#this knocked the wind out of me. come off anon so i can shake your hand

[visenyaism]

the ideal father for rhaenyra would be balon greyjoy. defends his daughters claim at every opportunity, refers to her as his son, tells his actual literal trueborn heir to fuck off because the iron islands belong to his sister. he’s shit at politics but so is viserys so that’s not a dealbreaker. he would sob with pride if she spread bastards throughout the land like wildflower seeds

known feminist and good dad balon greyjoy’s a+ parenting skills WOULD prevent the dance of the dragons and save westeros it would work definitely. ironborn rhaenyra would be like i’m totally allowed to take salt wives too right and then not wait for an answer

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

if you’re asking for blurbs, any thoughts about hanging with Matt at Fogwell’s? could be fluffy, could be a bit smutty, anything goes I think in that situation

//hi anon! i love matt and fogwell's as a concept so i wanted to give you a nice little blurb :) this is mainly just the reader and matt flirting and i interpret it to be a rather early period in their relationship :)))

"come on, hit me again."

"i don't want to keep hitting you, i want to go home and shower, preferably with you."

"no."

"no?"

"no. hit me or i won't touch you for the rest of the night."

matt has been worried about your safety for a while now, and he really wanted to teach you how to punch. but you're distracted. he's an incredibly good looking man, and you just want to kiss him all the time. but no, he insists that you fight.

"you're not only being ridiculous, you're also being unrealistic. you won't be able to keep your hands to yourself. i know you too well."

he tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows, trying to tell if you really believe that. you absolutely do, and now it's his problem.

"hit me and i'll buy you ice cream."

"weak, try again."

"sweetheart, you're getting on my last nerve."

"yeah? come on, devil man, let's see what you got. you know i'm not going to--" you're cut off because in one easy swoop, matt has knocked the wind out of you and now has you pinned against the wall of the old gym.

"put your money where your mouth is, sweet girl."

"i'm sure you'd love it if i put my mouth in certain places."

he scoffs, his jaw clenched. he wants to make a move but his feet are firmly planted, unmoving as if made of stone.

"that was an awful line." he reprimands. "if you're going to flirt with me, try a little harder."

"what is it with you and getting me to engage in your dumb challenges?" you counter. he leans forward and places a soft but hungry kiss on your lips. you kiss back and deepen the kiss, happy to finally be able to get what you want.

but then he pulls away, and as you go to lean in for another kiss, he shakes his head.

"you really don't wanna keep going?" he's serious now, and you nod. you've been in this gym for hours and you're sweaty, exhausted, and...

"my hands are killing me." he frowns gently and leans off you a bit to take your hands in his. he rubs his thumb on your knuckles, noting the rough marks and scrapes. you clench your hands together to test how hurt you are and he can immediately smell the iron in the air with that coppery smell.

he grabs bandages out of the bag he brought with him and goes over to you, holding his palm out for your hand. you place the right hand in his first before he wraps up your knuckles gently, as if he's worried he might hurt you further. but it's with soft enough touches that it feels rather intimate.

he does the same with your left hand, and then takes both of your hands before bringing it to his lips and pressing soft kisses to your fingertips.

he knows you're blushing. he doesn't need super senses for that, you're just quiet in a way that he knows you're flustered. plus, it's a giveaway that your breathing got shaky as he bandaged your hands.

"let's get you home, sweetheart. you did really good tonight."

"i sucked at this."

"no, you're just beginning. you were pretty good for someone with no experience. besides, i'll just teach you more. but not tonight. tonight, i owe you a shower, a few kisses and maybe some ice cream."

"maybe?'

"okay, definitely."

"and just a few?"

he plants a soft kiss to your lips before he answers--

"as many as you want."

[venusandsaturnsrings]

hi venus!! i just read your fic about foxtaru and lamb reader >:) and i like predator-prey dynamic sm :(( right now i need him to eat me

he spreads your legs and burrows his freckled nose into your cunt, pressing against your soft folds. he's been waiting for this for so long and he's just ecstatic <3 you're so warm and delicious. he smiles, his ginger ears twitching with every sweet moan you make when he basks in your pussy. your hands go down to the top of his head and you press him closer to feel every movement of his tongue on your pussy.

ajax champs you, licks you, laps you, making your legs tremble in ecstasy. his tail wags from side to side, he's so happy and pleased that he can make you feel so good! <3 you cover your mouth with your hand, muffling your moans. he hears your moans become quieter and pulls away from you, snorting and shaking his head. you whimper and want to press him against your pussy again, but he grabs your hands and turns it behind your head.

"that won't do, little lamb. don't deprive me of the chance to listen to your sweet moans. and then I'll give you what you so desperately want." he smirked, licking his lips and looking into your tear-stained eyes. he again leans towards your cunt and runs his nose over your clit, leaving a light kiss. "be a good girl and I'll make you feel good."

it's cat anon!! <3 venus you just have no idea how much i want him to eat me. it's so irresistible ah

WEHHHHH TARU :(( thank u for single handedly restoring my life!! i’ve been face down on the ground for a week but now?? a green light swirled around me and suddenly i’m at full health!! :3

oh i’m a major sucker for any predator/prey dynamic!! there’s something so… carnally satisfying about the chase and thrill of being caught!! naturally, any childe loves it but foxtaru?? who’s so used to catching all his food?? who’s main source of entertainment is killing and chasing leaves?? now THATS prime material!!

his teeth are slightly yellowed but sharp, canines especially so. he’ll chase you through trees, houses, rivers, and rocks if it means building that adrenaline before tackling you down. foxtaru might even come undone in his pants if he chases you for long enough!! it’s not his fault, he just gets so worked up from it all. once he’s got you under him, he expects to be rewarded with whatever he sees fit!!

when it comes to eating you out, you’ll have the wind knocked out of you upon hitting the ground. before you can even process that you’ve been caught, your panties are ripped off and he’s shoved his nose right between your thighs. with his mouth parted, he takes a couple seconds to grossly drool onto your pussy lips while simply enjoying the scent coming off of you. once he’s caught his breath he’ll have his tongue mercilessly exploring your folds with vigour while he desperately humps the ground, clearly in need of his own friction. any attempts at quieting yourself will be destroyed, he won so he gets to hear you!! to deny him of such pretty sounds is like denying he did indeed win and you certainly don’t want an angry foxtaru on your hands. he’ll tongue fuck you until the ground below is soaked and a bit longer than that. he’s a bit obsessed with your pussy but do you really mind?? scratch his ears a bit while he’s down there, he’ll make sure to pay extra close attention to your cute little clit in return!!

afterwards he’ll fuck you proper but first, he’s gonna kiss your fuzzy ears real sweet and suck a couple bruises into your neck. he’s a sweetheart when he gets what he wants!!

[keen-li]

I agree with anon Renegade is very good👏🏼 I don’t consider Oc weak at all… she just had a baby and she took care of her all on her own (that takes a lot of strength and she did that!) just because she loves Jungkook it doesn’t make her weak… yeah he was a huge jerk but he seems like he had a change of heart and maybe they will talk about it afterwards? Who know but regardless I don’t see her weak at all!

You’re doing great❤️

Part 4. [Last part]

I'm so glad and appreciate all the positive interactions and asks I've gotten on this fic. It was a fun and lovely journey and I appreciate you all. :)

x

-

You've been worried on the couch waiting for jungkook to text you. He had yuna today, he begged you to have her for the day. You couldn't say no, you didn't want to. You enjoy seeing jungkook spent time with his daughter, it's a nice sight to see her laughing and giggling as he tickles her.

But you made it very clear to him that she should be back by 4pm. You'd never allow her to stay the night with him at his place. He may seem to have changed but you don't know what kinda dump his house looks like or the kinda people jungkook has around.

It's now 7pm and you've been waiting for jungkook to text or call you. Or atleast respond to your calls and texts. You've been calling like a hundred times and he doesn't respond,  this makes you even more worried and sick to your stomach. Your little baby girl, you hope she's okay. You hope jungkook hasn't got her passively inhaling smoke. You'd kill him if that was the case, you'd fucking kill him.

Your mind can't stop thinking of the worst. All you can think of is your sweet baby girl in a crowd of drunk people. The loud music playing hurting her ear drums, shes probably crying but jungkook can't hear her over the loud music. Aw you're little baby probably misses you so much.

"Has he responded?" Hobi asks you, snapping you out of your frantic thoughts.

You shake your head.

"Lets just go by his place" he suggests,  its not a bad idea. It's the only option you have anyways if you want to save your baby girl from jungkook.

So this what you do, hobi drives you to his place. You're pretty sure he still lives where you last left him.

"Stay here" you tell hoseok as you leave the car. He places a hand on yours before you leave.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you" his eyes soften.

"I'm sure hoseok" you smile warmly to him. "Please stay in the car"

You give him your back and he watches as you walk into the apartment building. He can't help but want to follow behind you. To be a protection for you and yuna.

You walk down the hallway looking at the doors for jungkook's apartment. You check the numbers and you're pretty sure you can remember it. How can you forget it when a year ago that's all you knew. At this point you had mastered the number, it was engraved on your brain.

The memories hit you like the wind. The times when jungkook would be pulling you by the hand to his apartment. One time you didn't even have time to admire the hallway cause you were busy tangling your lips with jungkook's.

You chuckle brushing off the memories, those days are gone now.

You wonder what you're going to see when you open jungkook's door. It doesn't sound like he's having a party but you still don't trust jungkook. You look at his door or knowing whether to knock or just type in the code. You aren't even sure if the code you know is gonna work.

You're not going to knock. So you decide to tap in the code and hope it works. Your hands move against the screen and you sigh when the little thing beeps allowing you to enter.

He seriously didn't change the code. You chuckle.

You open the door slightly as your leg move to walk in. You pull yourself in and when you do you're met with the sight of yuna sat on one of jungkook's female friend's lap, the girl from the bar. At least they aren't doing drugs or having a party, but that doesn't take away from the fact they are smoking and drinking.

You're gonna fucking kill him.

"Mama" yuna calls out when she sees you and stretches her cute little arms out.

"My baby" you rush over and grab her setting her over your hip.

"Are you okay baby" you say checking her body like a doctor. You give her a tight hug not noticing anything wrong with her.

"I missed you so much"

"No hellos" the girl on the couch asks you tone cheeky. You send her a death glare.

"I'm not here for you" you rock yuna in your arms. "Where's jungkook?"

Yuna doesn't look like she was crying.

"Y/n what are you doing here?" Jungkook asks walking into the living room.

"What am I doing here?" You retort. "I'm here to pick up my daughter. You didn't bring her at the appointed time so I got worried." You say angrily and eye his friends at the last sentence.

"Worried about what?" he furrows his brows.

"Worried that she might get sick" you lower your tone but still stay angry.

"And how would that happen" jungkook knows what you're implying but he wants you to say it.

"I don't know jungkook.. drugs? Alcohol? Smoke?" You say like it wasn't obvious.

He scoffs "You honestly think I'd expose her to that"

"I meannnnn" you wave your hand at his friends and the alcohol on his table, and his friend who is smoking.

"He's smoking by the window" jungkook defends.

"It doesn't matter" you yell getting frustrated.

"I don't like how you're talking about us y/n" the girl speaks and you roll your eyes.

"Shut the fuck up" You groan at her forgetting your no cussing infront of yuna rule. Your attention is pulled to the little girl in your arms when she starts to whine. You sigh disappointed that you got carried away.

"I'm not to talking to you here" you say to jungkook and turn to walk out.

"You've got a very beautiful daughter y/n" the girl speaks, she sounds genuine but yet so condescending.

You want to say something to her but jungkook's hand on your shoulder stops you.

"Come on" he closes the door and you head for outside.

"You couldn't call?" jungkook asks when the night air hits you.

"Like I didn't" you say sarcastically. "Check your phone" he does.

