#though to be clear its not ALWAYS empty. sometimes it works like it should

[crescent--rose]

every day i wake up and tumblr decides to be incredibly cruel to me by ensuring i cannot see any posts in the rwby tag

[blkkizzat]

COME PUT THAT MILLI★N D★LLAR PU$$Y ON ME, MAKE ME RICH!

FARMHAND!TOJI X BIMBOBUNNY!READER

☼ summary: au. a quiet farm life and a young pretty thing—what more could an ex-con want? you're a bit of a brat, but that can be fixed too. ☼ wc: 4.0k ☼ cw: age gap, panty flashing, voyeurism, brat!reader, fantasizing, spit play, biting, hickies, breeding kink, olfactophilia, teasing, perverted toji, morally ambiguous toji, creampies, squirting, unprotected, pet names: Bunny and standard p in v stuff. ☼ a/n: idk y'all farmhand!toji possessed my mind. literally did this all in tumblr drafts again today. Lets see if tumblr actually lets me post this or cucks me again.

FarmHand!Toji who only got the job in the first place because of a prison rehabilitation program. It was either work on a farm or rot in a cell for another 2 years.

Toji chose the farm.

The work wasn't easy, but Toji couldn't complain. It was a very large farm, secluded and he was paid well—but most importantly?

It kept his fuckin' P.O. off his back.

Toji works on the farm for three grueling months until you, the farmer's niece, arrives for the summer to also work.

Well, 'work' wasn't really the right word, because you never did any thing of the sort.

Barely, 19 and kicked out of your house for smoking pot. Your parents sent you to your uncle, hoping the hard work and the ex-cons he had working for him would scare you straight. Additionally, due to the fact your Uncle had no wife and no kids, the sole owner of a large farm, the old bastard was pretty well off. As the only child of your dad, his only sibling, farm would eventually be left to you.

Everyone (not like you had a say) agreed you should know how to run it.

But the thing is—you suck at everything.

You're too flighty to work with the chickens, too prissy clean the pig cages and you'd complain you'd break a nail just from lifting an empty bucket—so milking cows were also out of the question.

Yet you still managed to get your work done.

Precisely cause you weren't the one doing it.

Aware of your youthful looks and charms, you don't hesitate to use them to your advantage.

Your shapely curves are always clad in some in a thin wispy dress, which would turn damn near see-through at the smallest bit of moisture. Wearing no bra and the tiniest of panties, you were always giving a show.

No you weren't scared of these ex-cons in the least bit.

Evident by the way you flounce around the farm, unabashfully, pretending to do the chores the women-starved prisoners were too eager to do for you.

For their efforts you reward them with smiles, blown kisses and sugary words. Sometimes for rewards came in the form of a peach you would sneak them from your uncle's grove.

Always bringing one for yourself you'd sensually bite into the ripen fruit. Allowing its juices to linger on your cherry-glossed lips and dribble down your chin—the slurping noises are the perfect fapping fodder for them.

Yet the best prize of all—and only if you were feeling particularly generous—a flash of panties.

Toji though had not fallen for your charms though.

Not that he wasn't susceptible to them, hell naw—he wanted to bend your pretty ass over the nearest fence and roughly fuck some decency, along with manners into your haughty lil' cunt.

But Toji, as well as any of the prisoners, knew better than to touch you. Not only were they risking their freedom, with even the slightest offense here was enough to send them back to the pen—they were also risking their lives.

Your uncle was no fool. The older man regularly carried a sawed off shotgun slung over his shoulder, which used to be a pistol before you arrived.

The farmer didn't make it a big announcement, simply reminding them it was prison or a grave if they fucked this opportunity up—but the underlying message was crystal clear:

He'd blow anyone to hell who even thought about touching his niece.

Oh, but Toji did think about touching you—alot.

Often staying up late in his shared bunk room—jerking his cock to a frilly pair of panties of yours he'd stolen off the laundry line—once he was sure the others had gone to bed.

Toji wants to teach you a lesson badly.

Not for your benefit though, it be payback for all your goddamn teasing.

Toji isn't a pushover for you.

Nicknaming you 'Bunny' since you were such a clumsy lil ditz. He often made his silly lil bunny do whatever work he was stationed at when you had chores there—yours and his.

And oh, you hated that. You only tried harder when none of your pouts, provocations and seductions move him. It was pure hell, but Toji had resisted every trick you had. An unintended benefit however, was that he'd likely seen every pair of panties you owned by now (which is why he had stolen his favorite).

At one point, when you were particularly annoying one day, Toji even tried straight up ignoring you.

Yet that didn't work either.

You only upped the ante, 'accidentally' spilling a whole bucket of cow's milk on yourself. The very color of your perky nips are clearly visible, poking through the now transparent fabric which clings to you like second skin.

Staring Toji dead in his eyes, a coy smile on your plump lips as your pink manicured nails rubbed circles over your soaked nubs.

It took everything Toji had in him that day not to force you down to the dirt floor, fucking your pussy open just as hard and flithy as you'd been asking for.

Turning away from you, he threw a hay laden blanket over you and told you to go back up to the house n' clean up.

Toji didn't miss how badly you pouted, even though he pretended not to care. You reluctantly listened to him, leaving the barn and back to the main house up the hill.

You were both playing with fire.

Yet from that point something broke in Toji.

He still never crosses the line to touching you, but he'd starts pushing your buttons.

He wants to rile you up just as you had him.

As a result, Toji is working around you without a shirt more often—sometimes even with a raging hard on in full view. Also he doesn't hold back any longer from any of the vulgar thoughts of you that cross his mind. Regularly vocalizing them with a smirk, making overtly perverted comments towards you.

This was even something the other prisoners were too pussy to do to, given the very real threats of your farmer uncle.

Yet Toji wouldn't be a two-time ex-con he is if he didn't mind gambling with his life for a big reward. Toji relishes in your flustered, indignant reactions, loving to see how your face heats up everytime without fail every time he teases his lil' slut, his sultry voice whispering things like:

"I bet y'er cunt is riper than those peaches, Bunny."

"Bunny—think your pretty pussy can squirt more milk than these cow udders?"

"I wonder if my lil' Bunny can actually ride dick, since she's not half bad on a horse?"

You'd call him a 'perverted old man' like you weren't anything more than just a causal cocktease yourself—obviously you get some sick satisfaction knowing you had every man on this farm but Toji at your beck and call.

In reality, you were just as twisted in nature as him.

Still you were stubborn.

And as retaliation for his resistance, you play all manners of pranks on Toji. Doing anything you could so it was harder for him to do his job—from stealing his work gloves, boots and tools—to more serious ones like letting a weasel loose in the chicken coop when it was his shift to collect the eggs.

You deemed it your right to punish him for teasing you, for not becoming one of your simps and most fiendish of all?

Making you actually do work.

You harass him so often, it's not long before Toji realizes you're seeking him out intentionally.

Not even bothering to visit the other workstations where your chores are, they would get done by your lil'fan boys regardless, in favor of following him around all day like a lost lil' chick.

On a particularly hot n' sweltering summer day, Toji is stuck with the job of moving machinery from one side of the farm to the other when the sun is at its highest.

Like usual, he's since removed his sweat-drenched work shirt—remaining only in unhooked overalls and his briefs.

Toji hasn't seen you though, which isn't surprising given how broiling it is outside. Someone with as delicate a disposition as you, who also happened to be as manipulative, probably convinced your uncle to let you laze around inside the house, away from the heat—and Toji.

But you were a needy little thing, always seeking attention. Toji occupies his thoughts for most of the morning imagining you growing so bored, not having him to harass and all day.

With idle hands and absolutely nothing else to do, you'd start playing with that plump lil' pussy of yours, wouldn't you?

A supple girl like you had to overflow like a dam. Toji would bet money you'd already be wet enough, even untouched, to drench his fingers—just from palming your ripe pussy in his hand.

He wouldn't mind taking more than a sip of you on a miserable day like this to quench his thirst.

Continuing his work (and lewd thoughts of you) until his break, Toji discovers he's misplaced his work shirt.

Searching for it in the heat proves annoying—it's not on the grazing pasture fences, nor in the workshed by the machines. Tsk, he swore he had taken it with him to his last station near the horses.

Passing by the cow barn, Toji hasn't had a shift in there today but he absentmindedly remembers there's was a water hose in there. He could at least cool off for the remainder of his break—maybe even rub one out to you.

However, upon sliding open the Toji's smirk grows almost bigger than the hefty cock in his pants.

Looks like he hit the jackpot, today.

There you were in the middle the of the barn, on your back in the hay, thin dress bunched up past your hips and panties dangling off one of your shapely legs—all while feverishly fingering your fat wet lil' cunt.

You salaciously had even dripped a dark sizeable puddle on the dusty floor beneath you.

But the cherry on top?

You're quite shamelessly moaning out cries of his name, uncaring of who could happen to passby and hear you.

'T-Toji!'

'T-Toji, fuck me harder, Daddy!'

All while your pretty angelic face is twisted in pleasure, eyes closed and nose buried deep in the fabric of his soiled work shirt.

Daddy? Oh how fucking filthy of you—God you were perfect slut, just his fuckin' type.

Solely focused on cumming, your hips thrust up desperately to meet your fingers as he stalks closer to you—looking every bit of the predatory ex-convict he is.

"Well, well look at what we got ourselves here doll....n'here I thought the only degenerates on this farm were us prisoners?"

Your eyes widen in shock, but you don't stop your fingers right away. You were so close to your release before Toji suddenly appeared in front of you, there's no way you could physically stop chasing it now.

Not when it only takes a lingering glance at his dark features, muscular tanned sweat slick body, and the painfully obvious way his dick jumps in his pants to have you falling over the edge. You gush, mewling as you cream around your delicate lil' fingers.

"You've been a very naughty lil' bunny..."

Sheepishly pulling them out, covered in your slick, Toji's eyes zero in on the way your hole still gapes open. You're cunt quite literally throbbing for more, you'd cum but she's still left unsated.

You clearly needed something much bigger and harder than your flimsy little digits.

You unconsciously back up deeper into the bushels of hay around, putting distance between you as Toji gets closer.

"Tsk, tsk, nuh-uh Bunny, none of that shit. Not when I just caught you being such a whore for me."

You gulp, your heart racing as he crouches over you. Toji removes his work gloves, discarding them as he forces you to lay back on the soft hay.

“How sweet of you to prep yourself for me babydoll. But, Bunny, you dumb little girl, you’re too careless. What if it wasn’t me who walked in 'ere and saw you playing with my pussy?”

You didn't think of that, when you had so brazenly snuck up without him noticing to nab his work shirt.

Initially, you wanted to just be annoying to him again, too bored of being in the house all morning. At first you recoiled when you touched his soggy shirt, yet that all flipped once you caught of whiff of his scent.

Toji smelled of a farm but somehow that smell mixed with sweat, musk and notes of his aftershave hit you straight in your cunt. Your panties becoming just as drenched as the shirt in your hands.

You didn't realize Toji, grimy from farm work, could still smell so good.

Knowing it was far past the time for anyone to come milk cows, you headed straight to that barn. You just wanted some alone time, where you'd be free to touch yourself while thinking of the ridiculously sexy ex-con farmhand.

To say Toji had been plaguing your thoughts and dreams for the past few weeks would have been a massive understatement. You were obsessed with him. Him and his irritatingly smug expression, accentuated by his scar that made him appear all the more dangerous—you wanted him to fuck you—your uncles warnings be damned.

"You tryna get me to do more time, girl? Ya know Bunny, I'd kill anyone who touched you, if your uncle didn't get to 'em first."

Your face is hot with embarrassment but your cunt is also burning up—thinking you might die if he doesn’t actually touch you soon.

Letting his coveralls drop unceremoniously to the floor, he shrugs off his remaining clothes.

Toji's calloused hands, smudged with oil and grime, grab your hips and yank you to him. You yelp and his cock twitches even harder at your cute lil noises, smearing pre on your already soaked thighs.

Toji presses his sweaty body onto yours. It's cool in the barn but Toji's heat is so intense you feel like you are out in the sun again. Having him on top of you like this finally is overwhelming your senses. Toji is intoxicating and you're so feral with need for him it makes you dizzier than a heatstroke.

Fuck, you looked so ready for him.

He'd love you take his time to really break you in—make you fall apart until he's screwed every word out of your head but his own name.

Tch—but there's about 10 more minutes left of his break—and a good 15 or so more after that before anyone notices he's not where he should be.

Toji would reluctantly have to make this quick. Snatching your dress off overhead, he tosses it across the barn.

Mouth latching to one of your stiffened nipples, Toji simultaneously bullies his cockhead past your entrance, sinking into your slippery cunt.

Both of your collective groans fill the barn.

Goddamn, you're fuckin' tight.

Your eyes go wide and moisture pricks your vision as the sting of his girthy cock splitting you open nearly brakes you. You weren't a virgin by any means, and you knew Toji was huge—but shit—it was way bigger in thickness and length than you could have imagined.

Toji has to physically take your legs and wrap them around his body so they stop convulsing.

You whine for him to wait a moment but he couldn't—he didn't have the time.

Toji cups your face, unintentionally smearing dirt across your warm pristine lil' cheek.

"Daddy doesn't have time to wait for ya Bunny, can't get caught by y'er mean ole uncle, yeah?"

"*sniffs* I-I know, b-but—"

"No buts, baby—you want me to fuck ya, rite? Then just lay back and be good doll—promise I'll make ya feel good, eh?"

You can't stop the tears that roll down your cheeks, the burning still evident in your cunt as your walls spasm around him. Toji nuzzles your neck, grunts fanning across your sweetly scented skin as he begins moving his hips.

Soon the sounds of wet flesh smacking, resound in the barn with every harsh thrust of Toji's broad hips. The sloppy squelching noises your pussy cries out has Toji feeling like she's talking directly to him.

Sweat drips off his brow and onto your face as he pulls back a bit to see just how well your slutty lil' hole is globbling him right up—you already frothing a ring of cream around his base like such a good girl—like you were made to take his dick.

Your teeth bite into his shoulder and your nails rake red streaks across his back when his fat cockhead brushes against your g-spot.

Instantly, the shocks vibrating in your cunt overtake any remaining discomfort from your pussy accommodating his massive cock. Your tiddies bounce violently whe he picks up speed rocking into your cunt—spurred on by your cute bites gnawing into him.

Toji would mark you up similarly.

God you were so fuckin' wet though, milking him so well.

For all the trouble you gave him your lil' pussy was obedient as hell once she got a lil' dick in her.

"T-Tojiiiii, puh-leaseee k-kiss me, Daddy!"

Slurring, you gaze up at him, eyes blown out in pleasure begging for more of him—for anything he'd give you.

"Yeah, baby, Bunny wants Daddy to kiss her, hm?"

You frantically nod, your whole body is tingling. You just want to feel him consume you completely, all parts of you.

"Heh, of course I'll kiss my lil' bunny—only if ya let me cum ya—m-motherfuck—ya know how long its been since I had pussy this good doll? Gotta cum in 'er."

Mewling under him, you're easily left at his mercy—yet Toji would show you none, devouring you just as greedily as you wanted him to. Your body responds so well to his praises, so needy for them and Toji doesn't mind indulging you when you're being this sweet for him.

Throwing your legs onto his shoulders, Toji raises your ass off the hay onto his knees as he folds your body in half—fucking into you deeper, abusing your cervix as he smashed his lips onto yours.

Truthfully, there's no way in hell Toji would pull out now.

Making the decision for you, the kiss Toji gives you is searing hot. Sucking on your tongue, Toji has you melting you completely under him, your pussy clamping harder around him. His deviant tongue and heavy cock fucking you into submission.

Hell, she was begging him to cum in her even if you weren't or couldn't—you looked absolutely gone—like not even the smallest thought lived in your fucked out lil' head.

Even when Toji pulls back to allow you air his lips never leave yours, biting your kiss swollen bottom lip almost to the point of drawing blood.

You tighten even more than Toji thought possible in the moment once he forced your mouth open and spits into it and your instantly swallowing it—sticking your tongue out for more.

Oh? Bunny becomes such a dirty whore once you're fucking her silly, eh?

Toji wonders what else of his you'd swallow. He'd save that for next time though.

For now Toji had to finish you, he was running out of time. Besides, he was speaking true earlier, he really hadn't had good pussy—pussy at all—in literal fuckin' years. Toji didn't think he could last much longer in a hole with as much wet suction as yours, even if he did have more time.

Slipping a hand between your slick bodies, Toji is now furiously thumbing circles on your sensitive clit.

"C'mon, Bunny baby, cum for Daddy, yeah? Squirt on this dick, just like you did your fingers earlier, doll."

Your body, utterly under the spell of his engorged cock which was currently digging into your kidneys, can't do anything but obey him.

Tumbling over your peak, you do as he asks, splashing fluids onto his pelvis, abs and chest with how much squirt he has gushing out of you.

Your head lulls back and Toji has to clasp his hand over your mouth from how loud you started screaming.

His own release follows soon after. Pumping his extra-thick load, all built up and saved over the years for a pussy as sweet as yours, into your well-fucked-open cunt.

Curses and swears pour out of Toji's mouth as remains side you, still pistoning in you with fervor through both your orgasms. Toji doesn't leave the snug warmth of your gooey core until you squeezed out every single drop he had to give you.

Pulling out, Toji immediately rolls over next to you as not to crush you further. Yet, like a magnet, his needy lil' bunny is curling up against his side, a sleepy sated expression on your angelic face.

Toji hated to leave, but he had to haul ass now if he wasn't gonna get caught.

A crude form of aftercare, but Toji hoses the both of you down.

The cold water snapping you from your lethargic afterglow immediately as you pouted and whined—the brat in you almost instantly returning.

But Toji couldn't just let you sleep ass naked, covered in his cum in the hay for your uncle to find you or worse—another prisoner to find you.

Toji was serious. He really would kill someone if they tried anything with you, he'd taken many innocent lives before as a former hitman—he had no qualms killing some no good convicts.

Setting you upright, Toji finds your dress in the hay and puts it on you. It's soiled and dusty but he straightens it enough so you're at least halfway presentable.

Toji knows you're clever enough to think of a lie if questioned further.

