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bakatenshii · 4 years

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Flushed

Dabi x Reader (BNHA)

word count: 5.1k

TW: 18+, smut, dub/noncon, drug use/abuse, corruption, virginity, (mild) blood

A/N: I am 12 days late for Sunny’s birthday, but my heart beats for one person and one person only— the light of my life, my wife @blahkugo, who wrote me two (2!!) Shig fics for my bday Charity & Sludge, that I reread on the daily like the morning news. Cheeky shoutout to @thisisthehardestthing for writing one iconic sentence in here that I would have framed if I could.

flushed

/fləSHt/

(of a person's skin) red and hot, typically as the result of illness or strong emotion.

cleanse (something) by causing large quantities of water to pass through it.

Dabi doesn’t prowl for prey, he’s not on the lookout for fowl to take home for dinner. No, they come to him. It’s easy, always so obvious, he plucks them out like chicken in a hen house, ripe for breeding.

It wasn’t hard to spot a desperate girl burning out, Hell, the campus’ full of them. But you had something more, something fun, something that made his lips quirk up and his dick twitch— you were uncorrupted.

He can just tell, despite the airs you try to give, the aura of a virgin’s akin to an omega in heat to a starving alpha. Sweet, honeysuckle, the tiny flinches when a man gets too close, the breathy lilt in your voice when they propose something too risque; he inhales it all, commits it all to memory like you were desperately trying to do as you chewed on the tip of your pen and scratched out lines on the book in front of you.

He didn’t need to push, you were already teetering the line, but he did it anyways— because it was fun.

It was elating to watch you stumble into class the next day, eyes dark with sleepless anxiety, misery painted into every crevice of your features while your notes were tucked neatly into the drawer in his room. Really, you shouldn’t have left them so open on the lecture hall table, it’s like inviting a robber home and cooking him a three course meal.

Finals season marked the end of your social life, and the beginning of Dabi’s career. It was almost boring, the repetitive nature of his job; too easy, too simple, a mockery of the entitled bookworms who look down on scummy repeaters like him. But the entitlement is what fuels him, over-achievers fearing for two simple digits on a crumpled sheet of paper as if it’s worse than death itself.

He thrives off of their stubbornness to accept anything below perfect; the hilarity of it all, the irony that their insurance to achieve higher standards than that of a scum like him only fuels his lifestyle, bringing him deeper down the depths of degeneracy.

He sat behind you closer than usual, spoke a lil louder than usual, dropped in the most nonchalant comment about a study drug kids are crazing over these days. He watched as you flinched, hands stopped moving to listen in to the spiel he was spewing, the fishing hook he was dangling in front of you.

A magic pill, one that’ll help you concentrate, kill any sleepiness, get you buzzed for hours on end— best of all, it’s totally legal, he gets it from a pharmacist, scout’s honour.

That’s what he told you when you turned around to him at the end of class, whispering in hushed fear, nerves bouncing off your skin in goosebumps on your exposed arms.

Why he’s selling it? Because he needs some extra cash, he said. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he knew you were desperate enough not to care.

When you met him in the dead of night at the empty carpark of his building, he knew he’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. No self-respecting girl would meet bottom-barrel trash like him in a deserted location at half three in the morning, no, you were untainted, but you weren’t pure.

He didn’t need to know it worked, doesn’t matter what your test results reflected, all that mattered was that you came back to him a few weeks later, met him at the same dingy carpark, hands trembling slightly less this time.

He pretended to scold you, reveled in the way your lips curled into a soft pout, and warned you that tolerance builds fast. Do it in moderation, he had said— he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite.

You came to him only a week later this time, and Dabi had pretended to be shocked. He wasn’t, he gave you a lower dosage the last time, there was no way you’d have been satisfied. Microdosing leads the unsuspecting to addiction, the one fact he learned from school. He lectured you, asked you if you’d built up tolerance too fast, if you wanted to try something different?

He watched as your eyes lit up, pupils dilating in excitement at the promise of something different, something better. It really was too easy. You were too easy.

That night he invited himself over to yours, said he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t have any side effects. It was new, after all, and it was stronger. He’d sit there and be quiet, he promised; it was all out of the kindness of his own heart.

It was almost embarrassing how eagerly you’d lie to yourself in hopes of a better grade.

Dabi wasn’t gonna do anything to you that night, trust takes time to build up after all. Besides, it’s no fun to pounce on the prey before they started running. You studied the nonsensical scribbling on annotated novels, he studied your tiny movements, twitches, nervous habits; etched them into his brain for future use.

A too-long breath, a gasp, a clench of the fist signaled your come-up. He timed it, approximately thirty-five minutes for the initial peak, then smaller spikes at half hour intervals, totaling in four hours before you came down. Impressive, still, considering he’d given you the same dosage as the first time.

He stuck to his words, staying quiet only until prompted, offered you water every once in a while, really, he deserved an Oscar for playing the best supporting dealer. It only took two more sessions before your tolerance peaked again, calculated and timed to perfection right before the next assignment.

The beauty of seeking out an English major was that they’re always searching, reaching into the void for any type of inspiration to translate into eloquently formed words. The beauty of seeking out you, was that you were already in too deep, hooked by the lil pills and plunged into the bottom of the ocean.

Your grades rose while your inhibitions sank, a dramatic irony, isn’t that what they called it?

It’s cute, really, he only had to give you a nudge this time. Asked you how your assignment was going, played the sympathetic friend, and offered you something completely new, completely different. ‘Have you ever tried 2CB?’

Silly question, rhetorical, almost; of course you hadn’t. Innocent sweet girl like you never would’ve even touched weed, much less a hallucinogen. But he poses it to you in an eager tone like he’s genuinely waiting on an answer, like this isn’t just one big game to him. He laughed when you said no, asked him what it was— do you want him to show you?

You trust him, don’t you? He’s helped you through your exams, supported you through your assignments, honestly, he deserved a pat on the back. Don’t tell him you didn’t trust him, come on now, that’d break his heart.

He didn’t expect you to put up a fight, but you gave in almost too easily, guess those lil pills really did migrate and nest in your bloodstream.

The safety of your own dorm room was always granted to you, a faux-sense of security to veil you in, shield you from the true depth of depravity you’ve sunken to. He held you underwater in a net, ensuring you that he’d pull you up whenever— ‘just say the word.’

The net had long been cut, he’d admired the way you’d comforted down there, paddling aimlessly in hopeful conviction.

It’s become routine, almost. Dabi lets himself in easily, settles into the couch across your desk, pulls out a baggy and passes it to you. “A psychedelic,” he explains, “you’ll see colours you’d never seen, find beauty in everything, an artist’s best friend,” if he does say so himself.

He watches you pop the lil pill in your mouth, follow the stream of water pour down your throat, traveling the rips and divots of your tongue, before it drops down your throat into your bloodstream with a bob of your larynx. You’re so pliant, so obedient, he reminds himself to thank your parents for grooming such a cute lil doll.

You let out a loud gasp an hour and a half later, and he watches your fingers curl into themselves; and for the first time he speaks unprompted.

“You good?” It’s almost genuine; the curiosity, at least. He wants to know how articulate you are, needs to know how deeply submerged your consciousness has become.

He watches as you meet his gaze, little tongue dashing out to wet your lips, and nods once, twice, slowly. You shake your head almost immediately after, croaking out an, “I feel ill,” before pushing meekly at your desk to stand your body up. Cute, weak.

Just how he likes them.

He reaches an arm out to you, pulling you into his chest easily and nests your head into the crook of his neck. “Nauseous, aren’t you?” You nod, and he smirks. “Don’t worry princess, it’s just a rough come-up. I’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

It’s almost believable, how sickly sweet he sounds. Too many sitcoms accumulated in recycled dialogues to woo girls in any situation; mix and match, simple yet effective.

He can feel the restless rise and fall of your chest pressing against his, short quick pants as if gasping for air, a small hand scraping at his arm; yeah, you’re definitely coming up.

He picks you up and nestles you into your own couch, so easily as if handling a ragdoll, then walks to the kitchen and pours you some water. The perfect friend, the perfect support, the perfect dealer. You’re so vulnerable, so exposed, you don’t even know it; it makes his brain fog over with carnal desire to pounce— but he doesn’t. Not yet.

He lays back on the couch with you, arm snaking around your shoulder to coax you into a subdued euphoria. All the words he’s garnered throughout the years of fishing for his next meal come bubbling out so naturally in practiced scripts, “It’s okay princess, it’s a stronger pill. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” He’s promising a whole lot, tonight.

“Hey,” he tips your face to meet his with all the tenderness of a lion stalking its prey, “I’m here, right? You trust me, don’t you? I’ve never let you down. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

It’s hard to force down the gagging noise on cue with his disgustingly fake, rom-com lines, but the way he can feel your body loosen, relax, and mold into his tells him he’s close. So close.

This is the best part, this is what he’s good at; the last stretch of patience while stalking his prey, with footsteps so light, treading so carefully, until the air slows down around him and he can taste your scent wafting through the air.

It happens in an instant, a whole-body jolt as you tense up, euphoria announced with a sharp gasp. The smile that crawls up his face is nothing short of sinister, predatory, but he knows you don’t notice. You can’t. Your eyes are strewn shut, basking in the high, and he takes the moment to swallow the pill he’s held under his tongue.

It’s no fun to tripsit, he doesn’t get anything out of that, and Dabi doesn’t do things for free. He feels your head fall back onto his shoulder, short breaths warming a ripple of goosebumps up his neck, and watches as you push your heavy lids open to gaze at the ceiling.

He can feel your giggles reverberating through his chest before he hears them, innocent, pure, unsuspecting. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, because virtuous girls like you like to be treasured, made to feel special, safe— he can make you feel safe; no one’s told him not to play with his food before he eats it.

He watches as you flutter your eyelids at him, sigh into his touch, really, you’re the textbook prototype, he doesn’t even need to adjust his tactics. “You feelin’ good?” A hot breath into your ear, and he revels in the way your lips pout to let out a soft sigh.

Funny how differently you react when you’re high out of your mind, maybe it’s the drug, or maybe it’s just Dabi? You’ve always wanted a bad boy like him, didn’t you? Good girls like bad guys; it’s textbook cliché, and you’re the blueprint.

He doesn’t wait on an answer, he knows it: you’re feeling good, great— divine. He’ll be right there with you soon, he promises.

“Tell me what you see, princess,” Dabi’s not listening when a cascade of nonsensical descriptions come bubbling out, he doesn’t care. It’s all to get you to keep talking, shift your attention elsewhere while his hand slithers down your arm to play with the hem of your shirt.

At the first brush of his finger on the bare skin of your waist, he feels you purr into him, eyes rolling back in bliss. It’s his cue to give you more, invitation for him to snake his other hand up your naked thigh and knead the flesh gently.

Gentle does it, he’ll bring you higher as you go.

He ghosts a breath just under your ear, nipping at your lobe, and admires the full body shiver tumbling through. Moans, loud and needy, come panting out past your lips and echoes off the walls before bouncing back to him. He lets you symphonize short breaths and whiney pleas with each lick and suck traveling down your neck, painting blooms of purple and red as his hand travels dangerously high.

A firm grip is all the warning he gives you before he tucks his fingers into the crease of your thigh, laughing almost at how obediently you spread your legs. What happened to that pure, innocent girl? Guess under all that laid a dirty whore, just like the rest of ‘em.

It was slick, so wet, pussy dripping past the delicate lace and drooling over his fingers. Lace, befitting of a slut who lured him in with the fake charms of a virgin. He slides a finger down your slit, gathering up all the juices before presenting it to you.

“What do you see?” He holds up his finger, slick dripping down like syrup, and watches your pupils dilate in effort to focus. He can see the way your lips part, string of saliva connecting the two soft molds, before gasping out, “melting ice cream.”

“Want a taste?”

You clamp over his finger before he even asks you to, sucks on the digit like it’s a melting ice lolly, before your eyes shoot open and mouth twists in disgust. Of course it doesn’t taste nice, normal food isn’t even edible when you’re rolling like this. You’re sticking your tongue out, in an attempt to air out the taste, or maybe you’re just a dumb dog, a dumb bitch, he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care.

The same hand, now slick with saliva, grips your chin and crashes your lips into his. His tongue finds yours first, tip licking up the crevice of yours lolling out, and he sucks it into his mouth like it’s a crime for it to be kissing the air.

There’s no modesty, no gentleness, his tongue pries your lips open, and he feels the weakest form of resistance before he’s thrusting the muscle down your throat. He lapping over the back of your teeth, traces over each bump and rugae on the gummy sides, and snickers at your shit attempt to kiss him back with your slack mouth drooling out the corners.

He feels a pawing at his arm— your hand meekly grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt to bring him in closer, press his chest into your soft tits, crowd him into you more, more, more.

It’s cute; it’s stupidly desperate.

He gets it though, it’s no worries. Human nature is all it is; the desire to climb higher and higher— he wonders if he can get one out of you before the pill hits him.

There’s no gentleness in the way his hand slots between your legs and cups your dripping cunt this time. He wishes he has more time to admire the way your legs quiver and twitch with every firm pat against your clit, but he’s on a time crunch. There’s so much time to spare, he can play with it all he wants later.

He can feel your needy moan vibrate through his lips and reverberate straight into his brain, sloppy mouths working simultaneously together and against each other as he rips your panties and shorts off in one go. Any self respecting girl would shut their legs in shame, in embarrassment, any attempt to protect their dignity, but you don’t. He doesn’t let you, anyways.

A hand moves under your shirt to roughly grip at your tits in the same breath he sinks a finger into your sopping hole. Inhale; squeeze, thrust, exhale— you moan. It’s tight, as tight as a virgin pussy should be, but not too tight that it fights against the foreign digit ramming into it at a relentless pace too rough and quick to befit an unexplored hole.

He can feel the pulsing around him, gummy walls milking his finger for all its worth, and he digs his palm into your swollen bud; it’s all he needed for you to come undone. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream, the 2CB in your system rendering you incapable of anything except long breathy sobs of his name.

His finger pops out with a wet squelch, and he brings it to his mouth to taste it; tarty, thick— he’s still sober. You’re blubbering out drivel about the stars you saw, the colours swirling around at the peak of your euphoria, you think you saw God— is Dabi God?

Dabi had to laugh, pat you on the head with his hand covered in syrupy slick, watch it leak and clump your strands of hair. He picks you up with your shorts and panties drenched through dangling at your ankles, and walks you to your bed.

You don’t notice, still basking in the afterglow; he knows this. Not that you’d push him off, tell him to stop. Not in your state anyways. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

He drops you once the bed’s in frame at the same time he feels his pulse rise, heart palpitate, and a wave of nausea threatens to bubble over. It doesn’t; he doesn’t let it. An experienced veteran would never. It’s a welcomed sensation, one he’s all too familiar with, and he gives himself a brief minute to breathe it in, savour it, before glancing back down at your limp body on the bed.

Is it your body? He can trace your silhouette from the dip of your waist, the full of your hips, something glistening, gleaming in the light— your pretty little virgin cunt. His eyes roll back at the next inhale before he finds himself landing on the bed on top of you, forearms digging into the soft mattress of your bed.

He hears your voice singing into his brain, soft lulls of his name stringing out in DabiDabiDabi— the desperation and need shooting straight to his cock, he doesn’t even need to look down at your soft pliant body, welcoming him, inviting him in.

“Feels good, yeah?” His voice comes out rougher than usual, low and strained, and laughs at how eagerly you nod, watches your chin catch the air and paint strokes of colour following the route it takes, “Who makes you feel this good?”

He knows, he knows because it’s all you’ve been able to say the past while, the only word on your mind that you can even blubber out—

“You, Dabi,” your pants grow heavier; his pants grow tighter, “it’s you Dabi, please—“

A hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, your soft, uncalloused, hand, and he grips it by the wrist before bringing it up to his face. He traces every line that curves and meets on your palm with his tongue, letting it be covered entirely with drool before wrenching it down under his joggers and into his boxers to cup his aching erection.

His hips rut into your palm almost immediately as a knee-jerk reaction, every hump into your tiny hand has him panting into your face, sweat beading at his temples. His tongue drops down to lick at your lips, asking for entrance, begging for access. Your lips might’ve parted just a fraction, maybe just to let out a breathe, but Dabi takes it as permission to thrust his tongue in and prod at your dormant one.

He can feel you gag at the sudden intrusion, throat convulsing to push back the unfamiliar slimy muscle, and he briefly considers yanking your hand out and shoving his cock down that pretty little mouth of yours.

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have the patience. He needs it urgently, needs your tight virgin cunny stretching and agonizing over his overbearing size, needs to feel the flutter of the gummy walls with each thrust; he needs it bad, he needs it now—

Your hand is wrenched away as he yanks both waistbands down to his thighs. He looks at you, eyes blurring through kaleidoscopic vision, and makes out your disoriented gaze staring back at him. Disoriented with toxins, disoriented with need, lust, desperation— a hand reaches behind Dabi’s neck and pulls him back down to crash bruised lips together.

It’s all the invitation he needs, not that he needs it, no, what he needs is to sink his painfully hard cock into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. There’s a faint squealing coming from underneath him, and he thinks he can feel nails digging crescents into his nape, but all he can feel is your warm, wet walls clenching around him.

There was no need to prepare you for any longer, there’s no point if he doesn’t stretch your virgin pussy out with his own cock; it’s wasted on fingers, his fingers don’t deserve to feel the way you walls quiver and contract around it. The pitched cries stop eventually as he feels your body go pliant and soft, and he has half a mind to realize you’re probably starting to come down soon.

He doesn’t wanna deal with that, you won’t be sober for another few hours, but you’ve peaked already, and not with him; that’s not fair, that’s no fun. His cock stills inside you with half still unsheathed and he reaches down into his pocket to take out a baggy of powder. There’s a spoon in, thank fuck, and he feeds a small bump right up to your nose.

“Inhale,” he slots it right up your nostril, “it’ll make you feel good, didn’t you feel good?” Your head lowers to nod, bumps the edge of the spoon right into the cartilage of your nose, and inhale. Good girl.

The baggy is tossed haphazardly before he’s working his dick into you again, cockhead pushing through the doughy walls in search of that pocket at the end of your pussy.

You don’t struggle anymore, instead clinging onto his shoulders and carving half-moons into the flesh. It hurts a lil, and Dabi doesn’t like it when it hurts, not when he’s the one hurting.

He snatches your hands off him and pushes them above your head, into the plush forgiving mattress. His teeth are back on your neck, biting over the ripples of purple and green and red and blue, reveling in your cries and moans that come out in symphonies.

It feels good, great— divine, it’s what he deserves for bringing you to Nirvana. He’s basically your muse, after all, how can you truly describe rapture without experiencing it first?

He can hear your moans ringing out from underneath, can see them traveling in the air in hues of reds and pinks and reds and reds— there’s red on your bedsheets, of course there is. He forgot that’s what comes with a virgin cunt; blood, mixing with the translucent coating his cock, dripping down and painting the crisp white sheet red, drifting into the air and congesting the whole room with red.

He inhales the colour, sucks it into his lungs, and uses it to fuel the pistoning of his hips. Your breaths turn to pants, turns to sobs of his name leaving your lips again, and he thinks you look good, so good, taking his cock like this. You should thank him for bringing you to your second orgasm.

Just look at you, crazy isn’t it? Crazy what a lil pill can do. But he’s got something better, something so much better, something that’ll bring you to a new dimension. You want that, don’t you? C’mon don’t be shy, Dabi will bring you right there, don’t you worry.

There’s still the faint cries from your orgasm when he flips you over and pushes your face into the untainted sheets. He watches as your hands sprawl up to grip and grasp at something, anything, and his hands ease up on the hold on your skull for a second to let you wheeze and greedily gasp for air.

He flickers a trail of blue down your back, watches the flames dance and rage in a mirage, every bouquet indented by the ligament of each tender rib, and there’s a faint scream. The pitch rises with the flames, taunting it to go higher, faster, paint murals in every swell of your back until he can’t see anything except ash coal char.

Dabi blinks, squints his eyes as he throws his head back to focus on the paint chipping on the ceiling. It cracks and crinkles, shying away from his pointed glare, before he sucks in a deep breath and looks back down at you.

There’s no ash, no char, only warm tanned flesh, pressed flush against the pristine white sheets underneath. It burns against the pads of his long fingers splayed out across your back, and he winces in annoyance at the irony.

You don’t seem to notice his pause, too fucked out or fucked up to register what’s going around you probably. A mixture of both; Dabi can’t really remember what he’s given you or how long he’s been there.

He can’t decide if he wants to stay there anymore, can’t make out the pros and cons of either. He counts them off with each painful yank of your hair, each harsh thrust into your abused virgin cunt— it was that, wasn’t it?

He was there because he sniffed out a cute lil virgin, one so untainted and untouched, one begging for him to corrupt. He’s not known to be very generous, but sometimes he gets into one of those moods; it can’t be helped when there’s a desperate doll waiting to be torn apart.

He knows what you want, can read you with his eyes closed— you don’t need eyes to feel the pulse of a greedy cunny; it clenches with every slap of the face, damn near clamps down entirely as his slender fingers slither around to the front of your throat.

Two fingers shove past your lolling tongue and yanks your head back by the digits hooked on the corner of your mouth. There’s drool, and spit, and so many fluids coming and entering all at once— and then you’re coming, again, probably, for the third time that night. Fourth?

It’s methodical, straightforward, he reads the instruction manual once, maybe twice if the first one’s a bit faulty, and he’s got it down to muscle memory.

At the sound of heaving he looks back down again, admires the feel of two of his fingertips fucked straight into the back of your throat, and pushes down on the rugged gummy wall. You gag, and he laughs. It’s cute, so cute, you’re real cute, you know?

“Such a good lil whore aren’t you?” He digs his nails into the flesh of your hip and rams his cockhead until he can feel the kiss from your puckered cervix. “All fucked out of your mind, bet you can’t even hear me, can you?”

He watches as you gurgle out words past his fingers wedged down your slack mouth, and choke on the pools of saliva drooling out. It’s the funniest sight, fascinates him to death, really.

A slap to the face might bring you out of your daze, so he slips his hand back out of your sloppy mouth and revels at your body propelling forward straight into the headboard. He grasps at the tips of your hair and wrench your body back towards him before any satisfying impact could sound out. It’s a shame, but concussions are not in his agenda.

“Been fucked so loose, filthy slut can’t even keep your body up,” he rolls your hair around his hands and yanks back until your skull meets his chin; it’s excruciatingly painful, probably, and that’s why it’s the best.

It’s the perfect way for your mouth to fall open naturally, to scream, squeal, fluster around in attempt to be freed from the position— it creates the perfect hole for him to spit in. He watches as your face contorts in disgust, tongue pushed out to let his spit drool out the sides, but that’s no fun, not very nice of you, is it?

“Swallow,” he assists you with an extra hard thrust, and you choke on the moan coming out. His hand comes forward from your hip to rest under your chin before pushing it up so it clamps shut, “I said, swallow.”

Your eyes flood with tears that waterfall down your face, and God, he thinks you look the best like this— wrecked on his cock, body littered in purple and red, covered in sweat and blood and cum; his perfect lil cocksleeve, just for him.

It’s emotional, almost— religious, even, he can feel the palpitations in his heart thumping against his chest echoing off the headboard banging against the wall, and lets the euphoria consume him, wash over him as he coats your walls with hot ropes of cream and white, hips stuttering with your greedy cunny fluttering and clenching around it, milking and sucking in his cock in deeper, deeper, more.