"Okay im sorry, my bad" he runs his hands through his hair, "I must've gotten carried away with work" you roll your eyes and turn to him.

"And where did you leave yuna?"

"With jess" You scoff.

"Jess? Jess the fucking walking hookah pipe" you spit.

"Don't say that" in other circumstances jungkook would've laughed at that.

"Plus yuna seemed fine"

"Seemed is not good enough jungkook. She could easily get sick"

"I know, I'm sorry. But you're making a big deal out of it." His voice rises a bit.

"Its always gonna be serious when it comes to my daughter"

Jungkook scoffs when you say it like she's not his daughter too.

"She's my daughter too" he whisper-shouts "Don't you think i care. I'm not gonna let anything harm her" you're taken back by his tone.

"Or maybe you just think so low of me" You roll your eyes at him.

"Huh?" You don't respond.

"Well can you blame us" you hear hoseok speak behind you, "your actions don't really help us see the better in you" you can hear the despise in his tone.

You can see jungkook physically gag and roll his eyes at hoseok. You too sigh knowing what's going to go down.

"You brought him? Y/n" jungkook asks in disbelief.

"I don't have a car remember?" You tell him as hoseok stops next to you.

"You're so fucking pitiful" jungkook says to hoseok "you're such a kiss up.why are you trying to have my leftovers" jungkook chuckles mockingly.

"Don't talk about her like that" hoseok wants to move closer to jungkook but you stop him,

"There's a baby here" you warn them both.

"She's never gonna love you bro"

"I'm not trying to get her to love me, maybe I'm just trying to be there for her... for yuna" hobi says sharply. "Cause you never did"

"Stay away from my daughter" jungkook warns and closes in on hoseok.

"Jungkook please" you stop him. And on cue yuna starts to cry and your heart breaks at how unattentive you were.

"Hoseok please take her back to the car" you say handing yuna to him. You Watch as hoseok rocks yuna and wipes her tears.

"Come here" jungkook says reaching for yuna.

"No" You stop him.

"Let me say bye to my daughter" he looks at you intensely.

"No." you say to him "hoseok go"

"What the fuck y/n let me say bye to my daughter"

"No jungkook, I'm sick of this. I'm sick of you!" you start to yell.

"Y/n" hoseok tries to comfort you.

"Hoseok please just go to the car!" You end up unintentionally yelling at him, you make a mental not to apologise later.

"What do you mean you're sick" jungkook asks getting upset.

"Im sick of you and having having daughter involved in your life" you run your hands over your face frustrated.

"There's never a time when she's with you and I'm not worried" you can feel the tears threaten to fall.

"Sometimes I wish you weren't in her life... our life" you can see the hurt in jungkook's eyes but it's soon replaced with confusion.

"haven't I done enough y/n. Haven't I done my best to be there for you guys" he places his hands on your shoulders.

"You have I know but-" the tears falls "I can never know if you've truly changed...I'm always worried" you sniffle.

"You don't trust me huh?" You can feel him distance himself. Both physically and emotionally.

"After everything I've done" he chuckles coldly.

You wipe your tears and calm yourself down.

"So what? What now?" He asks you coldly. "You're gonna take her away from me? You're gonna keep my own daughter from me?"He yells.

"THE DAUGHTER YOU DIDN'T WANT!" you smack his chest and he's taken aback by your loudness.

"The daughter you told me to get rid of. The daughter you didn't want to see when she was a foetus. The daughter you weren't there for." you spit back to back at him.

"But aren't I here, aren't i here y/n?" He pushes your hands to his chest.

"That's not what I'm talking about jungkook and you know it" you snatch your hands from him.

"Plus we never even talked about it. We just walked over it like it's nothing. "That's not how it's supposed to work"

"So why don't we talk about it, fix it" He pleads.

"It's too late for that jungkook"

"Okay" he gives in "but you're not gonna keep my daughter from me" he shakes his head and you say nothing.

"You can't do that"

"I can" you spit.

He chuckles bitterly.

"we're gonna have to take it to court then" he says plainly and you scoff.

"Let the court decide?" You ask mockingly.

"Yeah"

"Okay" you nod laughing "and we'll see what they'll say about a druggy alcoholic father asking for custody" you spit out sarcastically.

"Yeah we'll see" jungkook says like he's got a very good chance at custody.

Before you leave you turn to him. And with so much determination, digust and anger you give him a hard smack on the cheek.

"I am not your leftovers" you say bitterly "see you in court you piece of shit" you walk off and into hoseok's car.

"Are you okay" he asks you worried

"I'm okay" you tell him but its not convincing. "Is she okay?" You turn to the back seat a see a sleeping yuna in her car seat.

"Yeah. Rocked her a bit and she fell right asleep. Must've been really tired"

He watches you watch her.

"I'm so sorry baby" you rub her little feet.

"Yeah sorry, she picked a shitty dad" you hear hoseok snicker.

You can't even bother to be mad at him, you don't have the energy. You know he means no harm.

"Lets go home"

-

[8 months later]

"So how is everything between the two of you now"

Jungkook sighs folding his legs on his couch and you scoff at his choice of clothing. You'd never expect to see jungkook in formal wear.

"We've been okay" he speaks eyeing your floral dress and heels. You told him you wanted to get into wearing heels again, but he didn't promise on carrying you if something happened.

It's your first therapy session after the court granted you both equal custody. Amd cause of that you and jungkook decided to attend therapy.

"And as a couple how are things"

"We're not a couple" you both say at the same time, laughing when you do so.

"We're co-parenting" you quickly say to lessen the awkwardness for the therapist.

"Oh my apologies"

"It's alright, I'm pretty sure people who walk in here are usually couples anyways" jungkook also tries to ease the awkwardness.

The therapist simply nods at that. Your lawyers had advised you to maybe attend a parenting therapy. Not to fix the both of you, cause that's far gone, but to help you both parent yuna well.

"We're just here to learn how to co-parent" you add smiling at jungkook.

-

"That session went well" you say walking out of the building.

"Surprisingly, I thought I was gonna hate it"

You hum as the afternoon sun hits you.

"You've got yuna tonight right?" You ask him.

"i thought you had her" he asks confused.

"I know but I was hoping you can have her" you plead. "You don't have anything to do right?"

"I don't. But why?"

You sigh having to explain to him.

"Hoseok and I have plans tonight" you bite your bottom lip waiting for his reaction.

Jungkook's face relaxes. "Oh okay, sure I'll watch her. I don't mind"

You sigh. you thought he wouldn't say yes.

"Thanks you're the best" you give him a giddy smile, you wanted to hug him but you didn't know how he'd take it.

Jungkook watches you hoping you'd hug him but maybe it's too early for that.

"I know I'm the best" he says full of himself.

"Shut up" You laugh.

----

MASTERLIST

[lokis-army-77]

I’m the tv show/movie anon. I adore your writings. If you wanted to write something like that I would love for you to use your ideas! When I was thinking of it I just had the generic idea of being a final girl Eddie saving me lol but spooky season is over!

Visit from Strangers

Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 1766

This is literally based on the movie The Strangers from 2008 but it's not exactly the same.

I'm sorry if this is some awful writing, I had no clue what I was doing and I apparently suck at writing "scary" stuff

Warning: Angst, home invasion, mention of blood.

Masterlist 

The night had started normally. Eddie had driven us back to my place after leaving one of our mutual friend's wedding. We had sat in the living room and made out for a bit before he realized he had left his stash on his dresser.

Before he left, the only weird thing was the sudden knock on the front door. My house was a little way out of town and it was nearing midnight, no one should have been out there. Yet, when Eddie opened the door a girl just shorter than me stood there, a hoody covering her face and standing far away from the reaches of the dim porch light. She had asked for someone, a name I couldn't quite catch with how she was mumbling. Eddie had told her that there wasn’t anyone by that name here and she walked off. 

It was strange and had shaken me only a tiny bit but I was fine for Eddie to leave. He gave me a quick peck on the lips before jogging out to his van. I tidied up around the house for a bit until I heard another knock. The girl was there again, asking for the same person. Hesitantly I turned her away, telling her what Eddie had said only ten minutes before. 

Things had only gotten stranger from there. I could have sworn the sliding glass back door had been locked and closed before I had left earlier in the day but when I felt a cool breeze coming from it I noticed that it was cracked. Then the knocking came again, louder, almost angry. A little freaked out and not wanting to be alone with some crazy girl outside, I rushed to the house phone and called Eddie’s trailer. 

The receiver rang three times before Wayne’s voice filtered through. 

“Wayne, is Eddie there?” I asked my voice shaking on edge.

“No, I thought he was with you?” Wayne had answered. 

“He was but he forgot something at home and went to get it. Can you tell him to call me when he gets there? It’s important.” I sighed into the phone. 

“Sure can do.”

“No, wait,” I quickly rambled when another harsh knock came to the door, “Just tell him to get back here as fast as he can. There’s a lady outside that won't stop knocking on the door and it's creeping me out.” 

“Do you need me to come over with him? Settle the situation, maybe call the police?” 

“No, no Wayne, that won't be necessary. She seems harmless, it's just creepy and I don’t want to be here alone.”

“Alright Sweetheart, I'll tell him to hurry his ass. Be safe and call me if you need.”

“Thank you Wayne, night.”

We hung up and the house was back to being quiet, except for the sound of wind coming back through the glass doors. I shook my head and went back to close them and the curtains over them, not thinking that someone could have come inside while I was facing away on the phone. 

Not even five minutes later the phone rang and I quickly picked up.

“Babe?” Eddie asked worriedly.

“Eddie, I need you to hurry up and get back here, that girl keeps coming back.” 

“I know, Wayne told me. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, just need you to get back here fast.”

“I will, Princess, I’m headdin-” Eddie didn't finish his sentence and a loud static filled the receiver.

“Eddie? Eds?” I called into the phone but nothing happened. I tried calling back but it was dead like the line had been cut.

All had seemed fine in the house after that for a few more minutes until it sounded as though someone had opened the front door and come in. 

“Eddie?” I called out, no answer. “Eddie this is so not funny.” Still no answer. Turning around, I went straight for the kitchen and grabbed the sharpest knife I could find. In the back of my mind, I knew that it wasn’t Eddie, his trailer was at least 25 to 30 minutes away and there was no way he could have gotten here in the time between then and the phone call. 

I knew I shouldn’t have but with the false sense of security given to me by the knife, I walked to the small front hallway slowly. 

“Who’s there?” I asked as I went. “I’ve got a big fucking knife and I’m not afraid to use it. Just leave me alone and you’ll be fine.” It was eerily quiet. “My boyfriend is coming back any second.” I hoped that by saying Eddie was coming they would get scared and leave. I was wrong. 

The front door was closed when I had it in my sight. Then the knocking started again. I backed away, fear taking over. What the fuck is going on? I thought to myself. The knocking stopped but soon after the windchime outside the back door started to sound. 

“This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening. I repeated over and over to myself as I watched the curtains in horror. Moving closer to them I did what I shouldn't have done, moved them. 

There in the darkness was a man, burlap sack over his head with a face painted onto it. The scream which left my mouth was filled with terror as the man began t beat his hand onto the glass. I backed away as quick as I could going to the front door but then the knocking bargain again. 

My heart began to beat and beat faster as I realized these people had all my exits blocked. I was trapped. I did the only thing I could, I ran to the back bedrooms and look for a place to hide. 

The sound of glass shattering followed me along with the banging on the door. I ran to my bedroom and tried to fit under the bed but the space was too small. Fuck, I’m gonna die here. 

Then everything stopped as I heard the sound of the door shut and quiet footsteps. I raised the knife up and prepared myself to fight these people off when Eddie came through the bedroom door. 

“Shit, Princess, what's going on.” He asked worriedly as he came to me crouching down and taking the knife from my hand. 