Although, you'd better back to the main house quickly, in case those hickies he gave you start showing up. Toji smirks to himself.

Sending you on your way with quick sloppy kiss and a firm smack on the ass, he lets you leave first.

After waiting a few minutes, Toji exits the barn, grinning devilishly upon seeing you.

You're halfway back up the hill to the house by now, but you still steal glances back at him every few paces. Still panting, you're too shy now to meet his own eyes for longer than a second with your coy smiles.

Toji chuckles.

He had you hooked.

Hah, a slut like you? You'd probably be begging for his cock all throughout the day from now on.

However, Toji knows if he keeps fucking you like this he'll soon get you pregnant.

But ya know? That might not be half bad though.

This simple farm life had been a nice change of pace.

And who wouldn't want a young n' tender cunt like yours to dump in daily? Toji would keep you stuffed full, belly round with his kids and soft tiddies full of milk—for his consumption only.

Toji muses once he had finished fucking the brat out of you, Bunny, you'd become the perfect lil' wifey.

It be good for Megumi to have a mom again and some siblings to keep em busy. Toji would finally have a decent place to raise him too, away from the city and his toxic as fuck family who'd Megumi had been with since the first time his dad got locked in the slammer.

Not to mention—the farm was a perfect cover for his con activities that he couldn't wait to back start up.

He'd only able to do so much with the burner phone Shiu smuggled-in for him, concealing in a shipment of animal feed.

Heh.

All Toji needed now was to knock you up, apply pressure on your strict, God-fearing parents to agree to the marriage, and then orchestrate an 'untimely and unfortunate accident' for your uncle. Thereby leaving the farm and the substantial inheritance to you—and by proxy—to him.

Yeah, FarmHand!Toji planned to become Farmer!Toji real soon.

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

☼ a/n: y'all toji be making me write the most twisted nastiest things for him. i realize soft toji just don't do it for me like depraved toxic morally corrupt toji does, i really would let this man ruin my credit fr y'all, he can have it all.

i didn't expect to write this, all in a day but im at the beck and call of my main mans. otaku!gojo and nerd!gero lovers dun hurt me. taglist in reblogs.

☼ comments and reblogs appreciated ‪‪❤︎‬

[ravengards-rogue]

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

�� tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[lilacstro]

Astro observations pt 1

Hey y'all this is my very first post :) Please take it with a grain of salt. These are just my interpretations and observations and a placement could mean million different things on how its being viewed and understood and nothing is sure on how it manifests for you in your chart.

Jupiter in 8th house can mean many things, one of them being your spouse would bring transformative experiences into your life.

2. Scorpio mercuries may have a tendency to over analyze what is being said or always wanting to read between the lines

3. I have seen Pluto in 5th house of all the people who's mothers were dominated. Though this can mean the other way around too, and could be that the mother was dominating.

4. I think other than most people saying Pluto 1st housers go a massive change in appearance, I think it could actually mean that their personality and persona goes a massive change at some point in their life, or its constantly being evolved through learning experiences

5. Venus in 1st house people, are extremely beautiful.

6. Check Asteroid fama (408) and industria(389) if any of these positively aspect your venus, you could get fame for your beauty or work within the beauty industry.

7. Most women with major scorpio/capricorn placements appear intimidating even though it might not be so...but they indeed hold themselves to high regards mostly

8. Having an earth rising in your SR can indicate having a calmer and a predictable year. Nothing chaotic or major. I had Taurus Rising in my SR and I had lost a lot of toxic/chaotic people in my life and things were stable and peaceful throughout. I was on a gap year so I did not make friends either hahaha

9. Having sun/moon in 10th house synastry or 10th house stellium could mean you both together are quite talked about or people are aware towards your feelings towards one another visibly. Sometimes it could also mean, you two's business isnt as private as you think lmao and people are aware on whats happening.

10. Having moon in 10th house in SR can indicate your emotions being extremely visible to everyone, even if you tend to hide them.

11. Libra mars people, might not come off as too masculine but rather a little more in tune with their feminine side (thats cool imo)

12. I think Moon in Gemini people often tend to say "I never said that" when they absolutely said that or "What do you mean" even when its clear what is being talked about lmao.

13. Leo women are usually very outgoing, charismatic and fun imo. Leo anywhere in the big 3 can mean that this side exists to the native though it might be overshadowed by other aspects in the chart. The types to dance at the empty dance floor and then suddenly everyone wants to dance lol

14. I was watching Nat Geo a long time ago and saw how lioness protect their children from the Lions and often go hunting. I think all mothers are protective of their children but for Leo women, its on another level lol. Also, they might like taking pride in their children and providing for their children. Not as in boasting, but just genuinely taking pride.

15. Cancer men and the love for their mothers. NEVER met a single cancer guy who did not have a lot of love for their mother.

16. Sag placements usually Sun and risings usually have a very comforting presence. Even it maybe like you met them for the first time, they can make you feel grounded and comfortable. Very non judgmental too.

17.If you have Saturn in 6th house, please try having a routine even if you might dread it lol

18. Capricorn moon men usually have very traditional or maybe orthodox beliefs about how women should be. I have seen that a lot.

20. Taurus Mars may like slow recreational activities like cooking.

21. Wanna know how you would react during a break up? See your moon+8th house sign. Example, a Leo moon with 8th house in cancer would be extremely emotional and everybody would know.

22. Girls with Libra Sun, Rising or MC may really like makeup and have good fashion sense.

23. Having your moon sign same like your mothers sun sign may indicate some kind of special connection between two of you. It could be that you understand her much better or could be that you don't get along at all too? idk there is something much special about it.

24. Sun in 10th house could mean your dad had a status in society. Could also mean, your birth could bring him luck in his career.

25. Jupiter in second house people usually come from wealth or hold potential to create generational wealth.

support me on ko-fi :)

That's it :) I hope it resonated with you all :)

[hyunjinsjeans]

He knows (Chan ver.)

Lee Know ver. | Changbin ver. | Hyunjin ver.

Masterlist

Synopsis: Chan is your husband and he knows you want to start a family, but how does he know? And what happens when he tells you he knows? This. This is what happens.

Type: Fluff 🧸, SFW 👍

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy

Word count: 1140

AN: this is my first piece of writing for anything K-pop-related on this site, please be kind! No proofreading, sorry!

You are married to this man. He defines himself by his job. He lived for it though, after working so hard to get to where he is he also enjoys it so much. So you can’t complain. But he does have one more thing he wants on his instagram bio. So far he is producer, singer, rapper and dancer. As of a year ago he is also husband. He knows the time is right. He knows you don’t want to pressure him but whenever you’re together he can sense the unspoken words flying around in the air between the two of you.

Oh yes, Chan knows. He knows how to read people, and you are top of the list of his favorite ones. He will read you like a book. He will understand even the things you don’t say, he will know the second you are ready. He will, however, wait for the right moment. Sometime when he knows he will have the energy, the free time and the emotional availability to do it.

He owes you his full attention if you are doing this together.

And once he seizes the opportunity he is going in for the kill. He proposes it in a serious tone. If it asn’t just the two of you, it would seem you were having a “family meeting”. He is straightforward about it.

“We should have a kid, Y/N. I think it’s time, I’m ready and you’re ready.”

And the words get caught in your throat because what the hell? You were incredibly ready. He knew this, you knew this. Your friends probably knew this.

From the way you cooed at any and every child under 5 whenever you spotted one, how little kids gravitated toward you at the park or at the movies and you always had a kind smile to offer them along with the helping hand finding their parents, to the way you seemed to constantly be handed strangers' babies at the grocery store or at airport lines.

It was no news. You always loved kids and after getting married and moving to your own home, you made it a point to have a guest room and an empty room. Chan had noticed. Why leave a room completely empty? “Just in case we need it someday” you had shrugged when he asked. But it was painfully obvious a few months into the move that you visited that room and stared at the empty walls with bright shiny eyes, with a smile that tugged at the corners of your lips in a way so subtle it was almost imperceptible, you always left the room with a sigh and a bowed head as if ashamed to have the plans you had for that room. Chan had witnessed it enough times to have you figured out. It brought a warmth to his heart, seeing how eager you were about the subject and yet you kept quiet because you didn't want to put any pressure on him, thinking he already had a lot to deal with as the leader of a very successful group.

So of course, the second he said those words you couldn’t help yourself. “Oh I was waiting for you to be ready!”

Chan lets out a joyful laugh, his eyes become tiny as his cheeks grow puffy with the glee in his reaction.

“I know!” He exhales, “but you didn’t say anything and I’m tired of it. When you want something -anything, please just tell me!” His expression softened "I'll always have time to listen to you, and there's nothing you can ask of me that I wouldn't give you."

He is leaning on the kitchen table while you’re sitting opposite him. You push yourself back on your chair and look at him with a side smile on your face, the rice cooker making its beeping sound to signal dinner is ready.

“How am I supposed to drop that one on you?!” You laugh as well, it’s clear you are not really arguing “Am I supposed to say “hey Chan, I want a baby” or what?”

“Well… yeah.” He scratches at his neck, “that’s okay, it’s a good way to start talking about it.”

You huff and look away, but ultimately you are pretty happy he brought it up. He knows this as well; there is no hiding your enthusiasm, you're practically buzzing.

“I do want to have a baby, Chan” you lean forward on the table, your elbows on the hard surface while you hide your smile behind your hands.

Chan sighs, stilling his laughter as he pulls the chair back to take a seat and stare at you. He poses his arms and hands the same as yours, mirroring your actions.

“I want that too”, he mumbles, shy but true.

“Can we have that?” You wonder, your eyes falling on his hands, soft yet strong.

Chan has held you many times, and supported you through different times. You know he can be a perfect constant to hold on to, but you wonder if his career can take this. If he can be there for you for this. Because if you are honest, your biggest fear is that he will put too much pressure on himself if he tries to be a leader and a good partner to a pregnant wife at the same time. You have always known him to be the kind of guy to step up without anyone asking him to. You have learned from him to be the same, to grow stronger for Chan to have someone to support him as well...but this time you have to be realistic, how much can you share the weight of things once you are also worried about the safety of a baby? How much stress can you take from him while getting ready to have a kid.

He drops his hands on the table, you have moved your gaze from his eyes to his hands to the table. You are doubtful, you are pulling away from him as you speak.

“We can.” He assures you, reaching out to pull your hands in his. “We can do this.”

Chan brings you back with his words, his tone is honest and bright. His eyes are full of joy and excitement.

You feel the warmth of his skin on your skin and look up with hope, your trust in him is so complete you nod, you don’t even think about it as you reply. You would die for your husband. You would take all the pain, all the responsibility, and hardships for him. And so would he for you. This is why doubting what you two can accomplish together is ridiculous, you shake your head from all those doubts and squeeze his hands between your own.

“Let’s do this.” You whisper.

--------

Likes, Reblogs and Comments are welcome! Thank you for reading!

[nana-b0b]

》🔞 These panels are censored, you can go to the last of the post to find out where to see them!

A little historical info to better understand:

♡♡♡♡♡!!! I really feel happy and overcome with these panels, I was thinking a lot about how to make them since there were several obstacles: I had never drawn something NSFW before as it should be 😅 I never got that far so to speak, there was always a line that prevented me from taking that step, since it is not the same to draw some small scene where you only see something specific to a whole pose as such and all that implies. But after many ideas and turns I managed to take that step (maybe small for some but for me it was like reaching the moon 😂) and the most important and most feared was that the essence of the drawings and the style would be lost but I could keep it well and make it coexist ♡.

Note: as for the text accompanying the panels I want to say that it's not my best work as a narrator hahaha I don't write anything since I was about fifteen and it was my era of fanfics and stuff, so I feel its very basic and empty! 😅 ♥!

Now, let's talk a bit about the panels! Well, as we all knew this moment was coming, it was no surprise -3- Ryomen really had to be patient to get what he had been thinking for a while, but he didn't want it to be something random as it could be with any woman he wanted, he was really curious to see how Aurora could look like with the full appearance of a lady of the Heian era and when he saw her, he just couldn't resist. One thing will be clear: Aurora won't wear black teeth again, there will be no way to paint her teeth again without someone losing a limb. As for her eyebrows: she's really mad about that, but I'll let it go.

And to close this post I come with a novelty (I've been thinking about this for days) now we are going to be able to have these drawings completely uncensored on patreon.

I'm not going to lie, using more than two social networks for me is already a lot 😥 if it were up to me I would only post everything in one place but we know how the rules are and we have to respect them, if just by showing a nipple (which is a pixel 😂 ) they almost censored me on Instagram I knew this would be difficult and Tumblr is not lagging behind, while there are things that it lets pass there are others that it doesn't and it's not nice to have to make such complex drawings so that the AI doesn't detect them as 🔞 since there comes a certain point that you get tired too and it loses the grace.

My patreon will be the place for all my works 🔞 without any censorship already, you are going to be able to enjoy both public and private content depending on the type of work ♡. I think also for me it's an incentive to be able to start letting go more of my ideas and continue with everything I want to do :)

To say goodbye first I want to always thank you for all the support you give me and all your messages 🖤 and second to warn you that this CAP of Ren will be in patreon already published privately but all the other censored drawings are public for you to see and enjoy them as they should ⭐

Here are the publications that I censored and that you can now see, there are not many at the moment x'D

[leeehye]

a dare after all…(C.S)

“…I will show you how crazy you actually make me sweetheart…”

Summary ~ Y/n’s crush on her bodyguard, Choi San becomes known after a mischievous dare at a party. What she doesn’t know is if he feels the same.

warnings ⚠️ ~ mentions of alcohol, touching, language, mentions of sex, suggestive 🔞

a/n ☁️~ I am just loving San right now with Ateez new comeback I had to write this for him! 🔥 its kinda short in my opinion. Might have a pt2 ?

🎶MAKE IT BOUNCY 🎵

The music boomed around the place as I danced with Jia, my best friend, giggling while drinking some more. Not gonna lie the alcohol was starting to kick in.

“Girls! Come join we’re playing truth or dare!” Wooyoung yelled from the livingroom as some of the guys started to gather and Jia and I looked at each other before making our way to them. Before I could get to them I felt a strong hand grabbing my arm. Turning my head I caught the eyes of Choi San, my bodyguard. He had been working for me and my family for some months now and I had started to see him as more than a bodyguard, his broad shoulders, and the way his long sleeves were rolled up exposing his veiny arms sometimes made me go crazy or the way he always cared for me. But it would be so wrong to say I had fallen in love with my bodyguard, my father would kill me.

“Miss Y/n…you should stop drinking and it’s getting late…your father—” he started but I cut him off.

“San…my dad is on a business trip, he is barely at home, and I’m not even drinking a lot…” I said smiling nodding my head assuring him that I would be fine. He let go and I sat down on the floor next to Jia and Mingi.

“San! Dude come on join us! Drop the professionalism at least for tonight!” Wooyoung yelled at him laughing. San just shook his head and took a seat on the couch watching, Wooyoung shrugged and looked around at the group of people.

Wooyoung started the game, starting with asking Seonghwa, who chose dare and Wooyoung made him eat a spoonful of chili pepper paste. I kind of felt bad but it was a bit funny at the same time. Some minutes into the game Mingi decided to ask me.

“Y/n! Truth or dare?” Mingi asked making me giggle as my cheeks started to blush for some reason. I was nervous for both choices.

“Um…Truth” I said making it come out as a question from my lack of confidence in this game. Mingi chuckled and thought for a few seconds.

“Hm, would you sleep with a person in this room?” Mingi asked as Wooyoung started laughing seeing my shock face.

“Mingi! Shut the fuck up!” I yelled laughing nervously before clearing my throat.

“Yes” I finished off drinking some more of my alcohol feeling hot.

“Oh! Who?” Wooyoung asked quickly, I shrugged my shoulders.

“I am not answering that! It’s not part of the question!” I yelled, throwing him my empty red cup.

Wooyoung laughed and wiggled his eyebrows at me, making a gesture to look behind me. Turning my head slowly I see San’s gaze fixated on me and I quickly turn back after we made eye contact.

I tried my best to hide my face that showed that San was the person I would like (love) to sleep with. I couldn’t just say it though.

Wooyoung seemed to notice and showed a mischievous smirk and continued the game. After having to do some dares and say embarrassing truths. Wooyoung cleared his throat and asked me

“Truth or dare y/n?” He said still with a smirk and I looked at him confused.

I thought about it for a few seconds, not all dares were bad and truths were getting kind of boring. I laugh softly before looking at him.

“dare…”

He bit his lower lip while laughing. He nodded before speaking

“I dare you to kiss your bodyguard” he said and I felt like just killing myself right then wanting the earth to swallow me whole. My eyes widened and my heart started beating fast. Hearing the people around starting to make teasing noises made it worse.

“I…but he’s not even playing” I said trying to avoid the dare but Wooyoung wouldn’t budge he made an annoying “nah-ah” sound and started making kissing noises to annoy me and Mingi started to push me up on my feet.

“I’m helping you out Y/n” he said winking at me playfully as he waved his hands for me to stand up. I slowly stood up hitting Mingi in a playful yet embarrassed way, and made my way to San who was just as shocked as I was. The only difference was that I actually did want to kiss him and him on the other hand, I wasn’t sure what he felt. I slowly sat down next to him on the couch and moved my hand on top of his. His eyes moved down to see my tiny hand on his large one. Before he could look back up at me and say anything I decided to risk it all. It was a dare after all. That could be my excuse.

“I’m sorry…” I whispered only for him to hear.

I gently crushed my lips on his soft ones staring to kiss him gently, not even a second later he returned the kiss. His hand gently moved to the side of my neck. His touch was so magical it did something to me. It came back to me that we were being watched and I slowly broke the kiss. I hesitated to make eye contact with him, slightly noticing the bit of my gloss still on his lips. I blush hard and got up nervously going back to my spot.

My legs and hands were shaking. My cheeks were probably so red but I could blame the alcohol. I had to admit kissing San was a dream come true.

“Should I dare you to go into a room with your bodyguard next Y/n?” Wooyoung said laughing making me come out of my thoughts and I quickly slapped him on the back of his head with some force but still playfully.