He thinks you might’ve cum, might still be cumming, but all he can hear is the Messiah calling for him, choir singing lulling him into an infinite jubilation; he closes his eyes to bathe in it, let himself be cleansed and washed over with ecstasy.

When he pulls out, your body flops onto the mattress, and he watches as white dribbles out your quivering hole, mixing with the red on the sheets, creating a puddle of pink and magenta, before passing out in the fuschia.

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ashes-in-a-jar · 3 years

Text

And I Owe it All to You

Hello! This is a fic I wrote based on @speakerunfolding 's wonderful Jonmartin scottish cabin comic which I couldn't stop looking at.

I wrote this while watching Dirty Dancing for the first time in many years. Quite an experience xD

Summary: It's a night in for Jon and Martin in the cabin and they decide to pop out the wine.

Rated: T

Word count: 2.2K

Tw: alcohol, drinking and being slightly drunk, minor injuries

Maybe it was the fact that neither of them had gone out much in the past few months. Maybe the Fears prefer their avatars lightweight. Maybe Scottish alcohol tended to be stronger than English alcohol. But the sparkling wine they bought on a whim at the village store shouldn't have had the effect on them that it did.

Having emptied two cups each (Jon was actually drinking out of a mug, since they found only one wine glass, and he conceded the honor of feeling classy to Martin) they have already become giggling messes over some dumb joke regarding one Peter Lukas and a computer that refused to boot.

It wasn't even that funny. But there they were, acting like complete fools leaning against each other on the couch, legs propped up in a completely uncomfortable position on the small living room table (dangerously close to the now nearly empty bottle), holding their cups precariously in one hand and holding hands with the other.

And enjoying every moment of it.

The giggling subsided. They took a moment of comfortable silence to regain their breath and enjoy another sip.

"Can't believe he didn't know he could just u-unplug and replug the whole thing. Even I know that." Jon's speech was ever so slightly slurred, his leftover wine sloshing in his cup.

Martin hummed and then snorted.

"Jon, you barely know how to do that either. I had to teach you how to open new tabs in the same internet window for christ's sake."

"It was a new laptop! All of the buttons were in the wrong p-place." Jon protested weakly, starting to hiccup.

"Sure."

"Prick." Jon nudged him fondly. "You underestimate my vast knowledge of 'modern' things."

Martin snorted again. "Modern, you say?"

"Yes Martin, what do you take me for?"

"An old geezer." Martin tousled his hair gently. Jon leaned into the touch. Then, the words sunk in.

"Hey! Why do you and Georgie keep thinking that? I can know pop culture!"

"Oh yeah? Tell me, what do you know?"

"Uh..." Jon struggled to straighten himself, which resulted in actually sliding further off the couch. "Um...I know S-Star Wars! And uh, Matrix? I think. I've seen it once. Oh! That, that dinosaur movie! And... Titanic?" He finished unconvincingly.

Martin looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Really, Jon? You're just naming movies now. And not even new ones. Did you actually watch any of those?"

Jon avoided his gaze "I... I may have fallen asleep during uh, during some of these?"

Martin gave him a long look.

"Yes alright, I fell asleep in all of them."

Martin huffed "Thought so".

Jon gave up trying to salvage his dignity, taking a final long gulp from his mug, a small drop trickling down his chin. Martin swiped it away, absent-mindedly licking his finger, not noticing as Jon hiccuped, his face heating up considerably.

"I-I did like the Princess Bride though— that was a nice film, if a bit sensational."

"Hang on. You watched the Princess Bride? And liked it?" Martin asked, incredulous.

"I'm allowed to like things, Martin. B-besides, Georgie made me watch it. Said it was a- a core staple of cinema history o-or something."

"Oh yeah? Did she make you watch those other movies as well?" Martin asked casually, swirling the liquid in his cup.

"Unfortunately yes. She would cruelly shake me awake when I finally managed to get some shut-eye for once in my life. I-it's not my fault the only times I could sleep normally were during those, those damn films! She woke me up for that ridiculous scene with the, uh, the bullets in the Matrix. And that lifting scene in that unseemly dancing movie."

"What lifting scene?"

"That movie with all of the dancing? Th-the one where he lifts her at the end in the middle of the crowd with that song? At least, uh, at least I think there was a lot of dancing, I wasn't actually, hmmm... Focused at the time."

"Oh my god Jon, do you mean Dirty Dancing? You fell asleep during Dirty Dancing?" Martin's delighted incredulity was plain on his face.

Jon scrunched up his nose. "That's the name of the film? Good thing I fell asleep then."

"Jesus Jon. That's incredible, good on Georgie! Heh, at least you woke up for that scene. It's iconic, you know."

"Yes, yes." Jon waved at him dismissively, reaching unsteadily for the wine bottle. Martin gently took it away from Jon and with a much steadier hand, poured the remaining bit of wine into his mug.

"Thank you Martin," Jon mumbled into the cup.

Another warm silence fell on them, lulling Jon into a half drunken stupor. He nearly threw his cup in the air when Martin's words startled him back into awareness.

"I can do that scene you know, that lifting part." He was looking intently at his glass.

"R-really?" Jon hiccuped. "How?"

"I… I had a boyfriend who wanted to try it. So we did. Turns out that I'm good at balancing large things that aren't stacks of paper."

Jon hummed. He suddenly imagined very vividly Martin lifting someone else in that way and felt a pang in his chest. What was that?

Another beat of silence.

"Do. Do you want to try?"

"W-what?"

"Do you want to do that lifting scene with me? I'm sure I could lift you." Martin suddenly sat up, his tone excited and anticipating. He looked at Jon.

Jon shifted. "Uh, I-I guess it's fine? Sure."

"Okay! Let's do it then!" Martin got up on his feet, swaying ever so slightly.

Jon looked up at him surprised. "W-wait, now? Shouldn't we wait? You know, to be less uh, inebriated? Don't you need to see the scene again for a reminder?"

"Mmm. We don't have reception so I can't exactly watch the scene again. But, but I'm pretty sure I can do it now, definitely sure! Come on." He held out his hand expectantly.

Jon took it, stumbling only a bit as he got up. Martin took out his phone .

"I might even have the song saved. Let me check."

A moment later he gave a whoop of success and the song began to play, filling the main space of the cabin with its soft, if slightly tinny sound.

Jon stretched, releasing the tension in his muscles. "All right Martin, where do you want me?"

"You need a bit of a running start, and then you need to jump high right as you reach my arms, so stand over there." He indicated towards the door of the bedroom.

"Right." Jon stumbled only once as he made his way towards the designated spot. Martin moved across the room stopping right near the kitchen door.

The song kept playing calmly in the background, slowly building up towards the upbeat chorus.

Jon looked at him again "I dunno Martin. A-are you sure?" He suddenly felt a bit more fuzzy than he did sitting down. He hiccuped again.

"Please Jon, you're thin as a rake. Have a little faith." His face wore that determined look that Jon couldn't help but love.

"Alright, as you wish." He grinned, proud of his clever reference as he took his stance.

Martin rolled his eyes as well as his sleeves. "Steady on Westley, this is the part."

Jon felt a rush of excitement as he caught Martin's enthusiasm. "Ready?" He asked, bouncing a little on his feet in preparation.

"Ready." Martin crouched a little, holding out his arms.

As the chorus neared Jon, with a wild drunken energy, took his running start, jumping up as he reached Martin, grabbing on to his shoulders for support. Martin firmly gripped Jon's hips, bent his legs and with a strained grunt lifted Jon in the air as the song reached a crescendo.

Jon was flying.

He laughed giddily, stretching out his arms in elation.

As Martin continued holding him in his strong grip he looked down at his beautiful boyfriend. Despite the exertion, Martin looked up with the softest expression as the song kept playing for them in the background.

For a moment everything was perfect.

And then Martin leaned backwards a bit too far.

In hindsight, they should have known this would happen. While Martin was better at hiding it, he was as drunk as Jon. And Jon's already impeded balance certainly didn't help.

As they went down, Jon idly wondered if they could also recreate the rest of the dance if they practiced. And then he hit his nose on the floor.

After a moment of stunned silence the pain rushed in and Jon grunted.

Turns out that while most of him was protected from the fall by Martin's soft and sturdy body, his knee also missed the mark and crashed into the floor as well.

Muffled by Jon's body above him, Martin squirmed. "Ugh, Jon, are you okay?"

When Jon didn't respond, Martin groaned and picked himself off the floor, lifting Jon in the process.

"Oh my god, Jon! You're bleeding!"

Jon's face throbbed. And so did his knee. His hazy drunken state began fading away as the pain sharpened.

"I-I think I hit something."

"I'm so sorry Jon! God, where are the tissues?" Seemingly having sobered up considerably, Martin picked Jon up and carried him bodily into the bathroom. Jon allowed all of this to happen as the shock of the fall dissipated. He let Martin easily lift him onto the sink counter as he shoved a towel into his hands.

"Hold it against your nose while I... Jesus, your knee too?" He stepped back now hurriedly lifting the stained pant leg to reveal the damage.

"God, Jon I'm so sorry. Hold still, I'm going to find the first aid kit. We shouldn't have done this. This was a complete disaster."

He kept muttering irritably as he walked away. Jon sighed and pressed the towel to his throbbing nose. His foggy mind still felt as though it was trying to catch up to the recent chain of events. He spoke slowly, attempting to convey himself with clarity.

"Martin, it's fine. Honestly, I think we both know I've had worse-"

"You nearly broke your bloody neck! God, where's that goddamn kit." He shouted from across the cabin as Jon heard the rattling of drawers being forcefully pulled open.

"Martin, please I-I'm okay. It's just a little bit of bruising. It honestly already feels better."

And it actually did. In the chaos after the fall, they both forgot Jon's... situation. Jon watched as the cut on his knee slowly closed up, leaving only the drying stain of blood behind. The pain in his nose was slowly vanishing as well.

By the time Martin came back holding the bag, Jon already put down the towel and was tentatively poking at the previously bruised spot.

Martin stopped in front of him, looking at him with a mixture of emotions Jon couldn't parse out. He smiled at Martin hesitantly.

"See? Good as new. No harm no foul, I say."

Martin let out a long suffering sigh and took the towel out of Jon's hands. He quietly dampened it in the sink and stepped closer to gently pat at his face.

Jon looked at him. This close he could practically count his faded freckles, follow every line and trace every mark that was so beautifully Martin. He let himself smile.

"I must say, I'm quite impressed by your strength, if we weren't so inebriated, I'm sure you could have kept me up there for quite a while," he said quietly, enjoying the fluttering touches.

"It wasn't because I was drunk." Martin muttered.

"Pardon?"

"I said it wasn't because I was drunk that I dropped you," he said a little louder, oddly flustered. "I was looking at... At you. You just looked... I dunno, happy, I guess? I just never seen that expression on you before and it..." He trailed off, concentrating intently on Jon's knee, finishing up cleaning up the blood.

"M-Martin, look at me. Please look up here." Jon gently tugged at his shoulders to pull him up. At this height, sitting on the counter, he actually came face to face with Martin, seeing his blush and ruffled expression right in front of him as opposed to slightly above him like he normally did

He lifted his palms to bracket Martin's warm cheeks.

"There you are," he whispered and leaned in for a quick kiss. He then leaned back slightly. "You know that I'm perfectly happy. Here with you. Y-you know that, right?"

Martin looked at him for a few moments, then smiled. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. Now, help me down so we can clean up the wine stain, which I'm sure is growing on the carpet right now."

"Wha- oh," Martin said as he turned to see the fallen glass that apparently toppled during the mayhem.

"Yeah. Let me down?" Jon said again, holding out his arms.

Martin turned back to him, a teasing expression on his face. "As you wish."

Jon groaned and allowed himself once again to be pulled, secretly enjoying Martin's burst of giggles as they both walked back into the crime scene that was their drunken night in.

All things considered, it was a pretty good night.

#Ahhhh i had so much fun writing this #While watching the movie itself xD #I hope you like it!#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #fabric rustles #tma fic #My tma fic #Tma art #I guess #Because its based on it so

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confessionsofa-roleplayer · 3 years

Photo

I'm a RPer and a professional freelance artist. I will sometimes post fanart of things I like from certain fandoms I enjoy, either new or old.

I have to put my signature, branding and watermark logo almost invasively on every fanart piece I make these days, despite the fact I really don't want to, and you want to know why?

It's because every now and then I stumble across an absolute entitled fuckwit in a fandom based on a media piece that struck an inspirational chord with me literally going "Because I don't like some of these offhand things about an artist I'm not gonna name I'm gonna steal, repost and edit their art without giving credit".

They literally do not elaborate what this opinion or offense this artist is too more often than not, making it more like they're trying to escape being at any fault for doing wrong.

Not every RPer is artistically inclined in the drawn medium, so sometimes people will clip fanart down to icons and such if that's their style. I can understand that and at the least most of those sorts at least credit where the majority of their icons come from per the original artist, which is better than no credit at all.

But the aforementioned fuckwits that go on about reposting and not crediting an artist for their hard work on fanart, or even any art, that they are happy to openly state they're going to "steal" really piss me off. If they don't heavily edit those icons or art they take a simple reverse search can find the original artist too, and often the artist is notified, which can either result in them pulling down all their art or making more invasive watermarks to make the stealing that much harder.

It's even worse if they go on that they hate the artist and literally wish harm on them but also make clear they want to keep stealing the art they like from the artist to edit down for their use and never credit them. It's a fast way to have that art disappear, and to find yourself blacklisted by any artists that may network with the one you antagonized if your name gets around when you might try to get a legit commission.

And with the whole threat of the subscription based crap of post+ there's a whole new threat that the artist may consider, even if it can risk them getting into a legal battle per fanarts complicated status, putting all of their art behind a sub paywall.

#general #confessions

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xans-ex · 3 years

Text

Otherside (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Different Dimension/Alternate Universe. Heavy angst, smut, and fluff throughout multiple parts.

Word Count: 4254 words

Chapters-

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

*WARNING- Strong Language, Explicit Sex(Not in this chapter), Explicit Sex Talk/References(Not in this chapter), Violence, Talks of Violence*

This is the second part to the story :) I will include a little of the first chapter in the beginning just with how the second chapter starts, so bare with me ya'll. Also fun fact, when I write I usually find a song that overall gives me the vibes for the story, and the song that helped me write these two chapters is Sextape by Deftones :) Give it a listen-

youtube

Jungkook watched as the figure turned back around and ran across the other room and into the room on top that he knew gave stairs to the building. He was stuck. Now here bleeding out only to be given to police. This is it.

You stared at the screen in disbelief. There was no way this was how your brother was going to end this chapter. No fuckin way. You looked around in confusion before your eyes fell on the pencil in its holder. You wondered if you should erase it. Then when your brother hopefully comes back, you can tell him that the police accidentally wiped it and then later on convince him to have a different ending. Yeah...That would work. You grabbed the pencil, the thick handle sitting comfortably between your fingers. You hit the eraser icon and as soon as the pencil tip hit the screen, you felt warmth.

Almost like you were sucked into a hot room. A sauna, but without the humidity. It was bright for only a second, and then it was dark. You blinked slowly, your head pulsing. "Ow..what the fuck..." You groaned as you rubbed your temples. Your hands started to lift you from the ground, and you paused as you felt the feeling of concrete and small pieces of rocks. You looked up, the wind blowing your hair as you looked around. You slowly stood up, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting from the lingering headache. You froze.

The city. How? You...You were just in your brother's room. At your parent's house. In the countryside. Did you never leave your studio apartment? But why were you on the roof? Was this whole time of visiting family only a dream? You looked around in disbelief before hearing a faint moan. You whipped your head around and saw someone laying on the ground, a pool of red under them.

"Are-Are you okay?" You asked, quickly running to them. You knelt down next to them, looking at their wounds. I-It's okay! I'm a nurse. I can help you..." You trailed off as soon as you saw his face. Jungkook. "Jungkook-" You slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as you said his name. He looked up at you, his face a twisted mix of pain and confusion. "Do I know you?" He choked out. "N-No. Um...what happened?" You asked. He scoffed. "You're a nurse. You should know..." He trailed off. He was going in and out of consciousness.

"Fuck, um...I'mma call 911." You said, reaching into your pocket and grabbing your phone. You paused when you saw you had no connection. "D-Don't call the police." Jungkook came back from consciousness, his eyes wide. "I need to get an ambulance for you, you're bleeding out." You looked at him up and down, his blood slowly pooling out as he lost more and more blood. "Please...no." He whispered. You looked around, hoping to see someone but there was none. "So do you just want to die out here?" You asked.

You didn't mean to sound mean, but he was being ridiculous at this point. "No...just...you're a nurse, can you take me to your place? I'll like...pay you or whatever to help me just please don't." He was pleaded but it all sounded like a stupid idea to you. Plus, did you even live here?

"You're fucking stupid, no! You've been shot, I have no idea what arteries might've been hit in that leg-" You panicked and Jungkook closed his eyes. He was really about to die out here. With a stupid, useless nurse. Which made it even worse.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll just die." Jungkook said. You gaped at him. "No fuckin way, come on, I'll take you to the hospital myself. Is there an urgent care near?" You asked. "You don't know? You found me." He winced as you grabbed his arm, putting it around your shoulders and slowly helped him up. "I'm um...not from around here." You murmured. Jungkook looked at you, his eyes scanning your face as you chewed at your bottom lip. "How annoying..." He grumbled. You contemplated dropping him back down and letting him bleed out, but then you realized that you'd have this man's life on your mind forever, and you don't want to deal with that trauma.

You two slowly but surely went to the open stairs of the building, making your way down. "Can we use an elevator? You're heavy..." You complained. He was practically dead weight against you, and as strong as you might think you are, a dead weight body is incredible heavy. "No fuckin way. The cops will find me that way." Jungkook was very stubborn, and he was starting to piss you off. "Fine. Then put more work in. You're fat and I can't carry you down all these stairs."

Jungkook rolled his eyes but started to carefully take some of his weight off of you, not wanting to do too much because he was still weak from losing so much blood. Eventually you two make it out the building from the side door, and stumble a couple blocks to a nearby urgent care. You sighed in relief when they took Jungkook into a stretcher and started taking care of his actively bleeding wounds as he was wheeled off. You sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room, your right side stained with his blood.

"Are you his family?" A nurse asked as she stood in front of you. You looked up at her wide eyed "Uh, oh, no. No, I'm just a nurse. I happened to find him and took him here." You combed your hair back, your bangs sticking to your forehead with sweat. "Oh? Where do you work?" Your mouth opened and closed before opening once more, thinking of how to even respond. "Um...is there a bathroom I can wash up in?" You stood, the nurse stepping back with a confused expression before nodding and pointing you in the direction of the bathroom.

You hurried into the large bathroom, locking the door behind you. You sighed, looking yourself in the mirror and gripping the sink hard, your knuckles almost turning white. "What in the ever loving fuck is going on?" You hoped your reflection would reply. Tell you this is all a dream. This is a dream. Yeah, it's a dream.

You washed your face, hands, and legs, already giving up trying to clean the blood from your pajamas when it seemed to just spread and make your skin wet and sticky. "Fuckin hell..." You sighed before leaving the bathroom and sitting back at the waiting area, away from any nurses who may walk past to avoid any further questions.

You felt like you were there for hours. You were there for hours. The sound of people crying and alerts over the intercom helped drown out the sound of your own thoughts. Your mind could beat Usain Bolt right now with how hard it was racing. You just sat quietly, cross legged at the ankles. You should leave. You kept telling yourself that, but at the same time you wanted to stay. See if he was okay. Maybe it's because you kinda pretended as if you were waiting for your brother. Hopefully not in these circumstances but to hope he was okay, might bring you some clarity. "Excuse me..." A doctor said as she walked over to you.

You silently hoped there would be no more questions. "Are you with Jeon Jungkook?" She asked. You slowly nodded. "He's fine, in stable condition. Luckily the bullets missed all the important organs and arteries. The bullet in his leg shattered and we had to take those out so please come back if there's any complications after discharge. But luckily the bullet in his abdomen went straight through with no massive damage so that was an easy fix."

She explained everything to you and you sighed in relief. This means you can leave. Finally. "He is ready to see you now." The doctor interrupted your thoughts. "Ex-Excuse me?" You couldn't stop your constant stuttering. "He has requested to see you." You opened your mouth but no words left you, so you simply nodded and followed the doctor through a set or doors towards the patient rooms.

"He's in here. Our visiting hours are over in an hour." She said, nodding to you before walking off. You looked back at her as she left, then turned towards the sliding door of the patient room. Your hand reached out to grab the handle, your fingers wiggling slightly with nervousness. "Annoying Nurse? I know you're there." You could hear Jungkook's deep voice from the other side of the door and you huffed, sliding the door open and going inside quickly. "Annoying nurse? I have a name you know."

"Never told me it, so that's your fault." Jungkook looked at you from his bed, his hospital gown slightly open showing a wrap around his abdomen. You then glanced at the cast on his leg, and the stack of pillows keeping it elevated. "My name is (Y/N), so you can stop calling me annoying. Please." You sighed, taking a seat next to his bed. "Fine. But only because you said please." He smirked. You rolled your eyes. "I just wanted to say thank you. For saving my life." You looked Jungkook in the eye, his eyes on his hands which were picking at his individual fingers.

"No need to thank me. It's my job." You gave him a soft smile. He looked over at you, and matched his smile with yours. "You work here?" You bit your bottom lip. "No...I uh...I work somewhere else. Out of town." You said it so quietly Jungkook almost couldn't hear you. "Oh...okay."

The silence was so uncomfortable you debated just getting up and leaving now, which you thought would be perfect. "Well, visiting hours are probably already over, so I will get going now." You laughed awkwardly, standing up slowly and wiping your sweaty palms agains your pajama shorts. You turned to walk out the door but then a hand reached out and grabbed yours.

You turned back around and saw Jungkook's bandaged hand engulfing your smaller palm. "Can you come back tomorrow?" He almost had puppy dog eyes with the way he looked up at you. "I...I don't know..." You started. "I'll pay for lunch...or dinner. Or whatever you want. Please?" You thought to yourself. "Hmm...fine, but only because you said please." You teased, and Jungkook snorted. He gave you a toothy grin and you felt your cheeks heat up slightly with his hand still wrapped around yours.

"Goodnight Jungkook." You pulled your hand from his grasp and slide open the door to his room. "Goodnight...Y/N" He said as you closed his door. He looked around the hospital room and sighed. "Such an annoying nurse." He chuckled.

Now that you were finally out of there, you could properly freak the fuck out. First off, where the fuck are you? Second, why in the fuck is Framed character, Jeon Jungkook, in the same world as you right now? Third, what in the fucking fuck? Fuck? You raked your hands through your messy hair, the reality of everything setting in. What if you're stuck here? What about your family? Your friends? Your job???

You rubbed at your temples. Okay (Y/N), don't stress yourself out too much now. Maybe if you just...go to sleep...you'll wake up back at home. It's a dream remember? You looked around. Where the fuck will you go? You contemplated everything and just realized you should probably just stay at the hospital. You had nowhere to go.

As you made your way back to the entrance doors, three cop cars pulled up and cops started to jump out their cars. You jumped back in surprise. "Are you alright?" One of the officers said, looking at your blood stained clothes. "Y-Yeah I'm fine, I was dropping off a friend." You stammered. The officer looked you up and down curiously. "Well anyways, have you seen this man? He is currently wanted by police." The officer scrolled on his phone before showing you a photo and you almost choked on your spit. A picture of Jungkook was staring right back at you, his purple dyed hair a mess. It's a mugshot.