“The- The girl had a friend. He was standing outside the back door.” I couldn’t help the waiver in my voice. 

“Did you see what he looked like?”

I shook my head frantically. “No, he was wearing a mask.” 

Eddie furrowed his brows and gripped the knife, standing to his feet. 

“Eddie no, don’t go out there.” I was pleased with him. 

“It’s just for a second. I’m gonna go check and then we can get in the van and go back to the trailer, okay?”

“Okay.” I breathed, standing up to go with him.

We checked the whole house and no one was in sight until we checked the garage. The girl from earlier could be seen through the window, standing in the yard, unmoving. 

Eddie said suggested going out to his van to grab the metal baseball bat he kept in the back, seeing as I had no weapons in the house other than kitchen knives. I had told him not to, but he went anyway. That's when they ambushed us. Stalling Eddie outside while one of them came after me into the house. In hindsight, I should have gone with him to the van and just driven away. 

The man had chased me through the house. I had called for Eddie multiple times but he never came. Before I had gotten chased away, I had seen a third person, another girl out there with Eddie. He had probably been surrounded by the two with no way to get to me. 

With blood running down my arm from a cut the man in the mask inflicted, I ran from him as fast as I could. I used all my energy to run out the back door and into the woods. 

The woods were dark and every little snap of a twig or rustle of leaves as I went past felt like the sound was amplified. Even the sound of my heart racing felt like it could be heard from miles away. Fear was coursing through my veins. I had lost the sound of the man's footsteps when I had entered the tree line. I was thankful he hadn’t followed me in but worried because that left Eddie with the three of them. 

It took me a good five minutes to calm myself down and began to walk cautiously back to the house. At every sound I would stop and hide behind a tree, waiting until I was sure it was nothing. But then I heard hurried footsteps coming my way and I practically tried to push myself into the tree behind me with my hand covering my mouth and nose to keep my ragged breaths from being heard. 

With my eyes closed tight, I listened as the footsteps ran past me and then stopped. Shit I thought, They found me.  But it wasn’t the strangers I saw when I opened my eyes but rather a frazzled and bloody Eddie. 

“Eddie,” I gasped, running the short distance to him. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” I asked trying to find where the blood was coming from. 

“I’m fine princess, but we need to go, now.” He urged me forward, away from the house and further into the woods. 

“How did you get away?” I asked.

“Got that blond girl with the doll mask really good with my bat, then I fucking bolted.” He chuckled. 

“I stabbed the man with the knife. That didn’t stop him from scraping up my arm really bad.” I took my hand off my upper arm to show him the deep oozing cut. 

“Shit babe. Here.” Eddie tore off the bottom chunk of his band shirt and tied it tight around my arm. “We need to get you to the hospital.” 

“I don’t know if I can walk that far.” I could already tell my energy was depleting and with the loss of blood, I was becoming a little dizzy.

“You have to, I’ll carry you when it gets to be too much but we have to keep moving, I don’t want those psychopaths catching up to us.” 

Eddie grabbed my hand and pulled me along with him, each of us looking behind us, paranoid.

[mars-f4ndom-sp4c3]

Hello! I'm the anon that requested the Red Velvet and Dark Cacao small fic :D

And omg, I loved it!! Thank you for doing my request (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

May I request for the same trope/scenario but with Caramel Arrow Cookie? She has been living in my head for quite some time.. once again, thank you! (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

(Sorry if this got sent twice, my Tumblr is being a jerk)

A/n: I absolutely loved writing those fics, so I'm glad you enjoyed it! <3

I don't understand flirting, but my early morning brain was determined to write it, so apologies if that isn't what you were looking for. CA also might be ooc since I haven't completed Chapters 13/14 yet (｡•́︿•̀｡)

I try my best to make my writing gender-neutral when I can, so please point out if I seem to be leaning towards any gender at all.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Caramel Arrow Cookie x Reader

Caramel Arrow Cookie sat cross-legged on her bed, in no rush to get up and at her duties today. It was one of her days off- which were few and far in between. She decided to spend the day doing things she wouldn’t usually, such as sleeping in. So instead of waking up before sunrise, as she normally would, she slept until the sun was creeping into her window, shining in her face- which was relatively late in the morning. 

She did eventually decide to wake up however, and took her comb to start working at the ridiculous amount of hair she had. 

Knock knock.

Caramel Arrow Cookie didn’t need to guess who was at her door, seeing as you had a rather particular rhythm in which you knocked on her door. 

“Come in!” She called.

The door creaked open, allowing you to step in, giving Caramel Arrow an enthused expression.

“Goood morning Caramel Arrow! What are you up to?” You asked, watching her continue to comb out her hair, which trailed around her like a winding river. 

“Ah, I’m just brushing my hair right now.” She answered, briefly smiling up at you to signal that you were welcome to stay.

“Can I braid it?” You asked without missing a beat, which meant that you probably thought about it beforehand.

“Oh, I don’t see why not.” She answered, gesturing for you to sit on her bed. After taking a seat behind her, you combed your fingers through her hair. You had to pause for a moment, marvelling at how the sun made the brown swirls in her hair shine, making it look almost golden.

“Has anyone ever told you that your hair is really pretty?” You asked, starting to break her hair into two parts.

She thought about it for a moment, before shaking her head slightly. “No, you would be the first to say that.” She claimed, resting both of her hands in her lap now that you were handling her hair.

“Really? I suppose your absolutely fantastic hair must be overshadowed by how great of a Watcher you are then.” You said decisively, giving Caramel Arrow a grin she couldn’t see. The tiniest amount of heat rushed to her cheeks, momentarily surprising her.

She didn’t have a response for flirting. The silence stretched, slightly uncomfortably on her side as she mentally struggled to find a new topic. “We- would you like to go get bubble tea after this? My treat.” She offered.

“Like a date?” You asked teasingly, which only made her want to curl in on herself in embarrassment. 

“N-no! As a… payment, for… helping me braid my hair?” Caramel Arrow Cookie answered defensively, but you gave the back of her head an unconvinced expression.

“Uhuh, sure. We’ll get bubble tea after I finish braiding your hair, but in a totally platonic not-date way.” You reiterated, making her sigh in exasperation.

The whole time, you had been delicately braiding her hair, crossing one side over the other and trading a small piece each time, creating an elegant fishtail braid.

By the time you were finished, tying it with a hairtie so that it wouldn’t slip out, her hair only reached to around her lower back, as compared to how it usually could touch the floor. The magic of hair braiding, you supposed.

“There! I’m all done!” You announced, not-so-gently pushing her off the bed so she would go over to the vanity. Caramel Arrow shot you a playful glare as she caught herself, then moved to the vanity, where she looked in a hand mirror to get a view of your handiwork.

“Oh, that looks beautiful, [Name]-Cookie. Thank you.” She said delightedly, setting the mirror down. 

Caramel Arrow Cookie took her dapho off the vanity, putting it on. She then gestured toward the door. “Shall we go now?”

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

All done!

[cinemastyles-blog]

Was It Worth the Wait?

Summary: Anon request - “i was wondering if you could maybe do one where we're his gf we're on tour with him and the boys and we tease him with dirty talk, messages, pictures and stuff just before he goes on and he's really sexually frustrated and then they fuck afterwards (he's desperate but please not any dominant harry) preferably Ihh”

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, sexting, teasing, sexual insinuation, unprotected sex, fluffy smut, filth right off the bat

Master

LONG HAIR HARRY

You sat in Harry’s dressing room, waiting for the boys to get done with their meeting about their future rehearsal schedules before their show tonight.

You get up and walk over to lock the door. You grab his one button up and strip down to nothing but your black lace underwear.

You throw on his unbuttoned shirt and make sure to just cover your nipples as you sit on your knees in front of the mirror.

You held your phone up, getting the angle right before snapping a few photos, switching positions every once in a while.

You get up, get dressed and go unlocked the door. You walk over and sit down on the couch, scrolling through the photos you just took.

You go to Harry’s message thread and tap on the best photo, hitting send and waiting.

A few moment later, you see his name pop up at the top of your screen, are you fucking kidding me right now?

What are you talking about, babe? You smirk and bite your lip.

You know what. I’m at a meeting, y/n. I don’t need anyone else seeing that body. I’ll have to kill them.

You giggle, yeah, you’re right. Just look at it secretly. I have others. Want to see?

It’s a few moment before Harry answers, but when he does it makes your heart skips a beat, what I want to see is you bend over taking my cock, but that can’t happen right now. Can it?

Your thumbs tap the screen and you can feel yourself growing wetter by the second, I mean it could. I feel like I’m so wet for you right now. I feel like I need you so bad, baby.

Y/n.

Harry.

Stop it.

Stop what?

You know what.

Fine. I’ll just do it myself I guess.

You laugh and cover your mouth as you have fun with him, “He’s too easy.”

You’re bluffing. Where are you?

In your dressing room, still naked. Aching to get a hold of that cock.

You know Harry has a show tonight. There isn’t going to be any time for him to get a hold of you before hand.

The door opens and you jump, looking back to see one of the security standing there, “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?” You sit up and look at him, “Did Harry send you?” He nods, “Yeah.”

You roll your eyes, “Of course he did.” You laugh and sit back as he sighs, “I’m so annoyed with this boys.” He laughs and shakes his head, “I’ll leave you be.”

You really had Leo come check on me?

I knew you were bluffing.

You bite your lip and lean back as your thumbs tap the screen in a steady rhythm, I might have been bluffing about being naked, but that doesn’t mean I can’t always get naked.

You get up and quickly lock the door, taking your shirt off as you send him a selfie of your bare shoulders and upper chest, leaving your boobs out of it for now.

Don’t do this, y/n. There won’t be enough time before the show.

You take another picture, moving the camera down more, showing the tops of your boobs, I know but just think, this will just wind you up so when you come off stage we’ll have the hottest, filthiest sex ever.

You bite your lip and send him a picture of your boobs before he can answer, Can’t wait until you have your lips around these and you cock buried deep inside of me.

You knew you needed to stop, but you can’t help yourself. Winding Harry up was one of your favorite things to do because it made him angry and that led to the best sex most of the time.

Y/n. Baby, knock it off. I can’t afford to have my cock hard right now and you’re making it extremely hard not to.

You put your shirt on and let out a sigh as you unlock the door, okay, okay. But this doesn’t change the fact that I’m still craving you.

Fuck, we’re going straight back to the dressing room after the show.

You smile, knowing you’re going to get exactly what you want, I promise I’ll make it up to you.

You better, you just made me miss half of this meeting because all I can think about is your tits.

——

“Break a leg, baby.” You press your lips to Harry’s and go to lean back but he grabs your waist tight and pulls you to him, “you drive me insane.”

You smile up at him, “It would be boring if I didn’t.”

He smirks and nods, “Yeah, you’re right.” He leans down and kisses you, “I gotta go. I’ll be back for you.” He winks and jogs over to join the other boys, doing their pre show ritual.

You make your way out and sit in the section dedicated to family and close friends. You talk with some fans as you wait for them to come on stage and when the lights go down, it gets insanely loud.

The intro plays and they appear. Harry instantly finds you, singing songs towards you and does something he’s never really done before.

He forgets the words.

You cover your mouth, trying not to laugh, “Oh no.”

You really got into his head. He can’t focus because all he can think about is you.

Naked.

Wanting to sit on his cock.

He clears his throat and cracks a joke, causing everyone to laugh. You smirk up at him and he shakes his head with a smile.

The fans notice me they go absolutely feral. You and Harry have been publicly together for two years now, but it still doesn’t change the fact that the fans go absolutely nuts when new pap pics drop of you two walking down the sidewalk holding hands.

You dance with the fans and take selfies with them throughout the night and talk with them as the boys mess around on stage.