“Yah!” He yelled at me jokingly. The game went on and my mind couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. His lips, his touch was just so sweet just like I imagined it would be.

God. I have really fallen for my hot bodyguard. And my body wanted more of him.

“Hey Y/n come have some more shots!” Wooyoung yelled at me, serving some more drinks kicking me back to reality.

“No thank you, I…I’m getting drowsy and I want to go home now… I think I drank enough tonight ” I said seeing San in the corner of my eye getting up, making my thoughts come back. God I couldn’t imagine what San was thinking. Did he like it? Did he hate it? Was he comfortable? God.

Wooyoung showed a pout and took the shot he had served me.

“Okay well you’re right, I think you both need to go do things huh?” he said laughing. I widened my eyes and made a face at him to shut up.

“Um…Let’s go San… Bye guys!” I said quickly walking out of the house before Wooyoung could say anything else.

- - - - time skips

The ride home was quiet and neither of us spoke. Even if I tried the alcohol was now hitting and I started feeling sleepy, my head slowly hanging as I fell asleep in the car. Minutes later I felt the car come to a stop. My eyes were half open, while I looked around I failed to recognize my own house. I turned my head gently hearing the door open and close and San opened my door.

My drunken self still managed to recall the kiss we shared a few hours ago. He pushed his body into the car ondoing my belt. His neck was on full display for me, he smelled so good, I just wanted to throw myself on him and actually show him how I felt, and just melt into his warmth. He slowly looked at me, our faces close to each other. His strong arm made its way under my thighs and the other one behind my neck and he took me out of the car slowly. My head fell on his shoulder and I kept admiring him with half open eyes.

Good thing I was kind of drunk and that I might forget tomorrow but tonight I wasn’t in the right mind and was willing to risk it all when I asked him the following.

“Did you like it, Sannie?” I mumbled drunkenly. Sannie?! Y/n! Shut up!

After my question I felt his body tense up against mine, his strong arms slowly left my body as he sat me down on the big couch in the living room. My hand quickly pulled him down with me from his shirt.

His eyes widened, quickly holding himself up with his hands to not fall on me completely.

“I asked you a question, San?” I whispered moving his little hairs off his face smiling, his cheeks turned a tint of red as he cleared his throat.

“Miss…I…I don’t think I should answer …I mean it was a game you were playing I don’t—” he started but I cut him off.

“Should I do it again Sannie? It wasn’t just a game to me…” I whispered cupping his face with my hands. His eyes glanced at my lips as he seemed to crave another kiss. I blushed and I started leaning in but he caught my eyes when I saw him leaning in, grabbing my face gently. He now is the one to connect his lips to mine. He was a completely different person from earlier, his tongue slowly licking my bottom lip entering my mouth as our tongues moved against each other. My hands slowly traveled down his chest earning a soft groan from him down to his abs and close to the part where he started to need me most.

He slowly pulls away from the kiss, his breath heavy and a bit fast while he admires me pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Miss Y/n…As much as I want to…I can’t” he whispered softly resting his forehead on mine as if he was trying his best to not do anything wrong. I looked at him and understood his hesitation. I gently cup his cheek with my hand.

“San…I know you are worried about my father…but how about we keep this a secret? I have feelings for you…I would do anything to be with you” I told him shyly looking down.

San showed a gente smile and raised my face with his thumb and index finger.

“As long as you're comfortable with this my princess…” he said before going back to kissing me gently. His other hand slowly went down to touch my thighs gently moving his hand under my skirt. “I will show you how crazy you actually make me sweetheart…”

“S-San…” I moaned against his lips and he slowly pulled away slowly looking at me with his eyes filled with love and desire.

“let’s go to my room…” I whispered and he chuckled, kissing my jawline.

“If we go to your room, I won’t contain myself anymore darling” he whispered, making me widen my eyes slightly. His hand slowly coming up to the spot under my boob.

“you’ve contained yourself?” I whispered softly shyly and his hands gently moved down to my waist gripping it gently with his fingernails and he slowly nodded his head.

“and you don’t know how hard it's been,” he whispered gently against my neck starting to kiss it and marking me.

“Good thing I’m not telling you to contain yourself right?” I whispered into his ear before he kissed me again. This time harder and passionately as my arms swung around his neck. His hands explored my body in a sweet way slowly touching my thighs making a moan escape from my mouth. He slowly pulled me closer, picking me off the couch. I felt his mouth form a smile making my cheeks heat up.

He made his way to my room with me in his arms . Entering my room he kicked the door gently closing it without breaking the kiss slowly moving down to my neck. His touches are so soft and full of love.

He walked us to my bed laying me down as he comes down with me between my legs kissing down my collarbone. While my hands gently touch his muscles on his arms. I feel a smirk form against my skin and he slowly takes me hands and pins them above my head.

“Tonight is all for you my princess…” he whispered and started to unbutton my blouse. My breathing was heavy and slow and watching how he undid a button one my one made me realize he was the man I wanted to take my virginity not because I had a crush on him but because he was my safe place. If I was going to be with someone for the first time…

It had to be Choi San.

Update: PART 2 - POSTED PART 2

(please don’t be a silent reader I take any opinion or requests I need ideas! 💡)

[stxrvel]

i don't wanna live forever (1)

summary: reader couldn't stop having deaths in her life ever since the Supersoldier serum came into her life. no matter how hard she tried to stay sane, it seemed that life didn't want to give her a break. until, one afternoon, she learned that one of her old friends was alive… (you guys know im bad at summaries, but please give this one a chance)

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +4.5k

warnings: angst, major character deaths, canon deaths¿?, bad words, english is not my first language! thoughts of revenge and death, this is like an introductory chapter, so the buckyxreader interaction is low, but it'll get better, i promise!

note: holy fuck guys. i just spent like five hours writing and editing this and i fucking love it. its been a while since ive been this proud of a work, im actually scare the emotion will disappear, but i really want to rejoice in this one. i wanted to write something a little different from my usuals, maybe a little common in the fanfiction world, but i started and i simply could not stop (or maybe just approach this bucky fic from another perspective). so this is the first part and i'll try with all my heart to keep this going because it was fucking insane, at least for me. i really hope you all like this as much as i do! feel free to leave any comment! thanks always for all the support!! see you next time <3

part 2 ; part 3 ; part 4

When you went into the Supersoldier serum project with Steve, you thought you were going to change the world. Of course, at that time when technology was relatively new any invention felt like the beginning of a new era. That's how it was all sold to you and it was how you expected everything to turn out… Until you realized that it was all really a waste of effort and time.

They were just propaganda for war. Not to stop it, to promote it. To motivate it.

You tried, on several occasions, not to think too much about it. You tried to stay out of it as Steve sometimes asked you to, even though even he didn't want to, as Bucky asked you to when you lay on his shoulder to cry in the little time you had free between trips. It was a great burden of guilt and helplessness.

Until you and Steve, with the almost imposed help of Peggy and Howard, rescued Bucky from the evil hands of Johann Schmidt and his nefarious organization, HYDRA, that, unbeknownst to you, would haunt you for a long time to come. It was only after that, after spending several sleepless days on edge thinking about what might be happening to Bucky, that you and Steve were finally able to go out and contribute something. Destroy HYDRA and the Red Skull's plans.

Of course, you realized that not everything could go right when, the one mission you couldn't attend, Bucky didn't return. And then Steve didn't come back either.

“Do you think this will ever end?” you had asked Bucky the day before his last mission.

“Of course it will,” he had answered without hesitation, moonlight illuminating his clear eyes, squeezing your hand as if it was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life. “And after that we can begin to live as it should be.”

But there was no after that, because you never recovered from losing him. From losing them both.

“Are you okay?” Peggy approached, in the middle of the afternoon when the sun was streaming through the stained glass windows of the church, illuminating the spot where Steve's empty coffin had been, because they didn't even find his body. They didn't even think there was any of it left.

You barely moved your head to acknowledge her presence, moving the prayer slip they had recited throughout the mass between your hands. Your eyes were crystallized, in tears that no longer even made the effort to flow, because you had already spent too many days and nights crying. Peggy had been on the other side of the church, sitting next to Howard while the priest spoke, because you had refused to be near them in those moments. You didn't want to be near them.

“As well as one can be,” you slurred, finding that it had been a long time since you'd last used your voice for anything other than cursing and crying disconsolately.

The people had already left, probably an hour or more ago. The empty coffin had already been brought out, all the flower arrangements had been picked up, and the priest was preparing for the evening mass. You knew you had to leave, you knew Peggy and Howard were there waiting for you, but you felt stuck at that moment. You didn't want to leave, you didn't want to get ahead, you didn't want that life if it had to be this cruel.

You heard Peggy's sigh, before she took a seat next to you, a short distance away, averting her gaze to look at Christ on the cross.

You didn't know if you were selfish to be so closed off to your friends at this moments, because they must be grieving as much as you were, but you didn't know how to deal with the future possibilities. Bucky and Steve, great men and soldiers, one even with enhanced abilities, had not been able to make it through the punishment of war. What if Peggy and Howard were the same? What if they too had the cruel fate of dying at the hands of injustice? Could you deal with that? With everyone gone?

Maybe you could open up to them a little more because if not, who else? Turning away from them was not going to ensure their survival in this hate-filled society. Maybe you could protect them, like you couldn't protect Steve and Bucky. Maybe you could make a difference, because you had the chance to.

“You know,” Peggy spoke again, rearranging herself on the bench and crossing her legs, “Steve always knew this was how it would end.”

Her wistful, mournful, fragile voice sent a shiver through your body. Peggy didn't consider herself someone to show herself vulnerable in front of others no matter how close they were, even in those things that hurt her the most, in those things that affected her personally and made her eyes water instantly, she always tended to shut down. And at that moment you didn't dare interrupt her because you knew it would probably be the only time she would talk about Steve in a long time.

“Sometimes we'd talk, between tour trips, and he would tell me that wasn't what he wanted to do, even when he had to convince you otherwise,” her clasped hands would occasionally squeeze between words, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. “He didn't know if he'd made the right decision.”

You could almost picture him, backstage at the foot of the stairs with that notebook he carried everywhere and wouldn't let go, Peggy at his side nostalgic, as helpless as the others. It reminded you of the times you'd had similar conversations with Bucky, desperate to find a purpose, a way through so much fog.

“The first time I saw him so sure of himself was when he asked us to help them look for Bucky,” she mumbled his name, as if trying not to scare you away by saying it too loudly. “Ever since then it seemed like he'd found that spark…”

“Until Bucky died,” you whispered, the words cutting through the cold and silence, Peggy shifting on the bench contritely.

“He lost something of himself from that day on, it wasn't hard to tell. The next time I heard him so sure after spending days lost, it was on that call from the plane.”

Peggy paused, raising her hand to cover her mouth as her voice faltered. You turned to look at her, wishing you could rip the pain from her soul and leave it in yours. She was trying to contain her emotions, breathing deeply, and in that moment you wondered what life might be like from now on, with the specter of grief following you around, waiting for the next time the dead knocked on your doors, unexpectedly, without allowing you to say goodbye.

“He had told me he wouldn't die in peace until he could get it all over with. And he took it all with him. And I hated him so much for it…” Peggy sobbed, her labored breathing standing out between words. She kept looking straight ahead at the stained glass windows, the expression on her face hard and scowling despite having tears rolling down her cheeks, as if she were trying to blame something for what had happened. Her reproachful eyes fixed on the Christ.

Her wails echoed through the walls of the church, the father on the dais sending them a look of sorrow. He had offered you water, thirty minutes after everyone at Steve's wake had left, when they kept walking, and you stood there.

Another empty casket.

“Ladies,” Howard's voice reached your ears amidst all the physical and emotional numbness. You could barely notice Peggy wiping under her eyes with the pocket square that was surely part of Howard's suit, as she took breaths to get up. “We should go now.”

You heard him walk, his slow, careful steps stopping just behind you. There, on his feet with his chest tight, he rested a hand on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze in support. He knew it was the most you would allow him at a time like this, deciding not to pass up the opportunity to let you know he was there. You sighed, feeling a heaviness take over your body as you stood up.

“Yeah, let's go.”

The next few months passed in a blur. Maybe too fast, maybe too slow, you weren't sure anymore.

Peggy continued to work at the Strategic Science Reserve for a couple of years, calling you from time to time to help her with some jobs. You kept a low profile, practically a fugitive from the state, while trying to live a halfway normal life in Europe. A lot of it thanks to Howard really.

Life had become a rather monotonous routine when you stopped getting so many calls from Peggy and Howard several years later. You knew they were fine, but not being able to return to the country filled you with anguish every day. And trying to lead a normal life became too complicated when you looked in the mirror and it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in that capsule of Dr. Erskine's with Steve.

Until Peggy called one day asking you to come back. She told you that it was safe, that there would be no state officials waiting for you at the airport, but even if that had been the situation, you wouldn't have hesitated for a second to buy the first plane ticket and fly to see them again. To Howard and Peggy, to melt into an embrace, longing for the lost years.

You had thought that contributing to the fight in World War II had earned you a ticket to at least be recognized in the military, but all you gained was the government with their mad scientists looking for you to try to recreate the Supersoldier serum. Peggy didn't want to risk you and Howard gave you no choice by giving you a plane ticket to Finland with your bags packed.

You wasted many years not being by their side, unable to keep the promise you had made them in your head to be close by to protect them, to watch over their safety.

But when you left the airport there was only Peggy, and maybe that should've told you everything.

Her hair already looked gray, the effects of gravity and time present on her face. You hated to think that you shouldn't have looked any different from the way she saw you last time when she waved you off at that same airport. Her warm gaze was the same, raising her arms with held back tears to encircle you in a big hug. She tried hard not to sob against your shoulder, you felt the choppy movement of her breath against your chest.

She looked so different and the same at the same time.

You walked to her car a moment later, her trying to carry your suitcase and you telling her you were perfectly fine carrying it on your own. Amidst a smile, she walked into the driver's door and you frowned as you saw the empty passenger seat.

“Where's Howard?” you spoke as you sat down, after stowing the huge suitcase in the trunk of the car. The way you moved to buckle up, you didn't notice the way Peggy froze in place, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that her breath hitched from the effort.

“We're going to see him,” was all she said, but she was very good at hiding that something was wrong. Only for a little while.

During the trip, even though you tried to ask things about them, about what they had been doing during this time, you didn't miss the way her shoulders were tense or her eyes very alert. Something bad had happened and Peggy was trying to hide it from you.

When she pulled up in front of a church, you already knew what had happened without her answering a single one of your questions.

Howard had died.

You two had sat next to Howard's son Tony, his spitting image, in complete silence as the prayers went on. At that moment you didn't know what had happened, hoping it had been a quiet and peaceful death, because you didn't know if you would be able to endure another violent death.

Peggy gave you all the details when the mass was over, after the coffin was taken away, and you hadn't felt such fury in so many years. Not since the deaths of Bucky and Steve had that adrenaline rush of anger returned to run through your body as violently as it did at that moment, when Peggy told you that he had been murdered along with his wife. All to steal some prototypes of Dr. Erskine's serum. The damned serums with which everything had started.

This time there was a body in the coffin, but there was also a culprit. Someone to point the finger at and take it out on for years of anguish and pain.

You were at Peggy's house, staying for a few days, when she told you that wasn't all.

Peggy had a suspicion that HYDRA hadn't disappeared when Steve crashed that plane into the ice. Her suspicions generated panic in you, because Bucky and Steve had died for that, now apparently Howard, only for it all to have been for nothing. The feeling of carnage that ran through your whole head made you nauseous, years of helplessness and pain pent up in such a small body had to find its way out somehow.

“It was a man, according to the information I've been able to gather,” Peggy spoke, taking a seat across from you in the dining room of her living room, after pouring you a glass of lemonade. “He didn't die from the crash. He had a concussion. He was hit in the head. His wife died from asphyxiation.”

“Does Tony know?”

“No,” Peggy shook her head quickly, one hand over her heart as if the mere thought caused her physical pain. “It didn't even occur to me to tell him something like that.”

“And he was looking for the serum,” you recalled, a bitter feeling planted in the back of your throat, the memories of the disastrous times during the war coming back into your head like a blinding flash.

“He took them. We don't know who he is or who he works for, but whoever they are, they must have been following us for a long time to know about them.”

“You mean years,” you arched an eyebrow, your fingers touching the cool exterior of the glass seeking some reassurance.

“Possibly. That project isn't recent,” Peggy nodded, drinking her lemonade with a grimace. You stared at the liquid almost finished from her glass, a wrinkle forming between your brows with each passing second and you kept wondering why.

“But what the fuck was going through that asshole's head?” you spat angrily. Rage at already the amount of lives that serum had taken with it and at Howard's recklessness. Rage at the reaper who seemed to be following in their footsteps for some reason, rage at that damn man and whoever his damn boss was.

“It was the only option, Y/N,” Peggy turned her gaze, meeting your eyes with a strange glint.

“What do you mean?” you were almost afraid to ask, your friend's gaze suddenly turning evasive. You watched her run her fingernails over the glass of the tumbler, lost for a moment in thought. The way her shoulders slumped forward in defeat caused a pressure in your chest that made it hard to breathe. Peggy shouldn't be going through these things at this point in life.

“Howard was working with the Pentagon, as a contractor or something. They had found you. Howard felt cornered and they made him sign an agreement.”

With your incredulous look on her face, Peggy didn't dare look back at you for a few seconds. So much had happened since you had left and it seemed that you had only been told about the things you weren't going to care about so much. But if you had known that you wouldn't have cared much about giving some of the state officials their comeuppance. You would've liked Howard to trust you enough to tell you, not live in as much fear behind his back as the last few years must've been. You didn't like the way Peggy's lips curved downward, as if she, too, would've preferred to make another decision had she known this was how it was going to end.

“Howard assured them that he could recreate the serum, and told them he would as long as they left you alone.”

“Fucking asshole…” you closed your eyes, scrubbing your face with your hands. The rough skin of your hands rubbed against the delicate skin of your face, years of combat and mistreatment foreseeing a harshness that reminded you every day of what you'd had to go through to get to that moment.

