#like just constant shame and embarrassment no matter what i do or how i move or how i speak im just 🙅🙅🙅 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nahoyagf · 3 years

Text

motivation

charcters: mikey x reader x draken | aged up + afab reader

format: fic

warnings: NSFW, threesome, vv slight dub-con, double penetration, belly bulging, manipulation

other notes: inspired partially by motivation by kelly rowland

“pfft! really?” mikey laughed, voice filled with mockery and malice, “he’s never made you come?”

you don’t know how you ended up here. all you had wanted to do was come home after a long date with your boyfriend and then relax with your two roommates. mikey had pushed you into telling him what happened on this “date” after he saw the hickies running up your thighs.

though, as usual, his voice was teasing and full of laughter, mikey was actually pissed. both him and draken had a certain distaste for your boyfriend that you could never explain. first it was that he wasn’t seeing you enough and then it was that he was seeing you too much, they’re reasoning constantly flip flopped and after a while, you just didn’t ask why anymore.

that brings us to now, as mikey and draken taunt you for picking such a shitty boyfriend. in reality, he’s a very good guy and keeps you out of trouble unlike your two roommates. but it is true that he is terrible at sex. it’s just not his forte. which you’ve told yourself, lied to yourself, is fine and that you aren’t only with him for that.

you’re too caught up in your own thoughts to realize that mikeys pushing you down more into draken’s bed, laying you down. draken, who was previously laying back on his phone, rolls over and hovers over you. both mikey and draken are staring down at you in this very compromising position. and you feel yourself burn with embarrassment.

“c’mon mikey, i’m done with this conversation now. let me get up.”

“no,” mikey whined, voice still underlying a darker tone,”tell us more, y/n. pleaseeeeeee. is his dick small too?”

you’re face lit up red and embarrassed. the way they were teasing almost made it seem as though it was your fault for getting such a disappointing boyfriend.

“tch, it must be, huh?” this time his voice was quieter but a little deeper too. he looked at you with faux sympathy but you took it in a comforting way, happy that they were no longer putting the blame on you.

draken stared down at you with an anger in his eyes that made you shudder. you weren’t understanding how this once carefree and joking conversation turned serious.

“this is the guy you left us for?” draken’s tone dripping with disgust.

“what...what are you talking about?” you were beyond confused now, “leave you?”

“yeah,” mikey joined in, “left us. for this guy. that hurts, y/n, that really hurts.”

you stared at them. totally lost, but in a way you felt bad. you had been spending a lot more time with your boyfriend, you assumed your childhood friends weren’t used to the lack of your attention.

“i’m sorry, guys.”

“ tch,” mikey looked away with a slight pout and pretended to stare at the wall while thinking. in reality, he had come up with this plan for a while. finally getting draken on board only a few hours ago.

“what about this? if we fuck you better than your boyfriend, than you stay with us.” he said, matter of factly.

“but.. but... but... that’s cheating mikey i-“

“he’s been cheating you out of orgasms for a while.” he hummed, moving his head to suck along your neck. purposely covering the marks your boyfriend left.

“c’mon baby,” draken’s raspy voice sent heat through your body, made even worse when he began working on your neck too.

“we’ll make it fair by fucking you one at a time,” mikey cheerfully added, “at first.”

you couldn’t do anything but nod. desire in your bloodstream and too stuck to even think about disagreeing. just don’t think about your boyfriend, you told yourself.

draken sat back on his knees and undid his braid. the two looked like twins. long, blonde hair flowing down to their shoulders and deep, dark eyes filled with lust.

mikey decided he would take his turn first. it was his plan after all.

his fingers made quick work of your sundress and he started rubbing his fingers up and down your skin. feeling the softness of your body and the smooth, taut skin of places like your shoulders.

his hands pulled down your panties, admiring the cute pastel purple fabric that was topped with a white bow. you snapped your head away and covered your face with your hands. that wouldn’t do for when he’s fucking you, but mikey felt merciful enough to let it fly for now.

his hands made way to your bra and before he could snap the clip, you grasped his hands.

“please, just leave that” your voice was so soft and pleading, wanting to keep the one last piece of a boundary. mikey abliged, but only because of your voice.

his dipped his fingers into your cunt, pushing in to find that you’re wet. very wet. he smirks your way and draken’s eyes widen. he assumed that you’d be a good girl and stop yourself from giving in for the sake of your boyfriend. of course, you wanted to but you just couldn’t help it. or so you told yourself.

“you like this, baby?” mikey’s voice was much gruffer than you’ve ever heard before. you could only nod, but the sight made his heart swell, along with his cock.

he stuck his head down, face close enough that you could feel his breath against your dripping cunt. your boyfriend had never gone down on you before. his nose immediately hit your clit which caused you to whimper, and his eyes lit up. he pushed his two fingers all the way in, they were long and fairly thick. combined, they were about the same length and thickness of your boyfriend’s cock. a recognition that filled you with embarrassment.

mikey began making work of you, fingers going at a steady pace but making sure to curl and bend. tongue lapping your juices while his nose bumped and rubbed your clit. it was enough stimulation that you came, quickly and with a series of whimpers and moans that had draken palming his dick.

you were so dazed, you didn’t realize the sound of a zipper and then fabric rustling. mikey still had his baggy pants on but they were pushed down enough to expose his dick. it was long, curved slightly and dripping with precum. you had to admit, though with shame, that is was longer than your boyfriend’s.

he pushed your legs apart and the slight touch of his tip against your clit had you jolting. you were sensitive, and mikey couldn’t help the smirk of joy that came from that.

“mikey,” your voice was a quiet whine, filled with strain, “i’m sore.”

this time, draken leaned over to run his hands up and down your body. pressing kisses on you while rubbing little circles.

“don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll make you comfortable.” he rasped, eyes meeting yours.

mikey nodded and snickered at his friends softness. gentle giant, i guess you could say.

he pushed the tip it and your eyes widened. as he made his way through, you couldn’t help the sounds that left your mouth. soon to be swallowed by draken’s. mikey finally bottomed out and let out a quiet moan. his hips began making slow and shallow thrusts as he adjusted to the squeeze.

“you’re so,” he panted out, “fucking tight. feels so fuckin’ good, baby.”

he began getting faster, longer strokes with more power. your body shook and draken cooed into your ear. mikey let out whimpers and groans. he couldn’t help it, he had dreamed about this for days. you felt the curved shape of his cock hit the spongy spot deep inside of you and your threw your head back.

“mikey!”

“fuck fuck fuck. baby don’t squeeze like that.”

you couldn’t help the tears that formed near your waterline. cries leaving you. he pushed in harder and faster and the constant rubbing against your g-spot made you come, hard. harder than ever. the intense squeeze had mikey letting out a long whimper and spilling into you. slowly pulling out as you gasped for air.

you were still recovering. eyes low lidded and staring as mikey laid back and watched his cum drip out of you while draken made quick work of his shirt and pulled down his pants. your eyes couldn’t help but widen at the sight of his cock. long, very very long and thicker than you ever thought was possible. your mind joked that he should’ve gotten a horse tattoo instead.

“you ready, princess?”

“it’s not gonna fit,” you said, voice filled with fear.

he chuckled at this and pressed kisses along your neck. his laugh was the most angelic thing you’ve ever heard.

“don’t worry, baby, i’ll make it fit.”

and as promised, he started to make it fit. the stretch burned so much that you started to cry and immediately he paused. wiping your tears. mikey stared at you before making his way behind you, scooching your body until you were halfway on his lap. head resting on his stomach while he held you tight. it was comforting.

draken continued in and groaned about the squeeze. he would’ve asked you to loosen up a little but he didn’t want to put too much pressure on your exhausted state. finally, he bottomed out. filling you in a way that you’d never felt before.

“drakennnnn” you could only moan out his name, and he bent over to kiss your lips.

he moved at a slow pace, pulling your legs over his shoulders and occasionally leaning down to capture your lips. the friction against your g-spot had you cumming lord knows how many times and draken could only continue to push on and on. mikey, was growing antsy. worried that you wouldn’t be able to handle another round.

he threw a telling look at draken and the taller man looked down at you, observing you with concern before sighing and nodding. mikey prodded your body until you sat on his lap, draken still inside of you.

“mikey?” your voice was airy and dazed, “what are you doing?”

he just kissed your jaw before starting to push inside of you as well. you gasped at the penetration. feeling the two of them in you. mikey groaned and whined. almost not making it long enough to fully push in.

“oh fuuuck baby.” he moaned out, blush covering his face and slight drool slipping through his mouth as he came the second he was sheathed in completely. despite being somewhat of a quick shot, mikey had stamina and began fucking his cum up into you.

draken started to move too and the pair found a synchronized slow but deep pace. you looked completely out of it. barely able to keep to your eyes open. you felt so full, you imagined this is what expectant mothers must feel like.

draken leaned down and kissed your lips while mikey left hickeys on your neck. you weren’t sure when your bra had come off but mikey was squeezing your breasts with needy hands. draken stared at your disheveled form and then began to push his large hand against the bulge in your belly. making you cry out.

“see that baby, that’s us. hm? put your hand here, baby, put your hand here.” you had no choice as he dragged your hand to the bulge and pushed harder this time. making both you and mikey cry out.

“oh baby, i don’t think i- ... i don’t think i can hold it in anymore,” mikey cried out and you agreed as you moaned. the two of you came almost at the same time and the squeeze mixed with the filling of mikeys hot cum had draken cumming too. he let out a low raspy groan and kissed your swollen lips.

you finally felt them pull out and slump next to you. your belly felt so hot and full and in the back of the mind, you swore that there was no way you wouldn’t be pregnant now. mikey cuddled up next to you and draken wrapped his large arms around you.

“so.. did we do better?” mikey asked, it was quiet and muffled against your skin. you could only mutter an ‘mhmm’ and drift off into a deep sleep. you’d have to break the news to your boyfriend in the morning.

#mikey x reader #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #draken x reader #ken ryuguji x reader #ken ryuuguji #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #draken smut #mikey smut

1K notes · View notes

kurosukii · 3 years

Text

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐡

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

summary: your best friend has been dying to know the guy you’ve been fooling around with since your twenty-first birthday; you wish you could tell her, but the mystery man is no other than her father.

genre: smut, age gap, best friend’s dad au

warnings: 18+. DILF KUROO. dubcon, manipulation, slight somnophilia, spanking, pussyjob, alcohol consumption, dumbification, hair pulling, virginity loss (...social construct), oral (f receiving), overstimulation, size kink, corruption kink, daddy kink, daddy issues, dirty talk, degradation, praise, unprotected sex, nipple play, creampie, cumplay, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, choking, spitting, mating press, clit spanks, begging, fingering, slight exhibitionism, finger sucking, tie kink(?? he makes you wear his tie so...)

word count: 5.2k

author’s note: for @sugawara-sweetheart’s decadence collab! thank you so much for letting me join! shoutout to @stopisa for that ✨lovely✨ dilf convo. (dilf kuroo AAAAAAAAAAAAAA) (let me know if i missed any warnings!) (MINORS DNI)

º thank you @meiansmistress and @ssrated1volleyballplayer for editing and beta reading <33

[12:24 PM]

“come on! you have to tell me who he is!”

you grip the handle of your spoon harder than normal, hoping your best friend doesn’t see your reaction.

you open your mouth to say something, but she cuts you off with a comment that makes shame and embarrassment burn through your body.

“you guys were really loud last night! well, you were. i didn’t hear so much as a peep from your man—well aside from the occasional murmurs, which i’m pretty sure was dirty talk…” she trails off, looking lost in thought.

you squirm and wince at the wet pool between your legs. the wet pool being cum that he told you to keep warm just before he left.

she sees your discomfort and laughs at your predicament, clearly thinking it was the aftermath of a hard night of fucking—it was, but she didn’t need to know about the sticky cum that was still inside your pussy.

“he clearly fucked your brains out! at least one of us is getting dick!” she exclaims, her lips forming into a pout as she takes her finished bowl of ramen to the sink and rinses it with water.

yeah, you are getting dick—not just anyone’s dick, however, because it’s her father’s.

your stomach churns at the thought, not from disgust, but from guilt and shame. you are way past getting disgusted with what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with.

not when her father never fails to make you cum at least three times in one night, not when he calls you his good girl and cockslut, and certainly not when you called him over last night because you were so pent up and you needed your daddy’s cock.

last night…

“you’re such a cockslut,” kuroo growled, his balls slapping against your ass as he delivered a hard thrust that had you creaming and moaning all over his cock. you bunched the sheets in your hands, wincing with slight discomfort when he folded your body in half while he pounded relentlessly inside you.