Eventually, the show is coming to an end so you say your goodbyes and head to the dressing room faster than ever.

You sit on the couch, biting your lip and bouncing your leg as you wait for Harry to make his arrival.

You hear the loudness of them coming off the stage and entering the hall way and your heart starts racing. Harry always gets you going, no matter what he does. You fall more in love with him with every little thing he does.

The door opens and Harry stands there, his chest rising and falling quickly and a smirk grows on his lips, “What happened to being naked in my dressing room?”

He shuts the door with a slam and locks it, discarding his shirt as he walks over to you. You get your shirt off and toss it before he pushes you back and lays his body on yours.

“You made me forget the words to the songs I sing every goddamn day.” He groans and kisses down your neck, “As said, you drive me insane.”

You run your hands through his hair and moan as he pushes his bulge against your clothed pussy, “Harry.” You whimper out, “Please.”

“Take ‘em off.”

He stands up to take his jeans and boxers off as you quickly take off your pants and underwear. You lay back and spread your legs, “I need you so bad.”

“I know how you feel.” He leans on the couch and lays his body over yours. He kisses you as he reaches down to rub the tip of his cock on your soaked folds, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“I’ve been all damn day.” You pull him in to kiss him and gasp loudly as you finally feel him inside of you, stretching your walls like you craved all day.

He doesn’t waste anytime and slowly pulls out and pushes his cock deep inside of you, “Fuck. Y/n.” He groans as he kisses down your neck and dips his head down to take a nipple between his lips.

You arch your back and wrap your legs around him, “Shit, yes baby. That feels so good.” You moan and roll your eyes back, “Fuck, Harry.”

He moans against you, switching to give your other nipple attention, too.

His thrusts are slow and he makes sure to push his hips against yours each time he slides back in, groaning as he feels you clench around him, “Cum for me.” He breathe out, “Fucking hell.”

You moan and dig your nails into his skin, moaning loudly as you squeeze his cock with your walls, “Fuckfuck, shit.”

He crashes his lips on yours, moaning as he feels you cum around him, “Is that what you wanted all day?” He watches as you come down from your high, “Because it’s what I wanted.”

“Fuck yes.” You tighten your legs around him and open your eyes to look at him. You’re panting, “Feels so good.”

He smirks and speeds his thrusts up, “You feel so good.” He goes back to playing with your boobs, licking sucking and nipping the skin around your nipples, moaning as he feels his urge to cum escalate quickly, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon.”

You nod, “let me taste you.”

He groans and kisses you before he stands up, pumping his cock as you shift down to the floor in front of him. You rest back onto your calves and open your mouth to stick your tongue out.

He moans as he looks down at you. His hair falling down over his face makes him look so hot.

He gasps and watches as strings of cum coat your chin and mouth. You close your eyes and move your tongue to catch it. You lean up and wrap your lips around the head of his cock, sucking until he gasps again, “O-okay.”

You lean back with a smile, “Was it worth the wait?”

He chuckles and nods, “It’s always worth the wait, baby.” He stands you up, “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

——

Thank you for the request! If you have any others you can send them here

Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated &lt;3

[spxllcxstxr]

Your Last Time Seeing Your Twin, Regulus Black, Before He Dies • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hey! I love your Reggie HCs, can i request where the reader is Reggie's twin and they were in a big fight about something (up to u) and when she was about to apologize to him kreacher gave her a letter from reggie b4 he dies CAN U PLS MAKE IT RLY ANGSTY I WANNA CRY SO BAD IT DOESNT HAVE TO BE THE EXACT SAME I LOVE UR WRITINGS MWAH❤️‍🔥 — anon

Warnings: dark mark and Voldemort mentions, Regulus becomes a deatheater, mostly canon compliant I believe?

A.N: gn!reader, though Kreacher refers to you as Master Black simply because to me thats more gn than Mistress, but like of course you can change that! It’s the only thing that is gendered

•

You just wanted your brother safe

The two of you finally graduated from your seventh year at Hogwarts and you just wanted him to come with you, to be safe from the brewing war

Sirius had already joined the Order along with his friends, and while Regulus already bore the Dark Mark, he still had time to run and switch sides

That left you in the middle

You wanted to go with Sirius and join the Order, fight against Voldemort and his death eaters

But could you abandon your twin?

So you begged him to escape with you

You packed your bags when your mother and father were gone, and you confronted him

“Regulus, I’m begging you,” there’s tears in your eyes, shaking as you watch him stand stiffly arms length away from you. “It’s time for us to leave, it’s better this way”

“(Y/n), I’ve already got the mark—“

“Fuck the mark, reg! No one will care—“

“I’ll be called a spy! Ostracized! They won’t trust me!” He’s yelling, babbling really, trying to make you understand. His slate grey eyes connect with yours. “(Y/n), it is better this way—“

“It’s suicide, regulus. You don’t believe in the Dark Lord’s ideas, you never have, so why are you doing this?” Your heart beats wildly, hands trembling

“I’ve got a plan!”

You scoff, hands clenched into fists

The two of you are silent for what feels like forever

Clocks tick, portraits cough, Kreacher somewhere far off polishes the silverware, listening to your every word

“Please…” Your voice breaks and you can tell regulus wants to right then and there make it all better by conceding

But he doesn’t

“Mother and father will be home soon, (Y/n). You should go,” Regulus stiffens, back straight, eyes showing almost no emotion.

“Not without you”

“They’ll do us both in when they see you with your bags and after Kreacher tells them everything,” He swallows. “I can keep you safe but you have to leave. Now,”

With one last look and no actual final goodbye, you disapparate out of your childhood home and instead wind up at Potter’s place

You’re in hysterics when forced to tell Sirius why your twin wasn’t there with you

You didn’t know about Regulus’ death until years afterward

Your eldest brother was rotting in Azkaban, your friends either dead or in hiding 

You thought that with the Dark Lord gone you might be able to see Regulus again, fight for his innocence, do anything for your twin

But your childhood home is empty

long empty 

Everything is covered in dust and silent, none of your relative portraits are making a sound

12 Grimmauld Place is more eerie than usual somehow 

“Regulus? Kreacher? Anybody here?”

You start looking around the house, going into each room

When you finally find Kreacher in the study, staring intently at the Black Family Tapestry 

You almost feel sorry for the house elf

You would’ve if he wasn’t brainwashed by your delightful mother at this point

“Master Black, he said you would be back, but I believed you would be too traitorous to show your face around here again...”

“Where is he, Kreacher? Where is my brother?”

“Master Regulus...he-he perished before the Dark Lord’s ultimate demise”

He fiddles with a letter in one of his hands as the wind gets knocked out of you

You’re forced to sit down, heart breaking, you start to feel cold 

“In the event of your return, he wanted me to hand you this”

Kreacher hands you the letter before slinking off, though you’re sure he’s close by, it’s obvious he doesn’t trust you

Though you don’t trust him either

The letter is crinkled and the seal has already been broken

(Y/n),

If you’re reading this, that means I’m dead, and it also means that we never reconciled after that nasty fight years ago. I’m sorry. (Y/n), I am so deeply sorry for all the pain I must’ve caused you over all these years. The heartbreak I suffered after seeing you leave this blasted place was immense, and I am sure it was just as bad as your own. I hope that my motive in joining the Deatheaters will come to light, since I cannot reveal it here in this letter.

I hope you have a great and fulfilling life, my dear twin. I hope you get to do things mother and father never let us do and that you and Sirius can be a real family. It’s a pity I cannot be a part of that reality.

I’ll miss you, (Y/n). Tell Sirius I’m sorry.

R.A.B.

You keep this letter with you, basically just holding it close to your chest

You lost your twin, and honestly you don’t think you’ll ever recover from it

How would you?

•

[pokemonispain]

Hi again! This is the same anon as the Jamil ask <33

I love your take on that so much!! Honestly i love the thought of all of the boys going through rough overblot symptoms like - take Leona next.

I imagine that adrenaline ran him through the Spelldrive Tournament and didn't fizzle out even later because Cheka came by and he finally crashes late at night in the infirmary. That's literally such a perfect set up too like - Ruggie, Leona and Jack are all in the infirmary for their wounds so the doctor/nurse let's them be on their own with their number in case they need anything.

At first Leona can't tell apart the soreness from getting beat around from the feverish aching. He refuses to eat and Ruggie, still hesitant from being attacked by King's Roar doesn't force him.

I also love the idea of Leona eventually feeling so sick that he simply sits at the edge of his bed and throws up, the sound of which wakes Ruggie up and for a moment Ruggie decides to forget that Leona hurt him and decides to help him out anyways.

I feel like Jack would also be really caring despite not really being very happy with Leona or Ruggie, because somehow he gives me very responsible little brother vibes.

Anon, anon👁️👁️ did you know that I am an enormous Leona yume/simp, (same for Azul) but oh my lord I love this just YES😵‍💫 I may need to write another fic for him😭

Leona definitely put himself through the wringer in regards to his overblot and then proceeding to do like incredibly intensive magic based sports afterwards as well.

Him winded up in the infirmary afterwards was the least surprising thing ever😭

I can definitely picture him aching everywhere when the adrenaline runs its course and then he practically jumps crashes hard. Just kinda curls up in what comfortable position he can manage and tries to sleep through it but the pain and fever that’s setting in is kinda keeping him just awake enough.

Ruggie and Jack chatting about the match, and just usual stuff maybe while occasionally looking at their phone or something.

I can definitely imagine when like dinner arrives Leona’s eyes kinda open a bit and he glances over at Ruggie who’s like grabbing his own food, Ruggie like just sensing Leona’s eyes on him and him hesitantly looking over after a second or two before asking him if he wants some of the food.

Leona would probably just shake his head a bit close his eyes and tries going back to sleep. Eventually like managing to doze off for a bit wakes up feeling worse😭

I figure like Jack would probably be knocked out until he actually hears like Leona start puking and then he wakes up completely startled, his fur on his ears and tail bristling and everything 😭

Ruggie probably was nearly asleep as well when he hears like Leona shifting in bed, something interesting is that since Leona like using King’s Roar on him I feel like maybe Ruggie would have a tiny bit of trouble sleeping with his back to Leona, ie basically exposed, where as before that it was fine.

He may not even realize he’s doing it exactly but just that he feels more comfortable/safer that way😭

Him opening his eyes and seeing Leona moving to sit up, thinking that Leona’s probably just getting up for water or finally eating dinner til he just sees him lurch forward and retch😂

Ruggie’s eyes would be so wide before like he kinda rushes over to hold Leona’s hair and help him. Realizing he’s running a fever while Jack comes over too to help probably calls one of the medical mages over.

I can see both Jack and Ruggie being more than a little worried especially considering like Leona’s had an overblot so recently. Ahhh I love them a lot❤️❤️

[brittlebutch]

Alright! So, that fic about that disastrous first day of school when Erin’s eight got me thinking: If Peg’s quietly enduring all that shit from the other moms to try to get her a good education, maybe she isn’t the only parent doing that. It’s possible Erin’s not the only kid who’s singled out for being “different,” and any other kid in a similar boat would probably reach out and try to make friends.

I started thinking about some solidarity happening in the aftermath of that, and I came up with a concept that you can absolutely take or leave: A physically disabled girl—I’ve been picturing, like, a limp—in Erin’s class/grade reaching out to make friends the next day, and the solidarity being instantaneous.

Again, there’s no pressure, feel free to take it or leave it—this plot bunny just wouldn’t leave me alone until I dropped it in your askbox, and (at least in my case, growing up) I feel like physically disabled/NT solidarity is a pretty common thing.

(And also the mental image of Erin bringing this kid home for a play date—and said kid immediately imprinting upon Hawkeye because A: he’s a cool, funny adult, and B: he’s like Erin, which means all three of them have a little in common—is both hilarious and fluffy as hell. Just—I could totally see him slowly amassing a gaggle of adoptive kids with every new friend Erin makes.)