“I only found out about it after it happened. I didn't see it for like a whole week,” Peggy shook her head slightly, her eyes glistening in the pain of the memories. You shook your head hard, a more violent reaction than you could have anticipated.

“That stupid… stupid asshole! What the fuck made him think I couldn't defend myself?”

“He was trying to do the right thing,” Peggy finally searched your eyes, meeting the red rims that told her you were holding back too hard breaking in front of her, only using that pain mixed with rage to keep you sane.

“And look how that turned out!”

Peggy stretched her hand across the table, with a pleading look asking you to lower your voice, averting her gaze to the hallway. You followed her gaze, for a second forgetting where you were, forgetting that her family was with you behind the doors where you were plunged into darkness. It was past midnight.

You took a second to calm yourself, trying to drown out the uncontrolled emotions and taking deep breaths to calm your fluttering heart.

“And if what you theorize is true…” you regretted the moment those words left your mouth; you didn't even want to finish the sentence.

“Do you think it is?”

“I don't want to,” you shook your head instantly, closing your eyes, the thought sounding illogical inside your head. Your hands on your chest trying to contain the storm of feelings that was making chaos inside your head. “That would mean that everything we did, everything Bucky, Steve and Howard did and sacrificed, was in vain. It will all have been in vain.”

You spent several weeks with that thought in your head, working hand in hand with Peggy, and the organization you barely knew as SHIELD, to track down the whereabouts of the killer of Tony's parents and the one responsible because the Supersoldier's serums were, surely, in the wrong hands.

And yes, it was many years of fruitless missions and dead ends, with you running every field mission and Peggy calling the shots from the New York facility. Every time you felt close to discovering something, it seemed that the enemy rejoiced in your failures and still couldn't understand how they were always three steps ahead.

However, you had to leave the missions when Peggy became ill.

The silent, lethal Alzheimer's.

During the first months in the hospital, she still recognized you. She also recognized her husband and children. But after the first year, she frowned every time her children walked through the door. After a year and a half, her husband had to remind her that they had been married for about forty years.

After two years, she was still only remembering you, Howard, Steve and Bucky. Her whole life during her time in the army was all you talked about, sometimes you would tell her how much more time had passed than she remembered and always, without fail, she would ask you how much you had done in Europe for so long by yourself.

She cried every time she remembered Howard's death. She cried every time she remembered her children. Out of her mouth came a thousand apologies that no one would accept, because there was nothing anyone could do to prevent what had to happen. You wished she had been a serum test subject instead of you.

For several years, missions to find Tony's parents killer were sporadic because you spent more time around Peggy than at the SHIELD facility. She was the only thing you had left of everything you'd ever had, of when you held the world in your hands. She was the last thing keeping you tethered to that reality, keeping madness from flooding your reason. How could you have so many years ahead of you when that was all you had to live for? A life full of the dead, full of pain and suffering. What kind of karma were you paying for?

You were leaving the SHIELD facility, after another failed mission, when Nick Fury stopped you in front of the exit. You almost rolled your eyes right under his watchful gaze, tired of having to meet him anywhere, and exhausted from his comments about this vengeance project or whatever he wanted you to be a part of.

You still didn't know how, being such an exemplary agent, Coulson had fallen into his nets.

“Miss L/N,” the man stopped you with his words, his hands behind his back and a tense stance that caught your attention.

“Fury,” you nodded in his direction, hoping he'd be quick because you were running late for your weekly visit with Peggy. “Do you need anything?”

“I'd like you to come with me somewhere,” Fury approached tentatively, his one eye fixed on your wary expression, which shifted to boredom the moment you thought you knew what he wanted.

“If this is about that project, I've told you a thousand times-”

“No,” he interrupted you, moving forward and removing his hands from behind his back. “It's not related to that. I really want you to come with me.”

“You look agitated, but I need-”

“I'll take you to see Peggy myself after this.”

You didn't like that he knew your routine, even though you weren't doing enough to hide it from the other agents. But Fury looked nervous, even though he was hiding it very well, trying to keep his cool as he looked for ways to convince you.

You figured it wouldn't be a big deal for you to go off the deep end for once. After all, Peggy never remembered you were going to see her.

You set off in Fury's armored vans, not quite sure where you were going, but sure that it was urgent, because he had taken it upon himself to let his driver know that you had to get there as soon as possible.

You took that time on the trip to come up with a new strategy for the next mission because what you were doing up to that point wasn't working and you felt too close to throwing in the towel, figuratively speaking. You could spend years following a ghost, but you wouldn't give up on finding Howard and Maria's killer.

Before the car pulled up to one of SHIELD's secret sections, they passed the giant, imposing Stark Tower. You never saw Tony again after that time at his parents' funeral, not even during his visits to Peggy because you always made it a point not to cross him. You didn't think you'd be able to look him in the eye while you knew his parents had been killed without being able to tell him. You had promised Peggy in her lucid moments that you wouldn't tell him anything until you could find the culprit. You didn't want to initiate that pain if it had to be kept repressed, as yours once was, and probably still is. You had learned, some time after the funeral, that he was living with Edwin Jarvis, and you were glad to know that he would have good companionship to keep him company in such hard times.

Fury, a handful of agents and you entered the vans through the entrance to what appeared to be the parking lot of an old warehouse. Upon entering, the first thing you noticed was the number of armed agents that seemed to be guarding the place, not at all discreet to how SHIELD used to do things. You weren't sure if Peggy would authorize something like that, but you couldn't question the Director's decisions. It wasn't your place.

“What's going on here?” you frowned, watching as every meter there was another agent and another agent. You got out of the car without waiting for an answer from Fury, moving directly toward the entrance where most of the agents were concentrated. You barely noticed their looks in contradiction, running their eyes over you and then over the man trying to catch up to you, dubious as to whether or not they should move. “Move.”

“Wait,” Fury's voice stopped the command in the agents, who turned back to look at you as you sent Fury a confused look.

“What's all this mystery, Nicholas?” the man startled almost discreetly at your tone of voice, the agents stirring uncomfortably, but kept the serene expression that was getting on your nerves. “What the fuck did you do?”

“We got a call from the Arctic.”

“From the Arctic?”

You tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck instantly stood up, your body alerting you to something your mind still couldn't comprehend. You felt like a deer face to face with a predator, expecting the worst.

“The Colonel informed us of something that might interest us,” Fury's cryptic voice echoed in your ears, drowning out the flicker of uncertainty vibrating from your head to your toes. “They found a plane.”

You didn't even answer him. Your heart began to pound wildly, cornered, ready to have your head bitten off. The tension in your shoulders intensified, with the involuntary movement of your hands as you broke into a cold sweat. The mere implication of his words caused an emptiness in your stomach, a sense of longing and fear you hadn't felt before.

You looked at Fury, trying to find in his gaze the gleam of a lie, but there was nothing there but assurance. There was nothing but recognition and understanding in his gaze, but that didn't make the emptiness in your stomach and the tight chest go away. It didn't make the feeling of being outside your body go away.

You barely remembered to move in the direction of the door, the agents instantly moving out of your way, pushing it so hard that one of them flew out. You moved your eyes around every corner of the room, the cream-colored walls generating a great repulsion in you. And there, in the midst of all the confusion and the storm, a confused and disgruntled face looked back at you. A face you never thought you would see again.

Steve Rogers was standing a few feet away from you, barely comprehending what was happening around him and instantly recognizing you. Your chest compressed once again, the tears you held back for so many years even in your loneliness making their own way into your eyes, endangering to end that mask you wore everywhere you went.

Steve was actually there, looking back at you with his eyes shining in recognition. You didn't know if he was as surprised as you were to react or you looked so bad that he didn't know if he should approach you or not. You just knew it was him, it really was him right there in front of you. He wasn't dead. Steve wasn't dead. He was alive. Ah, he was so alive.

The broken sob that suddenly left you was loud enough to make your friend shed his stupefaction and stride over to where you were. You barely managed to cover your face, between sobs, wails and disbelief, feeling your knees give out, surrendering to the weight of the pain, when his strong arms grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor. Preventing your fall, as you had wished so many times before.

You cried against his shoulder, when feeling him against your body you knew there was no doubt it was true. You moved your hands away from your face, wrapping them around his waist as tightly and lovingly as you hadn't hugged anyone in so long. Surely the last time you hugged someone like that was when you saw Peggy on your way back from Europe.

Steve wasn't far behind, his arms around your shoulders just as tightly, his chin against the crown of your head, moving from side to side trying to hold back the loud sobs that shook your body.

You couldn't believe it, but it was true, he was right in front of you.

Steve was alive. He had come back to your side. You didn't even want to ask why.

And there was nothing else you could think about for the rest of your life.

[allmyocsarebritish]

stares at you with sad wet pathetic dog eyes

I've been dwelling on this for an oc but !! vox x reader where the reader is some sort of water creature/being and just 😈 ugh them being so gentle with each other but like little jokey threats from reader

unlikely lovers and just *screams into pillow* I love vox

- not Renée 🧡

Unlikely lovers

Vox X water based reader

Warnings(?): reader controls water, with demonic form of a siren, soft Vox, Vox overworking himself

Hi *not* Renée, I really really hope I did your idea justice, it was so fun to write and I love ittt!!

Electronics and water didn't mix. Exposure to liquids damaged appliances, sending them overloading in an electric surge and sparks flying. It was a well known fact, but, in accordance with the laws of attraction, opposite charges are always drawn towards eachother.

Vox should have been more careful, knowing that you were destined to destroy him. But he wasn't, and now here you were, corrupting his system and turning him soft. The audacity you had to just waltz in and short circuit his brain, (? Monitor?) permanently implanting yourself in his kingdom of bits and bytes was unmatched. And the worst part was how much he enjoyed it.

For as long as Vox could remember, his status, image and reputation had undeniably been the forefront of his life, though it had become clear that you were toppling this. And, though he remained in denial about how extreme his affection was for you, it was clear to everyone who knew him. The other Vees, his workers, yourself, even if sometimes you did feel second best.

Vox was rather obsessive, allowing work to consume all of his waking hours, and though you knew that wasn't something you could change, you remained present throughout his long days.

Despite the long hours that had passed, Vox still showed no signs of putting his paperwork to the side. Your patience began to wear thin as he picked up yet another 'essential' phone call, and you became rather restless. As impressive as the corporate empire he had built himself was, the business was taking its toll, turning Vox into the living embodiment of stress. It was more than concerning, and as much as he tried to convince you he was not working too hard, you knew he had limits.

The sound of the phone call ending roused you from your thoughts, and you watched as his charismatic business persona began to crack.

"When are you going to take a break?" You complained from a chair in the back of his office.

"Just a second, dollface. I'm nearly done, I promise." Vox responded, not even sparing you a glance away from his excessive amount of screens.

"You were 'nearly done' over an hour ago." you rolled your eyes, slumping in your chair, staring at the back of his TV."Vox, I swear if you don't pay attention to me I *will* waterboard you."

You perked up at the realisation that your (mostly) empty threat caught his curiosity. He spun around to face you in his swivel chair, eyes narrowing slightly.

"You wouldn't." He spoke rather quietly, tone accusatory.

A mischievous smirk played on your lips as you sat up straighter, raising an eyebrow. Taking great care as to *not* splash your techy boyfriend, water droplets flung across the room from your fingertips, dampening the floor.

"Want to bet?"

Vox sighed and shook his head, getting up slowly and making his way over to you, barely suppressing the smile that made its way across his screen. You offered him your own, opening your arms for him to sink into. As soon as he complied, Vox felt the stress of the day begin to ebb and fade, melted by your anchoring presence. And though he was much too stubborn and prideful to admit it, your determination in forcing him to take breaks from his overpowering workload was comforting and much needed.

"Was that so hard?" You teased, hand gently drawing circles over Vox's arm. He rolled his eyes, though his soft smile betrayed the sarcastic act.

"Yes, unbearably." He rested his TV on your shoulder, feigning exhaustion from the effort of stepping away. You snorted a laugh and he brightened, allowing you to rest against him. You playfully, and gently, flicked his antenna, watching as it bounced back and forth before stilling. He gave you a look, taking your hand in his own, softly caressing it with clawed fingers, before raising your knuckles to his screen and pressing a kiss to them.

"What a gentleman." You joked, to which he shook his head, still smiling.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He responded, sarcasm dripping from his voice to mask the genuine statement.

"Don't get soft."

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

Who would have guessed that the technology overlord could be so smitten for a water demon? It was inevitable that you would be his weakness, though what was unforseen was the fact it was in the best way imaginable. The other overlords may see his infatuation with you as a downfall and a failure on Vox's behalf, it was his strongest quality. You gave him a tolerance to water, hence the electronic sharks residing in his mansion. As unlikely as your love was, you were utterly enthralled with eachother.

Around you Vox held no real weakness, you were his strength, his partner, and all that really mattered in his afterlife.

[shapard]

Hi!

I was wondering if I could request a second part to your Alone fanfic? Maybe them clearing things up if possible because it definitely was heartbreaking to see how he reacted as well as the reader being pushed away

Hope you’re having an amazing day and no rush!

Alone🪐 (Pt. 2)

Lucifer x ex!reader

Pluie sur la ville

Part 1 < Part 2

Angst, use of drugs, drama

A/n:Hellooo! I couldn't help myself to put a little salt in the wound. Maybe a third part? Who knows. Here ya go, hope you enjoy<3

Music was blasting through the small Radio. The Room was filled with piles of rubber ducks and other creations. 

In between the Mess there was Lucifer humming the tune of the music, while he worked on his new duck project.

Duck after Duck, to blend out the heart ache he felt after loosing you.

His Usually perfect clean hair was a complete mess. His outfit hasn’t been washed in a long time and his eyebags only worsened with each day that passed.  

Lucifer created and worked every hour that past and yet he can’t just forget about you. You were always in his mind.

Usual you would come up to him and pull him out of his obsession. And this smile of yours. It was warming and welcomed. Most Important it was home.

A soft knocking on the door made Lucifer halt. His head spun fast towards the door, “Come in.” a squeak left the rubber duck as his claws pressed into the soft plastic.

Lucifer hoped, he hoped you'd come through this door with this smile of yours. Hoping the last weeks were just a bad dream.

The door creaked open and one of his servants came in to bring him his breakfast. 

Disappointed Lucifer turned back to his now broken rubber duck. He cursed under his breath and started to begin with a new one. 

His Nails dug into the plastic and the rubber duck broke in his hands. You used to do his breakfast. Or he'd surprise you sometimes with your favorite pancakes. Even though you loved waffles more.

"Oh Y/n."

____

Meanwhile you were having the time of your life.

You were Partying day in and day out. You lost track of time a while ago but who cares? Hook up after hooking up and flirts after flirts.

Each day in a new apartment because you couldn’t afford one on your own. A beautiful life!

With a sigh you sat down at the bar getting another drink. The bartended watched in worry as he mixed you the next cocktail.

“That’s not healthy anymore.” He finally spoke up. Your hands grasp the cocktail in his hands, snatching it away like a kid with its candy. “We’re in hell! Who in their right mind is doing something healthy in here!” With a huge gulp you chucked down the cocktail. 

Two large wolf hounds threw you out of the club before you could complain.

The bartender sighed as he started to clean the glass. “For hell standards you’re overdoing it. When was the last day you were sober?” You raised your hand to answer the question but no answer.

You don’t know.

“See.” The bartender said as he leaned towards you. “As much as I love you company, you should rest.” 

It’s true. 

“Your cocktails taste rotten anyways!!” You shouted into the club. Swaying from side to side you walked without any destiny through the streets of the pride ring. 

You’ve drank almost every day. And every time you got a bit sober you gulped down another shot. Your body wasn’t anymore in its best shape and at last you didn’t feel like yourself anymore.

You thought breaking up with Lucifer may fix the issues and trust issue that began to unfold but no. Your life is nothing more than an empty pitch.

Yet you’ll never want to see Lucifer again. You wished you haven’t met him in the first place.

Opening your vox phone you watched the old picture of you and Lucifer. Happy. By surprise rain drops fell on the display. Except there is no rain.

Touching your cheeks you felt hot watery liquid. You were crying. Overwhelmed by all the sudden feelings you fell onto the rock sidewalk, scratching a bit of your knee.

Your sobs gave you few side eyes from other sinners. You didn’t care.

_____

Even after all he did to you. After all this suffering you miss him. His soft side, his warm side, the lovely cuddles.

Heck you even miss the sex that was filled with love. You looked down at your shivering hands as more tears pearled onto it.

“Oh Lucifer.” 

Lucifer was staring at the family picture of Charlie, Him and… you. His clawed hand travel down from the canvas scratching a bit ink off the painting. He breathed in hoping he could get even a whiff of your scent but after all it smelled like oil paint and nothing like you.

His gaze met one of your old paintings. Do you still draw and paint these amazing art pieces? Lucifer watched you day in and day out as you focused on your drawings.

With a deep shaky breath, he went down to one of your private drawers. Lucifer Opened it with force and the lock broke under his strength. A small painting was in it with his name adored.

The deep crimson inked ribbon was wrapped around it. Crimson is your favorite color. Always been. 

You were obsessed with his eyes, you even started to draw them. He opened the ribbon and ripped the Canva out of its white-golden paper.  It was a painting with you and him. 

Your first date under the Sakura tree in spring. A pained laugh escaped his throat as he remembered how you sneezed around because of your allergies. 

That’s how you two met. 

Lucifer felt guilty for all those horrible things he has done to you. He hurt you not only mental but even physical. Only because of his insecurities, depression, and self-hatred.

It is no excuse for what he did to you, but maybe when he’ll explain you’ll understand him. Maybe you'll come back to him. “I Miss you Mon Chérie. Come back to me, please.”

____

The whole Hazbin crew was in the lobby looking down at your unconscious body.

Angel found you in the middle of the streets passed out. You look rough. Your hair was a whole mess, and you look much skinnier than before. 

“What happened to her?” Husk breaks the tension as no one dares to say a word. “I don’t know.” Charlie was worried. Her dad hasn’t talked to her since you asked where he was. Were you two fighting?

“Maybe we should call Lucifer.” Vaggie finally says what everyone had in mind. Charlie nods, only he could help. Her finger pressed hesitant on the call button and not a second later her dad’s voice spoke through the speaker.