"Uh...no. Why? What did he do?" You looked at the officer, trying to hold your composure. Why in the hell was there a mugshot of Jungkook? Is that why he wouldn't let you call the police? "We can't say that. Just wondering if you'd seen him." The officer asked once again, as if telling you to just own up to it.

Like hell you were going to do that. You got questions and this little criminal needed to give you answers. "Nope. Never seen him. If you'll please excuse me, my boyfriend was shot and I'm here to make sure he's okay." Your mouth was moving faster than your brain. Boyfriend? Why in the fuck did you say that? The officer's right eyebrow raised curiously. "Did you shoot him?" You cocked your head in confusion before remembering your current attire.

"N-No! I saved his life. Now...please excuse me." You pushed past the officer as you made your way back into the hospital and into the elevators to go to the patient rooms. Once you arrived on the correct floor you snuck past the nurses station, knowing if they saw you they'd tell you to go home since visiting hours were over. Once you got to Jungkook's room, you quietly slide open the door and closed it once you were inside.

"You're back?" Jungkook's voice could've startled you if you weren't already freaking the fuck out. "Jungkook...I just got stopped by the cops." You looked over at him and you visibly saw his adam's apple bob from the gulp he swallowed. "Yeah? And?" This fucker is playing dumb. "And? Jungkook you're wanted by the police! What did you do?" You exclaimed. "Okay, say it louder for the security down the hall." He rolled his eyes, his arms folded across his chest as he huffed, annoyed.

"I didn't do anything." Your eyes could've popped out your head with how hard your eyes were bulging at him. "The police seem to think differently. They showed me your fuckin mugshot, dude." You sat next to his bed, your hands raking your hair with frustration. "That was from something unrelated. This time...it wasn't me." He looked like he really wanted you to believe him. "What happened?" You just wanted to know. You weren't sure if you were sitting with an innocent man or some kind of killer but it would help to make sure?

Jungkook paused, his eyes dashing around as if he was thinking if he should even tell me or not. "Fine...don't tell me." You were starting to get annoyed. You were hoping he would trust you, with you saving his life and all, but that didn't seem to be the case. "(Y/N)..." He started but you were quick to shut him down. "Forget it. Good luck with your case." You slide open the door, your face turned pale when you saw a nurse walking with a police officer.

You slide the door shut once more, and Jungkook looked at you curiously. "Jungkook...the police are here." You whispered. You felt the room go cold and Jungkook looked around nervously. "We gotta go." He started moving, ripping his IV out his arm swinging his leg over the bed with a groan. "Wait what? What the fuck? N-No!" You walked over to him, trying to push him back by his chest. He pushed your hands away.

"I'm not about to be taken for something I did not do." He was angry. Frustrated. You hesistated, watching as he stood and grabbed his bag of clothes. "I'll...I'll help you." Jungkook turned towards you. "You will? Even though you don't know if I'm some crazed killer or not?" You pursed your lips. "Is that what they're trying to arrest you for?" Jungkook took a deep breath in, not saying anything else as he limped towards his things that were put into a hospital bag and then slipped on his hospital slippers.

He turned towards you again, looking you over once more as you stood there. "Are you just gonna stare at me or are you gonna come with me?" You nodded, going over to him and letting him wrap his arm around your shoulder once more. You slid open the door, looking in the direction of where the nurse and officer were and not seeing them. "They might be talking about you, we gotta go." You whispered and Jungkook nodded, following you towards the nearby stairs.

"Wait, can we use the elevator?" Jungkook looked at you as if you were the dumbest on earth. "You truly are the most annoying person I've ever met." He let go of your shoulder. "You go on the elevator, distract the nurse and cop, and meet me on the side of the building. I'll call someone to pick us up since you apparently don't live around here." He rolled his eyes and opened up the door to the stairs, wincing slightly in pain.

You nodded, ignoring his earlier remark and started for the elevator. Right as you were close, the nurse and cop you saw earlier spotted you. "Excuse me? Visiting hours ended a while ago." She said. You looked at her apologetically. "Sorry...my boyfriend was shot and I just needed to see him one more time. Bring him some snacks and stuff." You continued heading for the elevator, ignoring the calls from the nurse and officer as you pressed the first floor button and mashed the 'closed elevator' button repetitively.

Once you got to the first floor, you walked calmly out the door, ignoring the looks from the earlier officer that questioned you earlier. As soon as you touched the outside, a large exhale escaped your lungs. How long were you holding your breath? As you walked, you heard a low voice call out to you. "(Y/N)." Jungkook called for you in a silent yell. You hurried over to him, grabbing his arm once again to help him balance himself.

"Where is your friend?" You looked up at him. "Behind here." He started walking and you tried your best to help him along the way, the weight of his body was a little easier to handle now. He wasn't extremely heavy, but the amount of muscle on him did add to his weight and made it a little hard to keep hold of him.

As you kept walking you noticed a car parked with its lights off. You opened the door and Jungkook slowly sat into the back seat, wincing and groaned the whole time. You tried to look at the driver but couldn't. What if this is just his plan to kidnap you? You know what he's on the run for, getting rid of you will just make things easier.

"Come on." Jungkook grabbed your arm, pulling you into the car with him. You sat, a little reluctant but deciding it's for the best. You could have somewhere to sleep, if Jungkook doesn't kill you first. Once you were inside, you could now see who was driving. Kim Seokjin. Jungkook's other best friend in this story.

"Jesus Christ dude, who did that to you?" He looked back at Jungkook, his eyes then shifting to you. "Is this a new one?" That question almost seemed like an insult. New one? You don't remember Jungkook being a player in the story? How many relationships has he been in?

"Shut up and drive, dude. I'm sure the cops just realized I'm gone." Jungkook looked around, almost paranoid. "Okay fine." Seokjin started driving, waiting till he was on the road before turning his headlights on. He then turned on the radio, pop punk softly playing. Jungkook was exhausted. Terribly exhausted, and he couldn't help but rest his head on your shoulder. You stiffened at first, but then understood immediately and relaxed.

You smell good. He thought to himself as he took a slow deep breath, taking in your scent. Even though you smelled slightly of his blood, there was this other natural scent from you. Your hair smelled clean. Like you just washed it before finding him bleeding out on the roof. He appreciated this. It helps him relax.

The drive was long, but it helped ease the worry between Jungkook's brow, and he was relieved when you all arrived at Seokjin's brother's house. "My brother is away on a business trip for a month, so this place is yours until you figure things out." Seokjin explained everything to you two as he helped Jungkook get out the car. Jungkook gritted his teeth in pain. He looked over to you, seeing your tired expression. "Is it okay if we use his clothes?"

"Yeah dude, no problem. Just make sure you wash everything before you leave." Seokjin opened the door for you, letting you in first before helping Jungkook. "There's two bedrooms, so there's another place to sleep." You glanced around the place. This was a very nice house. One you didn't mind staying in for as long as Jungkook wanted.

What was that? You were thinking as if you were gonna be here another night. This is just a very long, draining dream. After tonight, you will wake up in your bed or on the floor of your brother's room and wonder what happened. "Thank you, Hyung." Jungkook watched you as you walked around. "Oh, so now we're using formalities?" Seokjin joked, walking Jungkook into one of the rooms and setting him on the bed.

"Alright, I'll leave you two be. Reminder, this is only for a month, so don't get too comfortable. And also, please clean up after yourself. Also please throw all your condoms away in the outside trash or flush them, if ya'll use those. I don't want my brother asking too many questions." Seokjin looked at the both of you and you looked back at him wide eyed, your face as hot as an oven.

"Hyung. Stop. We're just friends." Jungkook looked almost as flustered as you, his eyes quickly averting yours. "Really? Just friends with someone this hot? Then you don't mind if I flirt with them right?" Seokjin flashed you a wide grin and you bit your lip nervously. Seokjin is a very...very handsome man yet you couldn't imagine doing anything with him. Jungkook glanced between the two of you and something rose within him. Jealousy? No fuckin way. Either way it pissed him off seeing his friend look at you like that.

"Jin..." Seokjin chuckled, shaking his head. "And the formalities are gone again." He headed out the room and down the hall. "Alright kids, I'll leave you two alone." You both waited in silence, waiting for the sound of the front door to close and lock before both exhaling.

"Holy shit...um...well. This is nice I guess." You were trying to find anything to get your mind off whatever just happened and you could see Jungkook either was trying to do the same or honestly didn't care because he just slowly laid down onto the bed. "I'm going to sleep. It's been a long night." He grumbled and you nodded, the awkward silence engulfing the room once again. "Gotcha...I'll just...go into the other room." You headed towards the door before hearing the bed creak slightly.

"Goodnight." Jungkook stared at you as you walked out the door and slowly closed it behind you. "Night, Jungkook." You said before shutting it. Once you were out the room, you felt all the stiffness and uneasiness leave you. Holy fuck, you need a shower. You smelled of blood and sweat and it was utterly disgusting. You went straight into the bathroom and started the shower, shedding your clothes off and hopping in as soon as the water was scolding hot. You let the water drop onto your naked body, the water slowly washing the dried blood off of you and trailing into the drain. You grabbed the soap on the side and started scrubbing, almost as if you were trying to scrub five layers of skin off.

After your shower and you felt like you were fresh and raw from the hot water and hard scrubbing, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel and made your way into the other bedroom. Once you were inside you opened a dresser and saw a couple large shirts. You were thankful they were huge cause you didn't have any spare underwear to wear.

You pulled it over your head, the soft material falling over your body and resting at your mid thigh. You put the towel to your hair and dried your hair as much as possible, your arms felt so tired that just lifting them to dry your hair was a lot of work. You put the towel on the ground and made your way over to the bed and went under the sheets. This was what you finally needed. A comfortable bed. And now, as you fall asleep, you can look forward to waking up back home.

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

I'm glad you guys are liking the first chapter so far! Wanted to go ahead and post the second part to kinda get the story going so you know where everything is going :)

Let me know if you'd like a part three! <3

DO NOT POST/SHARE MY WORK ON TIKTOK

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kryptoniancape · 3 years

Note

Caryl moments you're looking forward to/hoping for in the spinoff (besides the obvious!) - for me it's Daryl teaching Carol how to ride the motorcycle :)

Oh boy, have I been waiting all day to write this. *Cracks knuckles*

Any motorcycle stuff is good tier; Daryl hovering over her with his hands over hers on the handlebars while he shows her the clutch/brake, Carol straddling him on the bike for a quick passionate makeout before they drive off somewhere—In fact that last bit is my ultimate crackheadcanon for the final scene we see of them in the main show. (I dream big)

Helping each other dress down for the night/get dressed in the morning and pausing to kiss each other’s scars. I especially see and love the idea of Carol doing this.

Cuddling and telling stories by a camp fire. And just like, more of them acting domestic as they move from campsite to campsite. The haircut scene from 9x07 was one hell of a teaser and I’m awaiting the feature.

Speaking of hair, Daryl playing with strands of Carol’s hair.

If they end up in another place with running water at some point: mutual shower time, obviously. (Other couples have gotten shower moments on this show, Caryl will be overdue for one or two!) And like, I see them falling into it out of pure convenience initially, because they’re naturally such a unit they’d think efficiency first and foremost :)) Honestly it doesn’t even have to be a traditional shower, they could just be trying to clean up wherever and it turns flirty.

This one’s kinda corny but I’d love to see Daryl take to a pet name for Carol, since she already has one for him. I imagine a standard term of endearment, but coming from Daryl it would be hilarious and adorable no matter what.

Getting stuck holed up somewhere until a threat passes but they find an old bottle of whiskey. And it tastes like shit but it gets them past the time with genuine laughs and carefree canoodling

For that healthy dose of angst, an episode or so where some kind of danger spirals into them getting separated by accident, and leads one or both of them to believe the other could be seriously injured, in trouble or worse, and then the absolute tooth rotting fluff moment of them finally finding each other unharmed, in a deperate embrace of emotions.

Acting super overprotective of one another/threatening potential hostiles they cross paths with for breathing too close to their respective boo

Making cigarettes and smoking them together

Nursing each other after an injury and being just a lil overbearing and cute about it

Turning random tasks into playful contests (just like acorn kick the can) and like making petty bets and shit too that may or may not involve sexual favours :)))

Obviously want to see Caryl + visiting iconic North American landmarks; maybe the grand canyon, and some Mayan ruins would be sick if they end up going that far south. If they come up to Canada and start tearing it up in my neck of the woods I think I would die lol. These would also be such priceless Daryl moments, because our bby has never seen anything outside of the southeastern states.

Stealing neat trinkets and stuff to give to each other as gifts, and being excited to surprise each other with it. Maybe they even give each other matching stick n pokes at one point, Idk

Okay lastly, (and this is sort of a specific headcanon I have that stems all the way back from that image of Melissa holding the guitar, lmao) They stumble across a safe-ish area late one night that has super weird western vibes, and surprise! It’s actually a fucking bar, with a bunch of burly scary lookin people on edge. And just when it seems like they’re all about to throw down they’re like, we’ll chill in exchange for one song. Daryl blinks and Carol is like, fuck it I’ll sing something for y’all if that’s what it takes for us to crash here tonight, so be it :) A couple of dudes with beat up instruments are already at the ready in an elevated corner of the room, and Carol sings some knockoff accoustic piece akin to Ride by LDR. The entire room is just hollering and thoroughly into it, and Daryl stares on with heart eyes and amazed bewilderment at what is transpiring. Cue some flash cuts afterwards of Daryl and Carol smashing beers with these complete strangers and all of them genuinely enjoying each others’ presence. 🎬

Whew, that was a full ted talk. They will be the death of me. I swear, I could watch another decade of their adventures together and it would never get boring. Caryl truly are in their own league. I’m enthralled by the proximity of just seeing them existing, basically.

#okay but like @twd hire me #I’m praying for at least a few bingos #caryl #caryl spinoff #caryl positivity #this ask was *chef’s kiss #ask #anon #meta

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cutesuki--bakugou · 5 years

Text

Times Two

Your husband is cloned by a quirk and you just so happen to love that. So what do you do? The only thing that makes sense, of course.

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Sex (anal and vaginal), DP, foreplay, blowjob, throat fucking, vulgar phrases and words Words: 4681 Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki (x2) x Fem! Reader

a/n: I’m sorry if it’s a bit confusing to tell the difference between clone and real Bakugou. I have it set up like Bakugou = Real. Katsuki = Clone. The reader specifies it as well to try and clear some stuff up. But yeah, this is the naughtiest thing I’ve written in a while and I took some risks, hopefully it works out and y’all enjoy it! Don’t forget to read past the “Read More”!

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Edit: I forgot to add the anon that requested and inspired this lovely idea, I’m sorry! Thank you so much for sending this in! (⋟﹏⋞)

Being married to the explosive Bakugou Katsuki, there is very little that surprises you. That man, as hot headed and rough around the edges as he could be, was always surprising you in one way or another in the forms of sentimental gestures and words that no other person alive was ever meant to hear. Along with being married to him, you were more involved in the life of pro heros than you ever really expected to be, as in his late twenties, he was very quickly becoming a prominent name and popular icon. A new quirk or odd behavior was always expressed to you by him when he arrived home, as he always had something new to rant about. But this… this was not something that you were familiar with. The fact that you were staring at two sets of glaring crimson eyes made you almost feel faint, tempted to shut the door and reopen it just to make sure you weren't hallucinating.

“Katsuki…” You stared up at the one you assumed to be the original, as he was dressed in the clothes he had left in that morning, while the other was in some outfit you had never seen before. “Why… What- I mean… There are two of you.” You gestured from one to the other and back again with an accusatory pointed finger, gaining an annoyed and almost simultaneous click of the tongue from both blondes before you.

“No shit.” The original barked in an annoyed huff, placing a rough hand on your arm to urge you out of the way so they could enter. You followed direction, watching them shuffle in through the door before shutting and locking it into place.

“How are there two of you? Why are there two of you? Which is the real one?”

“I am!” With a point to his own face, Bakugou glowered down at you, the familiar snarl and wedding ring on his finger calming your initial fears. The other Bakugou, who stood awkwardly off to the side, wasn’t wearing a ring and he also gave off a different… energy to the original. It was obvious that he was confused and out of place, though he glanced around at both the environment and at you with a sense of familiarity. Before you could really even say anything else, your husband snatched you by the arm and dragged you off to a different room, making you stumble over your feet for a second before catching your footing.

“No need to drag me around Katsuki—”

Bakugou brought a finger to his lips, hushing you with an urgency that spiked a bit of annoyance in you. All you knew at this point was that he had better start explaining himself quickly before you got frustrated, and the look on your face must have told him that as he began to spill his guts to you.

“Sorry. Look, while I was out at a call, a villain touched me and used their quirk on me to try and catch me off guard. It didn’t work, but it did make him. He is literally me, down to memories and feelings. We have to get rid of him!”

A frown crossed your lips as you glanced out of the doorway, seeing the clone wander about while looking at pictures along the wall. “He’s… not having like a crisis or something? I’m surprised he’s not upset.”

Bakugou shook his head, letting his hands fall down your arms to tenderly hold your hands. “After the villain was caught, she explained her quirk… They may be exactly like me, but they won’t ever realize they’re going to fuck off when they fall asleep. Fuck off as in… turn into a doll. And even though he has all my memories and shit he’s… very compliant.”

“Hm… When he falls asleep he’s gonna turn into a doll? Why don’t we just let him hang around until night time, and he’ll go to sleep. I don’t want you to attack him and knock him out or anything… That’s so mean.” You squeezed his fingers as you tried to have him understand your point of view. “If he’s literally you, then he probably feels really comfortable here. What a shame for his final moments of existence to be fear or pain.”

Bakugou glowered down at you, obviously annoyed with your empathy. “So what, you want to invite him to have dinner and watch TV with us and share our bed?”

“It’s technically his bed, too. He’s you.” You gave a very nonchalant shrug, ignoring the frustrated furrow of your lovers brow. “I don’t want you to hurt him. We should make his only day alive something enjoyable. Let’s go talk to him.”

“Babe—” Bakugou sighed as you walked away from him, towards the clone that instantly peered down at you curiously. He seemed genuinely happy at the smile on your face, and though you could tell he wanted to, he was reluctant to touch you. Fiddling with your nails as you came to stand in front of him, you gave a small cough to clear your throat, glancing back at the real Bakugou as he glared at you from his spot learning against the doorframe.

“So, uhm…” You began, turning your attention to the Bakugou in front of you. “Things can get a little confusing I think, so… How about I call you Katsuki, and him Bakugou.” As you addressed them, you gestured to them, feeling your cheeks flush a bit at how ridiculous you sounded. “I’m used to calling him Katsuki, but it’ll be okay for now. I’ll try not to get you mixed up. Deal?” You glanced back again at Bakugou who merely shrugged in an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ manner, while Katsuki in front of you gave a calm nod.

“Sure, [Name]. I, oh fuck, sorry—” Having unconsiciously placed his hand on your arm, Katsuki quickly pulled it away as you gave a small flinch in surprise. With this, you saw a flash of confusion and defeat across his face, as if he hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Well, of course he hadn’t. To him, you were his lover, his wife and you loved each other fiercely. Physical touch was important between you and Bakugou, and so you knew that it was just as important to Katsuki. Still, you felt conflicted yourself. You could feel the tension from behind you, fuming off of your husband like it was a tangible object. A clone of himself or not, you knew that he wasn’t going to just let another man touch you.

Deciding to change the subject, you motioned towards the bedroom with a small nod of your head, prompting Katsuki to follow you. “Come on. How about you both get comfortable and we can, uhm… Make dinner, I guess.”

Bakugou pushed himself up off the doorframe, entering the room before either of you. “I get my tank and shorts, got it?!”

Katsuki scoffed, reaching behind him to pull his shirt up and over his head. “Whatever, I don’t give a fuck, I’m not going to fight with myself over clothes.”

“Hey, hey, chill. Please.” You placed a hand on Bakugou’s arm to calm him, though by the click of his tongue you got in response, it didn’t work. “You have plenty of clothes to share. Just pick an outfit.” At this point, you already felt like you were babysitting, taking a step back as the two grown men bickered over what comfortable clothes the other wanted. Though, their huffing and puffing wasn’t really what was on your mind. Looking at them, both shirtless now, you felt a heat spread through your cheeks and down to your toes. You had two versions of your husband in your house, both of them who knew who you were and loved you equally. One was definitely in a better mood than the other, but that only made it better.

You couldn’t stop the thoughts and visions flashing through your mind of both men pleasuring you from all sides, one fucking you from behind while the other made you gag on his cock. They were identical, down to the scars and minute imperfections on their skin. You couldn’t resist the sinful thoughts, especially as they continued stripping and changing. The instant Katsuki’s gaze landed on you, catching you staring, you took in a breath and shuffled away, mumbling something about having to go to the restroom. Shutting the door a bit too loudly, you leaned against it, placing a hand on your chest as you tried to calm your heavy breathing and racing heart.

You almost lost it there, [Name]. You gotta calm down, there’s no way the original is gonna fall for a threesome. But this is a once in a lifetime thing! To be fucked by double Katsuki’s… What a dream—

There was a sudden rough knock on the door, startling you so badly that you almost screamed out loud. Heart now racing even worse, you took a few deep breaths, opening the door to peek out. You could instantly see that it was Bakugou, his wedding ring gleaming against the light as his hand came to rest on the door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, babe?”

Opening up the door just a bit more, you allowed him to stand halfway inside so you could whisper to each other. You kept yourself close to him, tenderly caressing his upper arm as you let out a trembling breath. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just… This is a lot to take in all the sudden in a… different way.”

“Different way?” With a cocked eyebrow, he glanced over your body, noticing the timid stance and erect nipples behind the thin cloth of your t-shirt. Your flushed face and pounding heartbeat were dead giveaways as well, though instead of his usual smirk at realizing your current state, he narrowed his eyes at you. “Are you horny?!”

“Shh!” You reached up and covered his mouth, standing on your tiptoes to look out and make sure you weren’t being listened to. “Don’t say it so loud.”

“So you are.” Bakugou continued when you removed your hand, giving a small shrug. “Well let me in there, we’ll fuck real quick and get to— ah, wait!” Now, he shoved himself the rest of the way inside, shutting the door behind him. In the same moment, he pressed you up against it, forcing a gasp from your lips as his leg wedged firmly into place between yours. He liked to do this, pin you up against whatever solid surface he could and tease the hell out of you, until you were writhing and begging for him to fuck you. Though, this was a bit different, as his glare showed little signs of the typical lust you were familiar with seeing.

“You little slut. You want to fuck both of us, don’t you?” With your hard swallow and guilty gaze, a smirk finally crossed his lips, gripping your chin to force you to look up at him. “I should've known you were going to be like that. You’re so obsessed with the way I fuck you, there’s no way you wouldn’t want it from two of me. What were you thinking, hm? A cock in your ass and your cunt?” His hand began to travel down your body, teasing you with just a hit of that rough touch you craved. “Like hell I’m going to share you with anyone, not even a version of myself.”

“Why not, Katsuki?” Your eyes darted from his face down his his hips, able to see his erect member pressing against the fabric of his sweatpants. “It would be fun. And so sexy… imagine me, kneeling on the floor, face covered in your cum. Letting you take turns fucking my throat.” Clutching onto his shirt tightly with one hand, you let the other slip between your bodies, slowly and firmly palming his member through the fabric of his bottoms. “You’re already rock hard thinking about it.”