“you should see how dumb you look with your eyes all crossed and teary while your tits are bouncing everywhere.”

you squealed when he roughly flipped you on your stomach, large hands grabbing your hips as he entered you once more. he lifted one hand and slapped your ass in sync with his thrusts.

“so drunk on my cock now, huh? can’t live without it, hm?” kuroo taunted you, one hand squeezing your hip while the other spanked your ass until it was burning with pain. you moaned words incoherently, tongue lolling out as drool seeped from the corners of your mouth.

“daddy! more, please!” you moaned loudly, toes curling from the pleasure.

“you’re brave for calling me over, knowing that only a thin wall is separating you from my daughter’s room,” he hissed, pounding your pussy from behind.

“but i guess that doesn’t matter to you anymore as long as i fill this dirty pussy with my. hot. cum—fuck!” he ended each word with a hard thrust, cursing when your tight cunt clamped down on him.

“faster, daddy! your cock’s filling up my pussy so well—oh my god!” you screamed, partly aware that you shouldn’t scream his name, for fear that your debauchery with your best friend’s father would be revealed too soon.

kuroo indulged you, teeth bared as he pushed your back into a deeper arch, making his cock reach places he hadn’t before. you winced when his large cock teased the entrance of your cervix. it was always a trip taking him—no matter how many times he fucked you, his cock always stretched your pussy wide open.

“w-wait, it h-hurts daddy!” you whined, moving forward to escape the brutal thrusts of his hips so you could adjust your position. he growled in disapproval, tightening his grip on your hips as he roughly pulled you back on his dick.

“take my cock. i know you can do it, whore.” he hissed, moving your body back and forth on his cock like you were a fuckdoll. you moaned from both pain and pleasure as kuroo guided your hips, fingers leaving bruises on your skin.

you cried out when kuroo tugged your hair from its roots, pulling your body upright until your back met his sweaty chest. “yeah that’s a good fucking pussy. come on slut, squeeze daddy’s cock,” he whispered in your ear, teeth biting your earlobe.

“d-daddy i can’t—i’m going to cum!” you squealed, voice cracking as your body started shaking from your fast approaching orgasm.

“i’m going to cum too, baby—and don’t you fucking dare waste my cum,” he growled, wrapping his arms around your body.

you fell forward on your shaking arms, sheets bunched tightly in your fingers as moans and whimpers freely fell from your lips.

“i want it to stay inside your dirty cunt until tomorrow,” he ordered you, reaching for your arms and holding your wrists in one hand, the other slapping your already swollen ass.

you cried out when your face was smothered by the sheets, drool staining the pillow as the headboard continuously thumped against the wall. your body shook with his thrusts, breasts swaying with the movement.

“i want you to look my daughter in the eye and have a normal conversation with her—just like you always do—while you’re thinking about how slutty you are with her father’s cum inside your pussy.”

that was last night. a couple hours ago, if you were to be specific, since kuroo fucked you until you passed out on your bed. you only woke up when your best friend practically broke the door down—bed empty of him, thank god—saying that she made lunch. she looked pretty disheveled herself and she blamed it on your headboard hitting the wall all throughout the night.

you buried your face into the pillow to cover your guilty expression, groaning at the movement because your body was aching all over. she laughed and left you to your own devices, still recovering from him.

he has a crazy appetite for a man his age, to be honest. he may be an older man but he fucks like a teenage boy who recently discovered sex and became hypnotized by the pleasure of it. you lost count of how many times your best friend—his daughter—almost caught you and him fucking around in the apartment, their house, and even his car.

it wasn’t always like this though. there was a time when you only saw him as a fatherly figure and not someone who regularly uses you as a cocksleeve.

maybe it was the way he looked so good with a five-o-clock shadow, or how even with salt and pepper hair, he still acted youthfully. perhaps it was his signature cocky grin that lured your younger and more impressionable self towards him.

in truth, it was your daddy issues that led you to him.

you met your best friend the summer after high school. you bonded quickly over your common interests and quickly learned that it was just her and her dad. she confided in you and told you how lonely he was and she hoped that he would meet a nice and loving woman to take care of him. you comforted her and reassured her that he would meet that woman. if you only knew.

you couldn’t help but admit to yourself how envious you were of her and her father’s relationship, seeing as the one with your own was non-existent. you couldn’t wait to meet him, hoping that he would treat you as his second daughter since your best friend was basically your sister.

she failed to tell you—because why would she?—that her father is an attractive and charming specimen of a man his age. his eyes would crinkle at the sides when he laughed and his feline eyes would always look at you with warmth and tenderness.

you sigh as you put your chin on your fist, the sounds of dishwashing and humming filling your ears as you play the events that eventually led to your risky love affair with her dad.

you really feel ashamed, but it wasn’t your fault that her dad is so good to you. from the moment you met him, he made you feel so loved and appreciated. it was obviously innocent and familial at first, until it turned to something darker, more carnal.

his glances gradually became lingering and he started giving you sly winks that left you burning with desire. you tried so hard to fight it too, but you were too weak against his sweet talk and honey voice.

it was a year or two later that he finally made a move on you.

you figured that with a job that caused him to be in constant public eye, he would avoid fooling around with girls that were decades younger than him, but even with the heavy implications of a scandal, it still didn’t stop him from devouring you.

it all started one night when he invited you guys over, claiming that he missed the both of you. your best friend told you to go first because she was going to be out for her tutoring session. you internally shivered at the thought of being alone with him, not knowing what was going to happen once you were confined in a small space.

the sexual tension was so thick when you arrived and next thing you knew, you had your back on the dining table, legs spread in the air, with his mouth sucking and slurping on your pussy. you came with a scream of his name, cumming so hard for the first time in your life that your body ended up convulsing.

he had laughed at how blissed out you looked. “you taste even better than what i imagined, baby. thanks for the meal,” he purred, winking at you and leaving you to process what happened, hand wiping off the juices from his face as he went back to cooking dinner.

his daughter finally showed up and your face burned the entire time, unable to look her in the eye because not only did her father make you cum minutes prior, but he also was a tease and had his fingers inside your panties while talking to her, fingers slowly tracing circles on your clit.

the topic of conversation was your living situation. he was never happy about how the two of you wanted to live alone together because he insisted that it was better if you guys lived with him. at first you thought it was him being overprotective, but you came to understand it was because he wanted easy access to you.

he ended up fucking your throat that night out of sheer frustration, punishing you for being a bad girl and wanting to be away from your daddy.

you partly hoped it was a one time thing, but you were proven wrong when you had a movie night and your best friend dozed off on the long couch housing the three of you.

kuroo was under your blanket and between your legs in an instant. your shorts hung off of one ankle while he pushed your panties to the side.

“daddy! we shouldn’t be doing this—fuck!” you moaned as his lips sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue lapping up your slick.

“guess you just have to be quiet then, kitten,” he teased you. you arched your back and bit your lip to muffle your scream when he inserted a finger in your dripping cunt while his lips played with your clit.

you had no idea how your best friend didn’t wake up to the sounds of your muffled moans and whimpers, but that thought went away when you started riding her father’s face and cumming all over his mouth.

you became needier after that, eventually losing the hesitancy of being pleasured by him. instead, you anticipated the times when he would make you cum.

the deal was sealed on the night of your twenty-first birthday.

night of your birthday…

“hey girl, the postman came and said this was for you!” your friend slurred, clearly having had too much to drink for just a small and intimate celebration for your twenty-first.

you’d been buzzing the whole day, both from the alcohol and anticipation of what was going to happen later. you woke up to numerous happy birthday texts until you came across the one you’ve been so excited to see. your cunt gushed when you saw your daddy’s text, letting out a little moan at what he said.

happy twenty-first, kitten. you better be wearing my gift when i come over because i’m going to fuck your little pussy tonight.

you sucked in a breath as your face flushed. you held the smooth black nondescript box that was elegantly wrapped with a crimson satin ribbon. you had a pretty solid guess of what was inside and your best friend had as well, because she wiggled her eyebrows and teased you. you sighed, like father, like daughter.

how you were still able to look her in the eye after everything you’ve done and what you’re going to do with her dad is beyond you. his mouth, tongue, fingers—soon to be his cock—truly hypnotized and consumed your conscience and only left neediness in its wake.

you ducked your head to hide the embarrassment on your face while the rest of your friends that came over jeered and whistled as you walked towards your room to leave the box on your bed for safekeeping.

you left it sitting in the center of the bed and went back to the living room to enjoy, skin tingling the whole time in anticipation for your daddy...

you closed the door after saying goodbye to the last group of people and turned to your best friend. “thank you for the lovely little get together,” you thanked her shyly.

“you’re welcome, darling, but i’m sure the main event is just about to happen. tone it down a little, yeah?” she smirked at you, eyes glinting with mischief as she giggled on the way to her room.

you sighed, the guilt that was momentarily forgotten reared its head once more when you were finally alone in your room. it went away again when you studied the gift kuroo gave, nimble fingers leaving light touches on the box settled on your lap as you untied the ribbon.

you rummaged through the white crepe paper until you saw pieces of red lace that were as red as the ribbon that tied the box. he always loved the color, so it wasn’t a surprise that the lingerie he gifted you was of the same shade. your fingers shook when you took them out in front of you. these can barely cover anything, you gulped.

you caught a tinge of gold in the corner of your eye and saw that there was a white card peeking out amongst the paper. the card was lined with gold embellishments and there was a short message printed in red.

kitten, wear these for me. - k.t.

and who are you to not follow daddy’s orders?

you placed the garments at your side and set the box on the floor. you began to undress, removing your cotton bra and panties which you threw on the floor, somehow landing inside the open box.

your naked body was exposed to the cool air and you shivered, head buzzing and eyes slightly drooping from the alcohol you consumed. you took the lace with delicate fingers and gasped upon inspection of the panties.

you were taken aback by the design because not only did it lack enough cloth to cover your entire lower region, but they were crotchless. your mouth dried at the obscenity, hazy mind playing images of kuroo rutting into you without having to remove anything.

that was most likely his intention after all. you slowly stood up from the bed and softly moaned at the slickness between your thighs, pussy clearly excited and aching for his dick. you slipped your legs through them and grabbed the matching bra. you moaned when you clipped it on, nipples hardening when the lacy pattern rubbed against them.

you might as well be wearing nothing with the way you barely felt the fabric against your sensitive skin. you yawned as you laid on your back, the numerous glasses of wine you drank finally caught up with you.

you tried to fight it, you really did. but you were fighting a losing battle with your eyes and besides, you were only going to close them for a bit. you’d wake up before your daddy comes over, right?

you ended up dozing off. you woke up with a moan, alcohol already flushed out of your body. you slightly squirmed as you felt something wet on your tits and a moving pressure in your pussy. you slowly opened your eyes and found a large body looming over you.

“do you know how long i’ve been waiting to fuck you?” kuroo asked, lips pulling away from your clothed nipple with a pop when he realized that you were finally awake.

“three fucking years. yet you had the audacity to be asleep when i arrived? i’m going to wreck your slutty pussy, whore,” he growled as he scissored his long fingers inside your pussy faster. you cried out in pleasure, hands reaching for his wrist as you tried to slow his movements.

“d-daddy, i’m sorry!” you cried as you arched your back. he just grunted and removed his wet fingers from your cunt. you whimpered at the loss because his fingers always felt so good when they moved inside of you. he stared you down instead, large hands loosening his red tie—you noticed that it matched the lingerie you were wearing—and promptly removed it.

he bit his lip as he reached down and made you wear it instead, cock twitching in his pants as he reveled at the sight of you wearing his gift, and in his favorite color no less. he unbuttoned his white dress shirt, muscles rippling from the movement.

even though he didn’t play volleyball all that much anymore, he still maintained his toned body. if it weren’t for his salt and pepper hair, you wouldn’t think he was decades older than you. not that it mattered, anyway.

“you look so sexy in red, kitten,” he whispered, the sound of his belt unbuckling mixing with your heavy breathing. you gulped when you saw that he wasn’t wearing any underwear, eyes widening at the sheer size of him. he stepped out of his pants and smirked when he saw your reaction.

“fuck, your pussy is so pretty. can’t believe i waited this long to fuck it,” he hissed as he spread your legs, your crotchless panties baring your pussy to his eyes, making them twitch under his scrutiny.

he groaned as he rubbed his hard cock on your slit between your folds. you moaned at the stimulation, thankful that he didn’t thrust inside immediately because that would’ve been more painful than pleasurable.