"Heyyy Charlieee." Lucifer's bright voice lights the lobby. Charlie looked over to her girlfriend who gave her a thumbs up. With a deep breath she started to explain the situation.

"We have a itty bitty problem..." Charlie said slowly and Lucifer stayed silent this time waiting for Charlie to continue. "So, Angel was coming back from work," Charlie rolled the r, nervous how Lucifer would react, "And hesawY/npasspidoutinthemiddleofthestreet." The silence was loud. Vaggie's hand was now on her face as she shook her head.

"What? Charlie, love. You have to talk a bit slower so I can understand?" Lucifer laughed nervously. With another deep breath Charlie tried again. "Angel dust saw Y/n passed out in the middle of the streets-"

Not even a second wasted Lucifer was standing in the lobby. Lucifer black clawed hand went through your knotted hair. You needed a bath and medicine. Your forehead was burning like lava.

Lucifer bid a short goodbye and went fast to his private suite. 

Lucifer knew you’d be mad if he undresses you after all what happened. Yet He undressed you and brushed the knots out of hair as your body laid in the bath.

After you were fresh and clean, he put you into one of his own pajamas. He silently sat down waiting for you to wake up. 

After hours you finally woke up.

To your surprise Lucifer was lying beside you and snoring lightly. ‘This must be a dream’ Your hand went up to his cheek and you stroked his golden hair strand out of his face.

“It’s so mean that you’re so pretty.” Lucifer shifted under your touch and your hand quickly moved to your chest. His eyes flutter open as he looked at you with those beautiful red eyes. 

“You’re awake!” Confused you tilted your head. Awake? Isn’t this a dream.

You moved out of Lucifers reach, gaining more distance between you two. Lucifer stood up worriedly. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You fell backwards from the bed landing harshly onto the carpet before he could help you.

Lucifer raised his hands in defeat. As you pointed with your index finger on him. “Y/n, we have to talk.” 

His words ring in your head and the old hurtful memories filled your mind. “There’s nothing to talk about Lucifer.” Lucifer hissed at the disgusted tone of yours.

A hand grabbed yours when you tried to leave. “Please Y/n. My Evangeline. I Apologize.” The nickname ripped only old wounds open.Your e/c hues stared cold into his broken crimson ones. He was about to cry.

“For hurting you-“ You laughed bitterly. “If you think, I will come back at your pathetic excuse of an Apology then you’re wrong.” You shook your head in disbelieve and Lucifer looked at you in pure shock. 

“For what Lucifer?” Lucifer looked blankly into your eyes. No words left him, but you can see it in his eyes. He’s afraid that you’ll leave, again. 

“What can I do then?!” Lucifer grabbed his hair in frustration. “Y/n! I need you! I’m such a mess without you. I love you so dearly, please.” His voice cracked and your heart with it.

“I don’t want you to love me because you need me! I want that you need me because you love me!” A cry left Lucifers lips as he looked back up to you. You were frustrated too and the pounding headache only worsened your mood.

Before you left the room you shortly glanced back to him. “Are you the king of hell because you’re Lucifer Morningstar? Or are you Lucifer Morningstar because you’re the king of hell?” 

“Lucifer you abused me! And at last, you Ignored me like I didn’t belong here. Now after weeks, no, Months it’s Lucifer Morningstar who I’m talking to. Not the devil king who keeps his mistress in his castle. Lucifer it’s over!” Your rant leaves Lucifer speechless. He begins to wonder again why he did all those horrible things to you. 

The things he promised never to do.

“One.” You muttered under your breath. “Only one more chance."

Lucifers legs gave up under him. But this time he forces himself to get up. He’ll not let you go without a fight.

“I Love you Y/n. I never stopped I- fuck. I know I messed up but let me fix this- fix us. I want you by my side,” His finger nervously stroked on the small velvet box in his pocket, “As my Queen. Please give me one chance!” You turned around to face him. His eyes were red from all the crying. His face was wet. 

The bitterness in your face was tasteable. But maybe if you give in, he'll leave you alone.

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei @cimadreamer @ayanazoldyck @froggybich

A/n: This was a looot. Did any of you see a reference 👀. Asking for a friend.

💫

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Since we’re all on the topic of James Lewis….. I was wondering if I could make a different request for him like maybe something smutty but James being a total sub ( I beg of u pls) just being pathetic and needy 🫡

When One Restaurant Door Closes - James Lewis/Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, reader is a bit of a dom, self-deprecating talk, dirty talk, bit of voyeurism, masturbation, handjobs, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, eating out, sex.

Wordcount: 4640

Summary: Your handsome regular just failed his 10th date since he started visiting your place of work. That should be all the proof you need to agree with him when he then claims that he's unlovable, but there's something about him that makes you want to be his 11th despite it all.

Notes: Did someone say Pathetic Needy Sub? 😏 I hope this turned out close to what you wanted, I think this is the first time I wrote any of his characters as super subby and it nearly made me lose my mind /)w(\ 💗💗💗

Friday night shifts had a tendency to either yield good entertainment or bad guests and even worse tips. It was a 50/50 split for you since this place wasn't exactly Olive Garden, all the good guests preferring the big name chains and restaurants with five stars, of which you worked for neither. It was good money regardless, and the entertainment was worth its weight in gold since it seemed everyone wanted to air out their drama over the appetizers, and you'd prefer that to any unlimited breadsticks any day.

You knew it was going to be a good night when you saw him walk in, the handsome man with the glasses who brought all his dates here for you to witness, each one always ending in flames; it wasn't his fault, from your eavesdropping you'd learned that he was a recovering alcoholic with a bit of a temper, and even though being off the juice had given him back his control it didn't help that he tended to constantly say the wrong thing. He overshared more than anyone you'd ever met, his jokes were cute and funny but also tended to be self-deprecating, and when he got on a topic he was passionate about, sometimes for all the wrong reasons, he found it very hard to stop talking even when his dates looked uncomfortable. He was a trainwreck, but a beautiful one, and every time he came in with someone new it made you selfishly happy that he was still on the market.

These people he brought out, they didn't know how to handle someone like him, but you were sure that you could, your practice with your old bad partners giving you more than enough experience. He wasn't a bad guy, far from it, and you knew that now that he was recovering he'd never hurt you, but no one else seemed to get that or him as tonight's contestant, a pretty cute blonde with his long hair pulled into a ponytail to be a little fancy for the date, finally tossed in the towel and walked out. You watched as he hid his face in his hands, another one down, it was clear he couldn't keep handling the heartbreak for much longer.

‘Rough crowd tonight?’ you asked before you could stop yourself, your voice carrying from the bar to his table since his chosen section of the restaurant was emptier for the privacy of his date.

He looked up at you, eyes miserable as he briefly glanced behind you at the bottles decorating the wall. ‘Yeah, you could say that,’ he answered instead of asking for his favourite, and you felt a bit of pride at him pulling through despite the metaphorical flames currently surrounding him and the empty chair across from him.

‘At least he seemed to take it better than the one from last month, that one was a little firecracker, wasn't he?’ you joked in order to lighten the mood, and he grinned sadly at the memory of that failed date as well.

‘He didn't appreciate my comments about Detroit, I was only being a little critical,’ he confessed, and you leaned your elbows against the bar counter.

‘What did it this time?’

‘Too different views about family,’ he told you, and when you didn't hide your curiosity he turned even further in his chair to face you. ‘I guess growing up in a house like mine doesn't leave you much room for wanting to meet someone's parents… or sister, or hometown, or anything else. He wasn't raised like I was but you never know, one bad day and a little too much to drink and it all goes to hell.’ There was the oversharing again, his bad childhood a recurring topic for him, although this time he seemed to have a bit of clarity now that the date had already failed. ‘Sorry, I know not everyone wants to hear about that.’

‘It's fine, I've heard worse working here.’ He perked up at that, someone not flinching or cringing at his trauma for once actually lifting his mood. ‘In fact, why don't you move your plate over here, share a drink with me over it until you're all done?’

‘I don't drink,’ he was in the middle of saying before you filled up two glasses with water, his thoughts only on himself and not the obvious fact that you couldn't consume the inventory while on the clock. He smiled in relief and took your offer when you pushed his glass a little towards him, your entertainment for tonight now purely him as he set down his plate and started venting with a smile.

He didn't leave when he was done, eventually ordering a nonalcoholic beverage just so you'd have something to mix while you listened, and you noticed when you left him to bus some tables or run some orders that he never once looked back at the bottles in your absence. He stuck to sipping his drink or watching the TV mounted over the bar, and when you returned again he'd give you the biggest smile and start talking about something else no matter how personal. 

You found out this way that his name was James and that he used to be a teacher in another town, but he'd lost his tenure right before earning it and was unfairly fired after a bunch of unfortunate mishaps involving two of his students being bullied. He'd basically been bullied himself right out of town, the father of another of his students making sure he wouldn't be welcome after he'd tried to take matters into his own hands, and while the bullying had ended so had his career despite his good deeds.

It was a rather miserable end to that chapter of his life, but he'd needed a fresh start anyway, and moving here had been exactly what he'd needed in the end. He'd even gotten himself a new job a couple months in, and while he was doing great in that regard, it was finding himself a new partner that was giving him trouble still. 

‘Ever since the divorce I've been thinking that maybe I'm just not cut out for this, like she was my one chance and I blew it,’ he admitted as you mixed him another sweet drink, a plate of fries ordered and slowly nibbled away at thanks to the both of you. ‘I've been trying, first Arabella back home and then all these people here- you've seen them, you're always working when I bring my dates, it seems, and… I don't know, maybe I'm just unlovable.’ You weren't sure if he was leading you on just to boost his self-esteem or if he genuinely believed it, although you were starting to trust in the latter with his depressive record, and even if he was manipulating you to high hell you thought his attempt was cute after you'd just seen him crash and burn for the tenth time.

‘I think you just need to pick your dates better before you start down that road; tell you what, how about you meet me back here tomorrow, I get off early, and we can go to dinner somewhere I don't work?’ you suggested, and to your surprise he didn't flush and maybe decline a time or two as he actually met your eye and suggested something you didn't expect.

‘I'm free tonight, tomorrow is Saturday after all,’ was all he said, and you couldn't argue with that as you called it a date and went on with your shift.

True to his word he stuck around the entire time, just watching TV or sipping his drink, no phone coming out to help distract him as you finished your final hours. He didn't complain or even yawn, perhaps he was used to being up late with grading homework and all those other time-consuming teachery demands, so this was nothing to him, or maybe he was just that excited to hang out with you some more considering you hadn't thrown him away yet. Either way, when you finally clocked out he was ready to go, his back straight and smile nervous but wide as he followed you to the parking lot. After a quick discussion of him taking his own car after you, you led the way back to your apartment and brought him up without a care. You could hear his breathing quicken when you approached your door, your keys jangling together as you turned the correct one in the lock, and when you both stepped inside and you reached for the lights he actually stopped you.

‘Don't, I'm sorry, I should've been more clear,’ he began as he let you go, and you expected him to box you in, start kissing you with all the pent up desires of a man who probably hadn't been laid in years if your theories were correct, but he just surprised you again when he dropped to his knees and let his hands hover over your thighs without making contact. ‘Please, it's been so long, you're the only one who hasn't-’

He came to his senses then, realized he was a grown man on his knees in front of a perfect stranger, and he couldn't see in the dark how red your face had become, how wide and very interested your eyes now were as you stared down at him.

‘I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, all the sparkling water must've gone to my head,’ he tried to joke, desperately backtracking as his hands lowered and he made to stand. ‘You didn't bring me here for this, I should go-’

You didn't let him, your hand threading through his hair before you easily guided him to your crotch; he moaned at the warmth behind your pants, his mouth pressing open kisses to the material as he instantly folded, and even in the dim light of your hallway you could still see that his glasses were starting to fog when he looked up at you. ‘Be a gentleman and take off your shoes, I just vacuumed this afternoon,’ you tested him, and he didn't even get up as he took them off and went back to kneeling. ‘It's been a long day, if you really want to apologize to me then you can make it up to me in the living room,’ you suggested quietly, and he nodded before standing again, only this time when he towered over you you felt entirely in control, James only proving that as he walked further into your home and waited for you on the couch. 

You smiled at him, impressed because, despite his stories about going behind his boss' back and taking matters into his own hands in his old town, he was very good at following orders, or maybe he just was good at doing what he wanted to be told to do as he looked back to find you. You didn't keep him waiting, your things put away for the night before grabbing the seat next to him, and even though he looked like he wanted to touch you so badly that it was making him hurt, he still waited for you to give him his next order, tell him how to make it up. 

‘You looked good before, between my thighs like that, why don't you let me see it again in this better lighting while I think up a way for you to apologize to me.’ He did just so, no questions asked, the apartment quiet save for his loud breathing as you spread your legs and let him get comfortable. You both knew where this was heading, the way he licked his lips and sat ever so patiently for you only made your heart race more as you held his entire sex life in your hand. Depending on what your next move was you'd either be the first to touch him in what had to be a year and a half, or send him home with the very real end result of him getting himself off while imagining you.

Now there was an idea.

‘How much do you want it?’ you asked him then, his cheeks flushing in slight embarrassment like you didn't already know the answer. 

‘I need it, you don't know how hard it's been…’

‘When was the last time?’

He swallowed, looking away from you. ‘Back when I was still married, so over two years ago,’ he admitted, and you ran your fingers through his hair again as consolation. 

‘No hookups in all this time?’ He shook his head, leaning into your touch as he all but admitted that it was the first in years, and when you scraped your nails against his scalp and gave him a little tug he let out such a surprising sound it could only be pure, genuine want. ‘You waited so long for me, so good, you've done so well, James,’ you purred, encouraging him to tell you more, want you more, and it worked as he shifted even closer, rested his cheek against your thigh and kissed you again.

‘Thank you, I want it from you, you're the only one who sees me,’ he sighed against your leg, his hands coming up to hold and rub you as well, like if he tried hard enough you'd finally take pity on him and give him what he wanted, but you wanted him to earn it, you needed him to be yours.

‘You can have it, if you show me how much you want it, first,’ you told him, your voice just above a whisper, and when he looked up at you you could've sworn you felt his Adam's apple bob against your clothed skin he swallowed so hard. 

‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked, his voice also low, this wasn't how a recently re-respected teacher should act, and you sat back and gazed down at him while you undid your pants to give yourself a little more room to breathe with how heavy the air was getting.

‘Touch yourself.’

You knew he was yours the moment the words left your mouth and he didn't run, too blinded by his lust to do anything other than oblige your every whim it seemed as he reached for his belt out of sight. You heard the sound of his zipper just moments before he let out a sigh, his eyes closing tight as he started off slow, getting used to the idea that you actually wanted him here doing this before speeding up a little. You could only see the way his arm moved from this angle, everything else hidden from your sight, and you resisted the urge to lean forward because he was the one who was listening tonight, if he wanted you then he was going to do everything until he could have you.

‘Sit back, I can't see,’ you breathed, James cracking open an eye before letting go of you to lean backwards, and when that still didn't help he stopped for just a moment to move to your ottoman. His legs were equally spread as he reached back down his pants, too shy to take himself out as he went back to stroking himself for you, showing you exactly what he'd been doing the past two years without anyone else to touch him. He didn't hide any sounds from you, and you had to wonder if he was actually playing it up as he rested his chin against his chest and arched his back, his hand moving a little faster still out of your sight. It was good but it wasn't what you wanted, and you waited until his head lolled to the side before letting out a short whistle to get his attention. You patted your lap without a word, inviting him over, and when he straddled you he never once removed his hand, it still moving as he closed the distance between furniture.

‘Do you want me?’ you asked as he stroked himself a little faster, just being this close to you driving him wild. 

‘Yes…’ He moaned it into your ear, hunched over and letting his forehead fall against your shoulder; his hips began to move as he fucked his fist, you knew this wasn't enough, and you didn't ask permission before reaching down and sliding his neatly pressed pants down his hips. He choked out a gasp as he finally took himself out, his hand moving properly and so much better over his length, and you looked down and watched as your own need built. You could tell he was getting close by the way his panting was starting to break, he could barely keep it up and it showed in his movements, and when you kissed his neck and took him in hand he thanked you repeatedly before spilling over you. You rode him through it, draining him of every last drop as his reward, and when he sat up you saw that he'd actually cried as he came. 

‘So good, you were so good for me,’ you praised him, your hand still moving over him gently even as he whined from the overstimulation, ‘but we're not done yet, you still haven't apologized to me.’ You expected him to ask you for a moment to catch his breath, maybe even decline now that he'd gotten what he wanted, but he wasted no time in sliding off of you and getting ready to kneel again. Your hand on his tie made him stop, his eyes confused before you guided him back to the couch and got him to lay down, his chest heaving and dick hardening again over his stomach as you crawled up and over him. 

Your knees hit the arm of the couch as you braced yourself on the back, James breathing heavily before taking off his glasses, lining you up, and kissing you much more intimately this time. You rode his mouth, letting him eat you out as you touched yourself, his hands on your hips to help you keep your balance as you rolled them. Even out of practice he was good, telling you that despite being needy for your touch he was more a giver than a receiver, and he confirmed it when you bit back a moan and felt his hand leave you.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him jerking off so slowly it was obviously just to get himself fully hard again, or maybe he just liked the sounds of you using him to get off that much, either way you grinned and moaned again a little louder, just for him. He hummed against you, his eager tongue licking and probing and fucking into you until you felt your orgasm start to build, but when you went to get up so you could come in a much better way he actually let go of himself to hold you in place. ‘No…’ he murmured against you, needing to finish you off like this is what he wanted more than what you were planning, and you reached between your legs to grab him by the hair and pull him off.

‘Bad boy, don't get greedy,’ you warned him, your words making him squirm as he stared up at you from between your quivering thighs. ‘And here I thought you wanted me.’

‘I do, please, please don't stop,’ he begged, his hands finding purchase on you again as you felt him start to find pressure against his pants. 