“You think you could handle it?” Bakugou pressed his leg further up between yours to press against your sex, prompting you to eagerly grind your hips. “I leave you ruined just on my own. I don’t think you’d be able to take it. You’d be begging for mercy.”

“You underestimate me, love. The only thing I’d be begging for is more.” You tugged him in closer, catching his lips in a heated kiss. In that same second, you were in his arms, pressed up against the door. Keeping yourself latched to him with your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, you sighed softly at the feeling of his member pressing into your sex, wishing despirately to feel him inside you. While one arm kept you firmly in position, the other hand was free to roam, his rough and calloused palm sliding up your bare thigh. His touch was like fire, telling you just how seriously turned on he was, too. Just maybe you could get him to agree… after letting him have a little fun on his own first.

“Please,” you moaned breathlessly into the kiss, reaching down between your bodies to slip his manhood free from his clothes. “I need to feel you inside me. Right now.” As you moved your poor excuse for pajama shorts and underwear side, Bakugou complied, shifting your body just enough to slip himself inside you. You felt every inch of your body tingle in excitement and pleasure, your heart racing at the sound of his groan against your cheek. He may have teased you about being obsessed with the way he made love to you, but you knew that he was just as addicted. Even though he put on a tough show, you could easily make him do whatever you begged for, like he was wrapped around your little finger. A simple touch or glance could have him immediately wanting you, and now that you had him this far, you knew that you could weasel your way into adding another cock to the party.

You didn’t have much time to contemplate exactly how you would pull that off, distracted as he began to thrust his hips, fucking you at a rough and hard pace that made the wooden door at your back sqeak and rattle with each movement. Every inch of him vanished within your depths with each stroke, fogging your mind to everything but the irresistible pleasure. You were so engrossed, in fact, that you didn’t hear footsteps approaching the door from the other side, only able to focus on Bakugou’s lips and teeth against your skin.

Suddenly, you felt an emptiness at your back and a wash of cold air swallow you both as the door to the restroom was swung open rapidly. With a squeal from your lips and a sharp inhale from Bakugou, you began to tumble backwards at the loss of support. Though, just as soon as it had gone, it was back again, though the presence that you found your back against was more familiar and warm than the cold wooden door. You were now pressed against Katsuki’s chest, his hands gripping onto your upper arms tightly to support the weight of both of you.

“Hey, what the fuck?!” Bakugou barked at his mirror image, glaring at Katsuki over the top of your head. “Get that smirk off your face asshole, who the fuck invited you?!”

“[Name] did. You think I didn’t hear you two talking in there or could tell what she was thinking?” Katsuki’s hands slid under your arms, gripping and squeezing your breasts roughly. You couldn’t resist a soft gasp, the mutual feeling of Bakugou inside you and now Katsuki’s hands on you making your head swim. “I saw her staring at us. Just like you, I know exactly what she wanted. And you weren’t exactly subtle, fucking against the door like that. It’s like you wanted me to notice.”

Trembling, you clutched onto Bakugou’s shoulders tightly, lightly rocking your hips to move him within you. “You two stop fighting and just fuck me already!”

Bakugou complied without a moment's hesitation, using Katsuki’s leverage to keep you stable. Your voice squeaked out in pleasure as you laid your head back, catching Katsuki’s gaze. The lust in his crimson glare was so clear, feeling a heat rush to your face as he smirked against your cheek, one hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “That’s it, babe,” He hissed in your ear, making your heart flutter violently. His other hand left your breast and vanished elsewhere for a moment, and you could only hope that he was preparing himself for what you wanted most. “You’re such a naughty little bitch. Tell me what you want.”

As Katsuki’s lips came to hover near yours, you could feel it, the hard presence of his cock against your ass as it bounced with Bakugou’s thrusts. The fire inside you began to swell, unable to tear your eyes away from your lovers clone and his hypnotizing crimson glare. “I-I want you both! I want your cock in my ass— ah!” Your voice squeaked as Bakugou increased his speed and roughness, pulling your attention to him.

“Beg harder, babygirl. Beg like the cock hungry slut you are!”

You knew exactly how he wanted you to talk, how filthy he wanted you to be, and it wasn’t something you were going to resist. “P-please, fuck me in my cunt and my ass! Fill me up and use me!”

Again, your pathetic excuse for clothing was moved aside, with Bakugou pausing just long enough to let Katsuki sink his length into your ass. You and Bakugou were no strangers to anal sex, so it wasn’t as if that was what shocked you. No, it was the feeling being completely full, not a single inch of you untouched. There was new pleasures you had never felt before, the heat inside you almost unbearable, and yet, you loved it. Pressed between these two men, who were alike in every sense of the word, cocooned you in warmth, bringing an odd sense of sleepiness to your mind. That is, until they began to move, very quickly finding a rhythm. They didn’t alternate like you expected. Instead, they matched each others pace, making you melt into puddy in their hands.

Trapped in their arms, you couldn’t move, only able to anchor yourself to something with your hands, which clutched onto Bakugou’s shirt and shoulders. Just from the look on his face, you could tell that it felt different for him as well, though in what way you couldn’t really imagine. All you cared about was the fact that he was enjoying it, and so was Katsuki from the groans and soft curses you heard near your ear. Within no time, you could feel it, the pleasure building into a ball in your core, until it exploded in a rush of moans, trembling and uncontrollable jerks of your body.

“Oh fuck, babygirl, that’s it,” Katsuki purred in your ear, both men having to stop from the pressure of your contracting walls. “You’re such a good girl.” Through your panting and soft gasps, Katsuki turned your head with a push of his thumb, catching your lips in a passionate kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth instantly, forcing you into that submission that you loved and leaving you breathless.

“She’s gotten off too easy,” Bakugou huffed, removing himself from inside you and leaving you aching for his return. “Put her ass on the bed.”

Complying, Katsuki released your lips and removed himself from you as well, taking on the full weight of your body to walk you over to the bed. Dropping you onto the mattress, you bounced with the impact, gazing up at both men expectantly. Smirk on his lips, Bakugou removed his shirt, coming to stand at the side of the bed. Without questioning or waiting for instruction, you scooted your body closer, instantly taking his hard and throbbing cock into your mouth as you rolled over onto your stomach. Propping yourself up on your arms, you lovingly tended to his member, running your tongue along the underside and stroking him with that firm grip you knew he loved. With a pleasured sigh, Bakugou ran his fingers through your hair, stopping at the base of your head to apply pressure to keep you from going anywhere.

Taking a curious glance up at his face, you could instantly tell why, his gaze following Katsuki as he climbed onto the bed behind you. Eager hands gripped your ass, squeezing and spreading you open, even though you still had your shorts and underwear on. “What a filthy little slut you are, drenched through your clothes like that.” A hard smack to your ass followed his words, making you squeak and unconsciously take Bakugou’s cock deeper into your mouth. After another rough slap, your clothes were pulled down, leaving you exposed to him. The chill of the room was short lived as he slipped his cock between your legs, urging you to squeeze them together before he began thrusting his hips. The way his cock stroked against your clit sent tingles across your skin, your moans muffled by the dick in your mouth. The more pleasure you received, the more you gave, turning Bakugou into his own panting and grunting mess.

Eventually, with a tight grip of your hair, you knew what was about to happen. Removing your hands from him, you kept your mouth and head loose for him, allowing him to thrust his hips. He was going slow at first, like he usually did, soaking in the feeling of his tip pressing into the back of your throat. You could barely register the sounds coming from behind you, merely following direction as you were told to squeeze your thighs together tighter.

Bakugou scoffed, glaring at his clone with a smug smirk on his lips. “What’s wrong, you fucker? About to cum already?”

You gave a muffled squeal as Katsuki increase the roughness of his thrusts, feeling yourself about to peak again just from the stroking of your clit. “Whether you’re in or not, she’s going to be covered in cum by the time I’m done with her. I’ll cum as many times as I fucking feel like.” With a shuddering of your body as you came, you were given some reprieve from the cock in your mouth to breathe, fighting between coughing and moaning as you stroked Bakugou’s length in the meantime. As you were still cumming, you felt a hot release all over your legs, listening as Katsuki grunted with his own release. It coated your thighs and cunt, surprising you a bit with how much there seemed to be. With a heavy sigh, Katsuki took a moment to recover, spreading his cum across your pussy with his thumb. “What a pretty sight.”

Before you could even think of a response, Bakugou forced his cock back into your mouth, fucking your throat at his own pace and roughness. You couldn’t even react to the sudden feeling of Katsuki’s cock sinking into your pussy, fucking you from behind at an equally rough pace. It was exactly as you had imagined, a mixture of pleasure and pain that had your eyes rolling back, once again completely at their mercy. Every inch of your body felt more sensitive than it ever had before, even your nipples as they scraped against the fabric of your shirt enough to add to the pleasure.

“You want my cum all over your face, babygirl? Or do you want to swallow it?” Bakugou didn’t give you any chance to even answer, coming to his own conclusion just from the pleading furrow of your brow and tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You wanted to feel it on your skin, to have him dirty you up as his counterpart had. You wanted to feel the heat of his essence on you, to watch his face as he jacked off on your face. So, that is what you received, with Bakugou removing himself from your mouth at the last moments. He gave you just enough time to open your mouth wide, catching what little bit of his cum on your tongue that you could while your body rocked with Katsuki’s thrusts.

Leaning his head back as he came, Bakugou’s smirk spread, watching your body for a moment before he gripped your chin, giving Katsuki a quick glance that told him to stop. The clone did so, slowly removing himself from within you before filling you back up again in slow and teasing thrusts. Using his thumb, Bakugou spread his cum across your cheek and to your lips, allowing you to lick and suck it off his fingers.

“You like the taste of my cum, don’t you?”

“Yes,” You answered breathlessly, staring up at him through blurry and teary vision. “I love it. I love your cum—” Your voice hitched as Katsuki removed himself from your pussy, sinking his cock instead into your ass as deep as it would go. Once done, he grabbed your arms and shifted your positions, laying down as he pulled your body back against his. Understanding, you kept your legs open and displayed, panting as you smiled up at Bakugou.

“C’mon, love. I want you both to fuck me until you’ve had enough. I told you I could take it.”

And so you did, for hours you were treated how you had wanted to be, subdued and ravaged until your limbs were sore and body was sticky with cum and sweat. Both men had plenty to give and were just as eager to pleasure you, giving you everything you had ever wanted out of the experience. When you finally had enough was in the shower, as Bakugou enjoyed using the strongest setting of the removable shower head on your clit while they both fucked you mercilessly. You were positive that you had never had such a powerful orgasm, even sure that your mind had gone black for a few seconds as you came, pressed between their bodies just like when you had started.

Now cleaned and so worn out you couldn’t quite move your legs, Bakugou carried you to the bed once dried off, shoving the dirtied comforter off the bed to leave mostly clean sheets for you to lay on. As he sat you down, he softly moved some hair out of your face, kissing your lips sweetly. “How was that, you stupid girl? Got your fill?”

Smiling, you shook your head, gaining a confused cock of his eyebrow. With a wave of your arm to call Katsuki over as well, you patted both sides of the bed. “I want double cuddles.”

“At the same time?” Both men huffed in similar tones simultaneously, making you giggle.

“Yes! C’mon, lay with me.”

Giving each other annoyed glances, both of them crawled into bed on either side of you. While you stayed on your back, they both squeezed in close, with Bakugou’s face resting in your hair while Katsuki pressed his lips against your cheek, showering you in soft and gentle kisses. Your heart fluttered from the sweet affection of both men, feeling for the moment that you were the luckiest woman in the world. Even if it was just for the evening, having two living version of your husband there to love you was something that you would never forget. It was sad to lose one of them, which was the particularly more affectionate one at the moment, but at least you had given him an enjoyable existence.

“I love you.” You spoke softly, already beginning to feel sleep pulling at your mind as you reached up to softly stroke both of their cheeks.

“I love you, too.” Both spoke in unison, filling your last waking moment for the evening with a fluffy and warm sense of love that would carry you on into your dreams.

#cutesuki-lemons #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #request

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callmeunstable · 4 years

Text

Angels & Demons - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Characters: Reader

Summary: She finds herself in the middle of a unknown forest after falling asleep. It seems like a normal forest until she gets to meet a mystical creature that welcomes her in a different world.

Warnings: Monsters, Cursing, Blood

Words: 2.000+

A/N: Hey! This is my first fic and I decided to place it in the universe of the greatest of the greatest. Geralt of Rivia! I don’t know where this will go 100%, but I know it’s going to be interesting. 😄 The reader starts of in our modern world and stumbles into the universe of The Witcher. I take my information mostly from the books and games but my fic is set based of the Netflix series so it’s basically beginners friendly.☺️

Disclaimer: GIF’s and PNG’s are taken from Tumblr and are not mine! Credits to the creators!

Song:

“Two face, two face, yeah Black, white, left, right, yeah Up, down, all night, yeah Can't escape it ever Don't forget my name I don't feel the same On a trip, no train“

The music made her headphones vibrate. Probably loud enough for everyone around her to hear. If there was anyone. She was alone, hiking in the forest. It was what she always did when her anxiety got the best of her. The city is loud and dirty, squeezed full with people that never look around. Never realizing what was going on in the real world. At least what that’s what they called their reality. She always thought it was foolish to believe that they were alone in this big of a universe. Impossible.

Some stones here and there made her trip but she didn’t stop. She knew where she wanted to go and she didn’t intend to stop before she reached her destination. Kicking some branches out of the way and silently passing other hikers that greeted her with waving hand. She didn’t like the people in the city. All of them were selfish and money orientated. Of course, so tried to earn some money as a health center receptionist at her university but only to keep her head above water. Her focus was on her degree in medicine. She wanted to be able to afford a good life for her and her dad.

“And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm fallin' from Eden”

She slowed down and let herself down on the ground. Pulling her knees to her stomach and breathing in the fresh air of the trees. The pollution caused by cars and all of these different companies laying behind her. Closing her eyes and trying not to fall asleep. Her insomnia got worse on hot summer days like these. The missing air conditioning in her dorm room made it even worse. Two hours have to be enough to function. She couldn’t wait for the autumn to start. For the leaves to fall. And the crowds to shrink

“So fuck me like a rockstar, dancing on a cop car Nothin' in the world can stop me now Fucked up like a rockstar, riding in a cop car No one in the world can help me out-“

Her music was cut short and her eyes gazed at the screen. The Battery was almost empty. With an annoyed groan, she took off her backpack searching for her power bank. The only good thing summer had for her was the power of the sun being strong enough to charge the battery of the device. Still having her headphones in her ears. Just in case someone stumbled across and wanted to have a conversation. The easiest way to ignore people without seeming too harsh.

Her glance went up, analyzing anything she was able to catch. The mountains far back on the horizon hugged by a thick layer of clouds that protected them from any unwanted attention. The distance colored them in a blueish gray tone that would capture a lot of people. At least the ones who noticed and wanted to have a peerless experience.

Some strange black orbs were able to sneak into her daydream making her once again face the consequences of her lack of sleep. Slowly blinking she took a look at her watch. 2 pm. Still early. She just wanted to close her eyes for a few more minutes. To help her find her lost energy. Just in case she set her alarm for an hour and put her phone in the pocket of her pants. - “Everybody said that I'm falling, uh Took another line, I'm calling, uh I'm so sick of the nonsense, uh I'ma dive into the mosh pit, uh I don't really think I'm the problem I don't really think it's a problem Me plus me is a problem One gunshot could solve 'em Tell my friends I'm sorry though T-T-T-Tell my sins to go. And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm fallin' from Eden”

The tones of her favorite song woke her up. Her headphones got disconnected while she was asleep. With panic caused by the rush of adrenaline, she paused the music. Taking a deep breath and enjoying the silence again. Her arms were stretched above her head and a yawn made it through her mouth. Slowly gaining back clear vision she looked up again. But something was different. The dusk was slowly setting in.

She failed to set her alarm correctly. But it could be worse, she wasn’t doing anything special today anyway. As she was standing up she looked for the mountains in the far, however, her view was blocked. Big deciduous trees rose in front of her. Maybe she fell asleep in a different place? A little far more into the forest?

She got herself up and started walking her way back. At least what she thought was the right way. Somehow everything looked a little different. As different as forests could look like. The hiker trail was gone. Slowly breathing away her risen heartbeat she tried to focus. It’s just the forest how bad can it be? She always found her way out of it. She got lost a couple of times whilst exploring new paths but still. The air felt different. Not as heavy as she was used to. The trees were able to give her better oxygen as in the city but they just couldn’t hold all of the smog back.

Her feet automatically began to walk faster and faster as time went by and nothing seemed familiar anymore. She tried to find her starting point again but that seemed rather impossible right now. There was still a lot of light left but everything seemed strange.

She started to run. Jumping over the rocks and logs that blocked her way. As she was trying to bridge over the next log she wasn’t able to see the small lowering that led to her stumbling and rolling a couple of feet down. ‘Great, just great.’

Her thoughts were sarcastic, helping her to cope with the panic rising in her throat.

She looked up and let out a short scream. Some big bright yellow eyes were looking at her from above. They belonged to a child with pale blue skin. At least it looked like a child. She didn’t dare to move one muscle, staring at the creature in front of her.

It was barely as tall as a 9-year-old and it’s skin made it look like it was suffocating. A rough crown made out of sticks sat on top of its head. It wore some pants that had seen better days. They seemed to be made out of a cheap fabric that was ripped in several places. A green scarf was hanging from its neck.

“Hello.” It could speak. His mouth was stretched to wild smile.

“It’s been some time since an ol’ villager got lost in ma forest. That was some fall you had. Are you alright?” Still staring at the creature she tried to get her words together.

“Ehm…yes I tripped and fell. I don’t think I’m hurt. Thank you.”

“Good to hear. So what’s your name? I’m James.”

She hesitated. She didn’t even know if this creature was human. She couldn’t trust just anyone.

“Alva. My name is Alva.”

“Nice to meet you, Alva. So what did ya run away from? Thought the Drowners were after ya.” Drowners? What the fuck are Drowners?

“Yeah so. Excuse me the question but you seem rather … blue?” She was scared to ask something like this but this little creature seemed friendly.

“Oh that. Have you never seen a good ol’ Godling? Because that’s just what I am indeed.” The little boy laughed and seemed to be happy to have found some company.

“That is a Godling?”

“You never heard of us amazing Godling?”

The little blue boy explained to her that Godlings are woodland creatures dwelling in burrows and moss-covered hollow stumps on the outskirts of human settlements. They are deeply rooted in their home territory and perform acts of care and guardianship to those dwelling near their burrows. They watch over people as well as animals, but, shy creatures by nature, they try to do so while remaining unseen. Godlings are drawn to joy and innocence, and so delight in the company of children and usually only show themselves to the young.

“That’s why I am talking to ya. You seem fun. At least you look funny.” The boy started to walk around her while lifting her flannel and poking her skin.

‘He’s the one looking like a tall version of a smurf. What is he talking about?’ Her thought rushes inside of her head, making her regaining the feeling of dizziness.

“So you’re telling me you’re some kind of magical creature as in Harry Potter?” The girl tried to order her thoughts by sitting down and trying to hold on to the facts the little guy was telling her. Maybe she was in a coma? Or dreaming? Possibly. These are the only explanations she could come up with.

“I don’t know anyone called Harry Potter. Is he a friend of yours?”

“Ok, listen up. You’re probably just part of my imagination so why don’t we have some fun while it lasts?” As long as she sleeping and lucid dreaming she could at least make the best out of it.

“Yes, let’s have some fun! I love singing, I love music! I heard some strange melody coming from your direction. That’s how I found you.” James started to do some little happy jumps and clapping.

“Oh, you mean this?” Alva took her phone out of her pocket and showed it to him.

“What witchy device is that suppose to be?”

“No magic. Technology. Let me show you.” She pressed on some Icons and song from earlier continued.

“So fuck me like a rockstar, dancing on a cop car Nothin' in the world can stop me now Fucked up like a rockstar, riding in a cop car No one in the world can help me out.”

The little one danced to the music and showed off some rather random dance moves. Spinning in circles, jumping up and down and throwing his hands in the air.

Still thinking of her lucid dreaming she joined her little Godling friend. Turning the music louder and louder they enjoyed themselves.

Until a growl broke the peace of the music. But both James and Alva were to focused on having von dancing to notice some strange noises. They didn’t hear it, down to the moment when the girl got hit by something sharp, making her fall to the ground.

“Don’t stop dancing Alva, you’re no fun.” The Godling still didn’t realize that Alva was sitting on the ground covering her bleeding upper arm with her hand. Looking up she saw the scariest creature she could’ve imagined.

In front of her is standing a sickly blue or green colored human, with slime and sludge oozing out of every pore and the acrid stench of rot wafting off of it. No, that wasn’t a human.

“James! What the fuck is that?” The girl cried for help.

Finally objectifying the situation, James was hurrying towards the creature when it rose its arm for another attack.

Covering her face Alva started to realize that this is the moment she was going to die. You can’t get hurt in a dream. That is just not possible. Her arm was on fire, giving her a pain she never had felt in her entire life. This was real. Waiting for the next hit but it never came.

Slowly she opened her eyes to see only James in front of her. The monster not in sight.

“Where did he-?” Completely shocked by the situation and being unable to talk, Alva starred at the boy.

“Don’t underestimate the power of a Godling. Nothing comes between me and my forest. And since you stumbled in it you’re a part of it.” He looked down at her bleeding arm and his eyebrows furrowed.

“You need a healer. As much as I’d love to I can’t heal it.”

The words barely got to the girl. She was scared for her life. She never believed something like this could happen. But one thing she knew for sure. This wasn’t her reality.

“And all these angels and demons Keep shoutin' and screamin' I'm falling from Eden.”

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innittowinit · 3 years

Text

Abandoned amusement parks are the best place for young children (Chapter 19)

Fic summary:

Techno, Tommy, Wilbur and Phil have been hanging out at the abandoned amusement park in the woods since they moved in. Techno likes knowing he's definitely alone with his brothers Tommy likes climbing on the old rides Wilbur likes having a place to play his music Phil likes spending time with his younger brothers

That is, until a group of brothers calling themselves the 'dream team' move in down the road. Will the sleepy boys give in and share the park or will they succeed in scaring the new kids off?

Chapter summary:

Eret's been acting...strange Techno senses somethings definitely off

Chapter word count: 1726

AO3

Friendships were a complex thing. Techno had known that as long as he could remember. People come and people go, it was nothing, especially not to him or Wilbur. Inherently, they knew all they had was each other, maybe their other brothers would also always be with them but what they had together was a special bond. Neither Phil nor Tommy would ever be able to understand them the way they understood each other and that was fine, they had lived every day side by side, they shared almost all their core memories and so their rationality was incredibly similar because of it, meaning they could very easily understand each other.

Never had they asked for a friend that would feel the same way as the friendship they had with each other, and yet they always seemed to be asking for too much. That’s the part that confused Techno.

Never had they needed to be understood. Never had they needed something complex. All they needed was someone to accept them so why did it feel like everyone always ended up leaving? Were they the problem? It always felt like they were trying so hard so why did it feel like they were pushing people away?

You see, recently Eret had been acting….off.

He had been stumbling over words, fidgeting, leaving quickly with the excuse of ‘being late for something’, and taking hours to reply to any kind of message. Each of these things would be fine on their own but with them all together, they felt a little strange.

