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" Yin said politely.

"Can i sit next to you guyse?" Tissues asked. Yinyang looked a bit puzzled.

"Sure. Why not?" Yinyang said, "Just try not to get any of your germs on me." Yang grumbled. Yin pinched his arm. "Don't be rude," Yang growled, but once Tissues got up and hopped up onto the couch cushion next to him, Yang seemed to have forgotten about it. Tissues was so short he had to put in a lot of effort to get onto the couch- It was almost comical. Because of that, he preferred to sit on the ground. People seemed to prefer him down there anyway. It was kind of nice, up there, though, and honestly the only thing he felt different was... More comfortable, and taller. It was nice. He hadn't even noticed the TV program changing from the game show to an ad break- some kind of infomercial on chairs.

"Sooo.... Do you want to go and check out the pool today? I've heard that there's like, complimentary towels. I haven't actually been there yet," Tissues said.

"Are you... asking us to hang out with you?" Yinyang said curiously.

"Well sure," Tissues smiled. "We're friends, right?"

"Umm..." Yinyang's face flushed a bright red. "Of course!" Yin chimed.

"Whatever." Yang added, clenching his jaw and slightly baring his sharp teeth.

"I just didn't wanna show up alone. Can you swim?" He asked. Yinyang looked away.

"Not really," He said, embarrassed. "It takes a lot of coordination, and Yin hates listening." Yang said aggresively. Yin glared at his other half.

"Ohhh thats cool. I can't either," Tissues replied. "I was just planning on sitting by the side. Maybe putting my feet in- Its just nice to have like... uhh. SNIFF. Change of scenery... I like the chlorine smell."

"Well that sounds nice!" Yinyang said. "But we need to go back to our room first, Right?" Yang sounded like he was directing the question less towards Tissues and more towards Yin.

"Oh. Well that's ok. I'm here all day," Tissues said, pulling his mouth into a goofy half-smile. Yinyang finished off his apple juice and got up, silently turned and smiled towards Tissues, and walked away. Tissues wondered what he was thinking about.

~~~~

#inanimate insanity #fanfiction #ii #ii2 #fanfic #yinyang #tissues #tissyang #tissuyang #yissues

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clumsyclifford · 4 years

Text

dearly depressed and brokenhearted (i’d like to let you know that boys cry too)

it’s been a hot sec since i’ve properly posted a fic on tumblr but whatever i have the time and this one isn’t too long

anyway shoutout to @httpsgfg for the idea for the so much therapy playlist, which i somehow got through the entire three and a half hours of whilst writing/posting this. also shoutout to @rotten-candie for helping me pick a title & summary

to be perfectly clear: this is a gen fic. it is centered on a friendship. i’m not in charge of you and if you’re so inclined to read it as pre-slash then i can’t stop you, but if it’s all the same to you, it’s a friendship fic to me

tw i guess for angst, possibly hints at depression, crying, etc there are better tags on ao3 if you need them

title from how do you feel? by the maine

read here on ao3

It’s Saturday, or maybe Monday. Luke has stopped keeping track.

Rain is coming down, slowly but surely. Going outside is sure to end in getting soaked to the bone, probably shivering. Especially if Luke doesn’t bring a jacket.

He goes anyway.

The chill in the air wraps around him like clingfilm, settling under his skin. For a moment outside it would be bearable, but Luke plans to be outside a bit longer than that. He’s going to be cold. He is probably going to lose feeling in his fingers. It would be best to go back inside. Grab some gloves. Maybe a warm coat. Drizzling rain follows the wind and sprays in his face. Luke takes the front steps, one, two, onto the damp grass, which gives under his footsteps. Another. Another. Water soaks through the front of his shoes; his socks are going to get wet and soon he’ll lose feeling in his toes as well.

He’s not trying to go numb or anything. Maybe he’s a bit of a masochist, but who isn’t? It’s not like the cold is going to give him permanent damage. He’ll go back inside when he can’t handle it anymore, but he has time before he reaches his threshold. Outside is the only place Luke can possibly fathom being right now. Everywhere else is wrong. Too bright or too loud or somehow otherwise just wrong.

Here, in the elements, his hoodie barely protects his face from the biting wind. Sleeves over his hands only do so much, even if he curls the ends of them into his palms. Jeans are not the right trousers to wear when it’s below freezing. The rain is only making it all worse.

Luke keeps walking.

He keeps his head down, watching his feet as they carry him forward, one in front of the other with no clear destination except away. Away will eventually circle around and lead him home again — he’s not trying to permanently escape. Something about the rain feels like a reset button, and that might be exactly what Luke needs.

The thing is, this walk is supposed to be clearing Luke’s head, not weighing it down. Not weighing him down. Nothing is really wrong. If Luke tries to parse through his day, or the last couple of hours, he could probably single out a couple of things that might be to blame — calling home always makes him a little more fragile; call ended digs into his chest every time in a way that feels tragically, unjustifiably final — but he’s tired of having a reason for feeling heavy. Sometimes life is just hard. That’s the issue with the question what’s wrong, Luke thinks, blinking at the lights reflecting off the glistening road. Often, nothing is wrong. Does something have to be wrong for me to feel bad? he wants to say, except nobody has even asked him, and this entire conversation is happening inside his head.

Even in his head he’s creating problems where there aren’t any. Awesome.

A chill has taken up permanent residence in Luke’s body. He curls inward, trying to pretend like the wind isn’t blowing around him, like the rain isn’t stinging his face and the exposed strip of his ankles that his jeans and socks don’t quite meet to cover. It’s starting to come down harder; Luke’s hoodie is sticking to his shoulders and back and he might as well be wearing nothing at all for all the protection it’s providing him from the cold. He knows that this is the wrong thing to wear in this weather, but that had kind of been the point. It feels right to be doing something wrong on purpose. It certainly feels better than doing it wrong by accident. Or by virtue of it being beyond his control.

He’d expected to be cold, and he is. A sick sort of comfort arises from having predicted that cause-and-effect.

Luke’s mental clock is rubbish, and though his phone is in his pocket he can’t take it out and check it or it’ll get wet, so he has no idea how long he’s been out when it rings. Buzzes. Luke sighs. He digs his phone out of his pocket, cradling it to his chest to keep it out of the rain, and answers the call. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Luke waits for Michael to say anything. Eventually: “Where are you?”