—MASH!Anon

Oh love that; it's actually very similar to a fic that I was trying to write that never got done - Erin making friends with a young gay boy in her class when they're in 4th/5th grade; if i ever wind up circling back to finish that one, it would be So great to integrate this idea in there as well, since all of the fics in this series have been split up into 3s so far!

as a bonus i'll put in an exerpt of that WIP that i've dug out of an old notebook :3 (bullying tw tho)

[Context: Erin saw this boy being knocked around by some classmates and told her teacher, who broke it up, but the classmates shoved her into the mud as retaliation for 'trying to get them in trouble']

"Do you need help?" someone asks, and Erin freezes because she does not know if they are only waiting to be mean or not. She stays silent, and they sigh. "You do. Come on, I can get the mud out."

She doesn't really want to go with them, but she knows that the bathroom is the right next step anyway, so she follows, tense with anticipation for what they might spring on her.

But the boy only checks that the bathroom is empty before pulling her inside, turning on the sink, and examining the stains on her sleeves critically.

"It'll be easier if you take it off," he says, but Erin shakes her head fast. The last time someone asked her to take off her sweater so that they "could take a look at it", they had run off and hid it. The teacher said that maybe it was good that she took a break from it for a while, and only made the other kids give it back when Erin started crying so hard she almost made herself sick.

The boy shrugs, and pulls Erin over to stick her whole arm under the running water, carefully scrubbing at the fabric with his fingers, and it reminds Erin of Hakweye - the way he washes her sweater and his robe together in the sink, as gentle as possible to keep the fabric from all wearing out.

"I have to wash the mud outta my pants all the time when they push me," the boy explains suddenly, startling Erin with the sound of his voice. "My mom would get so mad if I let them all stain."

That's when Erin recognizes him. "You are the boy they were kicking," she says.

He winces - "Sorry," he mumbles. "Does it bother you that a homo's the one washing your clothes?"

Erin thinks of Hawkeye. "No," she says, but doesn't elaborate. She understands her parents' secret even more now, and this boy might be kind, and he might even be the same, but Erin doesn't know him enough to trust him. "My name is Erin," she adds belatedly.

"I'm Danny."

[josibunn]

bye i luv your writing so if your comfortable w it can i get a euro × fem!reader where they are both different like aesthetic and belief wise, and because of that reader always gets judged for being with a guy like euro (euro definitely gets teased for being w a girl like reader too), and euro comforts her be he notices shes acting weird but pretending shes ok, then she accepts the fact that it doesnt matter if there different from each other, be at the end like luv each other mwah mwah type shit LMFOA tyyyy

awww this is so sweet :( I kinda relate to this! being semi-christian and all. I hope you don’t mind that I took a religious approach, thank u sm anon!!

mentions of religion, sfw but a little angsty. euro is very gentle with you here :3.

you always felt…weird out in public with your boyfriend. he’s black coffee, you’re strawberry boba. he’s black cat you’re the fluffy bright bunny. you’re barbie he’s oppenheimer lol. and of course it didn’t bother him, never ever. he loved you, you’re a bright, beautiful thing. so sweet and gentle to everyone you meet, always lit up a room.

you though, you were always in your head about it. you didn’t fit each other at all, in your head that is. you didn’t like the same music, styles of clothing, you didn’t even have the same beliefs. you grew up christian, in fact, that was what led you to meeting euronymous.

you walked in his shop with a bright smile, holding pamphlets close to your chest that wielded your pretty cross necklace in your long white frilly dress and pink cardigan. your pumps clacked the ground as you looked around the store, “wow,” you thought. “so many…colors. noises. genres. people.”

and he caught you as soon as he came in, snickering with faust as you looked around. “hey miss, can I help you? you wanna buy somethin?” he called to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. and immediately you thought he was beautiful. his aura was just something..different. something enticing.

you blush, “no, although I like it in here, i’ve never been in. is it music? I like the art,” you make conversation, internally cringing at the blood on a cover. “that it is, my music. what’re you doing on this side of town?” he asks as you walk closer to the counter, even though he knew. he knew that pamphlet through and through, though he’d never seen someone that looked like..you..holding it.

he thought the same about you. right away actually, though he wouldn’t admit it, not to his friends at least. “oh!” you remembered why you came in in the first place. “with the recent church burnings that’s been happening, my family and some of the townspeople wanted to invite any and everyone to a small gathering! it’s just food and discussion, mostly what we could do to chip in with a rebuilding of old methodist across town, the most recent one.”

he could tell my your kadence you were a bit nervous, mostly because his friends started surrounding him, listening to you, amused faces glancing back at each other. but he was attentive, watching your lips shine in the light and your lashes fall against each other as you scan him.

“and of course if it’s not something you’re into i’m not forcing you, but know we welcome you with open arms if you decide to pop up. I know the other, older ladies scream and shout about it,” you give a small smile, it almost knocks wind out of him. fuck, what’s wrong with me right now?

“when is it?” fausts ask. “tonight!” you extend your arm out for him to grab it, but euronymous grabs it instead. “thanks but no tha-” “well think about it. thanks.” euronymous cuts off Varg, who glared at him. you had a feeling they wouldn’t, but you smiled anyway, your hand touching your necklace out of anxiety. “great! i’m [y/n], i’ll be greeting at the door if you decide to come, so you won’t feel isolated by unfamiliar faces.” you shake his hand and keep steady contact for a little too long, his cheeks a little pink.

you turn your back and walk out, giving a quick wave before leaving, letting out the breath you didn’t think you were holding.

… … …

it was only euronymous who showed up, in secret. you watched him appear out of the darkness, shock and fluster filling your chest as you gasp softly, a smile growing. “hi!” you greet with a giggle. “hey, uhh. sorry my friends didn’t come.” “it’s fine! you did and that’s perfect. I have to stand here for a few minutes but you could go in if you want.”

anxiety filled him, all those weird ass old people judging him, itd be better to go in with you instead. “uhh,,can I stand out here until you go in? being..new and all.” and you happily obliged, and when you did go in he watched you and you only, watching as you speak to the crowd passionately with that same smile, and it was up from there.

you remember that day like yesterday. you love him, of course. of course. he was everything to you, and he support you, your dreams and beliefs, as you did him. but you knew what they said about you, what they still said about you.

3 month mark hit. “you’re still around?” “didn’t think this would last this long.” you’d hear when you’d come over to hang out in the den.

6 month mark. “doesn’t this like..go against something? is this allowed? surely that god of yours is looking down like ‘what the fuck??’” he’d ask as you sat next to øystein on the couch, playing with his hair happily. and for someone named cristian, it was funny that he was the only one pestering about it. “n..no. no. what about him would go against anything?” you’d say with a bit of attitude, that would just receive a laugh, and even when øystein told them off and comforted you it still made you feel bad inside.

a year. itd died down after a while, but one day while you were over you got caught in a fight.

you were helping clean up, weaving through øystein and varg as they continued to argue for the umpteenth time. “you think i’m gonna take advice about my fucking band from someone like you? christian??” euro spits. “that backstage pussy is fucking with your head, you’re gettin’ fuckin’ beside yourself.”

“fucking with my head?? you’re a dating a christian bitch that braids hair in fuckin circles with a fat ass cross around her neck, don’t talk about fucking with people heads. you’re far fuckin off from what you even started.” the argument carries upstairs as euronymous fires off at him, and you look at up avoid tears from falling, trying not to let the already eyes on you get to you.

hellhammer comes up and rubs your arm, kissing the top of your head, “he doesn’t mean it, yknow that. he’s just mad.” “no, no he does, and that’s ok. I think ima leave, actually.” and with that you pack up and leave without notice to øystein.

you never actually told him how it made you feel, you didn’t think it was a big deal. you could get through it yourself. but when you get in your head it all floods back to you, you find yourself tucking your necklade under your shirt, keeping your plans from him, you almost felt..ashamed. you knew he didn’t mind but what if it got to him? what if he couldn’t take it anymore? fuck.

and one day before you go out on a double date, the thoughts and recurring memories got to you as you got ready. you were looking at yourself in the mirror of your room, your outfit laid out already as øystein waited for you downstairs. he wasn’t oblivious, of course. he knew it was getting to you. in fact he distanced himself from from the group unless it was about work or music, varg at least. he’s do anything to protect your heart and keep you in his life.

you sigh, looking at the necklace you always wore sit pretty on your dresser. maybe I should..try his style out. maybe he’d like you more, maybe they’d except you.

so you grab a dress reserved for funerals, a black, frilly thing that exposed little to no chest and some black heels, dumbing down your makeup a bit and leaving your hair down. as you glance in the mirror at yourself, you try and convince yourself you like it, he’ll like it.

he checks the time before heading upstairs, “hey, song bird?” he calls before coming in. “you ready?” he begins to speak but he scans you over, his brows furrowing in confusion. “oh, yes sorry, girls gotta look her best,” you try n joke, but he doesn’t follow.

“do you like it?” you ask, staring at his puzzled face. “uhm, sure, yeah yeah, you look nice.” he says, walking over. “don’t forget your necklace though,” he grabs it and goes to pull your hair back but you stop him, “nono it’s ok, I don’t wanna wear it tonight, s’fine.” you shrug.

“what? why? your moms gonna kill you, you know she senses shit like that in her sleep,” he jokes and goes back to try n put it on, but you stop him again. “no reason I just..don’t want to. don’t I look nice without it?” “I-..you like nice all the time sugar, but you always wear it. why not tonight?”

nervousness flush over you, and you stammer over your words, but he’s not having it, sitting the necklace on the dresser and crossing his arms. “baby, talk to me. what’s on your mind?” hes speaking softly and you’re looking down playing with your nails, so he squats, getting under your face. “[y/n], what’s wrong? did I do something?” he cooes, rubbing your arms.

“no! never I just..I wanted to wear this for you, try something new.” “ok,,and that’s fine, but are you trying something different for you or for me?” “..does it matter?” he scoffs, “yeah? what happened to that yellow dress you picked out, we just got? you were excited about it. and you never wear black, like, ever. I don’t even think you own black underwear.”

“I just wanna blend in with you, make you happy. isn’t it like..annoying when your friends say stuff like that all the time?” you say shakily, and he catches it, his heart dropping, he knew it would come sooner or later. “no, of course not. they say annoying shit all the time, doesn’t get to me.” he sits down and pulls you in his lap, rubbing your arms.

“is this what’s been bothering you? the shit they say about you and me?” you sigh and roll your eyes, “øystein..they’ve been saying it for a year. and I don’t really care but you like..that doesn’t make you feel weird? embarrassed? you don’t practice what I practice and they’re always on your a-ass about it, so it’s just..i’d rather get away from it with you and them than continue the bullying.”

“no? why would I be embarrassed? it’s what you love, and I love it about you. like, they’re not my fuckin’ girlfriend and they’re definitely not my parents, I don’t give a fuck. you know we’re nothing alike, right? you like..you like that irish whiny guy,” “hozier,” you correct with a slight smile, “right, and I love my music. I like black, and red, you don’t fuckin like black. you like pink, n’ I fuckin hate pink.” he pulls at your dress, making you giggle.

“but you know what I do love? I love you,” he kisses your lips softly. “and I love you in pink, and you love me in black, and I don’t mind your music just how you don’t mind mine.” he kisses you cheeks. “and I love you, and I love you and I love you. I love you. they’re not my fuckin’ girlfriend, I don’t give a shit about what they think about you.” he cups your cheeks as you smile.

“your parents didn’t even like me at first, and your friends didn’t either. I remember that much,” he chuckled. “but yknow what? you love me, and I love you. right? you’re not goin cold on me?” he asks and you giggle, shaking your head. “exactly. I don’t care about that shit, at the end of the day, it’s us. me n you.”