It didn’t seem like Wilbur had noticed the recent shift in behaviour yet so Techno didn’t dare bring it up, it wasn’t uncommon that he was overly cautious and he didn’t want to risk upsetting his brother over something that might not even be a big deal, especially when he had just started to get over the incident with the ticket booth.

“So....He’s been busy a lot lately” Wilbur sighed, draping himself across the couch and clutching his phone in one hand. Niki had insisted they add some stickers onto it since letting them live off a ‘boring flip phone’ (as she had called it) was apparently not okay.

“Do you think he’s okay? Maybe something’s going on at home..”

Oh. Techno was positive everything was okay at home. Of course there was a possibility that he was just being protective of Wilbur because he didn’t want anyone hurting his brother but seriously! In his opinion, if you had enough money to eat fucking burger king as a school lunch you were doing fine financially, and really, that’s all that mattered right? Money had always been the reason why their parents were never around.

It was probably just his jealousy talking but he had always had a bit of an underlying anger for people with a big disposable income, how was it fair that their parents had to work so much at minimum wage jobs that they could hardly see them just to keep them warm and fed and yet other families could have their parents around by the time they were home from school /and/ have extra money for treats.

“Wil, don’t worry about him.” Techno sighed, trying to choose his words carefully. He knew Wilbur was always more sensitive to rejection than him.

“He’s more..social than we are, he probably just has other friends that he doesn’t want to ignore or something”

“Maybe.. I wish he’d tell us though, I don’t like being left on read”

With a sigh and a gentle prod for him to sit up a bit more, Techno wrapped an arm around Wilbur, feeling how he melted into the contact straight away. Of course it hurt Techno too to be ignored by the one person they thought actually could be a good friend but he needed to put on a brave face for Wilbur. Of course it felt like a stab in the gut to have trusted someone so much to be able to start talking to them and then they just disappear but Wilbur needed him right now, it was obvious to anyone that he was the one with the bigger connection issues.

“Wil, trusting people is a part of being friends. We can talk to him tomorrow alright? And we can explain that it would make you feel better if he said his plans before disappearing”

-----

It was Tuesday night and other than a few memes she had screenshotted off of instagram and sent them, they hadn’t really heard much at all from Eret. She hadn’t hung around them long enough at school for either of them to really bring it up with her and honestly, Techno was getting incredibly worried about what was going on. He’d never had a real friend like this before, of course Skeppy always made him laugh but he was family so he didn’t count, if he messed up with family he knew as long as they weren’t adults they’d still love him afterwards, friends worked differently though. He had his Hypixel friends too but they didn’t count either since they were online and he could type to them on days when he was struggling more. By now he’d known them so long they were basically family, they’d all taken hours out of their own time to research Techno’s problems to try and be as accommodating as possible- all in all he really couldn't compare them with Eret.

It was tricky and he knew communication was one of the more important parts, which was ironically what he struggled with the most. Maybe on one of his worse-off days, where he normally would have had Wilbur doing most of the talking for him, Eret had assumed he was angry with her or giving her the silent treatment, maybe she had taken offence to the fact that Wilbur and Techno were very obviously closer than she was with each one of them. The thought that somehow they might have made her feel left out made him feel a little sick, had they not explained well enough what had led to this point? Maybe it was selfish for them to relish in the fact that she rarely bugged them for explanations.

All in all, Techno was sure they had done something for the sudden shift in attitude and, not wanting to make Wilbur feel worse than he already did, he wasn’t sure who could help him.

Maybe he could wait up until his parents got home? People on TV were always getting advice from them but then again.. His family wasn’t really like those on tv, if he was being honest he was half sure he’d be yelled at for being awake before he could have a chance to ask for help.

He could also ask Phil, but then again Phil was already beyond stressed trying to make sure they were all okay, he really didn’t want to bother him. Niki was closer to Wilbur than she was with him and he was sure his hypixel friends were all still at school because of the time zone difference.

The only other person he could really think of talking to about this was Skeppy, and so, hopping out of bed, trying his hardest not to make too much noise and wake up Wilbur, he made his way to the PC.

11:36PM

From what he knew, Skeppy usually stayed up late and slept so late he often missed his bus anyway so he probably was still up.

Clicking onto discord, he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the green dot next to his cousin's icon, immediately messaging him.

11:36 OrphanDestroyer: Hey nerd

11:36 OrphanDestroyer: U awake?

It took a few minutes for him to answer, Techno was just about ready to give up and accept he had just chosen the one night he may have gone to bed on time to try and message him.

11:42 japanesesymbolforbeginner: 1 sec ina call wiv bbh

Writing ‘bbh’ off as one of Skeppy’s friends he had forgotten to tell them about, Techno waited patiently for Skeppy to say he was free.

11:46 japanesesymbolforbeginner: ok im done, what you need

11:46 OrphanDestroyer: SO

11:46 OrphanDestroyer: Do you remember Eret?

11:48 OrphanDestroyer: Okay well basically for like the past few days he’s been ignoring me and Wilbs and I’m really really worried we offended him or something like maybe we hurt him or he’s mad or maybe he decided he's too good to be friends with us which tbh I don't blame him for because we kinda are losers and maybe people won't be friends with him because he's friends with us or something? Idk idk I just really wish he’d tell us something because like Wil is freaking out and idk what to tell him, he really struggles with this kinda stuff and I wanna help but idk how.

11:48 japanesesymbolforbeginner: Ok...fuck

11:48 japanesesymbolforbeginner: Has he replied to any messages or anything? Maybe he’s busy?

11:48 OrphanDestroyer: Not really

11:49 japanesesymbolforbeginner: Okay okay so here’s what I think you should do

11:49 japanesesymbolforbeginner: If he’s ignoring you you're gonna need to confront him next time you see him and don’t just agree when he makes an excuse to leave, like say you NEED to talk

11:50 japanesesymbolforbeginner: If u think he’s offended bc sometimes you don't speak a lot maybe just message him some resources or whatever on the type of mutism you deal with, even if he doesn’t reply he’ll probably still open it.

11:50 japanesesymbolforbeginner: like he might just be in the position where he’s nervous he’ll offend you if he asks something about it? Like maybe he doesn't understand fully and he just needs one of you to open the discussion

11:50 OrphanDestroyer: okay you're probably right

11:50 OrphanDestroyer: There’s a link I have to one I normally email teachers whenever we have a new one so i'll probably send him that

11:50 OrphanDestroyer: Tomorrow though, my dads gonna be home soon and he’ll kill me if im still awake

11:51 japanesesymbolforbeginner: aight, night Techno, good luck and btw you're all always welcome to come over if things get tense over there with ur parents

#sbi #sleepyboisinc #dream team #sleep bois inc #fanfiction #fanfic #mcyt #technoblade #wilbur #wilbur soot #dream smp #au

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salt-warrior · 4 years

Text

WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Two: Angel of Hell

The crisp happy music thrummed in a chirpy harmony through Kai's ears. A smile lit his face as he opened his eyes and gently turned off his alarm clock. The smile remained as he turned on his favorite rock playlist and practically danced around his shared apartment, and allowing his hips to sway to the music. He even managed to smile as he read the morning news off his phone and ate his favorite breakfast of Cocoa Puffs.

It's not as though Kaito Crown was always happy; he just normally was. He loved going to school at the nearby university. He had aced all his business classes, due to the fact he had been trained since birth to overtake Beijing Empire. He was close with his dad and loved working with him. His life was great— no, it was perfect.

Kai had been raised in wealth; his father was the most proclaimed business man throughout the entire world. His mother had been a fashion icon that outshone all others. Kai himself was loved and known by everyone. The fact that he was smart and handsome didn't help his case.

A moan escaped the nearby room, and Kai laughed as he watched his best friend stumble out of his room and into the kitchen. Kai had known Carswell Thorne since they were in the first grade. Both came from well known families and had attended the same private academy in California.

"Did you rest well, Sleeping Beauty?" Kai raised an eyebrow. Thorne threw a laser beam glare back.

"Have you ever considered turning the music down? It's only seven in the morning for stars sake, and not all of us are morning people," Thorne retorted, plunking down in the seat across from Kai with his cup of coffee.

"Well, I'm sorry that you're cranky. Are you fighting with Kate again?"

Thorne tensed up at Kai's words. "Oh," Kai sighed. "I'm sorry, Thorne."

"It's alright, Crown." Thorne smiled, tight lipped. "It was bound to happen eventually. It's just like my father said: I'm 'toxic' when it comes to relationships," he air-quoted with a scowl, and Kai grinned at him.

"Hey, you've kept me around for what— sixteen years?" Thorne rolled his eyes at Kai's words.

"Yeah, that's only because I can't seem to get rid of you, no matter how bad of a friend I am."

Kai stood from his seat, placing his bowl in the empty sink. "Cheer up, little toxin. You'll find love eventually." Kai picked up his backpack and began to walk out the door, just as Thorne called out to him.

"How'd your date go last night, since we're talking about my sad love life."

"Oh, you know," Kai shrugged, wrapping a scarf around his neck. It really wasn't that cold, as Thorne like to remind him, but Kai was a wimp. "She was nice— really nice, but not the one. Redheads aren't exactly my type."

Kai had a great record in school. He was great at making friends. He was seemingly the most outgoing person alive, but he could never seem to get a girlfriend. It wasn't like he didn't have dozens of girls stalking him and wanting to go out with him. He just had never found one that understood him.

"Don't worry, mate," Thorne bowed in front of him, looking goofy in his plaid robe. "You'll find her someday."

***

The December weather had brought ice to the roads, causing Kai to change his regular course to school to a backroad, but Kai was having a blast as he drove he path while belting "Sweet Caroline" at the top of his lungs. He was right behind a really old and rusty Chevrolet Cavalier the color of dirt and waiting for the light to turn green.

Finally it did, and the old Chevy began to move forward. Kai waited a second, before following behind it, not wanting any surprises from the piece of junk. The drive was nice and breezy, and Kai hardly hit any ice. The song changed, and on came Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benetar.

Kai sang along, enjoying the chorus. He loved listening to songs in his car. He thrived off the feeling of singing until his lungs burned, but his father had told him at a young age that he sounded like a dying peacock when he sang so he only belted out melodies when he was alone.

The chorus was playing a final time when, out of the blue, a red sports car slammed into the old Chevy. The crack of sound that cut through the air was deafening. Time seemed to slow down and Kai watched in horror as the Chevy in front of him tried to stop sliding. Tried so hard, but was no match for the ice and propulsion.

Kai slammed on his brakes, and came to a complete stop just in time to watch the dirt colored car fall off the road and roll down the hill. It tumbled for what seemed like a lifetime, and Kai wondered if whoever was in there would live. He finally understood the expression "watching a slow-motion car crash." It was terrifying.

An eternity later, the car came to a stop at the bottom of the slope. The red sports car had stayed on the road, but was crunched in the front. Kai got out of his car, and walked over to the red car, ears ringing.

The drivers side was a wreck, but the woman sitting there was alive. She had dark auburn hair, and a tearstained face. Her entire body was shaking horribly and her door was jammed. The airbag was deflating, and Kai could tell the lady was crying though he couldn't quite hear her. All the noise had become one high pitched note that seemed to forever echo throughout his head.

Kai walked around the car to the passenger's side. The door opened easily, and Kai began speaking to the woman. He motioned for her to climb out of her vehicle, before anything else happened, and she complied.

Everything seemed so easy. Sure, this woman was in shock but she was still able to get out of her car by herself. Kai had just pulled out his phone to call the police when a spark of light caught the corner of his eye.

Kai practically threw his phone at the red car woman in his haste to run down the hill. How could he be so stupid? Obviously the car that had rolled down a hill would need help first. Kai mentally cursed himself for his idiocy.

Kai threw himself down the diagonal slope in a sprint, attempting to get to to the old car. He ignored the cries of the woman behind him, even as she screamed and wailed. The flames had started small, but were quickly climbing across the surface of the old rust-bucket, the color brighter than normal flames. Kai could see that there was only one person in the car, but he couldn't tell if it was a male or female. They weren't screaming, which frightened Kai. Maybe they were unconscious, or maybe he was too late to save them.

The hill wasn't necessarily long, but it seemed so as Kai raced down at top speed. Flames danced farther along the car, and Kai had the sickening feeling that they were eating the driver alive.

Finally Kai reached the car. It was rolled onto the driver's side, so he knew he would have to get in through the passenger's side again. Kai tried to open the door, but it was jammed.

Cursing, Kai looked at the ground. He had his pocket knife with him, having been told from his boy scout master to “always be prepared.” He couldn't use that to open the door though. Still scanning the ground, Kai's eyes landed on a rather large rock. He smiled and knew that it would work.

Kai began hammering on the window with his rock. The glass began to splinter, and the sickening feeling hit Kai. How long would it take to break the window if rolling down a hill hadn't done it? He had to get that person out of there soon, or else they would either be engulfed in flames or choke on the smoke. Kai was that person's only hope; he had to save them.

The glass seemed almost indestructible, but Kai somehow managed to shatter it all into a thousand pieces. Kai whooped with joy, and began climbing into the car.

That's when he laid eyes on her. She was beautiful, with flames surrounding her, casting a dark, protective shadow. Kai wondered if Hell had angels, and he knew that if they did, this is what they would look like. Kai internally slapped himself for thinking like that during a crisis and tried to undo her seatbelt. It was jammed.

Not even checking to see if she was conscious, he pulled out his pocket knife. The blade was prime, seeing as Kai sharpened it once a month. He wasn't a crazy survivalist, or anything, but he wanted to be prepared.

Kai began sawing through the rough material, and it was much easier than breaking the window glass, though the smoke made it impossible to breathe. The threads came undone in less than sixty seconds and Kai began to wonder if they could ever actually keep anyone safe.

Flames fluttered across his skin, but Kai kept sawing. He had to keep going, even if it meant he got a few burns. Kai knew that the girl was going to have it worse than him, and he had to save her.

The final thread snapped, and Kai grabbed the girl, before she could fall into the windshield. He tucked his knife back into his pants, and began to drag the girl's limp body away from the wreckage.

Kai climbed out backwards, trying to keep both hands on the girl. Glass cut deep into his skin and he winced. The smoke was suffocating him, and he started to panic. Gradually, he pulled his own body from the destruction, and only had the girl left. As gently as he could, Kai hauled her from the car, trying not to let the glass scrape her.

Kai tugged at the girl, and she finally became free of the Hell she had been in. The girl had her chocolate eyes open, but Kai could tell that she was drifting away. He spoke to her. Telling her to stay with him—not to go to sleep, but stay awake— stay alive. He still didn't understand why, but he needed to save her.

He felt as though his life was connected to hers, and the only way to make it complete would be to save her. Her brown eyes locked on his, staring into what must have been his soul. He yelled, wishing he knew her name.

Her lids closed, and the finality seemed to hit Kai like a bulldozer. He ran up the hill, the dying girl still in his arms. He had never run so hard in all of his life—his lungs burning from smoke and exertion.

By the time Kai had climbed to the top of the hill, he could hardly breathe. The smoke was gone, but he knew that it would stay within him for a long, long time.

The red car lady was sprawled across Kai's car, tears running down her cheeks. She was still shaking, though Kai was not surprised. He himself was in shock due to the event that had played before him.

She still had his phone in her hand, and Kai wondered if she had called the police. Kai marched straight for the woman. "Did you call the police?" Kai yelled. His hearing had come back to him, but his ears were still ringing slightly.

The woman nodded and then whimpered. She was she began sobbing hysterically, and Kai felt sympathetic. This woman had not asked for this— it was not her fault.

Kai then remembered the girl in his arms. She had also not asked for this, but look where she was. He set her down on the ground, not sure what to do.

That's when Kai caught sight of her body. She was burned along her entire left side. Her leg was charred black up to her knee, and the rest of her flesh was a raw red with angry blisters already converging.

Kai began dry heaving at the sight and had to look away. How was this girl even alive? Was she still alive? Kai dropped down on his knees and checked for a pulse. He was met by a light, slow thump, and knew they didn't have much time.

The snow on the side of the road was crisp, white and clean. Kai walked over and scooped up an arm full. He wasn't a doctor, or anything, but Kai was pretty sure that it wouldn't do any harm to try and cool her skin down.

White soon covered the charred black flesh, but Kai still felt hopeless. He wished he could do more.

About five minutes later, Kai heard sirens. He jumped up, lifting the burned girl with him. The snow had melted on her skin, and drizzled off in dark, flaking droplets.

Kai watched as the ambulances sped to a stop in front of all the wreckage. EMT's immediately jumped out of the vehicle, pulling two stretchers with them.

People rushed over to the burned girl first, pulling her away and into the first ambulance. They didn't even wait to check on her before loading her up and driving away. Kai stood, still shocked at how fast they had worked.

The rest of the attendants checked the red car lady, and pulled her onto the second stretcher. A woman came over to him, and began asking him questions. He couldn't speak. The world was going at one hundred miles an hour, and he couldn't grasp anything.

Kai fell to the ground, clutching his head, trying to get a grip, but he couldn't. The woman shouted over her shoulder, and hands lifted Kai up onto another stretcher. He began to feel dizzy, wondering where he was.

Medics rushed around him, pushing him into the ambulance. Kai smiled. He had always wanted to see the inside of one of these when he was a kid. The vehicle began to move, and Kai laughed. His eyelids began to droop, and Kai's last thought before drifting off were of the beautiful Angel of Hell.

Tag list: @cerenoya (Let me know if you want to be added!)

#wetta #when earth turns to ashes #kaider #kaider fanfiction #tlc fanfiction #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #marissa meyer #linh cinder #prince kai #kai #emperor kai #selene blackburn #cinder #kaider au #salt warrior stories

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Note

I've had this idea for a fanfic and was wondering if you'd be up for writing something where the reader is a princess or royal and Jaskier saves her life. Maybe they have to hide out together for a bit and they fall in love while Jask helps her get back home. Of course since hes not a royal they're not supposed to be together but I was thinking either they sneak around or her claims her as "payment" for saving her life. Sorry its kinda detailed, feel free to change it up, and thank you!

Thank you so much for this prompt, I had a lot of fun with it! And I’m sorry this took so freaking long!

Okay so. I apologize in advance for the aggressive thirstiness of this one but like…………. I’m a red-blooded woman with NEEDS. I wanted to subvert the idea of the shy, chaste princess a lil bit that’s all. Sorry anon I assume that you were picturing something fluffier, and I do think it's still very sweet, just has plenty of spice as well lol. Reader in I Never Danced is a rule follower so I wanted to stretch my legs and do something more… chaotic? This reader is a sex-loving promiscuous icon and we stan! Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy :)

For the Love of a Princess (a Jaskier x royal!reader oneshot)

Rating: E (smut and violence- attempted kidnapping/murder but no gore)Word count: 3.6kTaglist: @100percentamess who has asked to be tagged in everything so here you go lol

The last few weeks had been rather peculiar for you. First, your father declared war on a neighbouring country, which meant everything was more stressful. Then, there were rumors of a witcher in town, and you found it exciting but everyone else was acting nervous and superstitious. Finally, you had to attend some boring banquet and who would show up but the witcher himself, with his bard in tow?

See, you're the kind of woman who gets what she wants: it's a side effect of being a princess. Spoiled? Not necessarily. Just determined. And when you heard that this bard Jaskier had a reputation and you saw him flash a wink and a smile at you during his song, you suddenly found something new that you wanted.

Sadly, with so many people around, you couldn't really make your move. If anyone caught you trying to drag someone- let alone a near stranger- back to your quarters, your father would surely have your head, or worse: send you off to become a nun.

It must have been the hustle of the crowds, then, that let the assassin sneak in.

You noticed something was strange as soon as you entered your room. Sadly, by that point it was already too late: someone grabbed you from behind, covering your mouth and lifting you off the ground. You screamed but of course it was muffled by the gloved hand. You bit down on it, hard, and you heard a grunt as the hand pulled back. Seeing your opportunity, you swung your elbow back and hit him in the ribs. He was forced to let go and you fell to the ground. Before you could get up, though, he was already grabbing your ankles and dragging you backwards. You clawed at the ground but since there was an ornate rug covering the stone, all you did was pull it with you and wrinkle it. Kicking and flailing desperately while he tried to grab you, you finally managed to land a kick to the groin. He keeled over and you made a run for the door but he reached out and tripped you. You didn't fall completely, but as you tried to regain your balance he was already standing again. He lunged forward and you dodged, but as you walked backwards to get away from him, you realized that he had you trapped: to your left, the bed, to your right, the wall. There was a window, but you even if you could manage to dash past him, you would never survive the fall. Just as you tried to shield yourself with your arms, you looked up at the man and heard a roar, but it wasn’t coming from him: something smashed him over the head, and as he stumbled to the side from the blow, you saw Jaskier behind him, wielding a ruined lute.

As the assassin fell, he tripped over a fold in your rug and tumbled out the window with a yell. You dashed to it, looking down to make sure your attacker was dead. You winced when you saw him; since you were on the fifth floor, it didn’t take a physician to realize he was, in fact, definitely dead.

You turned back to look at Jaskier with wide eyes. “You saved my life,” you whispered, astounded.

“I suppose so,” he agreed.

You were both panting, trying to catch your breath from the physical stress and fear and shock, and you looked at him, and he looked at you, and you wondered if both of you were having the same exact idea at the same exact time; you must have, because just as you ran towards him, he ran to you, and you kissed him with such hunger, nearly anger, all teeth and tongue and grabbing at clothes and pulling hair.

“Take me, now,” you demanded, pulling both of you back towards the bed until you fell on it, and him on top of you.

“Yes,” he hissed in agreement, moving down to kiss and bite at your neck. Your fingers dug into his biceps, and your legs wrapped around his hips as he pushed up the many layers of your skirt. His hands were strong and calloused, but his touch was delicate and gentle as he ran his fingers up your legs. You prayed he wouldn’t tease you because you didn’t think you could stand it, and thankfully your prayers were answered as his hands pulled away to open his trousers. He must’ve made quick work of them because just a moment later you felt him plunge into you, without so much as a warning, stretching and filling you- just as you’d wanted. The noise you made was unlike anything else: a scream, a moan, a growl, and a whimper all at once. As soon as he was inside you he was pulling back and thrusting in at a punishing pace, fast and deep and hard enough that he had to hold you down to keep your body from moving across the bed.

You reached up to push off his doublet, leaving only a chemise which exposed more of his chest and arms. He smiled and licked his lips, grabbing the neckline of your dress and pulling it down, nearly ripping the fabric as your breasts were freed. You yelped in surprise but it quickly turned to a moan as he dropped down to kiss along your neck and shoulders and collarbones and breasts until you were writhing under him desperately.

He leaned back and moved your legs onto his shoulders. The sight of your feet up in the air and his face between your knees was really something, especially when he turned his head to the side to leave teasing bites on your leg. Your back arched as he leaned forward, folding you in half under him. You screamed, properly, as you felt his cock pushed so deep inside of you, deeper than you even knew was possible. It pushed against something inside you that made your whole body quiver, made you cry out with every movement until you felt tears welling at the corners of your eyes: not from pain, just from the intensity of the sensation. His thumb wiped the tear away as it fell, and you were afraid he would think he had hurt you or that you didn't want this, so you decided to make yourself abundantly clear.

"Jaskier, don't stop," you commanded, "please don't stop, fuck."

"I won't stop," he promised. You were already so close; you wanted more than anything to see him lose control, and to know that it was because of you.

"Please, please, come for me," you begged as you looked up at him, "Gods, I need you to come inside me."

"Fuck," Jaskier whispered.

"You feel amazing, baby, you're so fucking good," you continued.