“Outside,” Luke says. He looks around. “About five minutes away.”

“Away? Where did you go?”

“I didn’t — I was just walking.”

“Oh.” Michael pauses, and Luke knows what he’s going to say before he says it. “In the rain?”

“Is it raining?”

“...Yes?”

“Then yes, in the rain.”

“Okay. Well. Um, are you going to be back soon?”

Luke sighs again. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Are you, uh…” There’s a moment of silence. Luke glances around himself, turning his back to the wind. The constant motion of his walk had been the only thing keeping him from becoming a glacier of a man, and now he’s lost that.

“Don’t worry about me, Mike,” Luke says. “I won’t be out too long. Promise.” He can’t, or he’ll get hypothermia or frostbite or something.

“Okay,” Michael says. Luke can tell he’s struggling not to ask if Luke is okay, and it makes Luke feel inexplicably affected. That Michael wants to ask, but knows Luke well enough to know that Luke won’t want him to.

“I’m okay,” he says as a compromise. It’s not really true, but it’s what he would have said if Michael had asked him anyway.

“Okay,” Michael says again, more quietly. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

There’s a long silence. Then Michael hangs up.

The hand holding Luke’s phone slowly lowers, shoving it back into his pocket. Luke stares down at the ground. He blinks back tears, but they come faster than he’s able to stop them. There’s no mistaking tears for rain, actually, not in this weather, because these tears are hot and salty when they slide down his cheeks and into the corners of his mouth. The incongruity of warm tears on his freezing cold face almost makes him laugh, except when he opens his mouth to laugh what comes out instead is an unsolicited sob.

Shit. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to cry. He really hadn’t wanted to cry. He’s not going to become a blubbering mess in the middle of the road at midnight. Being sad is acceptable when nothing’s wrong, but crying when nothing’s wrong is crossing a fucking line.

Why, why is it that hanging up the phone just stabs him in the heart? What the fuck is his problem?

One minute, he tells himself, crouching down because the smaller he is, the warmer he’ll be; one minute of crying and then you’re going to stop crying, because there’s nothing to cry about. One minute.

And for one minute he cries.

After one minute, he’s mostly out of tears anyway. Sniffling, he wipes under his eyes with his damp sleeve. That’s enough, he thinks firmly, sniffling again. Enough. It’s enough.

Before he stands up, he closes his eyes and takes a deep, deep breath. It doesn’t alleviate the weight on his chest, the weight of nothing being wrong, but blocking his vision allows him to tune into his other senses. It’s freezing cold and he shivers, listening to the rain softly hitting the pavement. This isn’t a panic attack, but Luke always finds it helpful to zero in on his senses. Quiet rain like static in his ears, the denim of his jeans creased behind his knees in his crouch, lingering salt on his tongue from the last of the tears, tight skin on his cheeks, his shaky inhales and exhales as he fights for a steady breathing pattern.

He’s okay.

Five minutes from home. Luke straightens up, hugging his arms around himself. His fingers and toes have all but frosted over by now. The world is awash in pale yellow and ashy grey, punctuated with almost-black in dark, unlit corners. On either side of him, familiar houses urge Luke onward, promising one more familiar than the rest if he just keeps walking.

So he does.

Five minutes feels very long, though Luke’s sense of time is, of course, warped beyond recognition, and for all he knows it’s ten minutes before he sees their house. Or two.

Luke stands at the curb before the walkway. It’s freezing cold. He should go inside and warm up. He should make a cup of tea. He should take a hot shower.

Through the window it’s bright, though, so bright, far too bright for the gloomy mood still clamping down on Luke’s shoulders. Even if he went through the living room and shut himself in his room with the lights off, it wouldn’t be the same. The mood is uninterrupted and he doesn’t want to break it with anything.

As Luke stands there, shivering and indecisive, the front door opens.

“Luke?”

“Hi,” Luke says again, like he did on the phone.

“It’s below freezing,” Michael says. “Are you coming in?”

“No.” He’s not. He can’t. Not yet, anyway. Maybe in five minutes. He can go five more minutes before frostbite becomes a real possibility.

“It’s cold, you’ll freeze,” says Michael.

“It’s not that cold.”

“And it’s raining. Cold and raining.”

“I’m not really cold,” Luke lies. “I’m okay. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

Michael stands on the stoop, watching him. From this distance it’s hard to see his expression, but Luke can pretty much guess it’s a mixture of disapproval and concern. Michael has perfected it.

“Be right back,” he finally says, then slips back inside, leaving the door slightly ajar, before Luke can tell him he really doesn’t need to come back. Luke waits, though he contemplates just leaving for another walk. He’s not a dick. Although if Michael returns with Ashton or Calum, Luke will probably be annoyed. He’s not a child and he doesn’t need mothering, which Ashton is sure to do, nor is he in the mood to be cheered up, so Calum won’t be any help either.

Michael returns. He’s wearing a jacket and a beanie and there’s a blanket from off their couch in his hands.

“Michael,” Luke says.

“Please,” Michael says. “I’m obviously not going to convince you to come inside, but I don’t want you to freeze.” He takes the steps, footsteps falling where Luke’s had, and comes close enough to Luke that when he offers up the blanket, Luke reaches out and takes it. “I know you don’t wear jackets,” Michael explains.

It feels like cheating. The masochistic walk should be all-or-nothing. But Luke can’t bring himself to refuse it. It’s not about the blanket, is the thing, really; it’s not about being warm. It’s about the gesture, about accepting the love and concern of a friend when Luke obviously needs it.

The blanket unfolds in his hands and he wraps it around himself. Some of the chill subsides. A new warmth blooms cautiously from within, starting in his sternum and spreading outward. It moves slowly and with difficulty, thawing the ice that’s formed inside Luke’s chest from all of his internal insistence that being cold had been the solution, but it doesn’t back down.

“Can I stay?” Michael asks. “You can say no.”

“Stay for what?” Luke glances around. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yeah, I know. I just. Thought you might want to do nothing but…with a friend.”