‘I won't,’ you promised as you let go of him, easily moving his hands away before crawling down to his waist; you sat on his thighs and trapped his dick under you as you undressed him, wanting to see more of him but also wanting him to feel more of you at the same time. He tried to help, loosening his tie and taking it off before you grabbed it and slipped his hands through the hole, the knot holding firm against his wrists as he keened at the sight. He knew not to touch as you finished undoing every button, your hips occasionally swaying as you worked and making him groan as he resisted the urge to grind against you.

It was torture of the best kind to draw it out, your orgasm backed off as you bared his chest and started kissing everywhere you could reach just to hear more of those sounds, your teeth gently biting a nipple before his hands were clasped behind your neck. ‘I'm sorry, just a little more-’ he begged again, you were unaware of how close he'd become thanks to your teasing, and you lifted yourself to your hands and knees to ward it off again now that you knew; this time he whimpered at the loss, his dick twitching pitifully against his stomach as he steadily leaked precome onto himself, it all too much for him after such a long time. 

‘Show me how much you want it,’ you panted against his neck, James not knowing what to do until you lowered yourself onto him at long last, his head falling back with a broken whine. ‘Fuck me until I come, don't you dare stop until then.’

His hands remained behind your neck as he began to thrust, your left hand gripping the couch while the other splayed across his chest. You tried not to ride him, wanting him to do all the work and prove to you that he wanted you so desperately that he'd keep doing it until you were satisfied, but eventually you did give in, your hips crashing down on him as you met each thrust with equal desire. You doing that didn't let him last long, James coming inside you as he threw back his head and swore a string of curses about how good it felt, but even as he rested you didn't let him stop, the heat in your belly growing hotter as he looked up at you and licked his lips.

He needed only a moment while you bounced on his still hard cock, his libido holding strong as he pulled you to his chest, braced himself on the couch and floor, and fully fucked you in earnest. There it was, his desire, his greed, his lust as he pleaded into your shoulder for just one more, he needed this so badly that he couldn't take it, everything becoming almost addicting to you as you gave him everything he wanted. 

Eventually his pleas turned into an endless string of fucks, no other word left in his English teacher vocabulary as he dug his nails into your back in a desperate attempt to hold on, and when even that word became senseless babbling you finally came. You squeezed hard around him, bringing out his third shortly after as his energy gave out and made him collapse, one final, very hard thrust into you as you fell on top of him making your resulting cry out just as senseless as the words died in your throat. 

You could feel his come leaking down your thighs as you laid on top of him, the both of you taking all the time you needed to catch your breath, the afterglow of what was probably the best orgasm you'd had in years still lingering with each small shift until you decided it was time to get up. ‘No, don't,’ he was quick to say, his eyes half-lidded as he turned his head to look at you, ‘stay with me, please.’

Again you couldn't argue with that, getting comfortable against the back cushions so you wouldn't fall off, James still inside you as you found his glasses before they disappeared into the couch forever. ‘Sorry for getting a little rough, I don't know what got into me,’ you apologized as you pet his hair again, careful to massage the places you thought you'd hurt him, and he grinned as he stared blurrily up at the ceiling fan.

‘Probably the same thing that got into me,’ he agreed lightly, and when you both laughed you bounced slightly on his chest. ‘Thank you, for tonight. I know I'm not the most eligible bachelor in town, but… I'd like to see you again, if that's alright with you? Not just to… y'know, hookup or anything, despite all the failures I really am trying to meet someone.’

‘I know, no one would try that hard if they were just looking to get laid,’ you said as you attempted to stretch without letting him slide out of you. ‘But, I gotta know, why haven't you been able to land anyone yet? You've got your flaws, everyone in this town does, but somehow you seem to have all the bad luck when it comes to romance and I honestly don't get it.’

‘Well, to tell you the truth-’ He cut himself off, looking now towards the wall as he turned his head away from you.

‘Oh no, you can't start with that and then not finish,’ you teased him curiously, rolling your hips just long enough to get him to beg you to stop with a weak moan, a very real threat that he could very well go again.

‘To tell you the truth, I haven't been all that interested in my current dates,’ he confessed, your eyes shining with an even stronger curiosity since it always seemed like he was interested when he brought them in. ‘I actually… just wanted to go there because… that's where you work.’ Again he surprised you, your heart skipping a beat as he held you a little tighter. ‘I've liked you since the first time I walked in and saw you, but I've never been good at asking anyone out; I was only able to find those dates through co-workers and their friends, they all put in good words for me, I never did any of the actual asking. I guess that’s why they all failed, I might’ve been subconsciously sabotaging myself because they weren’t you.’

He looked embarrassed as he told you all of this, like you would reject him for having a crush on you despite the mindblowing sex, and you just chuckled and kissed his jaw until he finally looked at you. ‘I guess you did wait til I invited you back here, didn't you?’ you realized then, and when he looked hopeful you gave him a proper kiss; he sighed into your mouth before he remembered where his own had been, his eyes wide in the scandal of it all, but you just laughed and tried again until he had no choice but to kiss you back. ‘Has anyone told you recently how handsome you are? Because to tell you the truth I've been happy to see you every time you walk in,’ you confessed right back, his smile wide as you trailed your fingers from his cheek down to his chest. He shook his head, none of his dates liking him even that much, which you felt was an honest to God crime; oh well, their loss, he was yours now. ‘I have tomorrow off until noon, if you still wanna go out again for dinner tomorrow?’

‘Can I stay the night in the meantime?’ he asked softly, and you kissed him again before finally moving to stand, his still-bound hands raising up to allow you to this time.

‘Of course, the bed has more room to stretch out on, if you don't mind the risk of me cuddling you in the night?’ you warned, but something told you that that was exactly what he wanted as you both stood on shaky legs and made the long trek to your bedroom, his hand clasped in yours.

[suashii]

୨♡୧ NABI (나비) — a caterpillar leaves the protection of its cocoon and blossoms into a butterfly.

pairing. tsukishima kei x reader.

info & warnings. 6.3k wc, art students tsukki & reader, fluff, mutual pining, self-doubt on reader’s end (regarding skill).

note. inspired by the kdrama nevertheless! i also have a playlist if you'd like to listen while or after reading :) enjoy~

you blink at the sculpture situated in your workspace. unsurprisingly, its cold, inanimate eyes only stare back at you. the lack of response, though anticipated, draws a bitter laugh from your lungs. other than the fact that it’s unfinished, there’s something wrong with the piece in front of you. you’ve known it and your professor made that much clear during her class evaluations today.

what are you trying to convey? it feels empty. you aren’t showcasing your true potential.

by the time she had moved on to check the progress of the next student’s work, you felt as empty as she claimed your piece was. and, even though you didn’t have high expectations, the criticism hurt. your classmates must have been able to tell, too, because as soon as class was dismissed, they crowded around you with apologies for the harshness you faced and extended words of encouragement to help get you through the upcoming stages of the project. you thanked them, of course, but none of their words truly got through to you. you wouldn’t be standing here trying to figure out what had gone wrong or what was missing if they had.

“hey.” you jump at the sound of a voice several feet away. for the first time since class ended, you tear your eyes away from the source of your sorrows. it’s strange—you don’t think it shouldn’t be possible for your mood to shift so quickly, but the sight of a certain someone always seems to lift your spirits.

“hey yourself,” you greet tsukishima with a smile. it graces your lips naturally—isn’t strained or forced like it would be for anyone else in this moment.

heavy footsteps echo throughout the large studio as the man makes his way toward you. instinctively, his gaze falls to the idle figure before you. he inspects the sculpted model while speaking. “still working? i can get lunch alone if you’re busy.”

you shake your head and quickly snatch up the clear trash bag that you use to store your work. it’s transparent, sure, but you don’t want tsukki of all people scrutinizing your work. the bag crinkles loudly as you carefully place it over the sculpture in a poor attempt to keep it hidden from your companion.

“nope! i’m done for the day,” you assure him. your spectacle of storing the sculpture has the opposite of your intended effect, as tsukki’s golden eyes slowly pass between you and it. eventually, his stare lands and stays on you. it’s intense and you almost cower under it but you’ve known him long enough to know that, despite it looking like it, there’s no intimidation behind his eyes. you clear your throat, wiping your sweaty, clay-stained palms on the pants of your coveralls.

“where should we eat?”

after a lunch consisting of pre-packaged sandwiches and bottled water, the two of you decide that since you both have time before your next classes, you can spend it at the campus arboretum. you don’t find yourself here often, but tsukki leads you to a bench he frequents whenever he has downtime. you drop your bag on the edge of the seat before plopping down yourself. your companion joins you, albeit, a lot more gracefully.

it’s nice here, you decide, peaceful even. the scent of freshly mowed grass wafts through the air. it’s dewy, too—the sprinklers must have been at work earlier, sometime in the morning. if you looked hard enough at the patches of sunlight, you might have been able to see the little droplets of moisture sticking to the tips of the individual blades.

“how’d your evaluation go?” tsukki’s voice cuts through the silence.

damn it. you were hoping that minuscule detail you had shared would slip the blonde’s mind but that might as well have been an impossible ask of tsukishima. every piece of information he comes across is stored away in the neatly organized archive that is his brain. it can be useful at times; like when you seek him out to help you study or when you’re having trouble trying to remember the name of the ice cream shop you want to drag him to. other times, though, you consider it a curse; like when you attempt to cheat at board games or when you take a crack at convincing him that it’s his turn to pay even though it’s definitely yours. now, in this moment, his incredible memory has come back to bite you.

you exhale a breath that’s meant to be a soft sigh but comes out as more of a burdened huff. you don’t want to lie to him, but even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to. you’re as much as a glass wall to tsukki—he can see right through you without even trying. you keep your reply short and leave out the humiliating scene your professor put you through. “could have been better. i’ll figure everything out soon enough.”

“do you need help?” he asks, staring at the ground.

the laugh you let out causes tsukishima’s head to turn in your direction. his brows are knit together in confusion. another huff of laughter passes your lips before you wave your hand in dismissal. it’s not that you’re above his help, rather, it’s the fact that he even offered. you don’t put kind gestures past him—he can be nice when he wants to—but his concern catches you off guard. “thanks, but no thanks. i don’t want to distract you from your own projects. besides, i have it covered.”

“if you say so.” he doesn’t press because it’s clear you don’t want him to. though, a small part of him can’t help but feel that something is bothering you more than you’re letting on.

a comfortable silence blankets the two of you as you sit and enjoy the scenery. you hold your arm up to check the time on the watch strapped around your wrist. there’s half an hour until you need to get to your last class of the day. usually, you’d be itching to find something to do, something to keep you busy. sitting around and doing nothing isn’t productive and you find it to be quite boring. but this leisure time today doesn’t feel like that. it’s welcome and you’re truly enjoying it.

just as you’re about to lower your arm back to its place at your side, a set of deep-colored wings—maybe blue or purple—catches your eye. the wings flutter towards you, slowing with their approach to your hand. there are a few more languid flaps as the butterfly comes to rest on your finger. unconsciously, a smile pulls at the corners of your lips.

tsukki watches you watch the butterfly. the smile you’re wearing now is different than the ones he’s become familiar with. this one is more relaxed; your lips don’t expose your teeth like they would if you were posing for a picture. this one is calm; he can’t see the inside of your mouth like he’d be able to if you were laughing over something you found funny—funnier than it actually was. but this particular smile does share something with the others; it makes his heart feel weightless in his chest.

he clears his throat and asks, “do you like them?”

you cast him a curious glance before turning back to the insect perched on your finger. that alone, he thinks, is enough to consider an answer. still, he elaborates. “butterflies. do you like them?”

you hum in both understanding and confirmation, nodding your head to tell him yes.

“why?” he follows up.

“i guess i’ve never really thought about it,” you softly laugh. your exhale must have disturbed the butterfly because its wings pick up that rapid flutter, carrying it away into the air. you watch it go, fly with the wind, until it’s out of your sight. tsukki’s question resurfaces as you tuck your hands under your thighs. you ponder over it for a moment while you stare up at the sky. as far as you can see, it’s boundless. the butterfly that had just left you could be anywhere in the vastness of the cloudy blue canvas by now. “i like them because they’re pretty… and free.”

there’s a strange expression on your face when tsukishima looks back over at you, one that doesn’t match the lightheartedness of your words.

you look envious.

• • •

these days, it’s rare for you to be the first to the destination when you plan to meet with tsukishima. it’s become a habit for you to show up after him and on the occasion that you’re taking too long for his liking, he’ll come and get you from the studio himself. you’ve broken the trend today, though, choosing to drop the extra work you assigned yourself in favor of grabbing coffee with tsukki. you were sure that your brain would explode and leak out of your ears if you spent even a second longer analyzing the cursed sculpture.

“is it rude to start my drink if he isn’t here yet?” you mumble to yourself, chin resting on your crossed arms that lay on the table. the cup dripping with condensation on top of the white square napkin has monopolized your attention since you had set it down. on the other side of the surface sits tsukki’s usual iced americano. it’s the only thing keeping you from taking a sip of the beverage in front of you. you’ve come to notice that whenever tsukki is in situations like these, ones where he’s left waiting for you, he orders for you both and doesn’t lay a finger on his meal or snack or drink until you arrive.

it’s those consistent gestures that push you toward your decision; as long as his is untouched, yours will be, too.

you want to give yourself a pat on the back for resisting temptation and choosing to be considerate but the scraping that accompanies the drag of a chair stops you from doing so. you squeeze your eyes shut and shiver at the unpleasant noise. a chuckle sounds from across the table, leading you to open your eyes. there’s an amused grin on tsukki’s face that brings a frown to yours.

“that’s the thanks i get for treating you?” you mumble, aimlessly swirling the ice cubes of your drink around with your straw.

he raises his cup with his words, “thank you.” soft pink lips wrap around the clear plastic straw and you watch as the dark liquid travels up the cylinder. it draws your eye to the rest of his face—his honey eyes occupied with the passing pedestrians outside the shop, his buttery blonde hair tickling the top of his black and gold browline style glasses, the speck of dried green paint staining his otherwise unblemished skin.

your lips wobble in an effort to hold back your laugh but a short giggle makes it past despite your struggle to hold it in. tsukki’s eyes fall on you. a grin he knows all too well, one that means nothing but trouble, plays at your lips. “what?”

you tap your cheek, the same spot where the paint was splattered on his. “you have a bit of paint on your face.”

the man clicks his tongue in annoyance—at himself, not you. he’s normally better about making sure he’s cleaned up after class but today some of the paint he was working with must have splashed up while he was washing his palette. he sets his drink down before bringing his thumb up to wipe the dot away. it swipes over his cheek but the green doesn’t disappear.

“here,” you speak up upon seeing that his motion was unsuccessful in removing the blotch. you lean across the table so that you’re closer to him, within arms reach. your index finger pokes out to gently scratch off the fleck of paint. it lingers for a moment—your finger that now has a green spot under the nail—as you scan the rest of tsukki’s face. a close look that you’ve never been warranted before reveals a sprinkle of light freckles that dot his nose and sparsely spread to his cheeks. you’re not sure why, but your eyes flit up to his. and he’s looking right back at you. in this proximity, you can pick out flakes of gold like crushed foil sheets floating in the pools of honey.

you snatch your hand back when you realize you’ve been staring. with a fist over your mouth, you clear your throat in hopes that the tension you’ve created will dissolve with whatever’s stuck in your pharynx. what on earth possessed me to do that? you berate yourself, choosing to look at your drink instead of tsukki. if you kept your eyes on him, you would have seen that he was feeling just as bashful as you. the tips of his ears burn a blistering red and he’s also avoiding your gaze.

you discreetly shake your head in an attempt to physically rid your brain of any thoughts that have to do with being so close to tsukishima. they aren’t unpleasant but they are the last thing you should be concerned with considering how badly your sculpture is progressing. you sit up at the reminder. it’s a perfect excuse to move on from the awkwardness between you. “i guess that means your painting is going well.”

tsukki nods. “i finished it today.”

“really?” your voice squeaks and you pat your chest to regain your composure. while both of you are art students, you specialize in different mediums. despite this, you’ve always made an effort to keep up with tsukki’s assignments and the schedule he’s given. “don’t you still have a week until it’s due?”

“yeah. i didn’t need all the time allotted.”

you’re torn. on one hand, you’re amazed by tsukishima’s efficiency—you have been since the two of you were first introduced to each other. despite how fast he works, he consistently produces exceptional pieces. he’s a skilled artist who will have no trouble finding success after graduation. though, as proud as you are of him, you can never seem to bury the part of you that craves what he has—his competence, his speed, his talent. you don’t want to doubt and reconsider each move your hands make. you don’t want to constantly feel the weight of a deadline on your shoulders. you don’t want to question whether or not you’re cut out for this field.

your sudden silence doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde but he has no intention of pressuring you into telling him what you’re thinking about. though, he has an inkling that it might be about the sculpture that’s been giving you trouble. all the conversations you have with him are normal until any mention of your project comes up. tsukishima isn’t one to pry and the last thing he wants is to agitate you by bringing it up, but he’s at war with himself. could he call himself a good friend if he were to stand idly by when you needed him?

before he has the chance to ask if something’s wrong, a soft smile makes its way to your face. it’s almost as though the bout of quiet was nothing more than tsukki’s imagination. he knows that isn’t the case, but maybe this is your way of telling him that you aren’t quite ready to disclose what’s bothering you. so, he licks his lips and bites his tongue.

it’s difficult, but you force yourself to set all of your coveting feelings aside. there’s something else you’re curious about, anyway. “since you wrapped that up early, what are you going to do with your free time in class?”

“i think i’m going to start a personal project,” tsukki replies, mindlessly tapping at the cup in front of him with his finger.

“oh yeah? what is it? another painting?”

“it’s a secret.” the words alone are enough to make your lips part in surprise; tsukki always tells you what he’s working on. even more surprising is what he does next. across from you, tsukki gestures locking his lips and tossing the key over his shoulder, all while sporting a smile.

you laugh. it’s breathy and laced with disbelief but the humor is still there. in the two years you’ve known tsukki, he’s never proven to be someone who jokes. he’s sarcastic, that’s for sure, but rarely a guy who goes out of his way to make others laugh. it’s new and it’s different but in this moment, his jesting is refreshing.

tsukki’s just happy to have cheered you up, even if it’s only a little bit.