"Where'd you learn to talk like that?" he asked, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice, and you knew he couldn't keep his cool much longer.

"Not all princesses are so sheltered," you smirked.

"Oh, I'm well aware," he quipped, "but they're all supposed to be."

"I like doing things I'm not supposed to," you smiled up at him.

"I noticed," he replied with a wink. He was really good at winking. Maybe a shallow or silly thing to decide to pursue a man over, since it's what attracted you to him in the first place, but clearly your tastes had served you well because he was about to make you come.

"I'm close, gods, I’m going to-” you began.

“Come for me,” he interrupted, or maybe just finished what you were going to say.

At that point you stopped really paying attention to what you were saying, but there was definitely a lot of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ mixed in. It was more important to you to focus on the sounds he was making- they were even more beautiful than his singing.

A few months had passed, and all the while you and Jaskier courted in secret. In fact, you were currently on a romantic date: he had you pressed against the wall of a secluded linen closet, your cheek pushed into the cold stone as he grabbed your hips for stability while he thrusted into you.

"So tight," he whispered into your ear. "I'm sure I wouldn't fit if you weren't so fucking wet all the time."

"I'm not wet all the time," you corrected, "just when you're around."

"Fuck," was his only reply.

"I'm close," you alerted him, but you regretted it as he decided to use this as a learning opportunity.

"Beg me for it," he demanded, "or I'll stop."

You scoffed, not thinking him capable of that restraint. That was a mistake, as he instantly pulled out and your body ached without him.

"No," you whined, "please."

You arched your back and tried to press yourself into him but he kept backing away so you couldn't reach.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, hoping to get back on his good side, but it wasn't enough.

"You know what you need to do," he smiled against the back of your neck as he started to kiss and bite you there: the feeling ran straight through you to your insides which clenched around nothing.

"I want you, please, I want your cock inside me," you began. That earned you a squeeze from the hand around your hip but not much else.

"Gods, I need it, Jaskier, please," you whined, "I need you." He kissed down to your shoulder but stopped there, still refusing to give you what you wanted. You felt the words spilling out of you, your need for him apparently bypassing that part of your brain that filters what you say before you say it.

"I love you, Jaskier; I've fallen in love with you," you finally revealed, not even really meaning to say it. It worked though, as he spun you around to face him and forced his way back into you. You cried out, grabbing the back of his neck while he lifted your legs to wrap around him.

"Truly?" he asked quietly as he peppered kisses along your neck.

"Completely," you responded. "Do you love me?"

"Gods, of course," he laughed, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he continued to drive into you. "I've loved you since I met you. And only found ways to love you more with each passing day."

"Please don't stop," you begged.

"The fucking or the talking?" he clarified.

"Both," you answered.

“You’re so beautiful,” he continued, his words interrupted with kisses along your neck and chest and shoulders, “and smart, and kind. It’s impossible not to be in love with you.”

You smiled, though you were blushing as well.

“I’m sure everyone who knows you is in love with you just as much as I am- certainly anyone who, er, knows you as well as I do. To be euphemistic,” he smirked. “What I’m not sure of is why you keep me around, when any man would be falling over himself just to kiss your hand.”

“You’re wondering why I keep you around? I’m about to come in a linen closet, what’s not to love?” you quipped. You felt him smile against your skin, but his voice sounded a little concerned.

“It’s not just that though, right? You have more use for me than sex?”

“You certainly have entertainment value,” you smirked.

He frowned.

“And you’re the kindest man I’ve ever met who never fails to make me laugh. Is that what you wanted to hear?” You tried to stay it with some sense of begrudgement but it was difficult when he was still fucking you- which is what you’d asked for, so no complaints there- and when you were so overcome with your feelings for him.

“Yes,” he smiled, “though I want to hear you say that you love me again.” Of course he couldn’t just ask you for that, he had to push deeper into you, making you nearly scream it out.

“I love you, Jaskier, fuck, I love you,” you moaned.

“How long?” he pressed, biting on your neck lightly as he started to drive into you even faster.

“So long, gods, I feel like I can’t remember a time that I didn’t. I can’t remember what it’s like to not need to be near you all the damn time,” you answered through gritted teeth.

It began to feel like an interrogation, though a very pleasurable one. “How did you know you loved me?”

“Fuck, Jaskier!” you protested, barely able to form sentences when you were so close to orgasm. “You were playing a song, and everyone was looking at you, and you looked so good, and you sounded so good, and I suddenly realized it. I don’t know how I knew. I just- fuck- I just thought to myself ‘I didn’t know I could care about somebody this much.’”

He kissed you, deep and slow and burning with a passion that felt entirely different from what you expected. You came and it hit you like a bolt of lightning, your body quivering under his touch. Your moans were lost against his lips, and you felt that he was there with you, finding his own release just as he brought you to yours. When you both started to slow your breathing as you calmed down from the powerful high, he relaxed his grip on your thighs, letting your legs find their way back to the floor.

"We should marry," he suggested as you shifted your dress back into position.

"Proposings of marriage are less trustworthy when they're seconds after orgasm," you frowned.

"No, I've thought about it before now," he explained. "I've thought about it a lot."

"Then you must've remembered that I'm expected to marry a king or prince."

"Yes," he sighed. “Your father likes me, I think.”

“I don’t know if he likes you that much,” you murmured.

“But he cares for you, and if he understood how much I love you…” Jaskier trailed off, taking your hands in his, looking at you with eyes that beamed with hope.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t understand how much you love me. Or how often,” you considered with wide eyes.

“Please,” he interjected desperately, his hands squeezing yours a bit, “think about it. I want to spend my life with you.”

“Julian,” you replied, your voice much softer, one hand leaving his grasp to comb through his hair, “all I want is to say yes. I just don’t know that I can.”

“You can,” he encouraged. “You may be royalty but you’re not property.”

“It’s easier for you to say when the approval of your family isn’t on the line,” you deflected.

“Then we’ll marry in secret. Or I’ll find some way to become a king, I don’t know,” he smiled.

“That’s preposterous,” you scoffed.

“Nothing could be more preposterous, more outrageous, more unbelievable, than you and I not being together,” he whispered, stepping closer.

You kissed him, smiling into it, and you were sort of scared because you had no idea what to do with feelings like this, but you felt safe as long as Jaskier was with you.

You sat beside your father, sitting through one of the worst royal duties imaginable: meetings! You just had to be upright in your throne, looking all royal and stuff, while the people rich enough to make audience with the King took turns popping in and usually complaining about something that they were too lazy to fix themselves.

If anything could get your attention now, the only thing, it would be-

Your posture changed completely when you saw Jaskier enter the room. You could tell he’d worn the nicest thing he owned; he was wringing his hands, looking around the room with a shifting gaze.

“Jaskier!” your father announced with a grin. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Is this some sort of impromptu performance? Where is your lute?”

“Your majesty,” he answered with a quick bow, “I am actually here for your audience, not as a musician.”

Your eyes went wide. This was his genius plan? You nearly felt sick you were so nervous.

“What is it, boy?” your father prompted.

“Well, I’ve come to ask you for something,” he explained.

“Spit it out then!”

“I’ve come to ask for the princess’ hand in marriage!” Jaskier replied suddenly, louder than before.

There was a brief moment of silence, but it felt like hours. It ended when your father began to laugh.

“This is ridiculous!” the king guffawed. You felt your cheeks grow hot.

“It’s true,” Jaskier replied firmly, puffing up his chest as he glanced at you briefly, “I’ve fallen in love with her.”

“Yes, well,” he scoffed in reply, “my daughter is a fair and gentle maiden. I’m sure she has plenty of potential suitors who only wished they could take her hand. The difference is that they have the foresight not to barge in and ask me for my only child!” He stood up, face red with anger, and addressed the guards. “Get this fool out of here!”

You stood up too, grabbing your father’s shoulders just as the soldiers started to drag Jaskier away by the arms.

“Papa, no!” you begged.

“Silence, girl,” he scolded.

“Unhand him!” you yelled to the guards, who obeyed- perhaps a little too well, dropping Jaskier onto the floor.

You looked back at your father, who was looking at you in confusion.

“What is this?!” he asked incredulously.

“I love him as well, father,” you answered with confidence, even though inside you were absolutely terrified.

“WHAT?!” he bellowed.

“We’re in love,” you replied, turning to give Jaskier a smile. He looked back at you with a look that made your heart melt.

“Blasphemy!” your father cried out. “What are you doing?” he asked as he turned to the guards again, “I said to get him out of here!”

They picked him up from the floor and continued dragging him towards the door, ignoring his stuttered attempts to explain himself.

“Stop!” you yelled as you stole the sword from the guard beside you, jumping down the steps and running to Jaskier’s aid, holding the weapon out to the neck of one of the soldiers.

“I order you to unhand this man,” you growled, “and I beg you not to test me.”

They hesitated, but after a moment, Jaskier was dropped onto the stone again.

“Ow!” he complained. “Worst proposal ever!”

You helped him up off the ground, wrapping an arm around him and using the other to hold the stolen sword in a defensive position.

“Father,” you said sternly, “I love this man. I intend to take him as my husband. I will do so here, as princess of this land, before the gods and my people; or, if you refuse, I will do so in the forest, alone, and spend the rest of my days running from my own armies and living the life of a peasant.”

You felt his gaze on you, but you were too focused on what you were saying to look back at him. You couldn’t read the king’s face very well but there was definitely shock present there.

“I’d be happy either way,” you sighed. “So, it’s up to you, father. Have your choice.”

The next silence that came was even longer than the last one. Your father slowly stepped down, walking towards the both of you. Though you weren’t sure exactly of his intentions, you dropped your sword. Instantly the guards rushed towards Jaskier again, but the king raised his hand, silently ordering them to stop. When he finally stood in front of you, he took your face in his hands.

“My daughter,” he smiled sweetly, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re so like your mother. She’d be so proud of you. If only she could see you now, all grown up...”

You felt a tear run down your own cheek as well.

“If only she could be here, for your wedding day,” he added. You ran into an embrace, and he held you close, and in that hug there was a silent understanding between you, things that neither of you were strong enough to say, but that you didn’t need to anymore.

“My son!” he said to Jaskier, pulling him into the hug as well as the bard let out a little squeak from the perhaps-semi-aggressive grab.

“I- I’m flattered by your approval, your Grace, if a little surprised,” Jaskier stammered.

“If my daughter loves you, truly, then I love you as well. But if you think this puts you in line for the throne or gives you any political power, you can keep dreaming!” he sing-songed in a fake-sweet voice.

It was a beautiful ceremony. Silk banners on every alcove, stained glass windows, and flowers everywhere: mostly dandelions. Your dress took months to be made, with embroidered florals and precious gems decorating the entire (ridiculously long) train. You wore your mother’s wedding tiara, but Julian told you later that your eyes sparkled brighter, like the poetic dork he was. He looked great in royal clothes as well, though the fur cape was a bit much in your opinion. The reception was even better: the entire kingdom celebrated with festivals across the cities, and the merriment went on for days with feasts and dancing and lots of music.

All that said, you had a lot more fun at the honeymoon.

#jaskier x reader #the witcher #jaskier x oc #dandelion x reader

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anxiety-trademark · 3 years

Text

The week in review:

Raw 12/14 NXT 12/16 NXT UK 12/17 Smackdown 12/18 TLC 12/20 + Main Event 12/17

Raw:

“This Sunday at tlc, it’s gonna be you and me against Nia and Shayna,” Lana says to Asuka, as a quiet ‘woo’ can be heard in the distance.

Lana facing her fears and fighting Nia Jax makes her the bravest person Asuka knows. Rolling. Fucking Asuka. ASUKA. wwe, stop.

Why isn’t Asuka accompanying Lana to the ring?

I like Lana’s gear.

Joe just compared Lana to a mosquito, goodbye.

Oh snap look how fast Lana did that headscissors takedown. We’re witnessing her progression, ladies and gents.

You know, I knew Lana would win this match, I knew exactly how she would win this match, but jfc what a treat watching it myself.

Nia’s face lmfao.

Shayna wrecking Asuka so she can’t save Lana from her inevitable fate. Still curious on whether or not this beatdown injured her, if she was injured going into the match, or if it was all really just a storyline.

Yikes this is sad.

Man that leg drop onto Lana’s ankle actually looked kinda wicked, ngl.

*distant woo intensifies*

Wow we got real tears from Lana. Points.

Becky and Charlotte have been gone, Alexa hasn’t been on tv, the Raw women’s championship has become a meaningless prop... what a dead period for this roster.

Hi why is this match happening?

I will never not be impressed by Dana’s entrance.

Is Mandy actually hurt? Why did they take her off tv for so long? Is Shayna the resident kayfabe shelver? “Hey this girl is actually injured, have her written off by Shayna” ?? Cuz I know they’re not splitting Dana and Mandy up, and Dana has been on tv every week since Mandy left. Must be genuine.

These 2 are running roughshod over the entire division at this point.

OH SHIT MANDY’S BACK WITH A KENDO STICK

Lmfao the babyfaces are fucking done with Nia and Shayna. Honestly that’s great, I love it when babyfaces band together to stand up to dominant duos. This has been going on long enough. They took out Mandy, took out Lana, were about to take out Dana. Totally fair.

Highlight: Lana getting a clean win over Nia & being taken out so my queen can return

---

NXT:

It’s a funny thing with Toni and Rhea. Toni says she’s the reason Rhea came to nxt, but she’s also the reason I became such a huge fan of Rhea’s. Heard they were having some big TakeOver match and everyone was always praising Toni. So I checked into Blackpool solely to see what the Toni Storm fuss was about, and I left that ppv solely impressed by Rhea Ripley. Then I took particular notice of Rhea in the Royal Rumble a few weeks later, and I’ve been watching NXT UK for her ever since (til she moved). To see her growth has been tremendous, and she’s so young. Such a bright future.

The music to this is great.

Toni says she isn’t scared of Rhea, as if Rhea’s mere theme music didn’t scare the absolute shit out of Toni the week prior lol.

Toni’s not even a terrible promo, but the timing of her blinks could not be worse. Yes, it matters.

I can’t stop laughing at how fucking intensely Shotzi started this interview.

She does pissed off interviews well. I can feel her annoyance.

Really don’t want to see a Candice/Shotzi feud tbh but okay, I’ll try.

aaand there’s the howl. Awful.

Lmfao Rhea called Toni a piece of trash. This is gonna be interesting to see with the alignments reversed.

I don’t remember who won this match, but I’m betting it was Toni. Which is fair tbh. Rhea is probably on the “put some peeps over before moving up to the main roster” path that everyone in the women’s division walks on. They always eat at least one monumental, or a couple meaningful, loss(es).

Oh man that is fucked up. To not only be forced to continue punching/kicking a human (fun fact: the person on the offense takes quite the damage doing so) but to have the defenseless victim bleed out and beg for you to stop. That’s rough.

This was shot really well. That music holy shit, I’m creeped out. It’s like a horror movie.

I see the point. Numbs him to pain and breaks his will, while numbing her to mercy. Ruthless stuff.

Oh are we finally done with Indi’s neck brace? Cool.

I can’t believe wwe invested in this upgraded tank. I still don’t think it’d work on the MR, but points to the boss for shelling out the cash.

Wtf was that stumble and “fall” by Indi lmao.

If Candice was a real bully, she’d distract Shotzi by fucking with her tank at ringside.

Indi does need a mentor, she’s a hell of a lot greener than my mutuals have made it sound. oof.

Shotzi looks like she has no idea how to work with Indi, and Indi looks gassed, confused, and slow as hell.

All Indi knows it going from spot to spot while Shotzi waits around for her to get there.

Lol Indi failed at getting a dirty win. I don’t really care if this is a part of her The Way storyline, what a mess.

The only redeeming part of this piss poor segment was Theory shaking the troll’s head at Shotzi.

I’ll give wwe an extra $9.99 if they let this match have a clean ending.

“[Rhea] was at one point the biggest superstar in the world,” that isn’t even close to being true because Becky Lynch exists, but I’ll let it slide and pretend you said “in nxt”.

Their paths will be so similar to Becky and Charlotte in the future.

Wow what a sequence. That would’ve received an applause on the MR. Traded headlocks for restholds, threw around their strength, then went into a battle of pinfall reversals. Instead of following that with some stalemate, they didn’t take a breath and proceeded to dance with each other and showcase some chemistry before rolling back into a battle of pinfall reversals. The sequence started with a kick by Toni to Rhea’s midsection, and it ends with a kick by Rhea to Toni’s midsection. Peep that match production, good stuff.

My, my, those slaps to Toni’s back. Whew.

Yeah actually it’s really fucking cool that these 2 get to main event nxt together, come to think of it.

They sell well for each other.

Rhea has the best dropkicks, lesbireal.

Holy shit Toni’s headbutts make my own head hurt. God I wish she wouldn’t. Most people put their hands between the heads so no contact can be made, but Toni’s just like “lol fuck it”

This is a great match. This duo works a lot better with these specific alignments. Watching face Toni try to chop down Rhea is not as good as heel Toni being impossibly hard for Rhea to put away.

Women’s matches and never having a clean ending. Name a more iconic duo. Winter of overbooked women’s matches continues.

Like I had guessed Toni was gonna win anyway, but fucking come on.

*Bonus* online exclusive: Toni says playing by the rules got her diddly and squat, but like... she was a champion lol. “It ain’t even Toni time right now, it’s party time.” Alright.

Highlight: Rhea vs Toni minus the ending

---

NXT UK:

I don’t know why we’re getting Isla Dawn vs KLR but anytime I get to see KLR fight, I’m here for it.

Hell even Isla’s song never kicks it out of first gear. Song has so much potential but it never goes to the next level.

Ahhhh my Scottish queen is here.

No, don’t compare Sasha’s basement meteora to the double knees Isla did. That was pitiful.

Anyway, KLR vs any of the 4hw would be fantastic, take my money. Sasha, Bayley, Charlotte, or the woman KLR wanted to face at TO Dublin, Dublin native Becky Lynch.

That back body drop is horrendous as a finisher. It’s like when Becky won her debut match the exploder suplex. Awful lmao. Imagine if KLR lost to a back body drop ffs.

You don’t get to be this frustrated for not being able to beat the champion when you’ve only been fighting for like 3 mins.

Isla’s pisspoor speed going in the corner, and her pisspoor roll off of KLR’s tornado ddt. Shame.

Such a clean transition from a failed pinfall attempt into a submission by KLR, whew.

This whole match was just a flex by KLR lmao.

There was a time where we had Becky Lynch, Bayley, Rhea Ripley and KLR as our champions. Wow, take me back plz.

The background music of this stupid recording is so unnecessarily dramatic, wow.

All for the delivery of a chair. Of a fucking chair. Piper... shut up and handle your shit.

For someone so much larger than the little man, Piper is insanely unintimidating.

Highlight: I got to see KLR wrestle

---

Smackdown:

Bayley does run her mouth a lot. She’s kind of the EST at saying dumb shit that gets her into trouble lmao.

Bianca is so friggin good at interviews and in backstage segments. She hasn’t received much of a chance to do promos in the ring, let alone obviously to a live crowd, but I hope she shines there, too.

Has Liv reverted back to being a dumb blonde, or is it drugs? Stop letting her speak.

Love Riott Squad’s everchanging gear. Wonder who makes it for them.

Billie Kay claims that she’s a ‘seasoned’ ring announcer, and somehow that would not surprise me.

Tamina “get the fuck out of my face until I get a nap and a vat of coffee” Snuka, everyone.

Lmfaooo Tamina fucking chucked Liv across the damn ring. What a good job by Liv.

Ruby is exceptional at running the ropes. She gets a good spring off of it.

Tamina’s hair is always so beautiful, she gets points there.

Dropkick into a faceplant. Billie Kay gets pinned rofl. She’s so bad at wrestling and yet here I am ridiculously entertained.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Carmella’s current persona, but man I wish she’d come out in a cut off tank top, camo pants, high tops and a printed hat.

I mean people are at home cuz covid, but go off.

Aye putting over Sasha. Good heel Mella.

Sasha has held the title for like a whopping 2 months and we’re already marking calendars. Sad.

In kf, Sasha is kind of mentally weak, so I’ll give Mella that. I’m not sure what it’s gonna take to shake that perception, either.

“Who is Sasha Banks if she’s not the Boss? Who is Sasha Banks if she’s not the best? It’s sad because that’s a question that not even Sasha Banks knows the answer too.” So I get that wwe are trying to help Sasha develop and fight off her past demons, but man these women are ripping her a new one. Sasha’s only 29 so she can grow and develop however she wants, but jeeze. Salt, meet the dagger Bayley stuck in Sasha’s back.

I like Mella cuz she knows how to hype her opponent’s accolades and strengths while cutting an immaculate heel promo where she hits them RIGHT where it hurts. She’s a pro. Heels should take notes.

This music is like the Jazz Vibes playlist I always listen to.

She just called Sasha cheap and frantic lmaoooo

Oh damn Sasha be out here looking like MONEY. That girl has style, even if it doesn’t always hit with me, she got style.

oof the crack of that slap to Reggie.

OOF the crack of the bottle shattering over Sasha’s poor back. rip.

Match at TLC should’ve been a champagne match. That entails whatever your mind comes up with; pouring alcohol on your opponent, dumping their head in a bucket of ice, breaking bottles over spines. It don’t matter.

“You don’t see me going around here bragging about how damn good I am,” lmao WHAT. Bayley is equal parts delusional and obnoxiously annoying.

One size heel does not fit all, but I think her version suits her beautifully.

If I were her I’d pick your brain too, but I’d also want a match, cuz people leave matches with you looking as good as humanly possible. Equal parts selfless as well.

She didn’t lie, this was absolutely her putting Bianca on the map on the main roster.

wwe: wants to strap a rocket to Bianca and make her a star. Also fucking wwe: “lol no we’re not gonna show you her full entrance, cry more scrub.”

Bayley still looks weird without a title.

Bayley mocks Bianca’s entrance and then gets swept onto the apron lmao. Idiot.

Bianca is a lot of flash and showboating, which is great from an entertainment standpoint, but she needs to do a little... less.

Fantastic snap of the hand against the led board. Bayley wrecking Bianca’s arm gonna hinder the flips.

“I’m the ER. I’m BET-TER. haha.” lmao Bayley is such a fucking dork. Got sent into the ring steps for her bravado. Love that there’s always immediate repercussions for Bayley’s arrogance.

Bayley turned midway going down onto Bianca’s knee for that backbreaker, there. Hope she doesn’t have a massive bruise. Looked like it’d leave a massive bruise.

3 things I’ll apparently never get to see again: Bianca’s hair whip, Bianca’s full entrance, and Bianca’s 450 splash. I’m tired.

These stupid fucking squats while Bianca is dangling off the top rope rofl I swear Bayley is something else. Girl knows how to entertain. “Bayley got a bit cute and Bianca made her pay,” story of Bayley’s life.

Beautiful spinebuster by Bianca. At least SOMEONE in the women’s division will use it.

Bit of a miscommunication there it seems. Bayley goes for a B2B, Bianca tries to block it, Bayley drops down to dodge and go for a cradle. She rolls Bianca all the way back, stands up and hesitates before running at Bianca with an elbow - even though Bianca is not in position to receive it - which Bianca counters by rolling Bayley up, but it was super obvious Bianca was just scouting the next spot. Bianca goes to pick her up for a powerbomb but Bayley has to kick out twice to prevent herself from being pinned while Bianca tries to lift her. That entire sequence was super messy.