Luke considers saying no. Michael would shrug, eyebrows drawing together in more concern, probably. Okay, he would say. Come inside soon. He would probably shift on his feet, trying to determine whether or not it would be okay to hug Luke, and ultimately decide against it. The door would close behind him and Luke would have the big, empty, glacial outdoors to himself. That had been the goal, when he’d left. To be alone. To have all the room in the world, with the hopes that attempting to fill it would spread his sadness too thin to hold weight. Except that hadn’t really worked. He’d just grown dense, stodgy instead of risen. The rain must have iced his sadness in.

“Would you?” Luke says quietly, swallowing.

Michael nods. He does a very good job pretending like he hadn’t desperately wanted Luke to say yes, although Luke knows he had. “Are you still walking?”

“I think I was going to sit,” Luke says, glancing down at the curb. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind,” Michael says, and Luke really believes that. Luke takes a seat on the curb, even though the frozen rain seeps through his jeans, and Michael sits shoulder-to-shoulder beside him. They both stare out across the street.

After a moment, Michael speaks quietly out into the air. “What — uh — I don’t really know what question to ask. Or if I shouldn’t ask anything.”

“Just as long as you don’t ask what’s wrong,” Luke says wearily. “I’m sick of what’s wrong.”

“Fair enough,” Michael says. There’s a beat of silence. “What are we doing out here?”

“You’re keeping me company.”

“And you’re…?”

Luke shrugs, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. It’s still raining and even the blanket is going to be soaked through soon. Luke’s hands are inside his sleeves, which are inside the blanket, but they’re still numb. “Wallowing.”

He really is wallowing, the most self-indulgent kind of sadness. Hardest to let go of, easiest to drown in.

“Oh,” Michael says, a soft edge in his voice. “That makes sense.”

“It does?”

“I don’t know, yes?” Michael reaches out with his converse, tapping the side against Luke’s calf. “You’re a wallowing kind of guy. Sometimes that’s what you need.”

For the second time tonight, Luke feels abruptly like he might cry, but this time he doesn’t. “Uh. Thanks. I think?”

“I can wallow with you,” Michael says simply.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Luke’s lips. “Yeah,” he admits.

“Yeah,” Michael says, like he’s just made a point. “But you shouldn’t wallow alone. You should at least have company.”

Luke takes a deep breath. He pulls his hood further over his head and glances over at Michael, who’s just watching his own feet with interest.

“Okay,” Luke allows, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Just a couple more minutes. Then we can go inside.” He wonders if this had been Michael’s ploy, to guilt Luke back indoors by offering to freeze for him. But he’s pretty sure it isn’t a trick. Michael isn’t manipulative. He’s just loyal.

“Whatever you want,” Michael says, kicking carelessly at a loose piece of asphalt.

Luke hesitates, lingering in the bubble of silence between them that almost seems to mute the rest of the world. Michael looks over at him finally. When he meets Luke’s eyes, he quirks a transient smile. The warmth defrosting Luke’s insides grows hotter.

Luke leans his head on Michael’s shoulder, and Michael only shifts to accommodate him. “You can wallow with me. We can wallow together. If you want to. If you don’t mind.”

Michael tilts his head against Luke’s and hooks his foot around Luke’s ankle. “Yeah. Wallowing together. I can do that.”

It’s bitterly cold, and the icy rain and wind are doing them no favours. But when Luke closes his eyes this time, the only sensation that seems to matter is Michael’s shoulder solid under Luke’s weight, and he doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

#luke hemmings #michael clifford #.............do i tag this as muke????#fuck it friendship is romance #muke #muke fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #yes i listened to therapy for three and a half hours and wrote this fic so like #i wouldnt BLAME you if you dont believe me for saying this #but i swear im okay lol #im honestly chillin #should probably go to bed soon/now but other than that #happy to report that we are simply vibing chief

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19tozier · 4 years

Text

polaroid boy (richie tozier)

request:if/when requests are open (if this is okay bc idk your request rules) could you write an angst fic for reddie based on the song polaroid boy by nicole zefanya, it can be from either persons pov i think that decision is more of a personal one based on who you think fits the song better

warnings: angst, swearing, allusions to sexual things, i tried out some stuff w tense so hopefully it still makes sense lol

[losers + reader are college aged (20/21)]

there is an exquisite beauty in falling in love. in feeling your heart quicken at the sight of their smile, or feeling your cheeks blush at the sound of their laugh. in letting yourself tumble off the edge of the cliff because you are certain they will be there to catch you.

there is an exquisite pain in hitting the ground after they fail to do so.

you want to curse yourself for having stepped off the edge. you aren’t sure you’d have been able to stop yourself from falling anyways, but you did it with no hesitation. you didn’t just trip over the cliff, you leapt off of it. no parachute, no net, no caution. and now you’re the one paying the price for it.

it started, innocently enough, in your first lecture fall semester of your sophomore year. you were still drudging through your gen eds, doing your best to stay motivated through endless classes that weren’t at all related to your major. the lectures made your eyes glaze and your head pound, but you were getting through them. nothing exciting ever happened in them but that was fine with you.

until, of course, richie tozier sat next to you in the middle of a half-empty history lecture, fashionably late and a devil’s smirk on his pretty face.

you’d done your best to ignore him at first, furiously writing down anything and everything the professor said. just because a beautiful boy had sat beside you didn’t mean you would compromise your education. class first, dick later, you thought.

but richie, still wearing that gorgeous smirk, had leaned into your side and murmured, “you look a little tense there, doll. want some help with that?” and his left eye had dropped in a wink that sent prickles down your spine.

fuck, had you wanted to slap him for such a suggestive comment. did he always go around propositioning random girls? you were certain the answer was yes, and yet... part of you loved the attention, and another part of you wanted to keep those blue eyes on you at all times.

you’d scowled, glaring at him, refusing to rise to his bait and give him the response he so obviously wanted. you’d pointedly turned back to your professor, ignoring richie for the remainder of the class.

you’d expected him to give up the chase, maybe find another girl who’d take kindly to his attempts at seduction, but he’d stayed by your side while you packed up your bag and walked out beside you, body in a long loose sprawl as he asked—no, begged—you to let him take you to lunch. and were you really going to turn down a free meal? he may be irritating, but you weren’t stupid.