“i was e-eighteen when we first met, y-you could’ve fucked me—oh that feels good—any t-time you wanted to, why didn’t you?” you stuttered as you shivered from the pleasure his slick cock was giving you.

you planted your feet flat on the bed as you took hold of his cock and humped it with fervor, moaning at the slick sounds it made with your lower lips.

kuroo hissed at the increase in stimulation, warm hands grabbing the back of your thighs and folding your legs toward your chest as he thrusted faster between your folds. you moaned louder as you let go of his throbbing cock to bunch the sheets in your fingers.

“you know what they say, good things come to those who wait,” he grunted, hips thrusting faster, making your pussy wetter and slicker.

“besides, you were still a shy and innocent girl back then—until i corrupted you, obviously,” he teased you as he moved one hand to your mouth, inserting his fingers between your lips. you moaned as you sucked, slightly tasting yourself on his fingers.

“i don’t think you could’ve handled this big...fat...cock,” he grunted as he clenched his jaw from the pleasure.

“but now? now you’re my little whore who’s about to know what it feels like to get fucked by a man,” he growled, separating himself from your body. you whimpered, arms reaching out for him but he held your wrists in one hand and placed them above your head.

“you’re already dumb when i fuck you with my mouth and fingers...they’re nothing compared to my dick,” he said frankly, fingertips lightly teasing your puffy clit, aching from the lack of release from the continuous stimulation of his cock. he let go of your wrists and moved his hand to your thigh, fingers circling your skin.

“i-i don’t think your cock will f-fit daddy,” you said in a small voice, staring at his twitching cock.

“nonsense baby, i trained you to deepthroat me, remember?” he reminded you, memories of all the times you sucked his cock filling both your minds.

“i’m going to train this pussy as well. you’ll be begging me to never leave your cunt after i’m done with you,” he declared, positioning himself between your legs again.

“now hump my cock again, kitten. faster this time,” he ordered you, fitting his cock between your lower lips once more.

“yeah just like that—fuck,” he groaned when you ground your clit with more force on his shaft. you cried out at the movement, pussy gushing out more of your juices.

“you like that, hm? like how you’re making my cock wet with your slick?” he taunted you, fingers squeezing the skin of your thigh as he rutted his hips faster.

“can’t wait for me to—shit—bottom out in that tight cunt?” he growled, basking in the heat emanating from your pussy.

you moaned loudly, hips rolling as the knot in your lower stomach threatened to burst. your breasts were freely swaying with each movement your hips made. you threw your head back as your mouth fell open, uncaring of the volume of your cries and whimpers.

“i’m cumming, daddy!” you screamed, pussy clenching around nothing as you drenched your daddy’s cock with your cum. kuroo followed suit, groaning loudly when he released his cum all over your stomach, staining the front of your barely-there panties.

“such a dumb cockslut, you came by just humping my cock?” he teased you. your face warmed in embarrassment, hiding your face in the pillows. kuroo chuckled, honey eyes glinting in mischief. well, he came by just humping your pussy, so he was one to talk.

he spread your lower lips, puffy clit exposed to the air. you shivered at the chill but quickly yelped when he spanked your clit a few times.

“d-daddy!” you exclaimed but he just laughed at you. “just wanted to slap your clit, baby,” he chuckled, hand slapping it once more.

you tried to squirm away from his spanks but he held you in place. he held his throbbing cock with one hand and guided it back to your clenching hole. he rubbed the tip against your sensitive clit before inserting his cock in your pussy.

“t-too big daddy!” you cried out, tears forming in your eyes as his cockhead went past your tight muscle.

“shh baby, i know you can do it. you can take my cock, yeah that’s a good girl,” he cooed, palm flat against your stomach with his thumb rubbing the skin. you sucked in a breath as he slowly slipped his cock inside your virgin pussy inch by inch.

“i’m gonna fuck you so good with my fat cock that you won’t even care if my daughter catches us,” he growled when he bottomed out. you whimpered at the force of his sudden thrust and the implication of what he said. he only let you adjust to his large cock for a few moments before he started thrusting lazily.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he taunted you as his thrusts increased in speed and strength. you moaned louder, body shaking with the thrusting of his hips.

“n-no s-stop! she’s going to hear you!” you begged, voice cracking when he folded your body in half. he began pounding ruthlessly into your pussy, the slick sounds of skin meeting skin filling the air and making you lightheaded from the pleasure.

“so? i dare you to scream my name, slut. watch her bust that door down,” he mocked you, hands pushing your knees further up your chest. you whimpered at the stretch, the sounds of the headboard thumping against the shared wall only served to make you clench around your daddy’s cock.

“fuck—how do you think her face would look when she sees you taking my cock like a good little bitch?” he growled when he felt you squeeze his cock. he grunted as he thrusted faster, balls slapping against your ass.

“yeah just like that, you want me to cum inside you? fill this slutty pussy to the brim? fuck my cum so deep into your pussy that you’ll get pregnant?” kuroo groaned, throwing his head back as he felt his abdomen tighten, the signal that his orgasm was fast approaching.

you held your bouncing tits in your hands, his silk tie only adding to your pleasure as it rubbed against your sensitive skin. “n-no please!” you pleaded, tears falling from your eyes.

“you’re on the pill, aren’t you?” he asked, jaw clenching because he was stopping himself from cumming immediately. he wanted to spill all of his load in one go, after all.

“y-yes daddy b-but—!” you squealed, stinging pain blooming in your chest when kuroo pinched your nipple.

“then take my fucking cum, whore,” he demanded, cock throbbing because he was so ready to spill all of his hot cum.

“n-no daddy! please don’t cum inside me!” you screamed, eyes rolling to the back of your head and tongue lolling out as his cock hit your g-spot.

“shut up and take it,” he growled, hands squeezing your waist as his thrusts grew erratic.

he groaned loudly when he saw your fucked out face, thrusting so deep that his cock teased the entrance of your cervix. his hot cum spurting out of his cock as he filled your pussy.

“daddy you’re cumming so much—oh my god!” you screamed as you came with him, legs shaking from the intense fucking.

“your cum’s filling up my pussy, fuck and it feels so hot too!” you cried out, throat raw from the sounds that came out of your mouth ever since he came inside your room.

kuroo removed his hands from your waist—one hand snaking around your neck, applying slight pressure to the sides as he rode your pussy to prolong his orgasm.

his other hand moved to straighten your leg, rubbing your outer thigh while he cooed at you. “you like my cum, baby?” he asked softly, hips slowly rocking back and forth. you whimpered, your overstimulated pussy aching from his never-ending thrusts.

his movements caused his cum to overflow and seep out the sides of his cock. the mixed fluids fell out of your pussy, sliding down your ass and drenching the sheets beneath you.

“don’t be shy, baby. you can tell daddy if you like his cum,” he encouraged you, leaning down to kiss you languidly on the lips.

“i-i love your cum daddy,” you tell him in between kisses.

“that’s my good girl. happy birthday, my sweet kitten.”

you open your eyes when your best friend throws the damp towel to your face. “quit daydreaming about him! you were moaning ‘daddy! daddy!’ like he was actually fucking you!” she yells while crossing her arms across her chest.

you duck your head in shame. great, now i’m even messier and wetter down there, you grumble. you wince when you hear the squelching sound—dear god i hope she didn’t hear it—as you shift to face her properly while she walks over to you.

“so! tell me more about him, what’s his name?” she asks animatedly, chin resting on her fists as she sits beside you on the island. you swallow thickly, a lump suddenly weighing down in your throat. you inhale a deep breath before coming up with a half-assed lie on the spot.

“he’s a shy and private guy...i’m not telling you his name yet because...i really want you to meet him in person, you know...?” you already know him—you’re related to him! you scream in your head.

your palms feel sweaty as your nerves are on the verge of frying themselves. you bite your lip while you rub your thighs together, wincing immediately as you feel her dad’s cum drench your panties and shorts further.

“well, judging by your reaction right now and the sounds last night, he’s not really the shy type when it comes to bedroom activities,” your best friend pouts at your secrecy and then smirks, eyebrows wiggling.

your face burns in embarrassment and guilt, if only she knew she was talking about her dad.

“anyway, i’m going to the library right now, i’m so done with this paper,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“take care and have fun laz—dad! what’s up? what brings you here?” she squeals in delight when she sees him and jumps into her father’s arms while he kisses the top of her head.

your pussy quivers at the sight of your daddy, and when his eyes land on you, he winks deviously then places his daughter back on the floor.

“can’t i visit my favorite girls on my day off?” he says to her while looking at you. your best friend is clearly oblivious to the desire that was swimming in her father’s sharp eyes.

“well, i’m going to the library to finish my paper. you guys can hang out in the meantime, but don’t watch our show without me!” she says as she walks out the door and ends her sentence with a click.

kuroo locks the door and turns to you, eyes glinting like a predator. he picks your body up and sits on the chair, settling you on his lap and wrapping his long arms around your middle. his large hand cups your cheek and he kisses you, earning a moan from your mouth when his tongue massages yours.

you kiss for a while and then he pulls away from your lips. he grabs your chin firmly, fingers squeezing your cheek open as he spits inside your mouth. you moan while swallowing his spit, hands reaching for his stubbled face before kissing each other sloppily once more.

“you keeping my cum warm for me, kitten?” he asks, lips separating from yours to leave kisses and nips on your jaw. you moan and squirm on his lap as his other hand sneaks inside the waistband of your shorts and inserts two thick fingers in your messy and dripping cunt.

“such a good girl for daddy. you kept his promise,” he growls lowly, biting the skin of your neck and leaving a mark which he soothes with his warm tongue.

“i think my kitten deserves a reward, hm? would you like that?” he asks you, fingers curling inside your tight walls.

“y-yes daddy!” you whimper, grinding your hips on his lap. he smirks and removes his fingers from your cunt and stands up from the chair. you whine at the loss of stimulation and he shushes you with his finger—the one he had inside of you seconds ago.

“let’s go to your room, shall we? daddy missed his favorite girl.”

[1:14 PM]

3K notes · View notes

spikesbimbo · 3 years

Text

Paring: Aone x f!reader

Summary: wet dream, or not?

Tags: dilf!aone, housewife!reader, sleepy late night sex, spooning, daddy kink, soft sweet sex, creampie,

wc: 1.6k

a/n: Aone is 38, reader is 24 bc i said so

part of the dilf collab

18+ minors dni

“Thank you honey.” he muttered, wiping the sweat of his forehead, wanting to kiss those lips of yours so bad, but not wanting to get your precious skin dirty, and the way his coworkers were looking at the two of you meant he already had it coming.

Wondering how he got such a pretty thing, knowing you had to be at least half his age. Your pretty smile brightening the area around you as you clung onto his arm, having no shame in your affection for him. The constant teasing was worth it though if it meant he got to come home to you every night.

Grabbing the lunch out of your hands that he forgot this morning after you gave him a ‘good morning kiss’ before he left. Calling him saying you would bring it to him after seeing the box wrapped in the fabric laying on the counter, convincing him instead of buying snacks from the convenience store.

Your sundress blowing in the wind that must feel so good to him right now, not wanting his eyes to leave you as you unfortunately had to go. Looking at the scruff on his face after not shaving this morning because you made him run late, the way his arms barely fit around his white shirt, the soft smile he gave you as his fingers were tracing your hand had you swooning.

Muttering out a quick thank you again as he was about to turn around before you got on your toes meeting his lips with yours, seeing that they were minding their own business now, just wanting some affection from your husband as earlier wasn't enough.

Catching him off guard as he gave in, a tint appearing on his cheeks, not embarrassed, never because of you, but because of him. The fact that your pretty little self was with him had people turning their heads, purposely going out of your way to show everyone the ring on your left hand. Being so proud that you had him, as he was with you.

Giggling as you left him there frozen, blowing him a kiss as you started walking away. The wind feeling cool on your skin as you walked home, mind still racing with him like he was the only thing you knew.

__________________

Resting your head on the pillow, legs propped up on the couch, eating the takeout after he texted you he'd be home late so you didn't have to worry about him. Heart slightly cracking when you read the words, understanding as you knew his job had weird hours, this not being the first time it's happened.

Eyes getting heavy as you watched the tv under the dim lights, the food growing cold as you haven't touched it in a while, resting on the table beside the vase of flowers he got you the other day. Head hurting as you laid down, eyes quickly closing after being tired doing nothing but waiting for him all day, vision quickly growing black.

Waking up to your husband's touch, shifting in his hold as he carried you to the bedroom. Laying you down as he changed his clothes, quickly getting into bed with you. Your warm weight clinging onto him as a natural instinct, letting out a quiet groan as you realized you were snuggling into his chest, turning your face up while blinking slowly at him.

“What time is it?” You asked uncurling yourself from him.

“9:14.”

“You just got here?” You asked, missing the usual “Honey, I’m home.” as you were knocked out.