“me and you.” you say softly, and he smiles. you rub the bandages over his knuckles lovingly, the bandages you had to put on him after the altercation with Christian, and you remember he did that because he loves you, and accepts you. “so it doesn’t bother you?” you ask once more.

“no baby,” he giggled. “I love it, bible study isn’t that bad. the grannies love me and I eat good, so i’m chillin. now take this off, please. I love you in bright colors.” he taps your knee before you stand, giving him one more kiss. “you love me,” you sigh in a smile, “I love you. so so much, i’ll be out there while you change, kay? let me know what you wanna put that back on,” he refers to your necklace, and you smile.

so you sat in his van, singing along to whatever was on the radio as he held your hand, glancing over you with a smile as you look out the window, your necklace glistening in the light.

I hope this was good enough i’m so sorry if it wasn’t!!! I enjoyed it though, it resided with me and past situations actually. hope u enjoyed, thank u sm for reading :3 love u, mwah mwah mwah!

taglist: @vanlisbon @sugarinte @monkeyfart @444rockstargf @bambi-horror @u1trear0tic @auggiethecreator @bluemercy2 @lankysimp @wonkinoo

[cqsuanla]

fury shakes the rafters

pairing: dark!nat/f!reader

summary:

Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. And that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

(inspired by jennifer’s body)

additional notes: mommy kink, dom/sub, bloodplay(?), dacryphilia, uhh pussy spanking, choking, unhealthy relationship, terrible aftercare

title from a song suggested by an anon: nobody by the crane wives

(ao3)

The light in the stairwell flickers, but it doesn’t make a difference, dim and dirty as it is. It buzzes distantly in your ears. You’re too focused on taking the steps two at a time to notice. You hold your groceries to your chest and fish your keys out of your pocket. If you were strong like Nat, you might just have knocked the door clean of its hinges with the force of your body. Instead, it crashes loudly into your wall, and you nearly fall on your face from the momentum. 

In a bid to gain purchase on your wall, you sweep your coat rack over, and you stumble over it. The clatter makes you wince — you hope she’s in a good mood. It’s hard for her to process stimuli when she’s weak. You scramble onto your hands and knees, shoving scattered boxes and cans into the grocery bag. 

Then, the rhythmic thud-thud of footsteps. You pause, exhaling as your eyes close. 

“Drink?” in a monotone. 

Yikes. You open your eyes, biting your lip. Steel-toed boots. You’ve told Nat a million times that this is a shoes-off apartment. She never listens, and you never argue more. Nat stays; she’s the only one who’ll stay. You can’t drive her away. 

Her right boot rises, scraping against the floor, and you flinch. It just kicks a cereal box away so it can nudge at the shopping bag. The way she says your name, evenly, firmly, has you blinking rapidly, has your hands automatically shooting to the bag, following her prompt. Thank god the bottles are fine. You don’t know what you’d do if they had shattered. 

You wiggle a beer out of the pack, and only then do you dare to make eye contact. 

“Hi,” you murmur. 

She gives you a brief glance, impassive, before snatching the bottle from your hand and returning to her spot on the armchair. “That fucking coat rack.” She flicks the cap off your side table, grungy and scratched up for this very reason. The cap bounces off the wall and disappears under the couch. “Just move it further in. You never listen.” 

You did, weeks ago. You don’t say so. 

The coat rack came with the place, and it was nice, so you refused to get rid of it. Nat hated it, hated that it was so close to the door in your already bite-sized entryway, but never enough to throw it out herself. But you did move it because her complaints were valid, and you wanted her to like being here with you, living here with you. Anyway, she stopped complaining afterwards. Not that you think she noticed — you supposed it was a minor inconvenience to her, the way a fly was, annoying when it was in your face but non-existent once it stopped bothering you. 

Quietly, you move your groceries to the kitchen island, putting everything but your new medical supplies away. There are dirty plates in the sink, which you’ll wash after you make yourself dinner. You wonder what she’s eaten – you’d just bought two new steaks, but Nat likes a bowl of strawberry ice cream now and then.

The TV channel switches in the background. Nat snorts, and you peek around the wall to catch a report on the gruesome series of murders that have been happening lately. People in the neighbourhood hardly went out anymore, too afraid of the dark now. It would scare you too if you weren’t well aware you’d never fall victim. Nat was with you, after all, and you were with her. 

You would be with her for as long as she’d let you. So, what if she was the monster in the dark? So what? It was Nat. Your Nat. She came back to you, talked to you, fucked you. It’s not like she was disembowelling you in some grimy alleyway. She kept most of the violence away from you because she cared. Anyway, like everyone else, she had to eat. You couldn’t fault her for that. 

You’re pulling the gauze out of its packaging when Nat scoffs loudly at the news. They must’ve insulted her because she clicks the TV shut, practically inhales half her bottle and flings the remote onto the couch. 

Then, she sets her sights on you, meek behind the counter, and raises an eyebrow. “Honey, the hall’s a mess. Clean it up.” 

You frown. “You’re still hurt.” 

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll eat tomorrow, and it’ll be fine.” 

You don’t think so. The longer Nat doesn’t eat, the worse it gets. It’s how she’s in this mess in the first place. Nat’s ethereal after a feeding, next to omnipotent. But the guy she picked to eat last week turned out to be some sort of track star because he had booked it at the first sign of trouble, and she’d been forced to retreat when the sirens started blaring. The day after that, she picked a local thug as her next meal, and she’d been caught off guard by the switchblade. So, here she is: slumped on your couch and stitched up sloppily. 

Her hair is limp, skin wane and dry, and in a bad enough mood that you can basically feel it every time you’re within a two-meter radius of her. 

Her physical weakness emboldens you a little, makes you think you can get away with a bit of stubbornness. You pick up the gauze and tape and round the corner. A car speeds by, high beam making Nat’s eyes glint a deep green in the dark. The green follows you the whole way until she has to crane her head around to watch you slip her tank top off a shoulder. 

Those eyes weren’t like that before when you first started dating. You don’t mind the changes, though. Aside from the cannibalism, Nat is mostly the same. Still ridiculously strong and stupidly hardheaded. 

“You don’t want to listen?” she asks, almost conversationally. 

You know better. You clench and unclench your fist. Shakily, you lift it and tuck a hair behind Nat’s ear, hoping foolishly that it will placate her. 

“Baby,” says she, like a gentle mother to a misbehaving child, “you should really listen.” 

You trace the bumps of her stitches, staring hard at her shoulder so you won’t have to see that face — flinty, cold, mean. Nat’s always been mean. 

“At least answer me.” 

“No, Nat,” you mutter, undoing the bandages on her bicep. “I don’t want to listen.”

To her credit, she lets you fix her up. Methodically, silently, you clean her wounds and rewrap them in new bandages. She doesn’t get in the way unless it’s to take a swig of her drink. 

When you’re done with her arms and back, you move to her front. She’s got an ugly gash on her calf, bruised midway from where the man had kicked her bleeding leg. You imagine this is causing her the most pain, not just physically. Nat’s not great with sitting still. She’s independent to a fault, enjoying control to the point that it’s probably some sort of diagnosable complex, and this restriction on her mobility has her restless and irritated. 

Looking down at her, at the space between her knees, you wonder if she’ll cooperate with you. The last time you tried to clean her leg, she’d torn your duvet in half and has since refused to let you look at it. But Nat tilts her head, coy, and gestures toward the space in front of her with her bottle. 

“Scared?” she whispers.

You glance at her face just in time to catch her tongue tracing the jagged end of a canine. Mutely, you shake your head. She smiles wide.

“Liar.”

Of course. You’re always scared of her. For her, too. But you don’t think it matters; it doesn’t change anything. You just want to help her, be good for her. Anyway, she’s trying to get a reaction out of you. You refuse to take the bait, raising your eyebrows and wiggling the bandages in your hand.

“Fine.” With a roll of her eyes, she parts her legs. 

As if dealing with a feral animal, you move slowly, cautiously, afraid to make sudden movements lest she starts getting violent. You squat down and reach for the cuff of her sweatpants. 

“Ah, ah.” She slides the leg back, staring down her nose at you. You pause. “Kneel, baby.” 

Her eyes — did the ring of green get thinner? Your lips part, anticipation beginning to seep into your body, and you comply. Once you’re settled, looking up at her, she makes that same careless gesture with her bottle. A go-ahead. 

As you work, she shifts to put her beer on the table and then combs a hand into your hair. You tense, eyeing her nervously, but she only watches you, imperious, intense, and remains silent. Nevertheless, you pick up the pace, tossing the antiseptic aside and winding the gauze around her pale calf. 

She’s startlingly warm under your hands. Ever since… whatever happened to her — she wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the details — she’s run hotter than ever. You can’t sleep under a blanket with her anymore unless you’re shirtless; the heat would be unbearable. Not that Nat has any complaints about that. 

“All done,” you murmur. 

The lack of reaction from Nat gives you the courage to lean forward and press a sweet kiss to the top of her knee. The hand in your hair rewards you with a gentle scratch, and you can’t help melting into a smile. She’s still got that air of arrogance about her when you look up at her, but she’s not glaring. Which is why it comes entirely as a surprise when she clenches a fistful of hair in her hand, yanking your head back, and slaps you clean across the face with her other hand. 

You take the full brunt of her palm with a cry, almost toppling over were it not for the grip on your hair. Your cheek burns, and so does your eyes. Mostly from pain, partly from the shock of it, maybe a little from shame when you realize you’re getting wet from the rough treatment. 

Nat tuts. “Crying already?” 

You imagine you look pretty pathetic on your knees for her, eyes glassy.

“Don’t give me those eyes, baby; you know I can’t help myself.” 

“I just wanted to help.” 

“I know,” Nat says gently, tipping your head back again so you can see the false sincerity on her face. “You can fix this, you know?” 

Your eyebrows furrow, thoughts racing a mile a minute to puzzle out what she means. 

“Don’t think so hard. You’ll hurt yourself. I’ll show you how, dumb baby,” she coos as she nudges your chin with the knuckle of her finger, and you can’t help flushing deeply at that. Then, she offers a hand, and you take it, and she tugs you up into a straddle on her lap. “Come here.” 

You instinctively wind your arms around her neck, clinging on. Beneath you, she tenses and lets out a low rumbling sound that resonates deep in her chest. You inhale sharply. 

Teeth. Sharpened to deadly points. Poised over your neck. Nat’s breath comes short and hot against your skin, and her tongue, when it peeks out, drags wetly across your skin. 

This has happened once before; the first night she’d come back changed. Like before, she noses at your flushed skin, teasing you with the possibility of damage, and trails her teeth down to your traps. Back then, she hadn’t bitten you. She won’t now, you think, you hope. 

She sighs again, hovering over the meat of your shoulder and prodding her teeth against you. Doesn’t break the skin. 

“Don’t make it worse for yourself. Are you scared?” 

This time, you nod. Nat’s lips curve into a smile, and her hold on your thighs tighten enough to bruise. 

“You should listen, sweetheart,” she says against you. The front of her teeth scrapes over you when she speaks, leaving red marks behind. “I hurt you less when you’re good. Don’t you know?”

“How can you be in the mood?” you wonder, burying your face into the crook of her neck. “You’re half dead.”

“Barely.”

It would take a lot more to kill Nat like this. Anyway, how could you be in the mood when your girlfriend’s cut up like this? 

Nat stands abruptly, ignorant to your yelps and complaints, and dumps you back onto the couch in quick succession. Before you can even register what’s happened, she’s yanked your bottoms down to your ankles and has climbed between your legs. 

Even after that, you don’t get the chance to speak. She wraps her hand around your throat and pins you to the cushions. You grab onto her wrist.