Then Bianca nearly drops her lifting her all the way up lol. Yikes. Gotta be pretty fluent to pull that off. Not to plug my fav (but I’m totally gonna plug my fav); it’s a move Charlotte does in almost every match against Asuka or Becky, and you gotta be not only built to pull it off, but you need to have impeccable timing to make the transition look smooth. Extra points if you lift them off the mat RIGHT before a 3 (which Charlotte usually does)

Anyway, good match with a messy last 2 sequences. Bayley did what Bayley does best.

Highlight: Bayley vs Bianca

---

TLC:

They really took Eva Marie and Sasha Banks’ characters and meshed them together while keeping Carmella’s obsession for animal print lol.

Really don’t like that gear. That’s a miss, Mikaze.

Beautiful arm drag. Sasha taking the idea of wrestling like a Lucha more seriously? Cuz she should, ain’t nobody else in the MR doing it.

Commentators say the trash talk is continuing, I say Sasha is quietly leading this match with a grimace. Peeped that “hit me”.

Carmella goes to suicide dive through the ropes just for Reggie to catch her, cept she got caught up and started turning in midair. Would’ve hit her neck and shoulder HARD had he not been there. Great catch indeed.

Sasha “rip my back” Banks.

Not to be douchey, but if you have to adjust your gear in the middle of a match and it’s not just to fill time or be used as character work, then you need to redesign your gear.

Sasha’s a great babyface once that bell rings man. I wish she could carry that energy everywhere.

Holy fuck that facebuster. SPIKED her head, oh my god. I have never seen anyone make a facebuster look so impactful. Points if intentional.

Oh the timing of Sasha blocking that superkick from legit connecting. God she’s good.

You know how I know this is a good match? I’m watching some of these near pinfalls and submissions knowing damn well Sasha’s gonna win, yet my anxiety is still spiking thinking Carmella might walk out with the title. I KNOW she doesn’t though lmao. Good sequences, believable offense, great near pinfalls. They work well together (I’m not surprised, Mella and Sasha both work well with almost anyone)

What a fantastic transition into the bank statement. Points.

That match should’ve ended by dq the second Reggie pulled Mella out.

Sasha could’ve sold that double superkick pinfall attempt a little bit more.

Carmella having a breakdown. What does that mean? That means she’s about to lose this match lmao. There it is, not even 10 seconds later hahaha.

Sasha sells pain so damn well. Good for her. Good defense of her title. Points to Sasha, she’s phenomenal every time she has an actual match. Post-match and she’s already annoyed me though lol. Ugh. Maybe she’ll get it soon enough.

Nice “replay” wwe. Billion dollar company btw.

Billie, drawing a horizontal line is not how you write ‘clairvoyant’.

“proficient in Japanese” aw Asuka was so excited for a split second lmao.

Oh no, she made a mask to match Asuka’s with a paper plate. Oh no no no. Travesty.

Ugh I’m so excited. I’ve already seen this and yet I’m excited. Here we are, the whole damn reason I started catching up on everything I basically refused to watch since June 22.

SHE LOOKS LIKE MONEY, WHEW. The queen IS back. She’s so fucking beautiful man.

Love how annoyed Nia looks. This is your comeuppance tbh. Could’ve just faced a measly Lana, but no, you had to play too much.

Really Charlotte shouldn’t be in the tag division, and really she shouldn’t give half of a fuck about Asuka, but we’ll get to that more in the future since this is already nearly 2 months old.

Nia’s doing a great job selling Charlotte’s return, and she’s not even active in the match rn. She does good work.

Bad camera angle on Asuka hitting the ring post.

Asuka getting wrecked lol.

I really despise that the Raw women’s championship was tied up in all of these storylines that have nothing to do with the Raw women’s championship. The Lana crap, the Charlotte crap, the tag teaming in general crap.

In hindsight, I now find it curious that Ric Flair was in the back for this match. Very curious. I swear, if the past 2 real time months weren’t a part of some master plan the Flairs came up with together, I will be SHOCKED.

Charlotte’s fucking crazy for doing those moonsaults to the outside though, for real. I know she was a gymnast and an exceptional cheerleader, but MAN you could not pay me to do fucking blind back flips that high up. Crazy.

She should’ve given us a spear in this match. I wanna go rewatch her work just to see some spears.

Good match. They needed to not focus on destroying Asuka for as long as they did, pacing was off for a little bit there.

Love how Charlotte sticks her tongue out when she bridges up into the figure 8. She’s such an asshole lmao.

If I could’ve changed one thing about that finish, I would’ve had Charlotte bounce off the ropes before hitting Natural Selection. Other than that, it was great.

Charlotte looks good with a title, idk *shrug*

The way Charlotte looked over at Asuka though. I really don’t trust her in hindsight lol.

Like how this Firefly Funhouse is setting the spotlight on Alexa before Bray takes his leave of absence, only wish she hadn’t missed 2-3 wks of tv.

What a fun way of running a video package.

Inferno matches are insane and I’m not sure why anyone would participate in such.

Think it’s smart they’re both leaving their jackets on tbh.

Alright that was cool. The way Fiend called up the flames was fucking cool. It looks amazing aesthetically. They could’ve never done the set quite like this if there had been fans.

WE HAVE STRAPS?! IS FIRE NOT ENOUGH?!? Man. Randy is a fucking trooper.

Guys. Guys excuse me, that strap is on fire, can... can we not, please??

Man is swinging a god damn pick axe at Randy Orton, I--

I hope that wasn’t actually flammable liquid cuz otherwise Randy is now soaked in it, and that’s insanely dangerous. Oh that’s great editing. So it was flammable, but Randy was out of the chair before the fire rushed at him. Also covered the chair in blood. That was cool.

Orton just pull the damn string out of the jacket real quick lol.

Caught Orton’s attempt at an rko with a mandable claw. Points.

Can someone... put him out? Editing trick? Were the flames real? Am I real??

Shouldn’t the bell ring? Match is over, right??

The dummy was kind of obvious ngl. Not to sound like an asshole, but they should’ve made it a bit thicker and more solid lol. Doesn’t really take me out of it though, cuz even though I’m sure it was a stunt double that got lit on fire by the ramp, someone was on fucking fire, and that’s intimidating in itself.

Also the dummy is melting. I’d say they should’ve used pig meat, but I’m sure vegans and animal rights activists would’ve had a field day writing to Snickers about that.

Was a good match, for what it was. I was entertained.

---

*BONUS*

Main Event:

“Nasty Nikki” lol okay.

“The only reason people even know you exist is because you were Alexa Bliss’ best friend,” ouch. Truth is pain.

Ahahahah Lacey has hand sanitizer again.

Love that submission Lacey jumped into through the ropes, plus an eye rake. Fantastic.

That’s curious. Lacey and Peyton are arguing over the hand sanitizer as Lacey wants to squirt it on Nikki, while Peyton is claiming it’ll get her DQd. Now I’m on Peyton’s side in the sense that it should absolutely be illegal, but Lacey’s done it in a match against Nikki before, sooo ???

I like how Nikki fell trying to get back into the ring before the 10 count. Adds credibility.

Haha Nikki gets the pinfall over Lacey because Peyton was being a nuisance on the outside. Lacey big mad. That’s great.

---

*Smackdown easily shined the brightest in what was a great week of wrestling. Utilized 8 women in 3 different storylines, couldn’t possibly complain about that.

#wwe #issa review #feel free to ignore these #cuz who tf cares lesbihonest #today's props goes to:#charlotte flair

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theparanormalperiodical · 4 years

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The REAL Story Behind A Nightmare On Elm Street (1984), And The 11 Demonic Entities Which Are Most Definitely Causing Your Sleep Paralysis

In 1981, The New York Times reported on something rather unusual that was occurring in southeast Asian communities in America. A couple of years later in 1987, The LA Times would pick up on the same, strange story:

In the late 1970s, 130 people died in their sleep.

No cause was pinpointed.

No symptoms were reported.

All they knew was that healthy, young men were crying out in their sleep as if having a nightmare, and then never waking up.

A copy of this edition would fall into the hands of a horror director Wes Craven, and their findings would inspire one of the most iconic horror slashers that is still haunting our nightmares:

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984).

But the thing is, this isn’t the first time a link between our dreams - or rather, our nightmares - and the paranormal has been forged. A number of demons, spirits, and entities are said to be hiding in the dark corners of your bedroom and waiting for you to drift into an eternal slumber.

There’s reality in Freddy Krueger’s dream world.

First, let’s talk about this era-defining slasher movie.

1984 is mainly known for one thing: it titled the fictional tale of a dark, twisted dystopian novel penned by George Orwell. But in the actual year, we stumbled into a dark, twisted movie.

A movie that would change the genre forever, and spat out the very first slasher.

Through seven films we follow a simple yet traumatising premise: teenagers have nightmares of a mysterious and yet grotesque figure that attempts to kill them - and sometimes succeed. If they die in the dream, they die in real life.

As the films and even a TV series continue, we discover more about the mysterious figure, Freddy Krueger, and his past, and explore the possibilities of the dream world in which he operates.

‘Couple jokes cracked by the murderous villain and a few million dollars in the bag for Wes Craven later, and we arrive at one of the biggest horror film franchises still haunting those that grew up in the ass-end of the 20th century.

What’s the film based on, again?

Wes Craven has stated that the movie was inspired by those that had survived the Killing Fields in Cambodia. The Killing Fields are a number of sites where more than a million people were killed in what is now labelled the Cambodian genocide.

During the rule of the Communist Party of Kampuchea from 1975-79, anyone who was suspected of a connection with former or foreign governments was to be arrested and executed. The exact number of those that were executed has been disputed, but Yale has indicated through analysis of mass grave sites that at least 1,386,734 people had died at the hands of the Khmer Regime.

One Cambodian family successfully fled the brutal regime in the 70s, but their son had already been traumatised.

The child would stay awake for days for fear that something in his nightmares would chase him and eventually kill him. He finally fell asleep one night, but would cry out into the middle of the night one last time.

By the time his family got to him, he was dead.

This experience was placed within a wider phenomenon occurring throughout southeast Asian communities, a phenomenon that has actually been established in the medical world: it’s called Sudden Arrthymic Death Syndrome.

Most common among young men (average age of 33) who were seemingly healthy, they would simply cry out in the middle of the night randomly, and then they would die. It was later discovered that this wasn’t an unexplained phenomenon; they were suffering from undiscovered medical problems including a slightly large heart and other defects.

This rare syndrome was first noted in the Hmong refugees in North America in 1977, and is most often associated with southeast Asian immigrants to the US and Canada.

What’s really interesting, though, isn’t the medical proof that you can indeed die in a nightmare. It’s the paranormal link to SADS, as it is also known.

Medical journals have already outlined the link between the victims of this syndrome and their cultural beliefs in the spiritual world. This was first suggested in regards to the Hmong population:

Hmong cultural beliefs traced back this phenomena to nocturnal pressing spirit attacks.

To the Hmong people of Laos, dab tsuam - a spirit which takes the form of a jealous woman - sits on one’s chest and suffocates you in the middle of the night. And it turns out each culture right across the globe has their own negative spirit or entity that supposedly causes what we now call sleep paralysis.

The Hmong belief developed in the 1970s and 1980s, however, to take into account the political context. When the syndrome began a timely outbreak in this period, many were unable to worship properly as a result of the guerrilla war against the Laos government. By failing to worship properly, whether they were incorrectly performing rituals or failing to carry out sacrifices, the ancestor or village spirits would not protect them.

This claim is not impossible to make: many still confuse sleep paralysis from which you are awake but unable to move or make any noise with paranormal activity. This is become typically one witnesses strange, shadowy figures or terrifying entities near them and feels suffocating pressure on their chest at the same time.

That being said, a link to the supernatural has been present throughout history. And maybe, just maybe, there is something going bump in the night.

It’s time to talk about the 10 other terrifying sleep paralysis demons that are probably haunting you in your sleep.

Without summarising the entirety of human history, it’s safe to say that before science could explain natural phenomena, gods, spirits, and demons were used to make sense of the world.

Before we knew what sleep paralysis was, we pinned it on the paranormal.

Most often entities or spirits would be considered to be causing such an affliction. Even the term ‘nightmare’ can be traced back to a mare, a Norse spirit that would crush people’s chest in the dead of the night and cause traumatic nightmares for the victim.

According to folklore, the mare was believed to ride horses, leaving them exhausted and covered in sweat - a symptom associated with night terrors and nightmares. Mare would also tangle their hair, another symptom of thrashing around in one’s sleep, I guess - but this can be related to the Polish plait phenomenon (a hair disease from which one’s hair becomes matted).

Mares are also associated with witches when they would take on the form of animals. Their spirits would effectively leave their bodies, enter the animals they would possess, and leave them in a trance.

Scandinavia, Germany, and Poland are the most popular champions of mares and have their own takes on the typically dishevelled creature. In fact, some of them bear a similarity far too close to Krueger.

And the mares aren’t alone.

#2 - Kana tevoro, Fiji

Feeling the weight of a jealous old woman sitting on your chest is by no means a pleasant experience. Being eaten by a demon, or kana tevoro, is far worse.

Fijians believe the spirit of a recently deceased relative takes the form of this demon who returns to their living relative to impart important information or complete unfinished business.

Although the idea of being eaten by an evil entity sounds like something you’d much rather not experience, those sleeping near you should say “kania, kania” (“eat, eat”) in order to prolong the possession. It’ll give the relatives a chance to talk to you and explain why they have returned.

When the person being eaten awakens, they should curse or chase away the spirit to end the terrible experience. Simply tell them to go away, and you will be free from their midnight snack.

#3 - Phi Am, Thailand

Thailand is also home to demons seeking a feast in the dead of the night.

Sleep paralysis in this part of Asia is caused by the ghost Phi Am (‘phi’ is the word for ‘ghost’ in Thai), a spirit that is known to cause bruising, a tell-tale symptom of violent spirit or demonic attacks.

Phi Am sits on your chest while you are asleep, and often causes troubled nightmares and uncomfortable sleep. Some even claim this Phi can kill you in your sleep.

#4 - Dip-non, Tibet

In Tibetan culture, the phenomenon of sleep paralysis goes by the name ‘dip-non’. Roughly translated from Tibetan, this means that one is oppressed or struck by a shadow, referring to a ‘spiritual pollution’.

Despite little being mentioned on the web, it sounds like this refers to an individual’s depression or spiritual emptiness, and thus means something far more personal than paranormal.

#5 - A collection of evil beings, Pakistan

Pakistan gives their take on the Old Hag far more backstory than other nations. Sleep paralysis on this part of the planet is considered to be an encounter with one of three things: jinns, demons, or Satan.

(Take your pick, I guess.)

It is supposedly caused by black magic that is performed by enemies or those that are jealous and wish to cause harm to the victim. To protect against this, Pakistani culture dictates several measures for defending against evil supernatural beings.

This includes wearing Ta’wiz, an amulet to ward off an evil eye, performing exorcisms, and blessing haunted houses with specific Muslim practices.

There is no specific Old Hag sitting on the chests of innocents in Pakistan; instead, any ol’ negative spirit or entity will do the trick.

#6 - Jinn and/or a nameless African Queen, Egypt

Out of all cultural groups, Egyptians are probably the most terrified of sleep paralysis. A huge number of studies and investigations have even attempted to explain the high incidences of such troubled sleep.

Unfortunately, the information on the beast they believe to be haunting them is limited.

You have two options: there’s the evil African Queen who might be Lilith, a female demon belonging to Jewish mythology, or it’s just jinn.

Evil jinn typically bear the blame for sleep paralysis as a result of the strong religious traditions still present within the country. According to Islamic mythology, jinn are genies and this is not the only time they have been blamed for a bad nights sleep.

#7 - Dukak, Ethiopia

‘Dukak’ - that is, ‘depression’ - is sleep paralysis that is caused by an evil spirit possessing one in their sleep. But this possession might be associated more with khat, a stimulant which can cause excitement or euphoria.

By quitting khat, users experience hallucinations which are punishments from dukak, a personification of the depression as a result of the withdrawal. The dukak takes pleasure in extreme forms of punishment aside from sleep paralysis, including forcing someone to swallow a bag of gravel, or being put in a bottle and the bottle being shaken violently.

Don’t do drugs, kids.

#8 - Haddiela, Malta

The entity halting this island nation in their sleep is Haddiela. They take the form of a stereotypical Old Hag that spends the evening lounging on your ribcage. To get rid of them simply place some silverware under your pillow.

Interestingly enough, Haddiela is married to Hares who is considered to be an entity similar to a poltergeist.

#9 - Women executed in the Salem witch trials, USA

It’s peculiar.

No, really, this one is weird.

Each country has folklore that can be followed back to the darkest depths of history. And most of the spirits, demons, entities, and jinn mentioned in this article can be traced back just as far. But the sleep paralysis experienced by those in America during the Salem witch trials was actually pinned on the witches on trial.

Jon Loudner was one of the first to experience this, and gave his encounter as evidence in the trial of Bridget Bishop, the first woman to be executed for witchcraft in the trials.

Loudner claimed something of her likeness attacked him in the middle of the night and made attempts to suffocate him in a manner similar to other sleep paralysis entities.

“… I going well to bed, about the dead of the night felt a great weight upon my breast, and awakening, looked, and it being bright moonlight, did clearly see Bridget Bishop, or her likeness, sitting upon my stomach. And putting my arms off of the bed to free myself from that great oppression, she presently laid hold of my throat and almost choked me. And I had no strength or power in my hands to resist or help myself. And in this condition she held me to almost day.”

Yeah, you gonna want to rethink that Sunday morning lie in.

Liked this article? Love the paranormal? Go on and tap follow to read a new article about the supernatural every weekend and hear a new ghost story everyday.

Oh, you can’t wait to get your hands on more real evidence and experiences of the paranormal? Then you need to head over to the People’s Paranormal Archive, the online collection of real stories of the supernatural.

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ivyveil · 5 years

Text

Love is the Punchline Prequel

the one where Harry is the universe and you are in love

A Continuation of LITP (masterlist here)

You two had been drunk.

His hair was softened by the moonlight, tousled locks cascading across his forehead and curling against the tips of his ears. He looked disheveled and massively wasted. A Greek god who had stumbled into the sin of men, yet unable to fully shake his reverence.

You knew you were staring.

You couldn’t have been more obvious if you had a neon, flashing sign reading I’m Star-gazing in the Galaxies of Your Eyes. But what do kids who are told not to stare in the sun do? They stare anyway. So you continued, a dopey smile induced by whatever drink Harry had made you in his fancy ass kitchen, with his fancy ass kitchen supplies.

You wanted to nestle in his open jacket, feel the roughed cotton rolling into balls along the edges of the material, have the uneven tie-strings lay, lopsided, in between your heads. You wanted to place your head against the slope of his shoulder, into the darkened scruff of his neck, and inhale. Not for anything explicitly sexual, just because your soul craved to know what it was like to be his. Laying together in the silence that only belonged to you two, in the midst of a universe of noise.

You wanted to brush your fingers through his hair and get an idea of what it would look like in the morning. The thoughts that made your cheeks flush, a warm radiance perhaps indiscernible from the heat already surrounding.

Harry wasn’t oblivious however – in fact, the liquid racing through his veins made him unabashedly brave in staring back. Your makeup was a bit screwed up, the eyeliner missing in patches from when you were crying from laughter as he made stupid, stupid puns. He loved how you smiled when he was being an idiot, being himself.

He poked each of your cheeks (after missing once and pushing your nose inwards by mistake) and giggled to himself. To him, you were the epitome of feeling alive.

“My head is too heavy,” you mumbled, feeling the command from your body to relax your arms and let gravity do its work. You slouched further in the grass, resting your head on one of the pathway stones. You were in Harry’s private backyard garden, a bottle of rum tucked between Harry’s legs and a gathering of gnomes watching from the tomato patch.

Harry was slouched against the side of his house, donning an unzipped jacket, sweats, and god-awful Nike sliders. It was one of the few outfits he made you promise, multiple times, to never mention to anyone for fear it would leak to the public. Not that he genuinely thought you would, but after you saw his collection of ‘Normal Clothing’ you started continuously sending him pictures of clothing you considered “fuck-boy, Haz, it’s the shit girls don’t keep when the boys leave because they’ll find the same stuff anywhere.” He just wanted to make it clear, he would only be this expression of himself around you.

Right now, he wasn’t Mega Pop Icon Harry Styles, he was a drunk friend making O shapes with his mouth like a guppy and giggling quietly to himself, over God-knows-what. His butterfly tattoo movedwith each laugh, his skin patched slightly with dirt from when he tried to roll down a ‘hill’ that was genuinely nonexistent, a product of his drunken imagination.

“C’mon, over here then, love,” he straightened up, offering an arm to you and a spot next to him against the house. In an attempt to persuade you, he moved the bottle to his side and shook his hand through his hair. As if you would be goaded into curling up next to his shirtless form simply because he was cleaned up a bit.

Didn’t this boy know you would do anything he asked you to, and that would only get worse after a night drinking?

You slowly lifted yourself off the ground and crawled over to Harry, groaning as your body protested. Pushing some dirt off his shoulder, you tucked yourself under his arm and placed yours gently on his stomach.

The night was quiet.

“That’s better,” he whispered, eyes scanning the top bits of your face visible to him, as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

You loved it too much, you knew that perfectly well. You grinned nonetheless and tried to hide it by moving your face closer to his bare chest. Which didn’t necessarily help, because now you were surrounded by his aura and felt intoxicated for another reason entirely.

Harry wrapped his arm tighter around you, pulling your gentle beauty closer to him in the process. Your hair smelled like vanilla and that one hair product you always used – the one in the green bottle? He didn’t know the name, but he made a mental note to buy you 500 jars of it when he had access to his computer. Feeling smug at how greatly he would be able to provide for you, even in a small way, he nestled deeper in the space his body was occupying, taking a deep breath of the cold night air.

The world was spinning slightly after the bit he drank (“’M not a lightweight” he had, embarrassingly, slurred before you opened his patio door outside, but you both knew that was the biggest lie) but everything became extraordinarily sharp as he felt the puffs of your exhales against his chest. Maybe it was the feeling of masculinity that caused the swell of pride in his chest, some instinctive sense that yes, he felt complete. His heart was so full with contentment.

Harry had grown up with the idea that he would be able to clearly recognize when his soul had been etched with someone’s name, like the universe would send a lightning bolt and he would suddenly feel his home transfer from the physical into some emotional connection with another’s soul.

Yet he had known for a while - all that you were to him. It wasn’t anything worth words – the most basic, simple things of life didn’t need to be drawn out into massive explanations. He could wax poetic words like the best of them, but he hadn’t found the proper analogies for something as simple and pure as you. Whatever the universe was centered around, didn’t matter, because it had become you, for him.

Not in a massive, delusional way. More like the sunrise echoed only softly how your eyes would shine, a sky set on fire. The feeling right before a thunderstorm made him think of your movie nights together. Being wrapped up in “oodles of blankets, Haz, we need oodles” and not minding when you lit all 12 of his candles, because Tangled had so many lanterns and you wanted to mimic the lake scene.

“You’re going to need to tap into your enthusiasm tomorrow, Haz.”

Harry blinked, groggily searching through his fuzzy mind to try and figure out what the hell you were talking about. After a brief moment of expectant silence, you sighed and leaned out from your safe haven in his arms to look at him.

One eye was now completely rid of eyeliner, Harry felt certain it was on his chest somewhere, an addition to the rest of the ink already there.