He knew you were gonna worry about him, as your sweet self did. Whispering softly into your ear as his hands wandered down to your sides, soothingly rubbing them trying to get you to go back to sleep. “Yeah...i just got back.”

The pout of your face said enough as you moved yourself up to be face to face with him. “You need to take a break baby. c'mere”

Pulling him into your chest, sighing as he let you. Thinking it was cute to be scolded by someone whose face was still puffy from just waking up. Slightly smiling as you refused to move your arms even though he could easily get out.

“You okay, shoulders hurt?” you asked running your fingers through his stress induced graying hair, only being able to tell up close due to the white hiding it. Massaging his temples, relaxing his muscles as the embedded frown on his face disappeared.

“Yeah, the usual.”

Mumbling out “shouldn't be” under your breath as your arms brought him closer into you, wrapping your legs sound his waist, using him like the teddy bear he was. Eyes quickly falling shut at the feeling of his arms engulfing you, running his fingers down your back.

Your senses are hyper aware, sensitive at the slightest touch. Almost overwhelming as your half awake brain takes its time to feel everything. His chest rising against your back, a mewl escaping your lips, shivering at the ghost of his touch.

Unknowingly rolling your hips into his slack body, minding racing with thoughts of him pushing your ankles to your ears. The feeling is unbearable – pussy clenching as you tighten your thighs, an audible whine breaking you out of your trance, along with him.

“You need me love?” his voice hoarse with sleep muttered out. To be honest he was awake at your first movement, still resting his eyes knowing that you move around when you sleep, but when he heard you let out muffled whines he felt awful knowing that he was the cause.

“Y-yea, i-m’sorry daddy” your pitiful voice breaks his heart, so needy that his name didn't even exist in your mind anymore. His brain all foggy trying to formulate a sentence.

“Daddy ain't been payin enough attention to you to the point of you dreaming about it? M’sorry baby” he cooed sliding up his shirt off your waist, tugging your panites down, feeling needier as ever as you rocked your hips.

“M-m’sorry” you whimpered out, ashamed that you greedily woke him up just for your own need, hiding your face in the pillow as his fingers worked their way down to your poor little cunt, so neglected. Your fingers feeling nothing like his cock.

“Shh baby, s’okay let daddy take care of you.” his hot breath whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine while catching your made up protests with his fingers rubbing lazy circles on your clit. “S’my job honey.”

His big frame resting behind you put you at ease as his arm resting under you wrapped its way around your waist, pushing up the shirt even more. Calloused warm hands resting on your tummy as his sleepy eyelashes fluttered on your neck.

“n-nobu… please…” you begged, bit-down nails scratching at his forearm, body working against your mind as you tried to push his hand away.

His voice was raspy as he groaned, giving you what you wanted, never being able to tell his baby no. Warm hands picking up your thigh enough to slide himself in, your lips parting, whimpers coming out as he pulled you down on his cock.

“Here, Baby. It’s okay… just relax…” he softly groaned as you complied, not wanting to upset him. Letting your body be limp as he started to rock his hips back and forth,

“There's my good girl, lemme do the work, okay sweetheart? You did such a good job, let daddy take over.” He mumbled into your shoulder as his arm wrapped around you tighter, pulling you to his chest.

Eyes opening fully, the dim alarm light shining on your body covered in a sheen of sweat. You loved how easily he could make you feel good, even on the verge of sleep, warm and quiet in the early hours of the morning. All it took was him mumbling out some praise and the feeling of your cervix getting gently bruised to cum.

“That’s it, baby, god you’re so tight…..I’m gonna cum, love.”

Moving faster as your shared orgasm built, his balls swelling as you tightened around him, panting out. Tongue lolling as silent moans left your mouth, clenching around him more as further around him as he chased your pleasure.

“Y-yeah… fuck… I’m g- gonna, cum, please… nobu. d-daddy please.” you begged, voice cracking as moans interrupted your words.

The feeling of his heat against your back, being completely helpless at his pace, taking him further and further to his release. Vision going black as your eyes rolled back, body shaking as he thrust himself deeper, pleasure overtaking your body as his cum was fucked into you, gasps escaping your mouth. Your body tingling as he finally let you come down from your high.

The weight of your leaning on his arm, the softness of your skin as he rested his head there. Nothing bothering him if you were in his arms, not feeling this at ease in almost a month, the only thing that mattered was cradled against his body.

“You’re good baby. S’okay, just relax now.”

A small hum left your lips as you pushed yourself into him more. Feeling so comfy and safe here, relaxed against his bare chest, his thick cock stretching you out even soft. Letting yourself relax in his hold as you collapsed next to him.

The room is quiet besides your small breaths growing fainter, the wet sound of his lips against your shoulder, feeling his messy hair tickle you. Your eyes are closed but his aren't, looking at you with a faded look of fondness, head curling into your neck.

He felt the moment you passed out again, your chest rising lighter. Worn out, all the tension drained from you what little tension had remained in him. The only way he could fully rest was with you in his arms, curling into him as he held you tight, nothing was even worth thinking of besides you.

#ok bby boy aone is my love 🥺#aone x reader #aone smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq x you #haikyuu x y/n #aone drabble #hq smut #haikyuu!!

1K notes · View notes

animatedrapture · 3 years

Text

"VORFREUDE."

Summary: Sakusa thinks of you as his vorfreude, his intense anticipation from imagining future pleasures. He swears it's not mere delusions.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader / slight Komori Motoya x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Genre & Content Warnings: Slight angst. NSFW. Dark content. Yandere behavior. Porn with Plot. Incel/Bully!Sakusa. Virgin!Reader. Abuse. Non-con. Blackmail. Coercion. Misogyny. Slut-shaming. Slight manipulation and mindbreak. Fingering. Corruption. Defloration. Degradation. Vaginal penetration. Creampie.

Notes: Thank you soooo much to the lovely anon who commissioned this! Took a lot longer than it should've cause academics kept cutting in & joint with my anxiety. But yeah, thank you so much :') Thank you Faiwy for the final beta !! <3

If you're thinking about commissioning me, please refer to this post.

You’re a constant, Sakusa thinks.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been following him and Komori like a lost puppy—whenever they were, you were sure to be there. He can’t think far back enough to remember when it started, but you were insignia of constancy, that was all Sakusa knew.

He listens intently while you talk to Komori from beside him, voice low and stumbling over your words every so often—he knows you're going out of your way to avoid saying something he could use to pull you apart with, piece by piece like a frail little toy.

"How did the test from yesterday go?" Komori questions you, right as your trio made it to the cafeteria.

Your easy-going smile falters at the mention of it. Sakusa already knows the answer. He shares that class with you, after all. He had the front row seat to see your face flushed with humiliation and how rigid your body grew when the professor told you Sakusa would be tutoring you.

Reminding him that out of everything about you, the way you wore your heart on your sleeve is something that insistently rubbed him the wrong way.

First, because he starts thinking about how easy you make it for people to take advantage of you; it makes his blood boil. Then, he starts thinking about every reaction he could get out of you, like how you'd look from beneath him as he used your body the way you wanted him to.

Because you do, don't you? Why else would you go out of your way to adjust to his habits? To carry around your personal sanitizer and wipes, always making sure the space you were in with them was clean.

Nothing else could explain how you strung along with them like loose thread.

It tugs at the heart beneath his ribcage—but whenever he sees you give all your attention to Komori, the betrayal sinks in, and he's reminded what kind of a woman you are.

A whore.

As you laughed nervously, taking a seat across from them, Sakusa wonders if you're having fun, wonders if for a moment you're riddled with guilt as you flirt with his cousin and him at the same time, in the same breath.

"N-no, it didn't turn out very well," you admit in between stutters, embarrassment creeping back in.

Komori frowns empathetically, "I could help you, you know—"

The sparkle in your eyes is quick to appear. God, you're so cunning. It makes Sakusa consider that maybe you failed the test on purpose, thinking this would happen—but that would be giving you more credit than due. You're just a dumb little girl.

"I'm already tutoring them," Sakusa interrupts, and he's unsure whether to be delighted or angered at the way your face falls sullen.

"O-oh right, but—but I'd love to get your help, Motoya-kun—"

The scoff Sakusa lets out is loud, loud enough to make you wince. "You're dumb enough as it is, you don't need distractions," his words come slicing like knife. You sink in your seat.

Komori laughs awkwardly, giving you a smile—sheepish and apologetic—he's so kind, he's always so kind.

Sometimes you wonder how they're actually cousins; until you're reminded that Sakusa hadn't always been this mean to you. He had always been cautious, but he wasn't ever mean like he was out to get you at every ragged edge.

Somehow, though, the closer you got to him—past his defenses and indifference towards you—the meaner he's gotten.

You were like a moth to a flame, not in the sense that you were attracted to its light, but more so like being punished with burn after burn the closer you got.

But your feelings for Komori begged you at every instance to swallow the humiliation down, at each of Sakusa’s degrading remarks.

You take out your packed bento, wiping at the table with wipes before placing it down, the cousins moving to do the same out of adapted habit, until you notice Komori digging in his bag, eyebrows furrowed like he's confused.

"Motoya-kun? What's wrong?"

He turns to you, scratching at the back of his head, "I think I forgot my sanitizer."

You're quick on your hands, offering him yours without missing a beat and Sakusa's reminded of why he even likes you at all.

You were persistent with being able to stick around them. He thought that was remarkable. That you'd never been freaked out by his habits, you respected his space—something he couldn't say with the people who pushed and disregarded his boundaries. That instead of forcing him to adjust to you, you went out of your way for him to be comfortable with you around.

And he's flattered, really. He doesn't have to wonder if he had a chance with you because surely, he does.

Since he's so nice—nicer than a whore like you deserves, he'll let you know your feelings are reciprocated, then he'll fuck you, because surely, that's what you want… Right?

Then maybe, when you're finally his girlfriend, he can start training you to stop being such a flirty slut, that you belong only to him and that you’re nothing but his property.

But for now, he can settle with the warmth in his chest as he notices all the ways you try to get his attention.

Being with Sakusa is hard, even with Komori around, it was nerve wracking. Conversations with him weren't any easier, if anything, they were more dreadful.

When you ask Sakusa about tutoring you, you do it over lunch just so you avoid having to walk up to him alone. His answer is curt when he tells you to come over tomorrow, and that he’ll pick you up from your place; because you can try all you want to outsmart him, but he’d always catch on.

Because Sakusa was smart, and you were just you.

After lunch, you feel nothing but the dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach—churning and thrashing—because no matter how hard you try to push it down, the fact is that you’re actually scared of him.

Scared of the nitpicking he'll scrutinize you with—the way you sat, the way you looked at him, the way you trembled in his presence alone. You start thinking of what to wear, because even something as little as that can put him off—always commenting about how short your skirt is, how you're showing too much skin, how you're probably doing it on purpose.

But it's nothing you're not used to anymore.

So you tug on your fear, push it into a corner, and you tell yourself that Sakusa is mean, and condescending, and harsh, but he wouldn’t hurt you. You pick yourself up from the corner of your mind, and you repeat in your head like a mantra. Sakusa wouldn’t hurt you.

The ring of the bell breaks you out of your reverie. It reminds you that the day has almost ended, and that it felt like a blink faster than it should’ve been. Still, you pull on your things, gathering them to leave the classroom slowly emptying out.

You make a small sound of surprise when your eyes dart over to the door, where Komori stood, an anxious smile on his lips. He looks like he's been waiting for you, making your heart hammer against your chest like it wants to leap out.

Face-flushed and giddy, you walk towards him.

“Hey, Motoya-kun. What’s up?” You smile, all sweet and bright-eyed. From the pit of Komori’s stomach, something flutters. You only ever look like this when your eyes are on him; he thinks he wants to keep it to himself.

He brings a hand up to his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head with a nervous smile, and it’s awkward in an adorable sort of way. He’s walking beside you along the corridor, it’s slow and the bit of silence between you is calm.

“Ah, well…” He starts, gaze flickering to the floor and back to you indecisively, “I was wondering if I could ask you to the newly opened café tomorrow. A-after you study with Sakusa-kun, of course,” He stutters a bit, offering you a boyish grin.

It so nearly pulls a squeak out of you, surprised in the most love struck sort of way. Your heart beats out of your chest unlike the way Sakusa makes you feel.

Your heart hammers out of fear of him—but with Komori, it's nothing but pleasant and warm and intoxicating.

Your smile is instantaneous; it comforts Komori as your lips part.

"I'd love to," you answer him softly, though an octave higher.

Sakusa finds you both like this, shyly smiling at each other like lovesick doves. There's nothing pure about you, you shouldn't be smiling that way. Especially not at the face of his cousin.