• • •

another crumpled paper misses the waste bin next to your workstation. the sound of it hitting the floor seems to echo throughout the empty, silent studio. class ended hours ago and all of your peers had filed out then but you’ve been anchored to your seat since dismissal. the sun is setting now, dipping below the horizon. its dimming rays flood the room with a warm yellow. the quiet and setting sun should make for the perfect working environment but they don’t. the silence is suffocating and despite the patches of golden sunlight peeking in through the windows, you’re cold.

the stool you’re sitting on creaks as you swivel to face your creation. time has passed since your first evaluation and you’ve made additions and alterations to your sculpture but every time you look at it for a second too long, you’re filled with distaste. it’s clear that you’ve made visible progress on the piece but you have yet to figure out what more you can pour into it—yet to answer your professor’s question. the missing piece is beginning to piss you off.

your lips quiver and tears prick at your eyes. how pathetic, you think, crying over something like this. but the tears trickling down your cheeks and dripping off your chin aren’t ones brought on by sadness. they’re a byproduct of your frustration. you’re frustrated because something you’re supposed to love doing is giving you so much hardship, causing you so much stress that you’d rather destroy it than continue wasting time trying to find out what’s wrong with it. you want to scream at the top of your lungs. you want to shove this poor excuse of a sculpture over and watch it shatter into little pieces, listen to it crack and break.

maybe that would give you some peace of mind.

the buzzing of your phone against the desk it’s resting on distracts you from your destructive thoughts. you consider leaving it alone and letting it ring but the rational side of you is shouting to answer it. who knows what you’ll get up to if you ignore it.

the vibrations continue as you wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your shirt. your vision is still bleary but you can make out tsukishima’s contact name and photo. you don’t want him to hear that you’ve been crying but you know he’ll go out of his way to come here and check on you if you don’t pick up. it’s easier to hide your emotions over than phone than it is in person. so, with a resolute sniffle, you swipe the green phone icon to the right.

“hello?” your voice comes out more steady than you thought it would.

“hey.” tsukki doesn’t seem to notice the slight falter in your tone. you close your eyes in relief. “are you on your way?”

your eyebrows furrow at his question. were you supposed to be meeting him somewhere? “on my way where?”

“the movie theater.” his words take a moment to register but as soon as they do, you gasp.

“oh my god, i completely forgot.” you slap a hand to your cheek. you were the one who suggested going to see a movie tonight and you unintentionally stood tsukki up. you wonder how you’re capable of forgetting the plans you made but the answer is obvious and it’s right behind you. that damned sculpture. “i’m so sorry, tsukki. i’ll pay you back for the tickets.”

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” his response leaves no room for argument. you’ve come to learn that fighting over matters like these with him is useless; he’ll always win. so, instead, you sigh in defeat.

“are you still on campus?” he asks. you almost laugh. are you really that predictable?

you hum, spinning around to look at your piece. your head tilts to the right as your eyes follow the figure up from its head and down to its feet. you thoughtfully chew your lower lip. seeking out help has never been a strong suit of yours but the fact that tsukki called in the middle of your mini freak-out must have been the universe’s way of telling you to swallow your pride. maybe a fresh perspective would help get you through this slump. “actually, can i ask you for a favor?”

“ask away.”

“can you help me refresh on dynamic anatomy? something’s off with my sculpture and i think it might be the proportions.”

“sure,” his answer comes a lot quicker than you expect it to, especially considering how easily you forgot about the movie you had planned this evening. though, it shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise. tsukki doesn’t hold grudges—not with you, at least—and he even offered his help after hearing about your nightmare of an evaluation. “when should we meet?”

you’re inclined to say right now but you stop yourself. it would be rude to take the time that was once set aside for a fun outing and use it to research instead. “tomorrow night if you’re free. we can study at mine.”

“i’ll be there.”

• • •

the scratch of your pencil against the white sheet of paper along with the continuous hum of your air conditioner are the only noises that fill your room. tsukishima isn’t one for meaningless chatter and usually you wouldn’t mind but right now his silence makes you feel as though he’s staring you down like a hawk. you can’t be sure of how long it’s been since you started but you do know that it has felt like an eternity. your hand is beginning to cramp and the dull throb in your skull is a warning of an oncoming headache. you toss the pad of paper onto the empty spot of your mattress between you and tsukki. your head meets your pillow with a groan as you squeeze your eyes shut.

tsukki looks up from his textbook to inspect your work. the stretched arm sketched out on the page of your notebook is perfect, practiced, and the opposite of what he’d expect of someone who needed his guidance. he has a sneaking suspicion that the so-called “something wrong” with your project is nothing more than a product of your overthinking. still, he doesn’t enjoy seeing you this stressed.

“do you want to take a break?” tsukki suggests. his book closes with a thump. he peers down at you, patiently waiting for your reply.

you nod, eyes still shut. with your thumb and index finger, you create the smallest gap that you can without looking. “just a short one.”

the stillness that characterized the room a few minutes ago returns. tsukki glances over your figure; you’re resting comfortably, head denting your fluffy pillow, hands joined on your tummy. it’s nice to see you in such a pleasant state. the blonde was beginning the think he’d have to get used to seeing you with a crease between your eyebrows and a frown on your face. he knows the contentment you’re feeling now won’t last forever, but he can at least try to prolong it. he rakes a hand through his hair and shakes it as though the action will dispel the unusual jitters coursing through him. “would you like to see what i’ve been working on?”

you shoot up so quickly that your visions spots. a few rapid blinks are enough to solve your problem. with a turn of your head, tsukki appears before you. “you have it with you? it’s done?”

he simply nods.

“yes, i wanna see it!” you practically shout at him as though your answer should be obvious. and, to you, it should be. there’s never been a time when you weren’t bursting at the seams with excitement to see one of tsukki’s pieces. you reach out and grab his arm, squeezing his bicep eagerly. “show me.”

after prying your fingers off from around his arm, tsukki’s hand disappears into the side of his backpack. whatever he’s looking for doesn’t evade him for long because it only takes him a couple seconds to straighten back up with the item in his hold. he sets something in front of you, something you can’t say you were expecting. it’s a box—a small, white, plain box.

you eye the container suspiciously before facing your friend. “this… doesn’t look like a painting to me. or a drawing, at that.”

“just open it,” he urges you with a light nudge to your shoulder. you don’t miss the way the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.

you snicker at his veiled annoyance while picking up the thin, rectangular box. the lid is snug and you have to shimmy it a bit to remove it from the rest of the case. your labor reveals a piece of jewelry. hanging from a dainty chain is a butterfly charm. its wings up top are blue and the set on the bottom are purple. they’re similar to those of the butterfly you saw in the arboretum but the colors are lighter and more translucent—much softer.

“a necklace?” you question, carefully taking the adornment out of its box. the pendant sways like a pendulum with your movement and your gaze follows it back and forth. “who’s it for?”

the gentle swinging stops when tsukki’s hand stretches out to take the necklace from you. you’re taken aback and the tiniest bit wounded by his indirect answer. he doesn’t give you any time to dwell on the matter because it only takes a second for him to unclasp the metal fastener and bring the necklace around your throat. the pendant sits cozily against your jugular notch as tsukki clips the latch back in place. a set of large hands come to rest on your shoulders and they gingerly turn you towards the mirror in front of your bed.

“it’s for you,” tsukki speaks, letting his hands fall back to his sides. he observes your countenance in the reflection of the mirror in hopes of reading your reaction, though, you’re too occupied staring at the necklace. the expression you wear is calm, but tsukishima can pick up on that same sparkle in your eyes—the one from the day when he decided to make the piece of jewelry for you, the envious one.

“pretty,” you whisper.

you said that then, too, that they were pretty. that wasn’t the only thing he recalled you saying you liked about butterflies. “you should take notes from them.”

without looking up, you huff out a laugh. “are you saying i’m ugly?”

“no, you’re plenty pretty,” tsukki clears up his previous statement. you were joking with him but his clarification leads you to meet his eye in the mirror. as easily as his statement was delivered, there’s a troubled line between his brows. “i just mean… can i offer you some advice?”

others might view tsukki as a serious person, but you rarely see that side of him. his hardened, golden eyes harbor a sense of urgency behind them. you hold his stare and curtly nod in a gesture for him to continue.

“about your sculpture,” he starts, a hand reaching back to scratch his neck. he knows his words are necessary, knows that you need to hear them, but he finds that there’s something strange about him giving you guidance. he isn’t one to instruct or give his opinion in most situations but yours is a special case. you’re special. “you’re thinking too technically about things. nothing’s wrong with it; you just haven’t found a piece of you to put into it yet. free yourself from the confines of expectation and start to think about what you want to express through your sculpture.”

tsukki left you with his input at least a couple hours ago but as you lay in bed, it still feels like he’s beside you. his cologne lingers on your sheets—cedar and grapefruit; the one you got him for his birthday last year. you close your eyes and inhale deeply. a wave of serenity washes over you as you take in the fragrance.

your pointer finger traces the shape of the butterfly pendant resting between the dip in your collarbone. tsukki’s words echo in your head. you haven’t found a piece of you to put into it yet. is that really the solution to your problem? would that satisfy your professor? will it satisfy you?

there’s no way of knowing unless you try. and, luckily for you, your new necklace has given you the perfect idea of what to express through your piece.

• • •

for the first time since you’ve started working on your sculpture, you’re happy, excited even. the sense of dread that used to suffocate you whenever you looked at your project disappeared the day after your chat with tsukki. you spent the entire night thinking about what you could do to give the cold, bare figure some character in your likeness. it came easier than you ever thought it would and that’s all thanks to tsukishima. without him and his help, you were on track to turn in an assignment you absolutely hated and was sure to earn a mediocre grade at best.

for the past week and a half, you’ve devoted just as much time to the sculpture as you did when it was nothing more than an ugly reminder of your shortcomings—but this time around, you aren’t searching for something to fix. you’re adapting it—changing its expression, adjusting its pose, adding elements you wouldn’t have even considered without tsukki giving you a helping hand. you don’t end up scrapping anything but by the time you’ve put on the finishing touches, it feels like a completely new piece—one that you’re proud of.

you can’t wait to show tsukki.

it’s the day before your project is due and, surprisingly, you leave class on time. now that your sculpture is finished entirely, there’s no reason for you to stick around in the building until the sky is dark and the moon and stars start their shift. you do have one more order of business in the studio before you call it a day, though, and he should be departing from his own class right about now.

right on cue, a crowd of students pushes past the doors to the lecture hall you’re waiting outside of. tsukki is easy to pick out amongst the rest and you wave him over as soon as he catches sight of you.

“hey! ready to see it?” you ask as your companion approaches.

he can practically see the excitement radiating off of you. you’re beaming and bouncing on the balls of your feet. the show of enthusiasm brings a smile to tsukki’s face. he jerks his head in the direction of your building, “lead the way.”

you turn on your heel to begin your journey and tsukki follows. the weather is nice today—the sun is out but it’s not too hot and there’s a cool breeze in the air. you’re already in a good mood but the environment seems to elevate it even more. so much so that you almost forget something you planned this morning.

“oh!” you stop in your tracks. tsukki almost bumps into you but catches himself before he does. luckily you’re just outside your destination so it’s not too late to go through with your little arrangement. you sling your bag to the side and dig around it until you find the object you hurriedly stuffed in it hours earlier. tsukki’s beside you now and you can feel him staring down at you. you spin to look at him and hold out the item. “here. put this on.”

he eyes your outstretched hand with a humored snort. “you brought your sleep mask from home?”

“just put it on or you’ll ruin the big reveal.” you shove the koala bear eye mask into his chest, holding it there until his hand comes up to take it. tsukki has always had a hard time saying no to you and now is no different—especially with how happy you are. how could he deny you of this? with that thought, tsukki takes the fluffy grey eye cover and situates it on the upper half of his face. a few pieces of his sandy blonde hair stick up haphazardly due to the elastic band. you giggle at the sight.

“i’ll guide you, give me your hand,” you instruct him, wiggling your fingers despite the fact that he can’t see you. he holds his palm up and you take it, intertwining your fingers with his and tugging him behind you. his hand is warm and a lot softer than you expected it would be. holding it with yours feels normal… and right. you struggle to fight the growing smile on your face as you lead tsukki through your building.

there are a few turns and a flight of stairs but, thankfully, you’re able to get him to the studio without much trouble. when you pass the threshold that is the door, you swear you can feel your heart rate pick up. the organ threatens to jump into your throat with each step you take towards your sculpture. once there’s a considerable gap between you and your piece, you pull on tsukki’s hand to stop him.

“are we here?” he asks.

“yeah.” at your word, he moves to take the animal-themed cover off his face. the movement makes you panic.

“wait!” you yell, snatching his hands away and holding them in yours. tsukki’s eyes aren’t visible but you’re sure they would have widened in surprise at your abrupt outburst. hell, you’re even caught off guard by the turn of events. less than five minutes ago you were about ready to explode with excitement at the mere thought of finally showing tsukki your project. you aren’t sure where this sudden bout of fear came from.

you look over your shoulder to the fruits of your labor. just seeing it swells you with a sense of pride. it reminds you of how far you’ve come and tsukki’s the one who helped get you to this point. there’s nothing for you to be afraid of. taking a deep breath, you release tsukki’s hands and step to the side. “okay,” you nod, “you can look.”

slowly, tsukki reaches up to remove his blindfold.

it’s much different than the little peek he got of it before you hid it from him that handful of weeks ago. he expected as much but it’s more than clear that you took his advice to heart. it takes as little as a quick glance to tell that you found exactly what you thought was worth expressing in it. and tsukki thinks that the message you chose to share is fitting.

the expression on the face of your statue conveys a mixture of emotions. the furrow in its brows isn’t one of confusion or anger, it’s one of strain and trouble. the lips are parted, not in surprise or shock, but in struggle. its countenance is apprehensive yet hopeful. further down the body, the sculpture isn’t as bare. there’s foliage—lianas—at its feet that travel up its legs, roping them in and rooting them to the ground—trapping them where they stand. the right one is positioned mid-step and beginning to break free from the vines wrapped around it. the arm on the same side is stretched out in reach of something and its fingers are bent—almost as if the figure is attempting to grasp whatever it’s chasing.

a look to the left reveals what the sculpture is after—a swarm of colorful butterflies.

your eyes flit over to tsukki who hasn’t spoken a word. his amber irises are honed in on your project and you can’t tell what’s swimming behind them. his quiet plants a seed of uncertainty within you but you don’t give it a chance to sprout, don’t allow it any sunlight or water to blossom. you’re tired of questioning yourself and your abilities. this project is physical proof that you’ve grown—enough so that you know your worth as an artist isn’t dependent on anyone else’s opinion. still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about what tsukki thought. he was more helpful than anyone throughout this entire process.

“so…” your voice slices through the silence. “what do you think?”

for the first time since taking off the silly sleep mask you had given him to put on, tsukki looks at you. and this time around, his face shows exactly what he’s thinking. the corners of his eyes crinkle with the smile he wears. it’s a rare one—not sarcastic or half-hearted or the mere upward tug of his lips. “i think it’s amazing. good job, you.”

his empty hand comes up to ruffle the hair atop your head. any other time you’d playfully scold him for so carelessly ruining your appearance but all you can do in this moment is smile in return. there’s a different kind of affection behind his familiar action—one that tells you he’s proud of you. with his hand still resting on your head, tsukki asks, “how do you feel now that it’s done?”

you look to your sculpture. instinctively, your hand reaches up to the butterfly hanging from your neck. upon touching it, your answer comes instantly.

“free.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Jesus | Eyes On Me | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “The only thing that matters is who you are in Me.”

Requested: Yes

You have always felt like an outcast amongst Jesus’ followers. Jesus reassures you that it does not matter what others think of you, and that perfection is the last thing He requires.

Note: I’m not on the spectrum myself but tried my very best to display it respectfully. If there is anything you think I should change, please let me know!

Laughter reaches you across camp, but you remain in your tent, hunched over your bowl of beads. The necklace you’ve started stringing ever since daybreak is long past its required length and could be looped over five, six, seven times, but you don’t feel like stopping. The familiar wooden texture is comforting to you, and even though you do not see the colours anymore in the low light of the few torches around camp, which causes everything to be a blur of grey and black at this point, you have settled upon a pattern in shape – one big bead, then three small ones, a medium sized one, three small ones again, and another big one. 

You continue like that for a while, the bowl becoming more and more empty as you work in silence. Every so often, talking and laughter streams from the fire towards your place, but you do not pay it any mind.

Joining them would make you feel uncomfortable. They already seem to have a great time without you, so you reckon they weren’t missing you to begin with. You’ve learnt to have peace with it. You maintain your distance, not seeing yourself in any position within that group. 

Everyone has a close friend they hang out with often. The brothers of Thunder have one another, Simon and Andrew, Nathanael and Thaddeus. Even Matthew has managed to grow close to Philip, despite his social anxiety. 

And you? Where does that leave you? 

You know that you’re different from them. You’ve always heard it from the children in your village. You’ve always heard it from your parents, from your father, who had you help out in his shop from a young age. And when he passed away and your mother couldn’t keep it up and running, eventually forced to shut it down, you fell into a dark pit, feeling utterly lost within society and within life.

Somewhere in the distance, Andrew barks a laugh as Simon Zee shouts something, earning a cheer from Philip in turn. You jolt at the unexpected sound. With a heavy sigh, you halt in your actions.

Will you ever belong?

A knock on the frame of your tent nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “(Y/n)?” a familiar voice sounds close to the opening flap. It contains no pressure nor hurry, yet Jesus’ voice is always so disarming and warm that you can’t do anything else but respond.

“Yeah?”

“May I come in?”

You are silent for a second. “Yes.” you then say, even though you were more than content in your loneliness this evening. If there was anyone to come and keep you company, you are glad that it is Him.

He moves aside the flap and light streams inside from the fire and the lantern that He is holding in front of His face, a kind smile on his features. “I was already wondering where you were.” He muses, stepping in and closing the tent again to give the two of you some privacy. “Are you alright?”

You shrug and twirl the necklace you’ve been working on around your fingers, fiddling with it so that you don’t need to look Him in the eye. Jesus patiently sits next to you, placing down the lantern before clearing His throat. 