and oh, had he irritated you. it felt like he had been drawn straight from your own personal hell to drive you crazy, but there was something charming about him. something that drew you in despite your earlier reluctance.

he’d leaned across the table at lunch, smirk softened into something sweeter, and brushed his thumb along your cheek. “you’ve got somethin’ here, love,” he’d murmured, his eyes smoky.

“thanks,” you'd rasped, subtly crossing your legs and praying he didn’t notice your blush.

you’d caved and given him your number at the end of your maybe-date. you were still operating under the idea that he wouldn’t want to see you again, so hey, you’d figured, what the hell?

but he had. he’d texted you that night, a simple hey there sugar ;), and against your will your heart had started pounding. your hands shook as you carefully typed out we’ve known each other for a day and you’ve called me how many nicknames?

you’d laughed, irritation be damned, when he had responded almost immediately: i can add on a few more. put it on my tab, toots.

you found, slowly but surely, that richie was charming and funny and obnoxious in a way that made you want more. he was crass, yes, and sometimes he made you want to gouge your own eyes out, but he was softer and sweeter than you’d ever have thought to give him credit for. and it was horrible for you, really, because there was nothing to stop you from developing feelings.

but there were nights where you curled up with richie in your dorm room, squished together on your too-small bed, your roommate blessedly gone for the night, watching shitty movies on your laptop with takeout scattered around you. nights where you were certain that everything you felt for him was reciprocated.

he had pressed his lips into your hair, his glasses digging into the top of your head. “this movie is something else, doll,” he’d murmured to you, tilting his chin towards where you were forcing him to watch the room with you. “not sure i know what’s going on anymore.”

you’d laughed, twisting your head to kiss his jaw. “that’s the point,” you had grinned. “this movie is so bad that it’s fantastic.”

he’d snorted, the tips of his fingers sliding under your t-shirt and tracing circles into the bare skin of your back. “not quite the word i’d use but sure, toots. i’ve definitely lost the plot though.”

you’d frowned, reaching to pause it to look up at him. “i can rewind it if you want?”

he’d smirked, reaching gentle fingers to cradle the curve of your jaw, turning your face towards him. “i can think of something better to do,” he’d purred, and his lips and his body had silenced any objection you could’ve had. not that you did, really.

he’d had that effect on you. time and time again, he had turned you into a bumbling idiot, a lovesick fool, a damned clown. you were the court jester in his kingly eyes, the puppet beneath his talented hand, the doll to sit high on his shelf. people thought it was he that was the bozo, but no; he played you like it was his job and you were too stupid to ever realize how masterful he was.

you’d giggled to him, stretched out in the quad with your head in his lap. he’d been leaning against a tree, one hand absently stroking through your hair, the other holding up a book for class. you had been fucking around with the polaroid camera your friend had bought you for your birthday, taking pictures of the trees and the students around you but mostly of richie himself.

“what’s up, sugar?” he’d murmured, glancing down from his book. his glasses had nearly slid off of his nose.

you’d reached up to correct them, smiling at him. “nothing, nothing. you just look cute. very photogenic.”

he’d rolled his eyes, bookmarking the page he was on and setting the book aside to fully give you his attention. “cute? me? damn baby, maybe you need these glasses more than i do.”

you’d scowled at him, as annoyed as ever that he never seemed to understand how gorgeous he was. “you take that back right now, asshole.”

he had laughed, grinning down at you. his palm had slid along your stomach, warm and secure against your skin, and his eyes had shone in the sunlight. “you always say the sweetest things, doll,” he’d teased.

he’d ducked to kiss you before you could respond, slow and deep and searching, and you had melted back against the grass. it was rare for him to initiate something like this in public, enough that you had kissed him back and not had a single other thought. when he walked you to class, he didn’t reach for your hand; when you met him for lunch, he didn’t kiss you hello or goodbye; when you studied together in the library, he never sat close enough to touch. at the time, you had simply thought he was reserved with his affections.

those polaroids you had taken were the first of many, proudly hung up on the wall of your dorm next to your bed. they weren’t all of richie: some of you and your roommate, some of your friends from your classes, some of the friends of richie’s you had met only once. but most of them had been of richie, because you were smitten and you couldn’t do anything about it.

every time he came over, every time he saw them, his face had done something complicated that you had never understood—a frown to a grimace to a smile that he forced on.

looking back, you wonder about every sign that you had missed. could you have saved yourself the heartbreak if you had simply paid attention? could you have gotten yourself out with your dignity?

it had never even occurred to you to define what you and richie were. you were stupid and young and content to just be able to love him, even if you hadn’t known him long. you never thought to ask him if you were dating, or if he was your boyfriend or not. you really fucking wish you had.

it came to a head not long after. richie had come over like usual, a spring to his step and a bite to his words that had been there for weeks now. he’d been a ghost of himself, eyes flickering around to see who was watching whenever you saw him on campus, not responding to your messages for hours, jumping whenever he saw you. you had just wanted him to relax for a bit.

you’d curled into his chest, laughing along with him to the stupid horror movie you were watching. “it doesn’t even look real,” you’d giggled, pointing to the spray of blood from on-screen.

richie had snorted. “‘cause it’s not real, it’s probably chocolate syrup.”

you had rolled your eyes, poking at his chest. “i know that, smartass. i’m talking about the effects.”

“i’m talking about the effects,” he had mimicked you, pitching his voice higher and sticking his tongue out at you.

you’d scowled, pinching his side. “you’re annoying and one of these days i’ll murder you.”

“oh, is that a promise?” he’d grinned, lopsided and too damn sexy for his own good. “not one of my kinks, i’ll admit, but damn, what a way to go.”

“oh, for the love of—” you’d lunged forward, knocking him onto his back and almost pitching the two of you off the side of the bed. he’d grabbed onto your waist to hold you steady. “i want to strangle you! with my bare hands!”

“that’s hot.” and he’d laughed, the motherfucker, like the sound of it didn't live inside of your ribcage and swim through your bloodstream. every inch of him was something specially designed to get under your skin and make a home there.

it still has a home there.