"Oi," he calls out, even through the face mask, his annoyance seeps into your skin and makes you feel small.

The blood that had rushed to your cheeks dries you pale at the glare he gives you.

"Coach is looking for you, Komori," he follows, yet never taking his eyes off of you.

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N!"

Sakusa takes another step closer to you the moment Komori's out of sight. Your grip on your bag tightening, instinctively taking a step backwards.

The action alone makes him practically sneer with you cowering in response.

"Disgusting," he mutters, brimming with venom. "There's nothing I hate more than girls who throw themselves at any guy they see."

Maybe it's the sheer malice in his voice, or the way your eyes catch how his hand moves up—but you flinch, like expecting a hit to come across your cheek.

The pain never comes and when your eyelids flutter open, you're met with hard eyes the color of obsidian yet gleaming with a newfound resolve despite his furrowed eyebrows that suggested hitting you was far from the origin of his intentions.

Without a word, Sakusa walks away from you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

You let your body slump against the wall. His eyes burn in the back of your head, almost like they’re warning you.

Right before you head to bed, your phone chimes once, then twice and it’s bittersweet. One from Komori, telling you he’s excited to see you tomorrow, and one from Sakusa—not beating around the bush, it says nothing but ‘9 AM.’

It’s firm and unyielding. Even as your head hits the pillow, forcing your eyes shut, sleep doesn’t come easy—not even at the thought of seeing Komori on a date.

It’s not the sunlight peeking in between your curtains that wake you, nor the sound of birds chirping outside your window. Instead, it’s the ache in your body acting like a bad omen. Nevertheless, you drag your body out of bed.

Your stomach churns but you get ready for the day.

You think the next hour couldn’t come any quicker, because you’re fidgeting on the balls of your feet and somehow, there’s goosebumps rising against your bare skin.

Your phone blinks back at you with a minute before nine o’clock but you already hear the knock on your door. Your breathing halts even as you move hurriedly to open it—and even when the air hits you as you find Sakusa on your doorstep.

You feel his eyes wander, from the very top of your head, down to your feet, and he mutters, “You look nice today.”

The blush that creeps on your cheeks is only natural. Compliments in any form that came from Sakusa were hard to come by—only because they were compliments in the most genuine, honest of ways.

Sakusa is mean, and if you were more honest with yourself, he’s a bully. But Sakusa, mean or not, is still Komori’s cousin; so you give him a smile, palms going clammy.

“Thank you, Sakusa-kun…” You trail off, hesitating on your next words, “You look nice today, too.”

And he does. The dark color of his clothes complimented his pale skin and dark, curly hair, and despite being covered by the mask, his pristine beauty seems to gleam through. Even seemingly unfazed, his gaze on you softens by a fraction.

As abrupt as it appeared, he’s already turning away, “Hurry up,” he quips, but his voice is softer because you look nice today were words that confessed his truest feelings—the ones that reminded him he’s so in love with you and that you’re the cause of warmth in chest.

Even when you strut around trying to get Komori to like you, Sakusa doesn’t attempt to deny the feelings he harbored, because you look nice today, too should mean something, shouldn’t it?

You know you’re dressed up for your date with Komori, but Sakusa doesn’t know that; so in that moment, he appreciates you. For once, there isn't one insult that lingers in his tongue or even in his head as he walks slowly.

Sakusa is nice today, you note as he keys the lock to his place. He had awkwardly placed his hand on the small of your back on the short walk it took from your place to his, guiding you along the sidewalk.

You've only been to his place once or twice, both times were with Komori, so you weren't familiar with the directions. The walk was silent, and in his silence, you found a reason to relax—just enough to make you think that this might go well.

Despite all awkwardness, Sakusa is forward. Seeing you sat on his couch so comfortably, the skirt of your dress riding up slightly, does nothing to hold back his urge to keep his hands on you.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself now, right? Since you like him so much, you'd let him fuck you now… Right?

Sakusa's movements are sly, that's why you don't question how he walks closer towards you, sitting so, so close to you—that's why you choke on the lump in your throat when his hand shoots out to grab you by the wrist, pulls you in, then presses his lips on yours.

The second that passes is only because you couldn't wrap your head around Sakusa—lips pressed against yours and body so close.

But the next second, you're pushing him off roughly enough to stop him and he's looking at you confused.

"Sakusa-kun, I think you misunderstood—I like, I like Motoya-kun, I didn't mean to—this is—" you're trampling over your words, looking at him with panicked eyes.

Sakusa mutes out the sound of your voice, all he can hear is the beating in his chest and the ache of it—the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. He should’ve known.

All the softness in his eyes are gone. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, gripping tighter and tighter; your heart skipping obnoxiously against your chest. Something about the way he's looking at you now petrifies you.

His silence feels deadlier than his destructive words, deadlier when you wince at his grip, whimpering, "Sakusa, you're hurting me—please," and still, he doesn't let up.

Not when he's roughly tugging you from the couch, taking your arm with a bruising grip, then he's hauling you somewhere. You thrash, panicked pleas calling out to him and apologies he doesn't deserve but you offer him anyway. All your protests are rewarded when he halts, turning to you without a hint of remorse, pushing you to the floor—his foot comes to your side, kicking you with a force that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Bile is rising up your throat, coughing and arms shooting to your stomach to protect yourself. Scared feels too small of a word to describe the feeling that looms over you as he takes your arm again, dragging your curled up body.

Sakusa shoves you inside a room, even as you flail around and beg for help, his face remains impassive; whatever force you’re putting in the way you try to break free from his hold is futile. Of course he’s stronger. Of course, but you can’t possibly accept this, can you?

You made Sakusa yearn—disgustingly grapple on his feelings so needlessly, and nothing, he thinks, could be more unforgivable.

So he secures you on the bed, bound and within his claws, for you to take responsibility for the yearning you've planted inside of him.

"S-Sakusa, please," your begging sounds like a whimper. "I-I won't tell anyone! N-not even Motoya-ku—!"

You hear ringing in your ears before feeling the sting across your cheek. From inside your mouth, you can taste metal.

"You won't tell anyone either way," he mutters apathetically, like the idea of you telling anyone isn't a threat, "No one would believe you…"

He pauses, gaze on you hardening for a second, "You don't want Komori finding out you only got close to him because you wanted me, right?"

The sound of disbelief that escapes you is small, even the wide-eyed betrayal that flashes in your eyes does nothing to make him even pity you.

"You–I, I didn't—"

At your stuttering, Sakusa clicks his tongue, "You're such a dumb girl you don't even know what you want."

"That's not true, Sakusa—"

He glares down on you. The bed dips, bracketing your body between his knees, hovering over you, then leaning forward. His hands move slowly as if caressing you before grabbing your hair with a stinging tug.

The fear pooling your eyes only makes him even angrier.

"I hate that face," he grits out, "Always looking at me all scared, then you look at Komori like a shy innocent bitch, it pisses me off."

Pretty as you are, he lands another hit across your cheek—hard enough that you can feel a cut on your cheek trickling down with blood, the side of your ear going deaf. You’re not sure anymore if it was a slap or a punch—all that you know is that it hurts. Your vision is blurred when you open your eyes, but even through them, the insanely expressionless eyes of Sakusa are clear.

It dawns on Sakusa that you wouldn’t date him. Of course you wouldn’t. Sluts like you go for guys like Komori—so he’d just have to take you by force, make you date him by force, make you love him by force.

Besides, you look prettier forced, he observes. Your face tear-stained and bloody makes his cock throb in his pants. With your body weak underneath him, so helpless that it disgusts him and fuels him with desire all at once.

Something about your weakness, the innocence that spills from you contradicting his firm idea that you’re a dirty whore makes him livid. He pictures you painted with bruises and cuts, the image sending a shiver down his spine. Clenched fists pull back, only to land on your sides, on the same places he kicked you.

What makes you feel sick at the stomach more than the abuse he inflicts on you is the way Sakusa’s movements lack hesitation as his hands travel to your bare thighs.

"W-what are you doing?”

It's disgusting. Women like you are disgusting. You lead him on just so you can take advantage of his feelings like this—that even if he knew better, he'd still soften up for you.

It's you who lured him into this, he almost sneers at the thought. You were truly vile, and yet he loves you all the same—wants you all to himself all the same.

"Omi?' You breathe, frightened. The nickname falls affectionately, though, putting all your hope into it, wishing it would tug on his heart enough for him to let you go.

“Let’s talk about this, Omi? Please?” You cry, searching for his eyes—the ones trained on your thighs as he glides his hands against them, your dress bunched up to your hips revealing your baby pink panties. Your sobs only grow louder as he goes further up, going on as if he’s in a trance where he can’t hear you groveling at him to stop.

Strong, calloused hands stop at the band of your panties, fingers hooking, and only then does he look back up at you. Dark eyes drown you as he tugs them down torturously slow, exposing you to him in your most vulnerable state.

The same second you attempt to force your legs shut, comes a biting pain on the inside of your thighs, instantly blooming his handprint at the force. Your mouth opens to wail at the pain, but it’s the same wail that Sakusa swallows as he brings his lips to yours with a kiss so treacherously passionate.

Sakusa pulls away quickly though, eyeing your bare cunt, he brings his fingers to your slit, experimentally rubbing up and down and your response is immediate, somehow. Your slick gathers on his fingers, body squirming from beneath him.

“K-Kiyoomi, it feels weird—stop, please,” yet your hips buck into his fingers as he prods at your tight hole, “Don’t—Not there—N-no one has touched—”

He lifts an eyebrow, “You’re a virgin?” His question sounding more of a comment, because the hesitant nod you give him is almost needless when you hiss at the intrusion of his digit pushing inside of you; your walls clamping down on it, body tensing, he brings a thumb to your clit, circling with enough pressure to make it feel good.

And it’s wrong. So wrong, but it feels good because you’re moaning against your will, whimpering at the curl of his finger and at the additional finger he’s slowly sinking into you.

The stretch is uncomfortable and foreign. Nothing is in Sakusa’s mind but at the thought of you absolutely untouched, absolutely all for him to ruin. Your body instinctively leaning to his, submitting to his ministrations—fingers scissoring and pushing in and out of your pussy, the sound of your slick echoing in your ears as if to taunt you, but your legs are trembling, your gasps are broken and there’s a pressure in your pelvis about to snap.

“You’re so filthy,” he mutters, but he looks at you like you’re the farthest thing from filthy, and his comment is exactly what makes you break, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and cunt creaming around his fingers pathetically.

You feel so dirty, especially at the sound of your slick as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them inside your mouth—the taste of you tainting your tongue. Shaking your head profusely, you beg him with your eyes, “No more—please, I don’t want this.” you weep, muffled.

“Suck,” he commands, but your defiance is clear before you even shake your head, so he pushes his fingers down further, choking you until you gag and find it hard to breathe.

“Suck,” he repeats, and you relent.

Watching you suck messily on his fingers, drool and tears disheveling you, dried blood sticking to your skin, he frees his twitching cock out of its constraints.

Though hazy, your eyes catch it, the thickness of his cock—hard and flushed at the tip—your hands tugging at your restraints feebly making you panic and choke on his fingers, nearly biting down on them.

He’s quick to pull them out, glaring down at you with dark eyes, jaw ticking as his hands curl into fists; knowing what’s to come doesn’t prepare you any more at the excruciating pain of his abuse, even more so at his length pressing against your wet folds—cockhead nudging your puffy clit and making your cunt drool on him.

Both hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. The pain on your face numbs at the sensation of him prodding on your entrance, ripping you apart and increasing the pain—your head throbs as he stretches your cunt with his fat cock, barely giving you time to adjust as he starts to move slowly despite your tense walls barely allowing him.

He curses as he ruts into you, bathing in your cries and moans, violating and invading the entirety of you. The pleasure of feeling you and having you just like this seeps into his bones, turning his languid thrusts more desperate.

“You make desperation look so pretty,” he groans, “You’re making such a mess, you like being forced like this?”

He insults you, but you’re everything he always wanted and more—the taste of your skin as he sucks marks onto your neck as if you were his to own, the clenching and humiliating sound of your cunt squelching as he pounds into you and grunts against your skin. His cock throbs inside you and drags along your velvety walls deliciously; all you can think is that you hate this.

Pressure, pain, the drowning pleasure of Sakusa all over you and inside you don’t allow you to retreat to the back of your head and forget. Not with the burning euphoria building up in your stomach or the moan that slips from your lips as Sakusa brings one of your legs down, bringing his hand to your breasts and thumb swiping around your sensitive nipples.

“O-Omi, please,” you sob, weak and submissive—just how you should be. Your nails dig into your palms, arms aching from your restraints. “I-I’m gonna—I think I—”

“Y-you really are a whore,” he spits, voice strained yet patronizing, still. “Do it, then. Cum on my cock.”