“Your horoscope, H. Gotta get jazzed up for your life soon, change is coming.”

“Yeh read my horoscope?” It had never occurred to him, despite your amateur obsession with the topic, that you would read others’ daily advice. Could his heart grow any more for you?

“Course. Wanna make sure the universe is taking care of my boy,” you sounded casual, scrunching your face together in an attempt of seeming like an authority figure, but it just reminded Harry of bunnies twitching their noses.

He giggled.

“If I’m yours, I just want you taking care of me, love.”

He knew the words were coming out, it wasn’t a mistake. It could be taken completely platonically, but the hushed tone of his voice – the shred of hesitancy that clouded over the flow of conversation – transferred his stance. A moment before, he had been a source of comfort and ease, and then he suddenly became an emblem of fragility, fingers itching to reach out and touch the skin of a person they could never know every inch of, before.

The moment felt inevitable, exciting and the most natural thing in the world. Harry saw a questioning glance shade over your eyes, before registering into something he couldn’t quite place.

To put it honestly, you wanted to kiss him. In the wild, dirty sense of the word – it really wasn’t much of a rapid mental shift after Harry spoke, because the idea had been lurking just beyond the horizon of your mind all night.

To grind your hips into his and see if the bones connected as well as your souls. You wanted to kiss him because you wanted to see how he’d react if you pulled on his hair, your lips moving harshly against the stubble on his chin. See if his ears were sensitive, if marks on his neck were the key to making him moan, make his hands move faster than his brain.

You wanted to see his weaknesses and for him to see your strengths. You wanted to prove yourself to him in a way you had never before, could have never before. It echoed in your ribcage as an incessant longing, an itch you couldn’t scratch until you saw his eyes flutter closed, to see the millions of galaxies blindingly exploding on the backs of his eyelids.

But…

In the back of your mind, you knew he wouldn’t be able to remain for the commitment afterwards. To kiss him would be connected to the risk of never being able to kiss him in the same way again. Time changed people, an entire tour wouldn’t leave enough for you two to reconnect as the same individuals.

To know what could be, and to know it was possible both a beginning and an ending, caused your fingers to still from their pattern tracing his butterfly’s antennas. You were back, tucked into his side, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. Nothing had altered much in your outward countenance, or the way you kept your eyes focused on his potted daisies across the yard.

“(Y/N)…” It was strained, his eyes attached to a point on the roof so as not to be compelled to move before he knew what was on your mind. He had heard a low moan come out of your mouth as you were mentally imagining everything you could do to his body in the span of eternity, and it only made his own imagination run wild.

“C’mon, love, take what’s yours.”

So you did. Shifting yourself upwards, a bit slowly to ignore the dizzy sensation, you slotted one of your legs in between his. You two slowly took the other in, looking in the others’ eyes. His had never looked clearer, his tongue moving slowly around his lips as his eyes noticeably grew darker. He looked like a starved man, his head angled, tilting at a side to properly look at your beautiful face. He distinctly registered how red your cheeks were, how absolutely gorgeous you were at that moment.

You looked good all the time, in his truthful opinion, but it was an extraordinarily strange and surreal experience for him to realize that your beauty was so impressive to him at that moment, because it was all because of him. You were glowing because he made you feel like no one else. Harry only knew this because, for him, it was the same. You two were the same, identical cores pulsating under your breasts and echoing in your thoughts.

Like a trigger, you both set off. Tongue everywhere you could mark him, his hands grasping for anything they could manage in the suffocating exhilaration, the intoxication upping to unknown territories once he grew familiar with the taste of you. You swallowed your laughter at his excitement, how his breath became heavy and he shuddered with each bite against his collarbones.

His moans resonated in the air, sinking around the two of you and slowing down the constraints of time. The nature around you was in awe of his respiration, your gentle moans. It was something epic, beautiful, orgasmic in the natural rhythm of intimacy. Like a piano creating a melody out of thin air, he was an orchestra of harmony against your chest, his lips rushing crescendos against opening of your blouse.

“Jesus, woman,” he muttered, exasperated, as your hips swayed against his. (The bones connected, your souls connected, you didn’t know life could feel this good). You knew right then, you could fill the emptiness within his soul, patch up the wounds left by others. You could decorate his hair with flowers and make him the golden god of the universe. Because right then, everything about Harry was hypnotic, the heaviness of his eyelids, his lips swollen from pushing, biting, enveloping yours.

“Haz, you’ve got to be the most exquisite man I’ve ever known,”

You pushed his jacket off his shoulders, wrapping your fingers around his shoulders as you leaned in close to his ear. He was positively shaking, a quiet, inhuman noise escaping his throat as he slowly wrapped his hands around your waist to hold you steady. It only satisfied your theory that he was an entity beyond all humans, that the Sun would snatch him back in an instant.

“Y-yeah?” the strength of his grip wasn’t reflected in the staccato’ed pitch of his voice.

You nodded, humming a confirmation as your fingers drew close to the drawstrings of his pants, delicately brushing against the slew of tattoos littering his sides. The skin was delicate, pale under the moonlight.

Then, one of his hands reached forward to tuck between your two bodies, to wrap around your fingers. It was a gentle tug, enough for you to know he was regretful in doing so, but firm nonetheless.

“Y/N…I don’t, I don’t think that’s, it’s what we should do,” he started, seeing your gaze come up and his eyes shifted to either side of you, randomly staring at various points in his garden. You could feel his heart. It was racing.

“I have things I want to say. Before we do, I mean if we were to do-”

“Okay, Haz. We can talk, it’s fine.” you assured him, moving slightly away from his body so you wouldn’t be fully straddling the poor boy as he attempted to catch his breath. You had some straightening up to do, as well, fixing your bra straps he had somehow tangled up in his rushed motion to reach all pieces of your skin.

“Thank you.”

You were sitting on a barstool in his kitchen, an untouched glass of water on the counter. Harry had poured you one, saying you should start getting hydrated before exhaustion finally kicked in. You were fairly certain it was all his nerves, though, that he wasn’t sure what to do after what happened in the garden. He had simply reverted to the safe place of playing Host. You slouched further in your chair.

He was leaning against the counter, facing you, running his hands down his face. His jacket was securely on again, this time zipped. You were sure Harry had realized the scattered beginnings of purple markings against his chest would just make the conversation more difficult to have.

You finally sipped some water, not taking your eyes off Haz’s face, wondering why it looked so squishy as he ran his hands back up again.

You weren’t nervous exactly, to hear what he had to say. It was going to be a confession, followed by an apology. Something like, “I think you’re a great girl” followed by “I want us to stay friends.” The letdown was already etched in your mind, your body ready to respond to the rejection and take it in stride. You were never expecting Harry to truly confine himself to just being yours, not when he was ineffably Everything the creators had blessed the universe with.

(You never claimed to be subtle or hold back exaggeration, not when Harry was the most true person in your realm of existence.)

“I really like yeh,” he began, staring deeply at the floor. His hands went from tugging at the roots at the nape of his neck, to being stuffed in his pockets.

“I like you too, Haz.” You set the glass down, folding your arms and leaning against the counter. Fighting against the sinking feeling, you couldn’t let him feel sorry for you.

“No, listen for a mo’. I…” he turned his head to the side, squinting his eyes shut as he tried to find the words. They were painfully clear to him, but his mouth wasn’t in collaboration with his mind, a blockade of fear and nerves pounding through his veins.

“It’s okay, Harry,” Your words were gentle. Your heart felt heavy in your chest. It tried to fight your mind, scream out the words it scrawled against the jail of your lungs for years, the poems and odes to things as stupid as how adorable Harry was when he washed his hands before setting the kitchen table. But, hearts couldn’t win in the game of Protecting Yourself. This wasn’t some movie, it was your real life and your life wouldn’t be the same without Harry. Nothing else mattered, keeping him close was what kept you feeling sane.

You could give up loving him, if it meant he would still be there. Couldn’t you?

Being something more with Harry would feel like a waiting game for you, it was the fear that kept you from being honest with him, with yourself. You rationalized that it was the concept of not being able to have someone, the obstacle of it being firmly rooted as a friendship and thus developing into a game that had kept Harry intrigued and wrapped in the threads of your lust for him.

You weren’t necessarily low on self-confidence, but how could you keep up with someone like him? His words moved the world, and yours couldn’t even leave your thoughts. Harry Styles was the epitome of feeling alive, to you.

There was no way you could measure up.

Thinking back over the whole idea, the quick thought of confessing how his laughter was the only thing lately drawing you out of the depressed haze of reality, your bravery shrank in the cold light of sobriety.

“It wouldn’t be a good idea,” you agreed to his nonexistent response, missing the hurt confusion that trickled down his face. His spine felt cold, doubt circulating the edges of his vision. Hadn’t you wanted it too, out in the garden?

It was your turn to keep your eyes down, to proceed on with the last words you ever wanted to tell him. Or maybe second to last words, since you were apparently too scared to confess anything honest.

“You’re about to travel, you’ve got work to do. I’ve got projects coming up. It’s our time to be there for each other. Can’t do that if we’ve mucked around throwing blurred lines on the perimeters of such a great, great friendship.” The bitterness was lost in your exhaustion of saying the words, the corners of your eyes stinging and your lungs burning as you looked up.

Harry was silently staring at you, his expression unreadable. It was unnerving, making eye contact with him in this way, and you wondered, with brief anger, if he was upset you didn’t want to give him a quickie before he jetted off around the globe for months.

In reality, that didn’t seem like him, but you never claimed to be completely rational. Not when everything in life had become so difficult, so quickly.

“Yeah,” he croaked out, nodding. The words were vapid, empty, a hollow agreement.

A brief hesitation, a determination sweeping over his features. His eyes were intense, boring directly into yours and softening slightly.

“I love…”

The silence was deafening.

“Don’t, Haz.” The lump in your throat was a mountain created in seconds, a pathetic echo replaced your voice as someone you had never known before. A woman, scared of love, scared of anything remotely beyond the comfort of predictability.

A woman who had caused Harry to freeze, devastation lapsing his entire body. His shoulders slumped.

Harry looked away first, nodding again as if it was the only programmed response he had in his turned-off brain.

“I love being friends,” he finished, the words sounding warped, strangled. He had a brief coughing fit, and reached for your water, looking up to ask for permission. You nodded, pushing the glass towards him and watching as he slowly drank the rest of it. His eyes were shut tight as he drank, and the echo of heartbreak didn’t leave his posture when he put the glass in the sink.

He didn’t look you in the eye when he shuffled off his god-awful Nike sliders by the patio door.

Or when he slowly locked it, pressing the panel next to the door that set the alarm for the night.

Or when he started to walk back to his room.

All he did was pause in the hallway, between the kitchen and the space leading to his room, shifting his body slightly to indicate that yes, he was speaking to you.

“I need sleep. Jeff’ll kill me if I’m hungover on the flight tomorrow.”

Hollow pangs of desperation stung, tearing its talons against your flesh, into your throat, around your mind. Your eyes were stinging with the need to cry, but your heart yanked back the waterfall before it could begin pouring out.

You had done this on purpose, with clear intention, there was nothing wrong with wanting to stay friends. It was keeping you both safe, keeping your lives orderly and not any different from the past few years, which had been some of the most joyful and content of your life.

It was only the drinks that had made this hard, you told yourself. Everything would be fine in the morning, once you two could reasonably look this over and agree it was a drunken, confusing, mistake.

All you could manage was a mumbled, “Okay” before he continued, his back still faced to you.

“Text meh. When ‘m away. Don’t want this to make..to have made anything weird between us.”

He left.

You both knew how his earlier words were supposed to have ended, how you were supposed to repeat them back, because it was the truth.

Everything was wrong.

You were in his dark kitchen alone. Your arms wrapped around your body tightly, nails digging into your sides without any mercy. Your back was hunched over, protecting your lungs and heart from shattering. Your body knew the process as if it had been trained to deal with this. You had prepared for this, after all. You brought this on yourself.

Slowly, with the distinct impression the night had not actually happened and you would wake up wrapped in Harry’s arms as he justified his midnight cuddle sessions as “just an accident, nothing I wouldn’t do with Nick, love,” you made your way to his guest room. The door was foreign to you, never having been where you spent the night, for the entirety of your friendship with Harry.

In fact the bed was unmade, Harry having assumed that you would take his room with him because that’s just what you two did. And him not having given it proper thought after you shred his heart apart in the span of seconds, mercilessly and intentionally.

You curled into a ball on your side, the naked mattress feeling like a shell against your skin. Against the overall intense feeling of nausea that had become a tyrant in your system, an insufferable bubble of laughter pushed through.

You felt sure you made the right, moral decision to maintain your relationship with Harry - to keep it clear of assured destruction and the eventual heartbreak when he discovered the depths of your flaws. It was the smart thing to do, because you were a smart girl. You made rational decisions that protected your future, that was all you knew.

Somewhere in the house, you heard a loud bang. Something had smashed against a wall. There was a brief silence, before the crying began several rooms away.

You had never felt so alone.

Love was a fucking joke.

A/N: Check the masterlist of LITP here, and let me know your thoughts if you would like!

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #archive of our own #mine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

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youngbloodseavey · 6 years

Text

it started with a spider... // zach herron

moodboard by @tempus-ut-luceant

request: none

summary: while balancing superhero life and normal life, teenage superhero zach herron suddenly has a new variable swing into his balance. a love life.

pairing: spiderman!zach x fem!reader

triggers: cursing

disclaimer: this is NOT a direct copy of spiderman homecoming. there will be some parts that mirror the movie, but the dialogue and plot will not be the same. so like don’t expect this to be the same as the movie okay i’m glad we got that cleared up lmao

*imagine their secret best friend handshake to be the one peter and ned do in homecoming okay thanks

zach herron was the last person anyone would think to be a superhero.

he was goofy and clumsy, not to mention a bit oblivious at times. he was an outcast in midtown high school, despite his charming personality.

“hey zachy-boy,” flash’s familiar sneer made itself known, the rosy-cheeked boy letting out a deep sigh. his chocolate brown eyes removed their gaze from the dirty linoleum floor, looking up at flash. he didn’t say anything, he knew that opening his mouth would just make it worse.

“what? too scared to say anything? you’re such a pussy, heroin,” flash scoffed, calling zach by the nickname he had dubbed him. “now get out of my way you little bitch.” flash didn’t give him any time to move, instead opting to shove zach out of the way and into the lockers.

the laughter of flash and his cronies echoed in zach’s ear, and his gaze met the tiles again as he began to scurry to his locker.

zach could feel the gazes from other students locked on his back, the pity and the judgement. the stares he knew all too well.

“zach!” the brown-haired boy jumped, his stride being stopped by a hand grabbing his shoulder. zach was whisked around, now facing his stopper.

“what do you want corbyn?” zach didn’t mean to sound irritated when talking to his best friend, but it simply came out that way. zach was having a very shitty day. he turned away and began walking to his locker again, corbyn jogging beside him to keep up.

“geez, what has your panties in a twist? was it flash again?” corbyn’s jogging came to a halt, slowing down to a casual walk.

“when is it not flash?” zach grumbled, finally arriving at his locker and putting his combination in. he opened it, the door of the locker slamming into the others, creating a resounding bang.

zach put his math textbook back into the locker, using the other hand to retrieve his ap chemistry textbook as corbyn kept talking.

“i’m sorry dude, you have to start defending yourself against him though. you can’t keep letting him push you around like this,” corbyn’s voice softened, but zach didn’t respond. “here, i know what’ll make you feel better. wanna play fortnite later?” zach perked up at the mention of his favorite video game.

“sure! do you wanna come over to mine? i can have aunt may pick up some pizza and i just got this dope new skin-” zach’s smile began to grow as his ramblings went on.

“you had me at pizza dude. i’ll be there at 7.” corbyn replied. zach finished retrieving his supplies, and turned back around to face his best friend.

“i’ll see you then.” zach and corbyn did their secret best friend handshake, before corbyn ran off to his calculus class.

zach took in a deep breath before closing his locker, beginning to walk towards his ap chemistry class. he located the classroom in no time, taking his seat in the back of the room.

an array of beakers and lab equipment laid before him, signaling that they were going to be doing a lab in class. his eyes trailed up to the clock on the wall, seeing that he was a minute or two early for class.

perfect.

he pulled out his notebook, retrieving a pencil from the front pocket of his backpack. he quickly flipped to a page titled “web fluid”, and the numbers and elements began working in his brain.

he scribbled down notes, remembering how his fluid had performed the last time he had used it and how he could improve it.

ideas flew through his head in a pace so rapid his hands could barely keep up.

maybe if i switch up this with this then the structural integrity will-

zach’s thoughts were cut off by someone sitting next to him, and he quickly closed his notebook. his eyes flew to the figure that sat next to him, and he simultaneously relaxed and tensed up when seeing who it was.

“hey zach!” y/n’s melodic voice rang out, sending a shiver down his spine.

“h-hi y/n,” zach’s cheeks flushed a deeper red, and he turned the other way. y/n y/l/n was the only person in the entire world who made him feel this way.

she was the epitome of perfect to zach. from the way her hair bounced as she walked through the hallways to the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. she was completely, utterly, perfect.

and to his luck, she was assigned to be his lab partner for the entire school year.

y/n took no notice of zach’s flustered expression, pulling out her notebook and a pencil.

“how are you?” y/n asked, a soft smile still painted on her face as she flipped to a blank page in her notebook.

“i’m doing-” so much better now that i’m here with you. “-good! how are you today?” zach responded, gaining his composure back.

“i’m good.” she shot him another stunning smile. “so zach, i was wondering-”

“okay class,” y/n was cut off by the sound of mrs. schwartz’s voice, the teacher’s heels clacking on the linoleoum as she strolled into the classroom. “today we’ll be doing a lab.” mrs. schwartz began to explain the lab, taking a whiteboard marker and beginning to draw out diagrams and instructions.

“what were you going to say?” zach whispered, his eyes flickering from the board to y/n.

“i’ll tell you later.” she responded, beginning to copy down mrs. schwartz’s words into her notebook.

his mind couldn’t seem to focus on whatever bullshit mrs. schwartz was spewing, instead focusing on the fact that y/n y/l/n had something to tell him.

“-you guys have until the end of the period to complete the lab, and your lab reports will be due next week. get to work.” with that mrs. schwartz sat down at her desk, beginning to grade papers or whatever teachers did as the class began to work.

y/n and zach got to work, beginning to measure and add components to their mixture. his mind worked quickly, working out equations and elements in his brain.

soon enough, class was over and y/n and zach were left with a perfect experiment and a half-written lab report.

zach stuffed his notebook and pencils in his backpack, beginning to make his way out of the classroom when he felt a soft hand grab his arm. he spun around, seeing that the hand that had grabbed him belonged to none other than y/n.

“hey, i never got to ask you that thing earlier,” she started, and zach’s pulse began to pick up.

“oh yeah, what was it?” he managed to choke out, sounding at least semi-cool while doing so.

“so i’m throwing this party at my house tomorrow,” she bit her lip, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “and i was wondering if you wanted to come?” zach’s heart stopped.

holy fucking shit. y/n y/l/n just invited me to one of her parties.

y/n’s face faultered at his pause. “i know parties really aren’t your thing but i just thought it’d be fun if you could come but you don’t have to if you don’t want to i-” she began to ramble, her face turning a shade of crimson.

“n-no! i-” he cleared his throat. “i’d love to go.” y/n’s face lit up at his response. a wide smile spread across her gorgeous features, setting zach’s stomach into a flurry of butterflies.

“cool! i’ll text you the address-” she paused. “wait, i don’t have your number.” she pulled her iphone out of her back pocket. “put your number in.”

zach gingerly took her phone, shakily typing in his number into a new contact. he handed her back the phone, and she happily saved his contact with the name ‘zach :)’.

“i’ll text you tonight! see you tomorrow zach.” with a smile and a wave, y/n began to walk out of the room, leaving zach stuck in his tracks. “oh!” she turned back around. “bring corbyn too, my friend christina thinks he’s cute and i think it’d be fun to have him there.” with a final grin she walked out of the room, zach left practically starstruck.

i was just invited to a party by y/n.

his heart raced at the realization, and a grin spread across his face so wide it hurt. zach nearly whooped out loud, and he pumped his fist in the air.

he practically sprinted out of school, taking a quick look to make sure no one was around before leaping over the front gate to the school, doing a front flip before landing.

he could barely contain his excitement, running to his special alleyway and beginning to change out of his school clothes to his spiderman suit.

he stumbled over his feet a few times, accidentally hitting his funny bone on the dumpster. zach let out a short yelp, his feet tangling together. he nearly fell over, but managed to stay on his feet.

he slipped his feet into the legs of the suit, pulling the fabric over his boxers and bare torso. he quickly slid his arms into their respective places, pulling the suit until it loosely covered everything but his head.

zach pressed onto the spider icon on the chest of his suit, and the fabric immediately shrunk to perfectly fit his body.

it’s go time.

zach quickly tossed his backpack into the air, webbing it to stick to a brick wall in the alley. with a final jump into the air, zach pulled on his mask and began to swing through the air.

time to be a friendly neighborhood spiderman.

“and some nice old lady bought me a churro!” zach said, taking another bite of said churro. he was on his daily phone call with happy hogan, who was mr, stark’s right hand man.

zach was currently sitting on the fire escape of his apartment building, still clad in his spiderman suit. his mask was off of course, so he could eat the churro without the fabric getting in the way.

zach always called happy every day to update him on what he had done that day, from stopping bike robberies to helping cats out of trees. he thought that maybe, there was the smallest possibility that happy would see what good he was doing, and call him for a mission.

of course, that was a very, very slim chance.

“anyway, i hope you listen to these, because if you didn’t it’d be a waste of time,” zach paused. “well, if there are any missions you need me on, i’ll be there in a millisecond. have a nice day happy.” and with that zach ended the message, staring at his phone as he finished his churro.

he dusted off his hands, balling up the wrapper to his churro and tossing it off the balcony, the wax paper landing a couple streets away. zach shrugged and began to climb down the fire escape to his bedroom window, trying as silently as possible to open up the window.

he managed to open to window, climbing in and carefully shutting it. he crawled onto the wall, making his way across the ceiling to where his bedroom door was, the door wide open. zach skillfully closed the door, sighing in relief as he heard it click shut.

he began to crawl over to his bed, when he heard the sound of an xbox controller hit the floor. zach’s heart stopped, and he slowly looked over to meet the wide, azure eyes of corbyn.

zach immediately fell off the ceiling, landing on his feet.

“y-you’re spiderman,” corbyn stuttered, not even caring that his fortnite character had just been killed. “you’re that superhero on youtube,” corbyn’s brain could barely comprehend the fact that his clumsy, goofy, awkward bestfriend was motherfucking spiderman.

“n-no i’m not!” zach said, hitting the spider icon on his chest. his suit loosened, falling off of his body as he quickly kicked it off. “i’m not spiderman!”

“you were on the ceiling,” corbyn exclaimed, his eyes widening even more. “the fucking ceiling! you’re fucking spiderman!”

zach sighed, deciding to accept the fact that corbyn now knew his biggest secret. he stayed silent, allowing his best friend to soak in the new information.

“my best friend is a superhero,” corbyn breathed out, plopping himself down on zach’s bed. “a superhero.” his eyes widened again. “wait, how did this even happen?”

zach let out a breathe, walking over to his dresser and pulling out a random t-shirt. he pulled the fabric on, also taking out a pair of joggers and putting them on. he then walked back over to where corbyn was sitting and flopped down next to him.

“i guess it all started with this spider...”

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