you’d growled, whaling on him with gentle fists that he did absolutely nothing to combat. he’d just kept laughing, holding your wrists in his big hands, glasses skewed. “you’re awful and i really fucking wish i didn’t love you.”

all at once, it had gone silent and he had gone tense. the expression on his face had not been the elation you had been hoping for; it was horror, plain and simple, and the shock of it had pitched you sideways off of his lap.

“you love me?” he’d asked through trembling lips, looking anywhere but you.

slowly, you had nodded. your voice had disappeared. and he’d nodded back, one short frantic movement, and then vaulted himself off of the bed.

“richie—”

“i didn’t think we were that serious,” he’d said, yanking his shoes on. “i thought we were just having fun.” like it was nothing. like you were nothing.

tears had welled in your eyes and your chest had ached with the force of it. your heart, which you had thought was safe in richie’s hands, was being crushed and ripped to shreds and you could do nothing but watch.

“richie, wait—”

but he had shrugged you off, forceful in the way he had pushed you back. the look in his eyes was wild and terrified and you didn’t recognize him anymore.

he hadn’t looked back at you, in the end. he had just shouldered his backpack and grabbed his phone and disappeared out the door. he hadn’t paused when you sobbed out his name one more time. he hadn’t even faltered.

foolishly, oh so foolishly, you’d held on to hope that that wasn’t the end. that you’d simply overwhelmed him and he just needed time. but as the days stretched into weeks and your texts and calls had remained unanswered, your hope had died the same way your heart had.

you had taken that fatal plunge; the ground was hard when you’d hit it.

you still have the polaroids. you’d taken them down after a few weeks, too hurt to see yours and richie’s smiling faces when he had disappeared from your life. but you still have them, in the shoebox you keep under your bed. and there are nights like tonight where you pull them out to stare at them.

your chest aches, the tears in your throat choking you. you should be all cried out by now but you aren’t that lucky. it seems every reminder of him is destined to detonate something inside of you.

you can still feel his smile on your lips. you can still taste his laughter. you can still hear the stupid voices he’d do to make you giggle. you can still feel him in your heart.

richie hurt you. god, had he hurt you. he’d hurt you so badly you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to smile again. but you’re still in love with him and you don’t think it’ll ever go away.

he’ll forever be the boy in your polaroids, the one that made you feel on top of the world and the one that made you feel like you were six feet under. you won’t ever be able to hear his favorite song without hearing it in his voice. you won’t ever be able to love again without feeling his imprint in your heart.

there’s something magical about falling in love. you won’t take that back. but on nights like this, you wish you never fell.

55 notes · View notes

delicrieux · 4 years

Note

Hello! May I have a one-shot with Kylo being injured and reader, who is part of the resistance, finds him and takes care of him? Thanks!

idk how this turned out to be 5k words but WHEW i mean if ppl want me to continue it im down so send in sum request of wat u think should happen!! xoxo gossip girl

requests are open! | masterlist | part 2.

Fear. The kind that makes it hard to breathe as if you are kept underwater; the kind that makes your muscles clench and freeze as all senses flow out one by one. Today had been almost too typical — you woke up, you trained, you talked to your comrades and learned battle strategy — and you were certain your evening walk would be just as uneventful. The breeze in your hair was playful; the setting sun provided warm light and set your surroundings in a pleasant, rosy glow. You like the fresh air; you like exploring; you like the freedom that comes with being alone in wilderness. And in turn, it serves as a reminder for why you are fighting in the first place. To preserve this peace, this freedom, that now has been tarnished when you stumble upon a body.

For a heartbeat you think he’s dead — his expression is lifeless and his face, pale as first snow, is bruised, covered in soot and dried blood. Willing your legs to move, you approach cautiously, not breathing, afraid to break the shrill, sudden silence — no birdsong, no wails of wind passing through trees… nothing. Life had, at that moment, stilled completely. But as you draw closer, grass crunching under your feet softly, you intake a breath of both relief and surprise. Dark locks of hair spray on his forehead and obscure the minuscule knit of his brows, his trembling lashes. He’s alive. The thought consumes you and you fall to your knees, skidding beside him, pushing his hair from his face and landing your palm on his forehead.

It’s awfully cold. Chilling. Almost biting at your sensitive flesh, urging you to pull away. It rolls in waves, this sudden cold, sudden sickness, as if it is a virus that spreads and you have caught it with this minimal contact. But you don’t pull away, despite the near overwhelming urge to do so, despite the fear returning with a new blow. Instead you glide your fingers down his jaw and press on his neck, breaking into a small, crooked smile once you feel a slow drum against them. He is alive, but barely. You glance about him, looking around the area. Nothing out the ordinary, no branches broken, no bushes disturbed and no trails left on the grass. How he got here is a mystery that will have to be solved a different time.

You hope he will tell you once he wakes up, if he even wakes up at all.

That, and, his name, too.

Your base is small and tugged away in a dense jungle, the tall trees and heat warding from unwanted visitors — the First Order. The compartments are small; there are barely above a few dozen people here; it serves more as a safe haven for lost wanderers looking for a cause or shelter, or a backup base in case others were destroyed and the rebels had nowhere to go. It is far away enough from war. Everyone here is, to some extent, safe.

You had never been on the front lines. You had never faced a Storm Trooper, had never seen the Force at work — if there even is such a thing, speculations speculations, nothing consistent, merely gossip — and you had never seen a dead body. Perhaps that is why you froze up so terribly at the sight of him. Perhaps that’s why you felt as if a void opened within you, swallowing up the last shred of light, of life, and leaving you hollow.

You should get used to the sight, though. There will be many dead in battle.

He’s the only one occupying a bed in the Medical Wing and he hasn’t woken up for two days now. His vitals are stable — no internal bleeding, no disease detected, nothing out of place as it seemed. But he is lost in deep sleep, constantly dreaming about something that made him tremble and muss and toss and turn, but never wake. It is entirely bizarre how his state is simply there, caused by no injury, no blow, nothing. And the more you take care of him… the more questions you get.

You eat in the cafeteria, a vast enough, pale walled space occupied by few people during lunch time. Next to you sits a blue eyed, blonde haired cherubic woman – she serves as the doctor, the only doctor here. She smiles lightly at you when you catch her gaze. You had always wondered why her name is Vendetta.