His hand moves in between your thighs, fingers pressing and rubbing circles on your clit as you cry out, tight walls clamping down on him and stuttering his already sloppy thrusts, your arousal running down his length and down to his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Your moans come out as squeals of his name, your back arching and breath catching in your throat, vision going white as he continues to fuck into you.

His breathing is ragged, moving to bury his face into the crook of your neck in an odd show of affection, your swollen cunt pulsating around his cock as he suddenly stills, his low groan vibrating against your skin as he empties inside you.

You want to cry—but nothing comes out, all you can feel is the bruises on your skin, Sakusa’s cock buried deep inside you and his cum leaking from your abused hole, the stickiness and the sweat.

Maybe Sakusa’s right. Maybe you are disgusting, because as he peels himself from you, thinking it’s all over—Sakusa doesn’t undo the ties keeping you on the bed.

He reaches towards the bedside table, grabbing his phone. The sound of the shutter going off once, twice, over and over with the camera directed at you pulls your soul out of you.

“Omi—?” Your question remains a lump in your throat, but Sakusa is smart. He doesn’t need to hear your question.

“You’re my girlfriend now…” He mutters carelessly, “but I’m sure you don’t want Komori to see how you like to be fucked, right?”

#sakusa smut #haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #;commish

753 notes · View notes

lexosaurus · 3 years

Text

Invisobang: Morge pt 2

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming...a corpse was found in the woods.

Or, Amity Park's local cadaver dog trainer was walking her dog in the woods when they discovered a little surprise waiting for them six feet under.

Pairings: none WC: 9886 read on: [ao3] part 2 of 2, read: [part 1]

---

some amazing accompanying art by @ghostkiin

---

“It’s like you’re not even trying!” Plasmius barked, throwing Danny an exaggerated yawn while blocking the ectoblasts thrown his way. “Really, Daniel, you were always woefully incapable compared to me, but this is just abysmal, even for you.”

Danny gritted his teeth and glared back, allowing his glowing eyes to glare to toxic levels. Plasmius picked the wrong week to try to steal blueprints from Fentonworks.

“What, are you going to hit me with a little ectoblast again?”

“Oh I’ll show you an ectoblast,” Danny growled, charging ectoplasm in his palms so concentrated that the green glowed a fierce white. He flung his hands out, releasing the energy with a venomous, “eat shit, Fruitloop!”

But just like the rest of his life, his attack was uncontrolled, wild. It flew several feet to Vlad’s side, nailing a road sign and burning it like acid until there was nothing left.

Plasmius grinned at its charred remains. “Was that supposed to hit me? My, Daniel, I’m quaking in my boots!”

Danny felt his aura increase.

This week had already been shitty enough, even without Vlad’s help. He felt like his brain was trapped in a hailstorm, with constant unavoidable attacks pelting him from all sides. His core was a ball of energy and anxiety, not allowing him to sleep or eat or even breathe without the constant fear about his body and how it was being messed with and he needed to protect it and how he’d failed so miserably at protecting it and now his secret was going to be revealed and he was screwed.

“Well? I’m waiting! Tick tock, Little Badger!”

Ancients, Vlad was such an asshole.

“Shut UP!” Danny yelled, releasing his ghostly wail.

Just as a pink blast slapped him across the face, sending him flying into a brick building.

Plasmius tisked, flying nonchalantly towards him. “We can’t have you using that particular power, now can we? Not while you’re so obviously in control of yourself.”

“Fuck off.”

The older ghost smirked and brushed dust off his red and white cape. “Teenagers. Always so hormonal. What, did a girl at school reject you?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny launched himself back in the air and powered an ice blast. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Vlad said, releasing a plasmius blast just before Danny released his own. The pink blast travelled across the air like a bullet, punching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing back into the building.

Meanwhile, Danny’s ice blast flew a foot above Vlad’s head, webbing itself into a tree and coating the branches with thick icicles.

Danny tried to push himself back onto his shaky feet, only to be pushed back down yet again by another plasmius blast.

Brick tumbled onto his head, coating his vision with dust. His body ached, and his neck was sore from the whiplash.

From his clouded vision, a glowing white figure with red eyes and gaudy horn-like spikes for hair hovered closer to him.

“My, my. You really are out of sorts today,” Plasmius said. “This is almost too easy. I could just take you out right here and go take your parents’ entire spectre speeder straight from your lab.

“What do you even need a spectre speeder for? You can fly,” Danny asked, rubbing a lump from his skull.

“A simple minded teenager such as yourself couldn’t possibly understand my reasons.”

Anger flared through Danny. He gripped some wreckage next to him and forced himself back onto his feet. His legs shook and he felt something wet drip down his calf.

Great, he was bleeding. Just add that to the list of reasons as to why this week was the worst.

“Shut up. I won’t let you do that.”

“Oh?” Plasmius powered a pink blast in each hand. “Then prove it.”

Danny tried, but with each attempted blast, kick, or punch, it seemed like Plasmius was one step ahead of him.

And worse, it felt like he was reveling in the power trip.

A burn here, a kick there—everywhere Danny looked, there was Vlad, glowing fist at the ready. It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered Vlad, back at the mansion. Having Vlad so openly destroy him had been shameful.

Danny collapsed onto the pavement, heaving, his entire body searing in pain.

Plasmius paused to survey him up and down with suspicious eyes. Finally, just as Danny was one breath away from turning invisible out of sheer discomfort, did the ghost finally open his mouth. “Alright, spit it out.”

Anxiety gripped Danny’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Something’s troubling you enough to make you pathetically weak. It’s honestly embarrassing. I can’t stand here watching my future ward make a fool of himself any longer.”

“I’m not moving in with you, creep,” Danny bit back.

“That’s what you think. No matter, tell your dear old uncle what’s troubling you.”

“Go play in traffic.”

Plasmius’ eyes narrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten what a brat you are. Now tell me before I take methods into my own hands.”

Danny sighed, and attempted to stand. But the moment his foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up his shin. He hissed, and lowered himself back to the pavement.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the pavement. He felt small under Plasmius’ critical gaze. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s obviously something,” Plasmius said, landing in front of Danny. “Now quit wasting my time and tell me what it is before I—”

“Then why don’t you leave? If I’m just wasting your precious time, then go home! It’s not like you even care about me anyways.”

Vlad leaned in, flaring his aura. “In case it’s not clear to your simple teenage brain, your actions represent the both of us. You fuck up, I have to pay the consequences.”

“Who says this is even about ghost stuff?” Danny hissed. “For all you know, I got in a fight with Jazz.”

Vlad scoffed. “Do you seriously believe me to be that stupid? Of course it’s about your identity! Why else would your core be acting so wildly if its Obsession weren’t at stake?”

Danny flinched.

“You did something, and I want to know what it is so I can determine if I need to run damage control on you or not before you blow this for all of us.”

“It’s...” Danny felt his aura pull back. “It’s about...you know…”

“I can assure you I do not know.”

“I...I might have…the police may have found...it…’

Plasmius sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “What did they find?”

“My—my, uh...body?”

“You mean your identity?” Plasmius’ eyes widened.

“Not exactly.” Danny felt his face burn. “You know...the body I left when I...after the accident.”

Plasmius reacted instantly. He shot up, glancing around, before grabbing Danny and pulling him through a hastily erected portal.

Danny felt his body squeeze through the portal and then seconds later, he was in Vlad’s study. The ghost threw Danny on his loveseat and heightened his aura. His brows creased, and his eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. “What exactly do you mean when you say the police found your deceased body? How did this happen? What the hell did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Danny cried indignantly. “They found it with their freakish police dog! I swear I buried it deep in the ground.”

“Well not deep enough, apparently!” Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Of all the stupid, childish things you could do!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Vlad ripped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping back to Danny. He took a step closer to the teen, his eyes narrowing until a red glow peaked underneath. “Then whose fault would it be exactly, hmm? What, is this yet another piece of blame you’re going to cast upon my shoulders? Me, the halfa who has managed to keep this a well kept secret for over twenty years when you apparently can’t even manage to keep it to yourself for one?”

Danny let his own ghostly strength shine through his eyes. “Quit acting like I invited them all over. I didn’t, it was a coincidence. A mistake.”

“Oh, goodness me!” Vlad let out a sardonic laugh. “I guess when the Ghost Investigative Ward appear at my doorstep in a month, I’ll just tell them it was all a mistake. That’s sure to turn them right around!”

“Shut up.”

“No I will not.” Vlad’s face set back into a scowl. “You have proven yourself to be a liability again and again, and every single time it’s me who has to clean up your little messes. Messes that you don’t seem to realize could be the end of our kind!”

Anxiety shot through Danny’s stomach. He gripped the arm rests of the chair, squeezing them so tightly he heard the faint sounds of cracking in the wood.

“And now you mean to tell me that the police have your rotting, ectoplasm-drenched inhuman corpse in their possession?” Vlad yelled. “And you’re really trying to argue with me that it was just a simple mistake?”

Danny’s shaking hand slipped, tearing off a chunk of the armchair. It clattering to the floor. “I don’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t…”

Vlad closed his eyes, but Danny could still see the wisps of red shimmering through his eyelids. “No, of course you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them keep it.”

“I’ve tried.” His voice cracked. “I keep trying to convince them to stop, but they won’t—”

“What, you actually thought they’d listen to you? A ghost? My boy, I know you were dim, but this is truly extraordinary.”

Danny sniffed, keeping his head down. He felt like an egg boiling over, the yolk just one jolt away from breaking.

“No…” Plasmius hummed. “What we need is to take it back by force.”

“We can’t, they have the whole morgue under a shield. We can get in as ghosts, and it’d look too suspicious if we showed up as humans.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right about us appearing as humans. We can’t do that. But,” Plasmius’ tone shifted, “one thing we can do is break the shield.”

Danny froze. He gazed questioningly up at the older ghost, who was facing the window with a renewed sense of determination. “Break the shield? How? We can’t touch it!”

“No, but the shield doesn’t exist on its own. It has to be generated from somewhere, doesn’t it? Do you see? We break the device, we break the shield.”

Danny wasn’t following, and he was sure his face betrayed that much.

“Listen, Little Badger. Ghosts cannot touch the shield or the device, but who says—oh I don’t know—maybe a collapsed ceiling might do the trick? Some torn cables, perhaps? After all, with no energy supply, how could it possibly generate the power necessary to produce a shield?”

Danny felt his eyes widen. Something icy settled in his gut. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “You want to destroy the building.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be so crude, but perhaps a few colleagues of mine might be swayed—”

“No.” Danny stood automatically.

Vlad’s head snapped over to him. “No?”

He could feel Vlad’s confusion, and it blended with his own. Deep down, he knew he needed to stop at nothing to get his body back, but collapsing the building? Putting others in danger?

Putting his remains in danger of ruin?

What if something happened? What if a brick fell on his skull? What if a spike tore his abdomen in half?

No, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t worth the risk.

This was wrong.

“We can’t,” Danny choked out. “You’ll hurt it.”

“I don’t think you understand, Little Badger,” Vlad hissed, leaning down.

Danny could feel the heat of his red eyes on his skull.

“With the position you’ve put us both in? You don’t get to decide what happens to your corpse now.”

“No, Vlad. I’m serious. You can’t—”

“And so am I.” Plasmius straightened, and his aura tinted to a dangerous pink. “You’ve put us at risk one time too many. Now I’m taking things into my own hands. And no amount of scary eyes is going to sway me.”

In one motion, Vlad ripped open a portal and pushed Danny through. Before he could blink, he was back in the damp alley they’d just been in.

“Good day, Danny Phantom.”

Plasmius shut the portal, and Danny was alone.

---

“Thank you for taking the time to come talk to us about this,” Mark said, opening the conference room door for the consultant before him. “This case is unfortunately a bit out of my expertise, and the lab results are even more perplexing. Hopefully you’ll be able to parse through the documents much easier than I.”

Dr. Maddie Fenton, dressed in her typical turquoise lab attire, stepped through the door and took a seat at the table. “Of course, I’m always happy to help Amity’s law enforcement protect its citizens against ghosts.”

“Well,” Mark pulled out a chair for himself, placing the manila folders against the table. “This is actually a bit more complex.”

“Oh?” Dr. Fenton reached for the folders.

“To bring you up to speed, I mentioned on the phone that we needed your assistance with a murder case involving a ghost. But there’s a bit more to it.”

She opened the folder and leafed through the files.

“The truth is the body we uncovered we believe to be Phantom’s body.”