“So, I missed you during dinner and now you’re sitting here whilst the rest is at the fire. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

With a small shake of your head, you sigh. “I… I’m not much of a talker.”

“Oh, I know. But sometimes it is necessary to get to the root of things.”

Brow furrowing, you tilt your head slightly to the side so that you can see Jesus from the corner of your eye. “What do You mean by that?”

Jesus hums and takes a moment to formulate a reply. “Something is weighing heavy on your heart. Do not be afraid to share that burden with Me.”

Nothing ever stays hidden from Jesus, you are fully aware of that, and you do not like lying, especially to Him, so you swallow thickly and open your mouth to speak, better to reveal it now than to delay the inevitable.

“I don’t think the others miss me.” The words sounds alarmingly cool.

“Hm. What makes you think that way?”

“Because I’m… Different.”

“Different how?”

Turning your head, you finally dare to look at Jesus, who is giving you an expectant look.

“I think You know that,” you say with a tone that remains respectful. “That I’m different.”

Suddenly, tears sting behind your eyes. You have never cried about this. You never cry in the first place. But Jesus is smiling so understandingly that it almost lures said reaction from you. You avert your gaze, rubbing your neck. A few tears slip out regardless of your battle against them.

“Different how?” Jesus repeats. It is not that He hasn’t heard you, or that He hasn’t understood you. He wants another response than the one you had just given Him.

You think over your answer for a moment. “My mind works in another way,” you state, “They don’t understand me and I don’t understand them. It’s like… We’re speaking different languages. As if we’re not from the same country. I-It’s nothing new, even my mum has just… Given up on me? She doesn’t say it outright, but I know that… That I’m just… I feel like a burden.”

Silently crying, you find Jesus’ gaze.

“And how does that make you feel?” His question stings, for you’re not fond of talking about such emotions. With a dry sob, you take up the necklace you had draped into the bowl and start playing with it again, wrapping and unwrapping it around your fingers, the thin fishing line you had found amongst the supplies digging into your skin. 

“It makes me feel sad,” you say through the blur of your tears, “I-I don’t like to talk about it. Can we talk about something else?” You rapidly blink to force back your tears. 

Jesus is quiet and stares at you for a minute or so, making you squirm on your spot under his scrutiny. You sniffle.

“I think it is good that you empty your heart to Me. You’re being very brave, (Y/n). I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder, okay?” He queries. You nod, but flinch anyways, although you relax after a moment. “How much do you think this matters in the Kingdom of God?”

Puzzled, you frown, your cheeks feeling raw. “What do You mean, Rabbi?”

“Let me tell you something. Everyone has different talents, different things they are good at. For example… What is Philip good at?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and rub your runny nose on your sleeve. “Hm… He’s good at reciting Scripture. He’s very well-read, very knowledgeable.”

“Right. How about Nathanael?”

You shrug but can’t fight the watery smile. “He’s always brutally honest. It does get him in trouble from time to time, though.” Jesus chuckles at that.

“Right. And Simon?”

“He’s a good leader.” you reply.

Jesus smiles. “And you ?”

Silence. Fresh tears well up in your eyes.

“Do you trust Me, (Y/n)?” Jesus asks.

“Of course I do, Rabbi,” you immediately tell Him without an ounce of doubt in your being. Your voice quivers. “More than anyone.”

He gives a friendly nod. “I know, my Daughter. You know very well who you are in Me. So, I will ask you again. What are you good at?”

“I…” you squint, shoulders slumping. “I… Don’t know.”

“Do you want to know what I see?” 

You nod meekly, rubbing your raw cheeks with the back of your hand. Jesus cups your face carefully and inhales. “I see someone who focuses on the differences compared to the others in the group, but that is not what determines who you are. I know you struggle to find a true connection to the others in the group. Trust me when I say that these people will become your friends, but you should first see your own worth. The Kingdom of God requires many different people. If they were all the same, how uninspiring would that be? It would be but a shell of what love could be. No, the Father can use anyone, no matter the circumstances.”

His words make you emotional, so your voice wavers when you ask for clarification: “But what does that have to do with me ?”

There is never reprimand behind His eyes yet you shrink. He thumbs away your tears.

“You’re someone who is unswervingly loyal to Me.” Jesus says, “Your faith is so strong that it will withstand any storm. You are also very honest. That is very admirable about you. ”

Your cheeks turn red and you look at your lap, where your hands are still wrapped up in the necklace. 

“What matters is not who you are as an individual, (Y/n),” Jesus says. The words sound odd and you’re about to ask what He means with that, when you realise there is another part to that sentence: “ The only thing that matters is who you are in Me. You find your identity in Me, as do the others. That is what connects you, what brings you together. Try to hold onto that when you go out there to speak to them. You may not understand it yet, but a firm foundation built on Me will bring people together, no matter their differences.” 

“I still don’t completely understand,” you say in all fairness.

“That’s okay,” Jesus replies. “The Spirit will eventually guide you there. You will understand with time. You always belong if you trust in Me - you belong to the Kingdom of Heaven. Even if you don’t always feel like it, I will never forsake you. Do not forget that.” 

You smile at Him, a bit more at ease. Your fingers relax and the necklace slips back into the bowl of beads. 

“Thank you, Rabbi,” you state. “That was very kind of You to say.”

Jesus laughs and opens His arms. “May I give you a hug?”

You accept Jesus’ embrace without hesitation, burying your face into the crook of His neck, whilst He smiles softly. You weep, shoulders shaking, and He holds you through it as you let your pent up sorrow go. It makes place for hope, patience and trust, for it relieves your heart. Jesus doesn’t pressure you and holds you for as long as He needs to, not letting go. 

You are the first one to pull away and wipe your face dry, sniffling a few times. “I feel so much better already. I really needed that.”

When Jesus smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle up slightly.

“Now, on that note, shall we both head to the fire? I believe that Mary has kept some fruits apart for you and Thomas wanted to show you a trick he has learnt.”

Your eyes widen. “They’ve asked about me? I-I mean, okay.”

Jesus stands and takes the lantern before holding out His hand to you so that He can help you up. You follow Him out of the tent, towards the fire, where warmth and careful company welcome you.

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Wolff/Sekemoto

Leighton's last journey (longer Part - 1)

The next morning, Thornton woke up quite early because his daughter was hungry. His wife took care of the little one and he went downstairs. But he hadn't expected Yumi to be awake and was a little startled when he saw her standing there. She looked at him with an almost blank expression. “I can't find my toothbrush, did you put it away again, Leighton?”. So there it was, one of those moments where her mind seemed to be far away. But he knew how to react. “Um… No… But I can help you look”..

Thornton helped her find her toothbrush. It was in its usual place. Morgana had explained the consequences of dementia to him in detail. And that she might well mistake other people for her dead son. And that Thornton should deal with it as naturally as possible, however strange it may be at the moment… negative reactions would only upset her too much. But when Yumi looked in the mirror again after a short time, she saw the real person standing there. She paused for a moment, but didn't let it show…

After she had finished, she went into the kitchen. But she stopped just before the fridge, as if she had forgotten what she actually wanted. “Would you like something to eat?"/ ”No, I ate a bowl of cereal earlier. But it was still dark…where are my clothes, I wore different ones yesterday"/ ‘You were asleep, those are your pretty pyjamas’/ ”oh, yes, they're really pretty. Are the clothes on the chair?"/ ‘mhm’. Yumi always put her clothes on a chair for the day. So she went back upstairs.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over breakfast, Thornton talked to his wife about what had happened earlier. “She called me Leighton… It's really hard not to say anything."/ ”I know. But we still have to make her as comfortable as possible. Who knows, maybe her thoughts will be completely different again later.”

“Do you think she'll have a waking moment like that again?"/ ”Maybe, but maybe not. She's living in a completely different world at the moment. If her son were still alive, it would be the same. He once told me that there were probably a lot of cases like this in his family. And if he got this illness, he would have preferred to kill himself before he forgot who's his son "/ ‘uh, that's hard’.

“Yes, Leighton was sometimes a bit harsh in his answers and actions. But he was a good person. If at least Sam's mom was still alive…hh, but he's all alone then. Oh, don't you want more? Okay, then we'll have some pasta and cheese later"/ ‘Leave the plate, I'll clear everything’/ ‘Thanks, Thornton.’. She had to smile a little to herself. Because her husband had developed very positively - in many ways.

After breakfast, Morgana got dressed and then went into Yumi's room. There, the old lady stood in front of the window and stared out. From here, she could watch what was happening around the small makeshift hospital. “Yumi, how are you?"/ ‘It's good weather today… But you don't have to work?’/ ”No, I'm still on vacation for a bit.”.

“Vacation?"/ ”mhm, because of the baby, you know? I need to take some time off to look after the little one. But now Thornton's taking over for a few hours. I'd like to go for a walk with you and Sam. And maybe… Would you like to take Leighton with you?”. Yumi looked over at the urn sitting on the dresser. “Why should I take him with me?”.

Morgana knew that Yumi's head was sometimes mixed up. That's why she spoke to her calmly and gently. “Do you remember our conversation when you told me you wanted to bring your son to a beautiful place? Where the cherry blossoms bloom in spring?"/ ‘hm…oh, yes, but… Our cherry tree is no longer there’/ ‘But I know where there's still one around here’.

Yumi turned to the urn where she kept her son's ashes. She found him under the rubble of her collapsed house after the disaster. And even though she sometimes has these empty moments in her head, she could still remember to all very well. “h-hh, that's still my wish, yes"/ ‘then let me show it to you, all right?’.

While Yumi was still looking at the urn, a tear ran down her almost expressionless face, which she realized almost too late and quickly wiped it away. And then Morgana realized that the thick fog in Yumi's head was slowly clearing again “oh dear, I'm sorry…we're going to the cemetery, aren't we? I never wanted to see us both there, we can't go back to our old home either."/ ”That's true. But I'm sure he and you will like it. “/“I hope so…all right, I'll come.”.

While Morgana and Yumi get ready for the trip, Thornton stares at his smartphone with a slight smile. Because he knows that in a few hours, it will be possible to get in touch with the outside world again. A little bit of normality has returned.

After it took a little longer, the two of them came downstairs. Morgana took Sam in her arms, while Yumi, with a rucksack in which she had stowed the urn, was already heading for the door with her own thoughts. Thornton gave his wife a questioning look. But she just smiled. “I've just given the little one another drink, she should sleep for a while now”/ “well then…see you later then”. Morgana was determined to leave early in the day. Because she figured that everything would surely take a little longer - especially the walk.

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End of this Part

@greenplumbboblover 😊

Note: I had a really hard time finding a suitable second title today… I hope this one still fits somewhat.

[milchig-de]

Vent

Pairing: Character & Reader

Summary: You talk about your problems. Not relationship related.

Warnings: This is basically just vent writing. Very depression, existential dread

Notes: i imagined scaramouche as the character but you can put whoever you want there. ill tag it as scaramouche x reader bc of that but really it doesnt matter. its one am, im tired and sad. please dont be mean to me

_______________

You sit on a chair, a beverage in front of you. It is a warm day, although not warm enough to be unpleasant. Lifting the cup to your lips, you take a sip. You are unable to discern what you are drinking. You put your cup down again.

Someone approaches you. They sit down in front of you. You greet them and they greet back.

Silence.

What are you waiting for? Start a conversation.

"So... nice weather we have?"

The person across you doesn't respond. The look in their eyes tells you something is wrong. They seem to doubt you, ask you if that is really what you wanted to say. They ask if you truly do not have other questions to pose.

You unnecessarily clear your throat.

Another silence.

This person isn't here to make small talk. Think of a meaningful question.

...

Or don't.

Truly, if you have nothing important to say, why are you here?

"When do I ever have something important to say? My life bears little meaning in the greater scheme of things."

The person still sitting across from you answers.

"Perhaps that is so."

"Then... why should I say anything?"

"You can sit in silence. But isn't that boring?"

"That's precisely why I always say nonsense. It's better than bearing this agonizing silence."

They do not respond.

Speak from your heart.

"Sometimes I wonder... If none of what I say is of importance, what even is the substance of me? In other's eyes I am defined by what I do and say. So am I not essentially unimportant?"

"Do you consider yourself unimportant?"

"..."

"I guess I do. I don't particularly care about myself. I barely feel as though I even have a presence. I perceive and interact with the world I am in, but I do not take the time to truly spend time with myself."

"What does it leave you with?"

"A certain sense of... emptiness."

"What do you do about it? Do you just let it fester inside you like a some species of mold? Like some parasite?"

"I usually fill it with things that aren't real. Hell, I'm doing that right now. You aren't real, this place isn't even a place and this beverage isn't anything."

You point at your unidentifiable surroundings to stress your point.

"But when does it end? When do you lose your touch with reality? When does your true self begin? Do you even have one? Or has your entire existence been based on things that aren't there? On things so terribly out of reach that it's fucking pathetic you're still trying?"

...

"I know I'm weird. And I know this weirdness makes me unloveable. I don't know what to do about it. Everything I do only makes my life worse. Every day I wake up alive, I see no possible improvement. No one will come around to help me. That isn't how it works. I need to be proactive, but do I even deserve any help? I haven't done anything of importance and all I will ever reach is mediocrity. What's the point in trying if I will only come so far? "

...

"Maybe there is no point."

Both of you look to the scenery. It's quite beautiful. Perhaps it, too, is undeserving. But at least it is there. Even if the point is truly gone, you will still be here, for better or for worse.

"For worse, I'm sure."

Regardless of it all;

Tomorrow is another day.

[every-bad-thing]

You Run Out of Sky

(modified from "Stars glitter in the night sky above Earth's atmospheric glow" by NASA Johnson is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.) On a clear, cold night you notice: the sky is missing some stars. There are still thousands and thousands and thousands, of course. But some seem strangely absent. Like Orion's Belt: everything else is there, but the center belt piece isn't. Or the Big Dipper: there were only three stars in the handle. And the North Star was nowhere to be found. There must be some light obscuring them, you think, maybe reflected off the moon. But a few nights pass, and though the moon gets slimmer, the stars never return. Maybe it's your angle. That must be it. So, just to be sure, you walk around for a while. You still can't see them. In fact, you notice even more stars missing: Orion doesn't even have a belt anymore, and the Big Dipper lost another star in its handle. You start taking pictures of the night sky regularly. Looking through them all a few weeks later confirms what you suspected. It's tough to see, but every night there are fewer stars. One may be there one night, but the next it's just an empty black space. From what you can tell, about four or five stars disappear per night. Which of course leaves all the rest that still fill the sky, but that doesn't mean you're not concerned.

You do what most people do today and search the Internet to see if anyone else has seen this. You find an academic paper--a whole series of academic papers, really--written by scientists talking about this very thing. This is how you find out this has apparently been going on for the past two years. There have already been several conferences on the matter, and the EU formed a task force to investigate it last February. How did you never find out about this? Well, you reason, you never searched for whether the stars are disappearing from the night sky before either. You just kind of assumed, like everyone else besides these scientists apparently, they weren't.

With some effort you read the papers and find out that the scientists have no idea why this is happening either. Maybe some chain reaction caused by a dying star? Maybe rogue black holes? Maybe anti-matter? Maybe some devastating alien war? Maybe a massive star-eating space creature? There's a lot of theories. No facts. And absolutely no clue on what to do about it, or even if there is anything that can be done about it or should be done about it. No one really knows anything.

( "Stars in the Night Sky" by thecrazyfilmgirl is licensed under CC BY 2.0. ) A few more months pass and more stars are gone from the sky. You keep taking pictures. Now it seems stars are disappearing about ten or fifteen at a time. Whole constellations are wiped out. The night sky is now pocked with empty voids like holes in a sheet. One day you watch a bunch of scientists on the news saying they still don't know why the stars are vanishing. The reporter looks surprised and says wait a minute, the stars are vanishing? And the scientists look back and ask how did you not know about this? We've been working on this problem for almost three years! There's over 120 peer reviewed articles on the subject, there's another conference planned in Geneva next March, we're forming a consortium with astronomers in China and the US, like, how is this all news? The reporter shrugs.

A year passes. The sky is a lot more empty than it was before and it's getting emptier. At this point there are maybe half as many as there used to be. Hundreds are going missing every single night. They seem to go in clumps now, whole sections of the sky emptied out at once. You've been following this on the news pretty intensely. But every time you mention it to someone else--at a party or at work or chatting with someone on line at the grocery store--they're always so surprised. The stars? They're really disappearing? Sometimes it happens at night and you can actually point it out to them. Whenever you do, their eyes always go wide and they always say they never really noticed before. They usually ask, do the scientists know what's going on? You tell them that the consortium, which now includes scientists from all over the world, has managed to rule out a lot of theories (like, it can't be black holes because we don't see light bending near the sites of the disappearances) but don't really have solid answers. Maybe at the next conference in Sao Paolo.

Another year passes and the sky is almost completely empty, just a small sprinkling of stars left remaining. And then, one night, there were none at all. This is the point where, suddenly, everyone is starts freaking out, and asking what does this mean, and what do they do, and why did no one tell them, why are they just finding out about this now. Some people, including yourself, say they've known about this for years and there's been all sorts of things written about it, but they are seen as annoying and not listened to at all. Because why would they? The stars are gone and all those scientists that everyone said was so smart couldn't do nothin' about it neither, people tend to say in different ways. Where'd all those smarts getcha? Huh? Because those stars are gone!

They lash out because they're scared and confused, not because they're really mean people (with exceptions, of course). Still, they do have a point. What now? There's no more stars except our own, apparently the last star in existence. Everything else is a dark and empty void. Telescopes pick up nothing. Radio scans pick up nothing. Heat maps show just a uniform cold darkness. Why were we last? Was it something to do with our star, our solar system, us? Or was it completely random? The scientists had no answers. But they knew, soon, they'd have at least one. Because now that ours is the only star left, it's only a matter of time before whatever got all the others comes for ours too. And as much as people everywhere develop a sick feeling of cosmic dread, they're at least looking forward to finally finding out what it is.

Until then, however, all anyone can do is wait. It will come eventually. Whatever it is. Every Terrible Thing That Could Possibly Ever Happen will return. Eventually.