Her body bears down, and you break into a sweat, in small part due to nerves, some part because she’s shoving her hand up your shirt to grab roughly at your bra, but mostly because she’s near scalding. You’re convinced her blood runs at a constant boil now. You’ve grown to love the heat, though. With her, pleasure comes white-hot, and you’d want it no other way. 

“Nat-”

“No,” she growls, and you get an eyeful of her monstrous teeth. She flexes both hands, cutting off your airway and squeezing your breast painfully. You whimper, wound tight as a coil. “Listen to me, baby.”

You look at her through hazy eyes. 

“Those eyes again. God, I love you like this.” Foolishly, your heart clenches at those words. She rucks your shirt up and claws her nails down your front. Beads of blood bloom from the thin scratches she leaves behind. “You’re beautiful when I hurt you.”

Her hand nearly crushes your throat closed, but then she releases you, and you suck air in desperately. Your hands, shaken off her arm, reach for the sides of her head. “Nat,” you croak, tasting the salt from your tears on your lips. “Nat.”

She shakes her head, descending on your chest. It hurts – badly. “Be good for mommy.”

“Mommy,” you gasp out, arching into her mouth. She ignores your pert nipples, electing instead to lick and suck at the burn between your breasts. “Please, please.”

“Shut up,” she hisses. Oh, her teeth are still out. “Hands above your head.”

You obey, another sad sound crawling out of your abused throat. 

The dark pits of her eyes drink in the sight of you, face crumpled in pain and need. A thumb wipes up the last of your blood, and she delights in smearing it across your cheek. 

“Messy baby, clean up after yourself. It’s basic,” she chides, thumb still rubbing at your face as if she were fixing up some runny mascara. “Be good now.”

You don’t dare to speak, just nod and look pleadingly up at her. Your core aches from neglect. 

She makes quick work of that, reaching down to feel the slick between your thighs. Humming, she smirks and very deliberately rubs her middle finger over your clit. You jerk up into her, mouth falling open even as you strangle your moan. 

“I could do anything to you, and you’d still want me.” 

Again, you nod. 

“Where did my little liar go?” she baits. You shake your head. “Say ‘thank you, mommy, for letting me breathe.’”

It takes you a moment to gather the brain cells and say: “Thank you, mommy.”

Her smile widens, teeth back to normal. “Again, for the lesson.”

“Thank you, mommy.”

She brings her hand down on your cunt, full strength. You scream, jolting away from her. Well, you would have if she hadn’t pressed you down by the chest, entirely uncaring about the wound she’d left there. Tears leak out the sides of your eyes, trickling into your hairline. 

“Thank me for that too,” she demands.

“Thank you,” you cry around a hiccup. 

One more spank, and another, and another. Your legs kick uselessly against the cushions, body twisting after every awful smack.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Your hole clenches around nothing, slick leaking onto the couch. Then, two fingers dip into you, and Nat thrusts them up hard and fast. She’d shoved them in on a contraction, and it hurts for a second before she’s curling her fingers into the velvet of your walls. 

She makes a pleased sound. “Tight as always. Makes me want to tear you in half, baby.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “Th-” She starts up a fast pace, digging her fingertips into your front wall. “Thank you!”

Her cheek rests on your chest, listening to the thunder of your heart. “We should try that big one.” Impossibly, your heart rate quickens at the thought, and you manage to shake your head. She laughs, the sound sharp and cruel, and music to your ears. “Maybe another time then.”

She sits up then, still working her fingers into your cunt, and moves her other hand to your mons. She pets gently over your labia, a sharp contrast to the vicious pace she’s keeping up. Your head spins. 

“My baby,” she breathes, “good enough to fucking eat.”

But she parts your folds to press her fingers into your clit, circling them once, twice, thrice, and you’re so close. So desperately close. 

She leans down, near delicate in her movements, and licks into your mouth. You taste copper and beer and the faintest sweetness. Urgently, you try to kiss back. 

If she’s mean, she’d pull back and deny you the chance to come with her mouth on yours. 

She must think that you’ve suffered enough, though, because she rubs her thumb at your clit and drives her fingers deeper into you, and you push up as far as you can into her body with a scream. You’re swallowed in molten heat, pleasure stripping away at you until you’re just bones on the couch. 

When you come to, Nat’s pulling out some bandages for your chest. You’re too tired to do or say anything, forced into silence by her dominance. 

She smiles at you, still not kind, but it doesn’t look bestial like before. Maybe just self-satisfied. She strokes your sweaty hair as she fixes you up, shushing you if you moan quietly from aftershocks or pain. You are in a lot of pain, bruised and scratched up as you are.

“Good girl,” she says when she’s done. 

Finally, you muster the energy to grab her hand and say, “Thank you.”

She lets you hold on for a few seconds before pulling away. “Sure.”

You wish she’d hold you for a bit, but you don’t vocalize it. She’s been through too much in the last few days; you shouldn’t burden her—

“Don’t be fucking needy,” she says, suddenly and harshly. Your face must have given you away. 

“I don’t mean to be,” you mutter, bringing your arm up to cover your eyes. Feeling stupid, feeling mad that you feel stupid, you say: “It would just be nice if you’d stay for a bit.”

A hand grabs your arm, yanking it away from your head, and you’re treated to a view of her scowl. “Where would I go?”

You didn’t mean it that way, but you don’t know how to get out of this hole you’ve dug yourself. “I-I don’t know.”

Out of nowhere, her hand slaps your cunt again, overstimulated, sore, puffy. You groan, curling in on yourself and hugging your knees to your chest. 

“Fuck, Nat.”

She takes the opportunity to sit down on the end of the couch, where your legs once were. The TV turns back on, and you hear her take a sip from her can of beer. “Clean up the hall later.”

At least she stayed.

[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[manjiroia]

Hello! Can I request bonten kakucho,sanzu and rindou with fem s/o who is the second strongest in bonten after Mikey and has cold personality please? Have a nice day :)

𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐘𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐒/𝐎

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡ kakucho hitto, haitani rindou + haruchiyo sanzu

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ♡ fluff , crack , cold!s/o , timeskip!characters

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ♡ hi anon, thank you for this request!! I hope it meets up to your standards- enjoy <3

⁺ ☁⋆ ᕼITTO was going through inventory with mikey in the common meeting room, the echo of your heels clicking against the floor falling deaf to his ears as all staff hands in range scattered from your aura. "hitto, my shipments for PCP haven't been registered." mikey noticeably tensing up from your presence as he kicked hitto's shin under the table. "hmm? oh- I'll get to it-" "hey!! who do you think you are talking to our boss like that, huh?" your eyebrow crooked as you glanced at the burly man heading your way- oblivious to mikey who was shaking his head 'no' thoroughly behind you. "excuse me?" his hand wrapping around your wrist, "I said-" his sentence cut off as you gave a clean uppercut to his jaw, knocking him backwards with the wind out of his chest. your perfect red bottoms pressing against his chest as you leaned on your knee. "watch your tone, fool. or you won't be walking away next time at all." turning back to them with a small, terrifying smile on your face, "could you maybe speed up the process, dear? I'm getting impatient."

⁺ ☁⋆ ᖇIᑎᗪOᙀ walked on down the hall with his brother to your office, seemingly ignoring the way his brother was tensed up next to him. "you good?" "hmm? oh yeah- great- say, what do you think I should have for-" missing the 'swish' of a knife cutting close to his face, flying past and hitting the wall behind him. "... lunch..." both brothers looking in through the doorway, coming face to face with you and mikey arm wrestling each other. where the knife came from scaring the sh*t out of ran? he'll never know. "this is childish mikey, just give me what I want." "no- only if you win." your glare breaking with mikey as you turned your head to see rindou and ran at the door, "yes?" ran flinching at the cold tone in your voice, lightly tugging on rindou's jacket as his brother ignored him. "where did you place my brass knuckles?" "check in your damn coat pocket, now unless you want those knuckles broken- get out so I can deal with this idiot." "hey-" "shut up mikey." "yes ma'am."

⁺ ☁⋆ Sᗩᑎᘔᙀ was relaxing in his office chair, nodding along to whatever was coming out of rindou's mouth. "this is pointless if your high." "nah, I know what your telling me :D" "what did I just say?" "... something about money-" "your hopeless-" rindou's sentence cut off as the door flew open, a stoic look on your face as you made your way over. situating yourself at sanzu's desk, looking through the drawers, opening and slamming them shut- missing how rindou flinched every time the wood clashed against each other. "what are you looking for princess-" "your automatic, mikey said no to my request about having PCP imported." rindou's eyes seemingly popping out of his head as his mouth gaped at what just came out of your mouth. "close that mouth rindou, before I put a bullet in it." "I love it when your so cold~" "drink some fucking water sanzu." "yes love~" the door slamming shut to his office as rindou glanced back at him, "should we warn mikey..?" "nah, he's used to it." "... that's not the point you high motherfu-"

𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 ♡

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Mortal of Gold - Part 4

(Yandere!C!Techno x GN!Shy!Reader x Yandere!C!Philza)

Shorter than my normal chapters, but I want to make the story a little longer chapter-wise. I get into the habit of writing 20k length chapters and I NEED to get out of that habit before I go into severe burnout.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

TW: Mention of amnesia, memories being altered, panic attack, manipulation

Send me a message via inbox if you wanna be added to a general or series tag list. Make sure to turn off anon, please.

You were sitting on the couch with a glass cup filled with tea in between your hands, your (e/c) eyes flicking between the two immortal gods that were seated across from you. Techno was lazily slouching against the back of his chair, reading a crimson coloured book he had just randomly conjured up when you weren’t looking, meanwhile, Philza was casually feeding a few of the berries that were on one of the cakes to Chat, “Now, where do we begin?”

“The… Beginning?” You couldn’t help how your voice sounded a bit shaky. Well, you were in a room with no memory of who you were, and only a slight knowledge of the two men in front of you. One of them was more than a little intimidating, while the other was extremely unbothered and carefree, but they were both still scary in their own way.

“I suppose that’s fair,” Phil gave a soft chuckle, his voice almost a laid back and lazy as he was but also had a twinge of sadness intertwined in his voice, “Well, I can tell you that you’re (Y/n) (L/n). That’s a good start. Now, I won’t be able to tell you everything you want to know right away. Your mind is still extremely fragile from just waking up after being asleep for two months.”

“Then… What caused it? My memory loss I mean…” You watched as Philza became visibly saddened at the tone of your voice, “Please? Or… At least who was I before my memory loss?”

Technoblade looked up from his book, glancing over at his old friend curiously. The avian sighed softly, taking a moment to gather his words as he took a drink from his cup, “You were... An offering to us. Your village, in exchange for safety, offered the most stunning mortal in the village. Crossing over from the Mortal world was too much of a strain for your mind, but that's not important. You belong to us now, darling..."

Technoblade sat up, staring at his friend in shock from behind his glasses, “You-You actually told them that?” He stuttered in complete shock and awe that his friend actually had the guts to lie to you, “But-But I thought-”

Philza silenced Techno by a single glance, leaving the piglin to stutter to himself while sitting up straight, but the hat-wearing male caught sight of the grin that split across the Piglin's cheeks, "Don't worry, we'll treat you well, mate..." He smiled at you but quickly noticed how your breathing picked up.

Techno and Phil watched you like a hawk. They watched as the hue quickly seeped from your (s/t) skin... Leaving behind a pale grey that almost seemed to make a mockery of the beautiful colour your features once were, "Phil... They're gonna pass out again." Techno warned softly, shutting his book after placing a marker between the pages, "I don't think we should've told them that so quick..."

"Mmm... They seem to be going into shock again..." Phil murmured back to his old friend, "I hope that they don't faint..."

Your mind was blank.

Sure, these two gods were heavily attractive in their own ways, but you had little to no memory of them and now they were saying they owned you! Your lips were moving, but no words were coming out, while you were faintly aware of the murmuring coming from the pink-haired male and ruffling of feathers coming from the avian.