Dr. Fenton paused, her eyebrows shooting up. She glanced up at Mark. “That’s a rather serious case. What evidence do you have to support that?”

“Well…” Mark started. “When we uncovered the body, Phantom appeared above it, and was acting rather erratically. Like a cornered animal, almost.”

“He felt threatened.”

“Right.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. When we ran forensics on the body, we found that all our lab results were corrupted with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that when we ran the ectosignature for, turned out to be Phantom’s.”

Dr. Fenton looked back down at the files. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well we were hoping you’d be able to piece this all together.” Mark gestured to the files.

“I see…” Dr. Fenton’s voice trailed off. Her eyes scanned the page, hungrily soaking up each word. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as Mark awaited her opinion.

Contacting the Fentons had been something Mark had been pushing off for as long as possible. The Fentons were loud, boisterous, and not at all known for their professionalism nor tact.

But it was either they contact the Fentons or the Ghost Investigation Ward. And despite Phantom’s cold demeanor towards the detectives, Mark still had hope that perhaps he could gain the teen ghost’s trust. And to do that, the GiW could not be anywhere near the station.

Of the duo, Maddie Fenton seemed the most level-headed. And it had just been Mark’s luck that of the pair, she was the one with a doctorate in ectobiology. Which meant that it was perfectly understandable when Mark had requested that she alone come into the station to review the files.

“We’re trying to keep this on the down-low. If Phantom feels like we’re going to turn him over to the government, he’ll clam up. As it stands we’re only barely getting information out of him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anything he says anyway,” she said, not looking up from the paper. “He’ll do whatever possible to keep himself safe. Ghosts are products of their Obsessions, and Phantom is no different. If he feels like this investigation is going to come in the way of him being able to feed into his Obsession, then he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. No matter who he hurts in the process.”

Mark felt a shudder creep up his spine. “Do you think he could be lying about this being his body? Maybe he could have been the one to kill this boy and is trying to cover it up?”

“Hmm…no, that doesn’t seem likely given the labs. And besides, it would be highly unusual for Phantom to be summoned to a body that wasn’t his. Although…” Dr. Fenton mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when an animal dies near a cluster of ambient ectoplasm, their body runs the risk of forming a ghost. However, there must be a significant final moment for the neural pathways in the brain to bond with the ectoplasm. That moment translates into an Obsession, which forms the core that the ghost then forms around. If a human dies peacefully, there’s nothing to work with. But if the human dies violently, or if they die with unfinished business, that gives the ambient ectoplasm something to charge with.”

Mark nodded politely, not seeing where this was going. This was all common knowledge for the people of Amity, and Mark had certainly seen enough of the Fentons’ public speeches to understand these basics.

“The ambient ectoplasm comes from the electrical connections in the brain, unrelated to what’s happening in the body. It’s why a human can be paralyzed from the waist-down, but still form a ghost with functioning legs. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Mark nodded, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not seeing how this relates to Phantom specifically?”

“There’s no real reason that Phantom’s human body should have been corrupted by ectoplasm. In fact, there’s never been a case of a human body with an ectosignature embedded in its cells. It’s virtually impossible, in fact. Living cells are completely incompatible with ectoplasm.”

Mark stared down at his own copy of the reports, his mind reeling. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“Not in my twenty years in this field.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused this?”

Dr. Fenton pursed her lips. “There’s one...it would explain a lot about him actually. Human experimentation.”

Oh.

Shit.

“You don’t think…” Mark’s voice trailed off, his tongue incapable of finishing the sentence. To think that some sick individual would even attempt such a thing.

“It’s the only logical explanation here.” Dr. Fenton gestured at her folder. “Or at least, the only one I can piece together given this information. Phantom would have had to have died after interacting with an intense amount of ecto-technology. Technology with the power to chemically alter every cell in his living body just before finishing him off with electrocution. Of course, it’s just a theory. Only Phantom knows the truth.”

“Right.” He could hardly process what was being said. “But he won’t tell us the truth.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Ghosts run a different social hierarchy than humans, theirs is far more simple. It’s entirely based on strength. The stronger the ghost, the better they protect their haunt, the more respect they’re given within ghost culture. If Phantom shows weakness, then the other ghosts can use that to dethrone him as the human world’s great protector.”

“But we’re not ghosts.”

“But he is.” Dr. Fenton cocked her head. “This explains other things too. Like the fact that Phantom, a relatively new ghost, is already a level seven on the ectoplasm power scale.”

“I assume that’s unusual.”

“Quite. It would have had to require an extremely intense death at the very least. But human experimentation with ectoplasm, feelling your body reject itself from the inside out, every strand of DNA being corrupted by the essence of death—that’s not an end I’d wish on my worst enemies.”

“And now we have his corpse. Phantom’s going to feel incredibly threatened. He’s bound to lash out.”

Dr. Fenton nodded gravely. “Then you better wrap this investigation up quickly, because Phantom is still a young ghost. He’s impatient, like a child. The longer you take to solve this case, the more unstable he’ll get. And I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when he finally snaps.”

---

A dull unease panged at Danny’s core. It was calling to him, trying to goad him to his corpse.

Trouble, trouble, trouble, it seemed to whisper.

But he ignored it, just like he’d been ignoring it all this time. Because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get past the shields, he couldn’t get back to his corpse.

He was powerless. Alone.

Scared.

He tried to focus on his math worksheet, but the numbers blurred together and he couldn’t remember what eight times seven was. He had a calculator, but it was in his bag and he couldn’t remember what pocket he’d shoved it into, or even if he’d remembered to put it in his bag last night after staring blankly at the homework assignment for an hour without lifting his pencil even once.

No, his calculator was probably still on his desk at home.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

The voices were louder now, and the pull was more desperate.

His throat hurt, and for a moment he was convinced his lungs were collapsing before he remembered that he’d forgotten to release the air trapped in his lungs and he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped breathing.

“Danny?” Mr. Falluca said from the front of the room. “Is everything alright?”

He commanded his head to nod, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Maybe he did. He couldn’t check, he couldn’t lift his eyes from the desk.

The voices were too loud.

The dull pang wasn’t so dull anymore.

Trouble, trouble, go now, go now.

The pang was solidifying, taking shape. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Go now, go now, go now.

The pokes turned into pricks, threatening to rupture his organs, sending needles down the nerves in his arms and legs. A headache sparked before his eyes and his vision swam.

The voices attacked him from all angles, and fingers brushed against his skin, tugging the sleeves of his shirt towards the window, the ceiling, the wall, the door— anywhere so long as it was away from here. Outside. To the morgue.

Go to the morgue.

Ignore it, be strong. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Go now.

No.

Go now, go now, GO NOW.

No, he couldn’t.

The pinpricks finally morphed into one sharp, icy cold knife.

It stabbed his core.

Go now.

He stood from his chair, knocking it back.

Vaguely, he could hear the alarmed cries of his classmates, but he ignored them.

The only thing that mattered was his body. His corpse.

Protect.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back, but he could feel the warmth of the human blood running under its veins and he couldn’t be bothered with human problems right now. Not when he was in danger.

He phased through the grip, and ran out of the classroom. He sprinted down the hall, tearing open the familiar looking door and transforming and taking off into the sky nearly as soon as the sun brushed his skin.

This was different than all the other times his core had tried to coax him to his corpse. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His body was in danger, and he needed to save it.

He heard an explosion in the distance, and he increased his speed, feeling his eyes sting as the cool air slapped against his corneas. The world blurred, but it was okay. His core was guiding him now, not his eyes. He didn’t need to see, he just needed to close off and follow his ghostly instincts.

“That’s right!” A deep voice yelled from across the way.

Danny pulled to a halt, blinking the sting from his vision.

Then a boulder flew past his body, hitting the wall of a disturbingly familiar building.

His core yelled in protest. The body was in danger. His body.

“You thought a pesky shield could keep me out? Me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter? I’ll show you!”

Ice filled his veins, freezing his aura and building in power around his hands.

Skulker hoisted a parked motorcycle from the edge of the street into the air. “Take this!” he yelled, hurling it into the air.

It was heading straight for the door. It was going to break it, it might break the window, it could damage the body.

An icicle stabbed his core, and before Danny could blink, his hands were raised and jagged blue ice was shooting from his palms, catching the motorcycle in midair and pinning it to the street.

“What is the meaning of this?” Skulker roared, whipping around. His eyes locked on Danny and his confusion melted from this face only to be replaced by a triumphant smirk. “Well hello there, ghost child.”

Danny’s palms burned an even brighter blue. “ Leave,” he hissed, the Ghost Speak slipping off his tongue like butter.

Skulker’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Fear not, child, I’m just here to procure your pelt. Well, your other pelt.”

He flashed his aura in a showcase of power that would send most ghosts running for the hills. “Leave.”

A look of contempt replaced the humor on Skulker’s face. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. “I don’t take orders from you, child.”

There was a natural balancing act between his human brain and ghost core, one that ensured that neither half of him was in full control one hundred percent of the time. No matter how human he was, his core still lingered in the background, and no matter how ghost he was, his human brain still kept tabs on his movements.

But now, as Danny watched Skulker rip a slab of concrete from the ground, he felt something snap inside of him.

“Then I have no choice.”

Green overtook his vision, and Danny Fenton simply disappeared.

Time passed—or it didn’t—in swirls of blue and green. If he looked out, he could see the power released from his gloves, he could see the mix of ectoplasm and ice that he was hurling at Skulker, to protect the building, to protect his body, to protect himself from Plasmius.

That vindictive, lonely asshole.

Who was Plasmius to encroach on what was his?

There were flashing lights around him, but Danny paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered was protecting his body.

Protect his haunt.

Protect his people.

Protect.

He could feel the newly pointed teeth pinch his gums, and the ghostly wisps of his hair fizzle around him. But oddly these changes didn’t worry him, instead they made him feel safe, secure. Like a child clinging onto their blanket.

He launched another barrage of attacks at Skulker, tearing holes through his armor. Panic struck Skulker’s features, and all Danny could think of was, ‘good.’ If Skulker wanted to try to claim dominance over his body, then he would suffer tenfold.

And just before he was about to launch a blast at Skulker that was sure to disintegrate his armor, an amplified voice behind him called out, “PHANTOM!”

Danny flinched, his power leaking out of its concentrated ball.

Weak.

“Phantom, stand down!”

Not a chance.

“We have the area surrounded. Stand down or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Better listen to your human puppets,” Skulker said, his voice too shaken to sound mocking. “I know when I’ve been bested.”

It took everything in Danny’s power to not launch himself over to Skulker and tear off his head. “You tried to steal my body.”

“That’s a fight between you and Plasmius.”

“Don’t try to get out of this.”

“Phantom,” Detective Johnson said. “Final warning. Stand down.”

Ectoplasm surged throughout his body. “Make me.”

Multiple events happened at once. Skulker motioned to leave just as Danny raised his arms, blistering white light moments away from release. Then, pain seared through his torso.

Danny yelped, jerking his hand back and releasing the ectoblast somewhere off into the sky. He fell back and hit the ecto-shield, sending electrical warnings through his bones.

Memories of the portal, of the thousands of volts of electricity, of the feeling of his bones and muscles and tissues and cells being ripped apart and stitched back together flashed before his eyes. It was too much, all too much too soon too present. He tried blasting the portal but his gloves were splattered with green and oh no, not good, not good.

He was dying, wasn’t he?

Again.

Would he have a second body?

His vision tilted, and finally he managed to rip himself away from the shield. He collapsed onto the cement and stared up at the sky, chest heaving.

He was paralyzed. He knew he had fingers, toes, arms, legs—but they didn’t work. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t fly.

He was dying.

“Phantom?” Johnson’s cautious voice sounded from somewhere off to the side. “Sit up, let’s talk through this.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Danny finally managed to blink. The world snapped back into focus, and his surroundings came with it. He looked down at his torso to see a little hole in his side of his suit surrounded by a trickle of green.

“What—?” Danny gasped.

“I’m gonna put the gun down, okay?” Johnson said. “I just wanna talk.”

“No.” Danny slowly pushed himself up. He surveyed the damage along the walls, the falling bricks on the sidewalk, the shattered windows and bent door. “No, no, no.”

His body wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

“Phantom, come on. Work with me here.”

But he couldn’t. That detective and his partner were just human, they didn’t understand. This was his body and Vlad knew about it and was trying to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost to Danny.

This was a disaster. He shouldn’t have told Vlad anything. He was so stupid for thinking Vlad could help him. He should have known, should have known.

“Phantom.”

“No.”

The cloak of invisibility covered his body, and he shot up into the sky.

Towards the city.

He needed to end this.

---

Sarah felt the chill first.

“You have to stop,” Phantom’s voice echoed behind her.