The amount of denizens is small here, so small in fact that the only ones serving under this branch is a rag tag team of scavengers, travelers, nobodies that had abandoned their old lives to fight in this war. Rebels, quite literally, with a cause. Many have taken new names. Vendetta, too, had a name before this, a life, a different purpose. Though her odd choice leads you to believe that what ever had happened to drive her here was painful and severe, deserving justice. In front of you sits a tall, bony, brown haired, brow eyed mechanic with a scar running down half of their face – Q. And beside them, July – you had never seen him smiling, had never heard his voice hold a tender note in it. He is always displeased. Always with a frown.

“Seven.” Vendetta calls you, noting your blank stare, the untouched food in your plate. Seven. You chose this because you were the seventh child in your family, and, subsequently, the seventh person to join the Resistance when this base first opened.

“She’s probably thinking about the stranger.” Q mutters, taking a sip, “His origins are…” They glance about, leaning in slightly, “ A hot topic, after all.”

“We get injured wanderers all the time.” Vendetta waves them off, “As if he’s any different.”

“I don’t think we should be so quick to dismiss him, V.” July grumbles, his voice low, the sound of crunching gravel. He sits with his arms crossed over his chest, observing the three of you with something akin to hostility, “You never know who may be working for the Order.”

“You can’t just assume that.” You pipe up, “He might just be another gambler dropped by the Floating Casino because he couldn’t pay his debts.”

“Or he might be a spy.” July stresses, glaring.

“No one knows there is a base here.” You continue, unrelenting, “Half the Resistance doesn’t know it exists, how can someone from the Order?”

“Still, I advice we exercise caution.” Q says calmly, a pleasant smile on their face — if anyone can defuse an argument before it starts, it’s them, “You never know what people are hiding, Seven.”

“Okay,” Vendetta chimes, “I will certainly not disclose this vital information when the man awakes from his comatose state. I shall make sure to confuse and frighten him further by chaining him to his bed.”

“Good.” July says.

“That is not what I had in mind, and you know it.” Q mutters, a tad disappointed, “I was thinking more along the lines of… An interview.”

“Too civil.” July mumbles, “I say we go with Vendetta’s idea.”

“That was not an idea,” She hisses, “it was sarcasm.”

“Fine, interview.” You submit, “Either way, I doubt anyone from the Order would not say they are from there. They are feared. Probably would think he has the upper hand, or something. Plus, our disguise is impeccable. We look like a research facility. Better yet, a shelter if no one wanders up to the main rooms.”

“I also sincerely doubt anyone, Order or not, is so good at lying first thing when they wake up.” Vendetta agrees.

July narrows his eyes at her, “That is an awfully naive observation to make.”

“Really now? It is a known fact that people half-asleep always tell the truth.”

Another hour of this and you feel drained and sore and with a mild headache. As much as their company has helped you, they can be a bit too eager to prove one another wrong. On most occasions you’d enjoy the chatter. Today, however, you feel too distracted to focus on anything. Q makes some good points, July argues, Vendetta and her biting comments pick at your skin. Always the blazing look in her eyes, always a certain gleam of anger hiding within her mellow, sweet tone. You excuse yourself when you finish your meal and they do not keep you from leaving. Perhaps they noticed you being out of it. Perhaps they were too caught up in their new topic – Lo and Chester’s sudden break up.

It does not take you long to come to the Medical Wing. The door shuts with a silent sweep and your heart drops – the bed is empty. Before you can do much else strong arms wrap around you from behind. With a yelp you feel a hand squeeze your throat and your breath leaves you with a helpless whine, sparks flying in your vision. Your reflexes kick in before you can control them. In a panic, you elbow your attacker in the chest and the grip loosens a bit, enough to allow you to escape and put some distance. Inhaling mouthfuls of air, you turn to the man that had been sleeping since you found him in the wilderness.

You never quite realized how tall he is, or how angry he could be. He’s confused and you see fire in his eyes, a sneer on his face, and he stands unmoving, waiting for you to try something, anything, so that he could grab you and try to kill you again.

You raise your hands, palms up —a fragile, harmless motion to indicate you mean no harm. His guard is still up. He’s heaving and his shoulders are tense, his gaze not once leaving your form, “…Hi,” You wheeze, almost voiceless, “I’m not here to hurt you.” You indicate softly. Cold, again, as if thrown into a bottomless ocean; body heavy, like a stone. You gulp. “Are you alright?” You question gently, afraid to provoke him again. “You must be tired. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Where am I?” His voice is deep and scratchy and it seems to set him off. He trembles from anger, you can almost feel the steady build up of rage in his chest, ”Who are you?”

“I’m Seven.” You introduce, “I found you outside our base. Do you know how you got here?”

He takes a threatening step forward and your arms shoot higher, “I’m not your enemy.” You insist, “You are not a prisoner here. You were dying and I wanted to help you.”

He regards you for a silent moment as if unsure whether to believe you or not. However, you sense that he will not try to hurt you, for now at least. You give him a shaky smile, trying to ease him — you cannot imagine how frightening it is to awake in some room among strangers and not knowing where you are or what had happened. “Do you…know your name?” You continue your questions, your arms slowly falling by your sides. After another pause, he nods curtly, “Good. That’s good.” you step away from his bed, “Please, lie down. You’re still recovering. No shady business, I promise.”

You are a bit surprised that he listens, but you don’t show it. He’s cautious, regarding you as if you were some dangerous animal cornering him, and his walk is sluggish. You can tell it’s hard for him to move, but don’t say anything. You doubt it would do any good. He finally sits down and just stares at you. You try to smile again, “Do you know how you got here? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“How long have I been here for?” He asks instead.

“Two full days in the base.” You say calmly, “But out there?” You vaguely motion with your head to the outside world, “I don’t know.”

Your answer unnerves him. For the first time his frown falls and he stares at you with big eyes and a trembling lip, as if a lost child not knowing what to do. That expression warps suddenly and he looks away, his hands gripping the side of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Well, if there is…anything you need…” You start mildly, “You can call upon me. Or Vendetta. She’s the doctor here, so if you feel any pain or sickness, you should tell her. She’s sweet.” You smile, “And she will help. But right now, just try to rest…I’ll…leave you to it.”