Slowly, you felt the porcelain cup be taken from between your shaking hands and a gentle but calloused hand quickly replaced it, “(Y/n)...” Philza cooed gently and a rush of ice flooded through your veins, but… It was calming, “I know… But we’re going to take it one step at a time…” Looking down, you saw his hand had a silvery sort of glow coming off of it. Was he the cause of the icy feeling in your veins? Oh! Right… He’s a god.

You were in the presence of… gods…

It burned... Oh, gods, it burned...

Now what exactly burned wasn't clear in your mind, or what was causing it for that matter. You just wanted it to stop.

Run... Run...

Were... Were you screaming?

"Perhaps... This lie wasn't the most calming... Techno, please knock them out again. The sleep spell won't work twice in a row."

Wh-What?

It was soothing... You almost felt like you were floating in a way. It left you dizzy while also leaving you clearheaded at the same time... While you felt extremely light and airy, your arms and head were heavy enough to where you couldn't lift them in the slightest...

“(Y/n)?”

Who was that?

...Was that you?

That seemed to ring a bell in your mind, but not as loud as a clock tower. Instead, it was similar to a small decoration bell, quiet... Yet audible.

"(Y/n)... Please, come back to us..."

I'm trying...

You tried to speak to the disembodied voice but quickly discovered that your jaw would not move...

Mentally exhaling, you pursed your lips and closed your eyes again. Wake up... Wake up... Wake up, (Y/n)!

Save me...

Whatever gods are listening...

Save me... Please!

As if the gods themselves heard your desperate pleas, a golden and silver light invaded your vision, only seeming to get brighter and brighter without any sort of mercy. Shutting your eyes tightly... You became enveloped in icy cold wind and a burning hot warmth...

Protection... Safety...

"(Y/n)?"

With a small gasp, your eyes shot open and you saw two figures invading your vision, while also successfully blocking you from the light that was trying to seep through the silk chiffon curtains caging you in.

"Morning, darling." The male with golden braided hair and inhuman blue eyes staring down at you with a loving fondness. On top of his head was a large hat that was decorated with white and green stripes, thin golden chains and coloured beads dangling from the brim, "What's that look for?" He asked, large appendages covered in black silky feathers fluffing up every so often.

"You look... Confused..." Murmured the other male. This one was much taller than the blond, and as well as plenty more muscular, but his pink braided hair was an excellent accent. The golden crown on his head, his tusks coming from his lower jaw... and even the darkened eyes behind the cracked glasses framing his face... Nothing about him looked human as well.

You think... You would remember such strange-looking beings...

"Who... are you?"

====

General Taglist- N/A

Mortal of Gold Taglist - @generalalmond @binas-idea-vault @ohworm-writes @sylum @aikochan4859 @simp4theblade @bananaaddictmilkshake @bloodgoddessoftherealm @aikasnow @montygator17 @obey-me-mammons-world @weabtrash @imapotatoandimconfused

[ohworm-writes]

hello! :) so u know how kuon has a crush on sniper right ? can i get an imagine where reader is jealous bc of kuon, cuz u know, her crush on sniper etc etc (sorry i'm just vv lazy at typing), and how sniper reacts to it ?? can u make it like they're still friends but have mutual feelings for each other as they hang out as a unit, and they get together in the end bc sum confessions happened !! sorry if u don't get it i'm rlly bad at explaining but thank u in advance if u do this !! <33

High-Rise Invasion/Tenkuu Shinpan: Sniper Mask Boyfriend Imagine

high-rise invasion/tenkuu shinpan masterlist

‼ Jealous Reader (over Kuon) + Make up + Confession ‼

Featuring: Sniper Mask, Yuri Honjo, Mayuko Nise (implied), Kuon Shinzaki (implied)

Warnings: frustrated Y/n, crushes, jealousy

a/n - good GODS this has been in my inbox for a while and i’m so so so sorry for not posting it way sooner! hopefully you see this anon, and i hope you enjoy!

content below the cut!

you had developed a crush on the man in the mask ever since you first joined Yuri's little group

you couldn't really tell what it was the drew you to him

he was silent, dismissive, and he was a Mask for goodness sake!

but none of that deterred you from the attraction you garnered for him

you always found yourself trying to interact with him

whether it was offering your help with something that he was doing, or simply keeping him company

most times he brushed you off, walking away and not giving you an answer

other times he silently accepted your offer

those times the two of you would sit in comfortable silence, just enjoying one another's presence

you cherish moments like these for a very specific reason

Kuon

now you had nothing against the girl!

... at first

she seemed nice enough, always eager to help, and full of ignorant innocence

but then you realized her (very obvious) crush on the masked man

the way she got flustered around him so easily

the way she clung to him like a lost child

at first, you thought maybe she saw him as a parental figure, seeing how young she was

but that thought was (very) quickly thrown to the wind when you saw her wrapped up in his jacket, blushing like the schoolgirl she was and giggling to herself

so what she liked him? you liked him too, maybe the two of you could bond over that!

that's what you told yourself

of course, you never acted on it

it was simple, you were too jealous to do so

you noticed how Sniper Mask welcomed all her little instances without a care in the world

not giving a damn when she clung to him

or batting an eye at her obvious fangirling

it pissed you off

naturally, you began to avoid Kuon

and Sniper Mask simultaneously

you avoided the two of them whenever you could

when you saw them walking towards you, you kept to the opposite side of the wall and walked quickly past them

when you all usually ate together, you picked up your food and ate outside

you were simply, undeniably jealous

you didn't think Sniper Mask cared about it, not that you could tell under his mask

but in actuality, he was confused as to why you avoided him all of the sudden

so, he opted to ask you one day

You shut the door to the dining room rather aggressively as you exited, but you couldn't care less. You let your body slump against the adjacent wall, your plate of food resting on your lap.

Today had been... exhausting, to say the least. Kuon was on her usual actions of pining over 'Mr. Mask', crossing your way a few more times than you would have liked. During your meeting earlier with her and Yuri, your fellow mouthless masked allies, she had the gall to talk on and on about how much she adored him.

You hated it.

You looked down at your food, a scowl finding its place on your features. You glared at it, pushing the pieces around with your fork, not noticing a door open and close right in front of you.

"Jesus, if that food was alive, it would be 6 feet under with the glare you're giving it." You hear a gruff voice call from in front of you. A voice you would rather not be hearing right now.

You continue to move around the food, staying silent as the man awkwardly stands in front of you, unsure of what to do with himself in this situation. "Is it, uh, okay if I sit here?" He asks, which finally makes you look up.

He had a plate of food between his own hands, his jacket gone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mask covered his face, per usual, but it seemed much more lopsided than usual.

You give him a shrug in response, looking back down at your food again. He stands there for a moment, before taking a seat right next to you, your knees almost touching. "You don't mind if I eat with you, right?"

His question makes your eye twitch. Was he seriously trying to be all buddy-buddy with you now? You shrugged again, not giving him as much as a single word.

You heard him sigh, setting his food to the side before he speaks again. "Alright, what's going on?" He asks, making your body tense up. "Nothing." You shoot back, scowling.

"What happened to the Y/n that stayed up and talked about their life for hours? What happened to the Y/n that told me horrible jokes to try and get a reaction out of me? Huh? What happened to them?"

That broke you.

You were angry, furious even. Was he trying to blame this on you? You didn't do anything wrong! If it wasn't for Kuon, maybe you would still be that person! If it wasn't for her, you could still be friends with him! You could be-

"What?" You hear him say softly, much softer than his previous tone. Shit, did you say that out loud? "Yeah, you did." He says again, looking at you with a concerned expression on his face, not that you could tell.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out. I just- I’ve been-" You stutter, trying to find the right words. He laughs at that, actually laughs at it.

His laugh is hearty, warm, almost inviting you to laugh along with him. You don't, but he quickly composes himself, making your head turn towards him.

"Why on Earth were you jealous of Kuon?" He asks honestly, watching at how the invisible gears turn in your head, searching for an answer. You sigh heavily, running a hand across your face as you shake your hands while you speak.

"I just- she’s always there with you. She's latched onto you 24/7! I can't get 5 minutes alone with you before she comes barging in." You rant, frustration evident in your shaky voice.

"I just wanted to be your friend, be close with you. I can never do that because she's-she's there." You groan, hugging yourself with your arms. "I sound like a selfish idiot now, huh?"

You laugh dryly, frowning. He sighs, but a smile plays at his lips. "Y/n." He begins, his hand resting you your forearm. "You know she would never purposefully do that. She just, she has an infatuation with me I guess."

He sighs dramatically, earning a chuckle from you. "But." He tells you, watching your eyes as he speaks. "That doesn't mean I didn't miss you."

Your heart skips a beat at his comment, face flushing softly. "Kuon also misses you. You might not have caught onto it, but she looks up to you." He explains, smiling at how your expression softens, mumbling a soft 'she does?' to him.

He nods, laughing once more. "Come on, have dinner with the rest of us. We can't have you sitting alone out here anymore." You roll your eyes, but take him up on his word. He leads you back to the other, Kuon frantically waving over to the two of you the second you pass through the door.

"Y/n! Come sit with me!" She yells excitedly. Maybe you were wrong about her.

after that interaction, the three of you were all on much better terms

yes, kuon still had her habits, but he toned them WAY down after you explained to her how it made you feel

she teased the hell out of you for it too

you, of course, shrugged it off

but you never told her that she was wrong

you were happy to be on good terms with Sniper Mask again

he made a lot more time for you

your old interactions coming back at full force, and some new ones

he loved to take you on little walks on the high rises

he also made it a point to teach you how to shoot his rifle

which was terrifying, but exhilarating

you fell for him harder and harder every day

one day, you ranted your feelings out to Kuon

and while she wasn't surprised, it warmed her heart to see how much you loved him

yes, she crushed on him too, but that didn't take away from the obvious connection she saw between the two of you

unbeknownst to you, Sniper Mask had come to her about the same things

his usually cold demeanor broke whenever he talked with you

he genuinely enjoyed your company, he wanted more of it

and then some

so, she put a plan together

operation "get Mr. Mask and Y/n together" is a go!

she took it all very seriously

making sure you guys get paired together for scouting missions? that's all her

convincing Sniper Mask to get you little gifts and things? of course

overall, the best wing-woman you could ask for

however, the one thing she didn't have anything to do with was his confession to you

he could have used her help with it, that much was clear

but he wanted to tell you how he felt, no help necessary

Sniper Mask had told you earlier this morning to meet you at his room when the sunset before he rushed to get out of your vicinity like you were a plague. Granted, it hurt your feelings, but you couldn't stand him up.

You knocked gently on the wooden door, stepping back and waiting patiently for it to open. After about a minute, while you had heard nothing, you went to knock again.

Your efforts were proved useless as the door swung open hastily, revealing a disheveled Sniper Mask. His usual blazer and fedora were long forgotten, his hair messy, strands pointing this way and that. His mask sat lopsided on his face, still covering it fully.

"H-hey Y/n." He mumbled out, you offered him a wave as he awkwardly shuffled to the side, opening the door as an incentive for you to come in. You stepped inside, walking to the center of the room as you heard him close the door behind you.

You turned to speak to him again, but those thoughts were cast aside as you felt his hands settle onto your cheeks and his lips molding with yours. It startled you, you're eyes open in shock as you looked at him. His mask was completely off, thrown somewhere in the room, but he didn't seem to have a care in the world.

You quickly melted into the kiss, bringing your hands up to gently hold onto his forearms. He hummed, taking a moment before pulling away, leaving the two of you to gasp for air as he rested his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes to meet his, full of adoration.

"I, uh, I think I'm in love with you?" It was more of a question, but you took it happily. You laughed softly, your fingers rubbing small circles in his forearms.

"Was that what that was?"