You bolt past him to the door but– “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

You turn back to him, shaking your head lightly, “No. But it doesn’t matter. A lot of adventures come through here, lost and injured. You aren’t the first one. Now rest, please.”

He’s volatile, is what you learn upon the first days of his resurrection. His mood can change in a flip of a coin and he goes from placid to enraged in a blink of an eye. Tantrums, yelling — all signatures of a spoiled child not knowing what he has but simply wanting to break it. He’s nobility, or so your peers gossip. You hear snippets of all sorts of things, each more outrageous than the one before. The one that he is a prince kicked out of home for adultery seems to be the most popular one.

And he’s egotistical. He had not been, besides the attempted murder, that hostile and untamed towards you — the choking you told no one about as you concluded he simply felt threatened and scared. Though his other tantrums you are not so quick to chalk up as self-defense. Vendetta, exasperated, one evening told you that she somehow offended him — ”All I said is stop pouting because you need my help!” — and he, with a bruised ego, so high and mighty promptly jumped out of bed. Whatever he was trying to do backfired — perhaps he was trying to leave, or trying to grab something and to hit her with — but he slipped and fell and hit his head into the sharp corner of table. “And I said to him, oh I said: look what you’ve done now! Off to bed, quickly!” Vendetta finished bitterly, stabbing her fork idly into her food, possibly imagining his face there. His nose, much to V’s displeasure, was not broken, but an ugly gash and a dark bruise split his skin in half and he laid in bed sulking for at least a day.

As the week passed, he seemed to favor your company the most. It is not that he smiled and joked and laughed in your presence, and you were not exchanging secrets or hugging or even calling each other friends. He simply seemed to be more mellow around you, possibly because you oddly knew what to say and what to keep silent. It is as if you sensed the subtle shift of his moods; could read his expressions in a way no one could, perhaps no one tried. And you would come and visit him as often as you could when relieved of your duties — you felt responsible for him in a way, and you wondered if you would still feel this weight on your shoulders when he eventually left this place. After all it was you that had found him lying in the grass; it was you that had insisted to help him; and now, it is you that brings him food and tries to provide some comfort in a form of conversation. You don’t pry into his past, don’t even ask for his name, because you know he does not want to give it, and you won’t risk questioning in fear of another explosion of his temper. You talk about inconsequential things: what’s happening around the base, what sort of plants grow around here, what bugs could kill him before he took two steps. He especially enjoys hearing the rumors about him, even if he is too prideful to admit that they amuse him greatly.

“And what if I am?” He questions one evening, something akin to a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a kind hazel color that could be beautiful if not for the persistent angry spark within them that is now, seemingly, vacant, watch you closely.

You frown softly, “Are what?” You question, “A prince?” He nods. You snort, “Well then, your majesty, I shall make sure to inform the others. What will be your first decree?”

He pretends to think, “No more slacking around.” He says sternly, “This is supposed to be a military base, isn’t it?” He ends on a cheeky note. You gulp. Ah, yes, you might have let it slip that he’s in one of the Resistance’s safe houses, though you did not disclose the coordinates.

“On a mission to make fun illegal, are you?” You ask with a raised brow.

He frowns, “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Childish, really, though you suppose it is better than arguing with July.

You feel it before you hear it— rain and thunder. The merciless patter on the roof and on your window. In night the sound is almost deafening — a loud roar of an engine, followed by cracks of lightning and flashes in the dark sky. You would have slept through it if not for the pins and needles washing your skin behind the warm sheets thrown on your body. You stir. Thunder roars and a flash of bright white light illuminates your room and seeps through the cracks of your lashes. Cold, again, as if standing in the middle of a storm.

You finally sit up, rubbing your face and then looking around to see if your friends are playing some sort of joke on you. You were almost certain they had dragged you outside and left you to get drenched. But you are alone in your room and you frown and shiver from the biting cold. Groggily you throw the sheets away and leave your bed, not entirely certain where you are going but there is a pull in your gut and half-asleep you follow it. You think you might still be dreaming —the rain on your dry skin feels real, though all dreams feel real until you awake. You leave the dormitories and take the elevator to the first floor. The base is silent, save for the shrill of machinery. Finally, still in your pajamas and almost fully awake, you step past the main entrance and stop.

It’s pouring, a curtain of rain obscuring the confusing contours of trees and leaves and bushes. The darkness does not help. A bleak light pulses to life once you pass the sensor and your surroundings illuminate. Thunder, lighting, more rain. You stand safe and dry under the roof, and he stands at the very edge of it, half soaking, his face kissed and washed by the rain.

You are not sure what to think. He seems lonely standing there surrounded by darkness and water. It’s whispers, or something akin to that, that urge and beseech that he does not want to be alone. You hear them somewhere in the back of your mind. If he noticed you, and he should have with the light suddenly on, he does not show it. You approach him slowly, your footsteps concealed over the heavy drum of rain.

“Not used to it, are you?” You ask, your voice followed by a bolt of thunder. He stirs, head tilting in your direction. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet — there is no hostility in them, no anger, just a distant sadness. You give him a soft smile, “I can tell you don’t see it often. I didn’t, either, at first. I grew up surrounded by deserts and I had not seen a drop of rain for at least eighteen years. But, here… Well, there’s no shortage of it. We have storms at least once a week. You’ll grow sick of it before you leave, trust me.”

He says nothing, still looking at you. The light sniffs out. Both of you stand unmoving.

“Why are you here?” He asks, a note of genuine confusion slipping past his calm tone.

“I… don’t know.” You admit. A frown pulls on your brows and you bite your lower lip, staring into the heavy curtain of rain, “I…I really don’t know.” You turn to him, “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, savoring the silence. Then, “I got bored laying in bed.” Somehow you feel that anxiety has more to do with his sudden nightly venture, rather than actual boredom. Though, you suppose it is quite tedious doing nothing all day. You imagine he is active, judging by his built. He has a strong character and he knows what he wants (most of the time), or rather has a distinct sense of what he doesn’t want. You imagine he’d be a good commander, or leader, with his deep voice and unrelenting stare, if only he wasn’t so sensitive. He’s too unpredictable. Too uncontrollable. His emotions get the better of him too quickly for him to be unbiased. For that reason alone you deem him unfit to be a spy, or a soldier, or a figure of military power. He’d burn all he would build if that were the case. No, him being of noble birth and being stranded here as some sort of twisted punishment sounds believable enough.

“What are you thinking?” He questions, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hum, ponder whether you should be honest with him or not. “Don’t lie to me.” He says suddenly and you jolt, heart drumming painfully in your chest. For a frightening moment you figured he could read your mind. Then again, you have been spending a lot of time together. He must have noticed how gentle you are with him, how carefully you pick your words. His signature frown is back, you see it for a second when lightning strikes.

“I was thinking about your life.” You admit, “Your work. Whether you really are a royal as most of my crew mates seem to think.”

Flash. You see half a smile blooming on his lips.

“But I know you won’t tell me. Don’t worry, I get it. Ladies love a mystery.”

“What?”

It’s your turn to grin, “Oh, please, it’s almost all I hear about. Seven brought a brooding stranger with a secret past into the base. Lo…Michel… Two of your rapid admirers. I already told you that your arrival has sparked many speculations.”

“I…I haven’t…” He sounds uncertain, flustered almost, as if embarrassed, but there is no way he is, you refuse to believe it. He stumbles upon his words and lastly says nothing. You snicker silently. Another flash of lightning and you see the same confused, puppy-like look on his face you have had the pleasure of seeing once or twice. He does not shield it this time, this moment of vulnerability. He probably doesn’t see the point because darkness obscures everything again.

You extend your hand to him as a silent offering. How many things have you offered him now? Life, health, your company. He regards it, ponders a bit, lastly gently clasps his hand over yours. You jerk. Electricity courses through you and your eyes go wide, tingles rushing all over your body. Lightning strikes. You see wonder on his face, a mimic of your own surprised expression.

“Come on,” You stutter, tugging him, “you’ll catch a cold.” He follows after you. The light blinks on. You don’t know what is happening. Couldn’t have been the thunder, the feeling is not as intense. It felt more like a build up of energy; like you accidentally touched a circuit and it zapped you.

Impossible, you hear something alike his voice but not quite — it’s quiet, distant, muddy.

“Hm?”

“What?”

Once inside, the door sweeps shut behind you, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” He sounds a bit ticked now, and you decide to drop it.

“Oh,” You mutter, “must’ve imagined it, then.”

His hand is cold in yours and you squeeze it just a bit, hoping he won’t notice and hoping that you will warm it. When you reach the Medical Wing, you tilt your head and say, “Wait here. I’ll get you dry clothes from the storage.”

But as you turn to leave he doesn’t let go, though doesn’t say anything either. He’s choked up — either he doesn’t know how to say it or doesn’t want to say it at all. He doesn’t want to be alone. Those whispers come again, ringing in your ears so quietly you aren’t sure they’re even there. You give him a soft smile, catching his gaze, “Okay, we can go together. You’ll probably stay here for at least another week, so, it’s best you know where the storage is anyway.” There’s no rush in your words, no annoyance, just simple acceptance. It eases him, relieves him of saying and admitting things he’s not willing to bring to light.

The walk is quiet and you still hold hands. His is much bigger than yours, rough, though not unpleasant. They are hands of a man that uses them often — for better, or for worse — and a twinge in your heart, a sudden thud of uncertainty, informs you that your previous speculations might have not been correct at all. His hand doesn’t feel like that of a prince (not that you would know what that would feel like), no, it feels like a hand of a soldier. But that inching of something amiss is swept away by warmth, silent happiness, a certain deliriousness that starts blooming within you and spreading all around. You feel him, somehow; feel a connection. You can’t put it into words exactly, you doubt you could ever explain it to anyone. It’s fragile. And beautiful. And maddening that such a devout emotion is sprung by something as innocent as holding hands

You wonder if he feels it. You somehow know he does.

The storage room is not big. Your hand slips from his as he chooses to stand by the doorway and you rummage to get his things. You feel braver. Perhaps it’s the tiredness that leaves you so open and bold, but searching you can’t help but ask, “So tell me…” You start, handing him some towels, “What were you actually doing? Besides being melodramatic.” You add, your lips quirking upwards.

He regards you with lively eyes and you see a grin lift his cheeks. He’s smiling, actually smiling, and you know this action is precious and rare and you can’t help but beam at him in return, “You think I was being melodramatic?” He questions.

You laugh a little, a breathless bell-like “Yes” falling from your lips as you fetch him dry clothes from the upper shelf, “All you needed was a cape to swing around.”

His expression abruptly falls and the temperature drops with it.

“Right, no cape.” You mumble, a tad disappointed, handing him his clothes.

As you make your way back, you can’t help but saying, “I just thought it would suit you, is all.”

“What else do you think would suit me?”

You raise a brow, trying to keep up with his drastic shift in moods: again, hes smiling, then he’s pensive, now he seems lighthearted, genuinely curious. “You like to ask a lot of questions.” You conclude.

He shrugs, “I’m just trying to figure out what you think of me.”

“And why are you curious?”

“Now you are the one asking a lot of questions.” He points out. You snort.

“You started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

This again, followed by quiet chuckles. You don’t turn to the Medical Wing now, instead stopping by the elevator and pressing the red button. The doors slide open. You glance at him.

“So…” You mumble, “This is not how I imagined my night going, but…” You aren’t quite sure how to finish, how to vocalize the strange swirl of emotions in your chest, “Well, goodnight.”

You step into the elevator, going to push the button—“Ben.” He says suddenly, making you flinch and turn to him. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at the floor, “My name. It’s Ben.”

Again, that same energy, that same shock you felt when you first touched his hand ignites your body with something closely akin to happiness. Trust. Bond. He trusts you. The connection you felt was not an exaggeration. He would not have given you his name otherwise.

“Goodnight, Ben.” You say softly, fighting a smile that’s trying to rise on your face, “Sweet dreams.”

“…Goodnight, Seven.”

As the elevator doors shut, you think you hear him say “Thank you”, but that might have just been your imagination.

hope you liked it! xxx

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