She sighed and put down her pencil. “Phantom, I thought I explained this already. The police can’t—”

“I don’t care about the police!”

The room grew cold.

“I don’t...ugh!” Phantom floated around her desk, clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other. Mark had just called her with a warning, saying that Phantom was unstable. Looking at the ghost now, Sarah had to agree.

Phantom looked awful.

Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his face lacked the green blush that normally sat below his skin. His jumpsuit was burned and dried ectoplasm crusted around the torn edges. He looked every bit the image of someone quickly coming undone.

Except this wasn’t just some random person, this was a powerful ghost. This was someone who could easily kill anyone who wronged him.

Or who he felt wronged him.

Deep down, Sarah knew Phantom wasn’t a violent ghost. It didn’t line up with his ghostly Obsession, or the theorized one anyway. But this was his corpse they were dealing with, it was an extension of himself.

Sarah had never confronted a ghost who had lost possession of their corpse. She’d never dealt with a ghost who willingly protected the shield that kept him away from his body if only to make sure it stayed safe. She’d never seen Phantom look so rattled.

At this point, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“Phantom,” she tried cautiously. “You need to calm down.”

“No, you need to tell your buddies to call off this investigation!”

“You know I can’t do that. I have no control over the department, and even if I did, we need to follow the law.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why, because I’m a ghost? Because my words mean nothing because I’m not human? I’m telling you that I don’t want to press any charges, I don’t get why that’s not good enough!”

The room grew even colder.

“We’ve been over this. Please, Phantom, sit down—”

“No!” he snapped. “I’ve been telling you guys since the beginning that this was a bad idea, that people are going to get hurt! And no, nobody listened to me because I’m a fucking ghost! And now look, the building was attacked! My body was attacked! Do you—” his voice cracked, and the glow on his eyes wobbled. He drifted closer to her. “Do you even understand? Do you get how dangerous this is? Do you understand the people you guys have pissed off? Who you’re playing with now?”

Sarah took a deep breath. Even as a human, the power Phantom was emitting was palpable. “What people? You mean the ghost who attacked the morgue?”

“Not him. He—he’s just a lacky. Just following orders.” He let out a bitter laugh, running his hand over his forehead and smearing green across his skin. “You guys have no idea, you really don’t…”

Dread crept up Sarah’s spine. If what Mark was saying was true, then this could run deeper than they thought. “Explain it to me.”

“I’m…” He glanced up, looking ill. “I’m not…normal. For a ghost, I mean. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But the other ghosts...they consider me a liability. And now that you guys have my—my body, they’re afraid.”

“Why are they afraid?”

“Because…” His brow furrowed. “I can’t—I can’t…”

She tilted her head, watching the ghost choke on his words. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll stop at nothing till they get my body back. They’ll kill everyone in that building if it means nobody finds out my secret.”

What secret? Sarah wanted to scream, but she held back.

“Phantom,” Sarah lowered her tone. “Are they the reason you’ve been so afraid of us finding out the truth? Have they threatened you in any way?”

“No!” He backed up in shock. “I—I mean, sort of? Listen, it’s not because of him—them, I promise. It’s more complicated than that. He’s just protecting me, you know? If my secret gets out, that would put them all in danger, but it would put me in even more danger. I wouldn’t...I’d have to leave. I’d be on the run.”

“Why?”

“It’s so messed up.”

“Then tell me.”

She already knew. She just needed him to confirm it for her.

He looked to her, his bright green eyes seemingly desperate for help. But he shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

But he was already gone.

---

“I’ve never seen him look so scared,” Abrams said.

“So you think he’s right.” Crowley took a long swig of his coffee, “Course you do.”

“It makes sense,” Abrams insisted. “Why else would Phantom be so terrified of people finding the truth?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a teen who was playing with electrical equipment he wasn’t supposed to be near and even in death doesn’t want to get in trouble for it!”

“Yes but how would that explain all the ectoplasm in his DNA? That doesn’t come from just any electric shock.”

“Who knows,” Crowley said. “The Fentons have always been crackpots. Always have had ludicrous theories. Now suddenly when it’s convenient, you’re all running to their side?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re not running to their side.”

“Then what do you call this?” Crowley gestured to the duo. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“You have to admit that it makes sense,” Mark said. “I mean, get real. Doesn’t any of this smell fishy to you?”

Crowley slapped his empty coffee mug on the table. “You know what smells fishy to me? The Fentons are the only known ecto-scientists in this whole damn city, the only people who have lab-grade ecto-equipment in Amity Park, and suddenly right when they were getting into some financial trouble, Phantom appears out of nowhere from a death that reeks of forced ecto-contamination. That smells fishy to me.”

Mark paused, but then shook his head. “If that were true, then why would Dr. Fenton even offer human experimentation as a possibility?”

“To gloat? Gain our trust? Test our intelligence?” Crowley threw his hands up. “Who knows? They’re crazy!”

“So you think we need to investigate them?” Mark asked.

“I’d be a damn shit detective if I didn’t. They have the means and motive to create a ghost like Phantom. It’s just like Maddie said.”

“I think he’s right,” Abrams said, nibbling on her bagel. “If this is actually a case of ecto-experimentation, then the Fentons should be on the list of suspects.”

“Finally, some common sense around here. Just about the only case of common sense these days…” Crowley grumbled.

Mark chose to ignore that comment, instead checking his phone. No notifications, damn. The entire department had been on high alert for Phantom ever since the attack on the morgue. Mark was just relieved that the new and improved ecto-guns had finally been issued that morning. If not for the updated technology, that incident likely would have ended far less smoothly.

Not that it really ended smoothly. Phantom had yet again escaped Mark’s clutches, free to run off and break into Sarah’s home.

Guilt clawed at Mark’s stomach, but he pushed it back. Phantom was a slippery ghost, one that had escaped all levels of ghost hunters from the Fentons, to the Ghost Investigation Ward. Mark knew it would take a lot more than a few words of peace and one ecto-gun to stop that kind of raw power.

“What do we even know about the Fentons?” Abrams asked.

“They’re ghost hunters and mostly make weapons now, but before that they dabbled in all sorts of ecto-based technology. The husband, Jack, is the engineer and the wife, Maddie, is the biologist. They have two kids, Jasmine and Daniel. Jasmine, or ‘Jazz’ is supposedly top of her class, likely to graduate valedictorian, while Daniel’s something else. Bad grades, skips class, all around a bit of a loner,” Crowley said, regurgitating information like he was reading a case file.

Mark glanced at his colleague, giving him an impressed smirk. “Did your homework early, eh?”

“I told you, something aint right here,” Crowley said.

“And? What do you think?” Mark asked.

“What I think is that I’m shocked their house is even coded to have a lab inside. I’d like to know whose ass they kissed to give them that permit.”

Abrams snorted. “Jesus, Jacob.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Fine, whatever,” Mark stood, collecting his empty coffee cup and paper plate. “I godda head home, my sister’s visiting this weekend.”

“Alright, tell Susan I said hello. And say hi to her little demon child too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She’s four.”

“What, four year olds can’t be demons? I should know, I had two of them.”

Abrams swiped her empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Yeah, I have to feed Atlas. I’ll see you both next week.”

“Take care!”

---

“Well at least we know Phantom didn’t change anything about his facial structure when he became a ghost.” Crowley’s small eyes swiveled between the photo of Phantom in one hand and the new sketch rendition of his human identity.

Mark grunted and stared at his own copy of the photo.

The corpse had been too decomposed to be able to distinguish a face, and ghosts often change their appearance in death. Sure, Phantom looked like a regular human, but it was impossible to know that for a fact.

Fortunately, modern research and re-composition was advanced enough that they didn’t have to wonder for long. Especially with this being such a high-profile case for the city.

And as it turned out, aside from the hair, Phantom really didn’t look all too different when he was alive. He had the same sharp nose, the same angular chin, the same boyish face. The only thing that was different was his hair and presumably his eye color, although that was still a mystery due to the corrupted DNA.

Even though there was little change to Phantom’s appearance, seeing the black haired, brown eyed human boy staring back at Mark was rather shocking, if he were being honest. There was something off putting about seeing this enigma quite literally brought back to life. It took away that edge of lore that the heroic town enigma had.

Now Phantom wasn’t some wild mystery. He was just...a kid.

“This really is something,” Crowley said. “Guess we should put it to good use.”

Mark sighed, turning his attention back to his desktop. Sifting through missing person’s reports was never exactly a fun way to start the morning.

“You think you can handle it, rookie?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

Crowley let the photographs drop to his side. “Alright, I’m going to continue doing some digging on our suspects.”

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

The work was tedious and depressing. Face after face of missing minors flickered across his screen. It was almost too hard to believe that Phantom was a part of this list.

Caucasian. Black hair. Eye color unknown. Five foot five.

That was all they had on Phantom. For all they knew, he could have been from another city entirely.

But hopefully Mark would find a hit, at least one kid from Amity who fit the profile.

And in fact, there were a few...sort of. Four teens who had black hair and were about five foot five. But none of them looked quite like Phantom.

Which meant Mark had to widen his search.

How wonderful.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. It was nearly lunchtime now and he felt like he’d gotten no further than where he was before. Mark stood from his chair, feeling a bit defeated. Hopefully Crowley would’ve had better luck on the suspect list than Mark.

He strolled over to Crowley’s desk, only to find the desk empty. Crowley had likely already left for lunch, the bastard hadn’t even bothered to grab Mark on the way.

Not that Mark could really blame him. He doubted Crowley wanted to use his lunch break to talk about the case after the tedious research they both had spent their mornings doing.

Mark dug his phone out of his pocket, intent on sending the older detective an update, when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face stared up at him.

Mark slowly lowered the device and crept toward the desk, as if his mere presence would disintegrate the paper on his desk.

Inside Fentonworks: the Fenton family’s home-grown anti-ghost business!

It was an article printed from some online magazine that Mark didn’t recognize. Slapped on the cover of the page, just under the title, was a photo of a family of four beaming, waving at the camera. One of the members was a young boy—about Phantom’s age—with black hair in almost the same haircut as Phantom, with that crooked smile that Phantom had been caught adorning all too many times.

Waving at the camera.

Skinny, short for a boy, son to two ecto-science parents who fill their basement with dangerous high-voltage and easily combustible ecto-technology.

His name was listed as Daniel.

Mark glanced at the two images in his hand, and then looked at the article below him.

Holy shit.

No. There was no way. Crowley had been suspicious of them, and he had good reason to include them on his suspect list, but this kid was alive. He wasn’t missing, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right there.

It just wasn’t possible.

His apple watch pinged, alerting him of a ghost attack nearby.

Mark hurried back to his desk, swiping his coat off his chair.

This was impossible.

The police sketch and the copy of the article pressed against his fist.

Phantom was a ghost. Ghosts will do anything to protect themselves. They would lie, cheat, and manipulate humans in order to stay on top.

Mark was just seeing things.

There was no way that this was him.

He beelined for the door, tucking the papers into his pants pocket.

It wasn’t possible.

The drive there was short, and the fight even shorter. It had just been the Box Ghost, so nothing that Phantom couldn’t handle. The ghost gave his little song and dance, captured the ghost, and waved brightly to the crowd. But Mark could see right through it, right past all the cracks in his façade.

Phantom was losing it.

And Mark could end this.

“Phantom!” Mark called out through his cupped hands.

The ghost flinched, his cheery face replaced with a scowl instantly.

“Another time,” he said.

But Mark didn’t have another time. He needed to know now.

Because Phantom could end this insane proposition. He could laugh heartlessly at the mere mention that he was this random living child. He was Phantom, protector of Amity Park, not some human experiment.

Not some impossibility.

Not some kid who’s been dead for a year and only pretending to be human for his family.

Not the greatest act of manipulation from a ghost that Mark had ever seen.

Mark yanked the papers from his pocket and unfolded them with shaking fingers. He held them up hastily, knowing that they were too far away for normal human eyes.

But this was Phantom. He wasn’t human.

Mark saw the exact moment that Phantom recognized the photos. The ghost’s eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ghost vanished.

Mark was right.

---

The air was thick, tense. Phantom slumped in his armchair, his body the equivalent of a white flag. Even so, his eyes were bright, charged with nervous energy.

He was terrified.

Atlas must have sensed this, because the dog had decided to break away from being Sarah’s shadow to lay against the ghost’s feet.

“I don’t know where to start,” Phantom admitted after a few tense beats of silence.

“The beginning, maybe,” Jacob said.

Phantom looked sick at the suggestion, but relented. “You’re right. Yeah...I…” he glanced up at the two detectives and Sarah seated across the coffee table on her dull green couch. Phantom had appeared in her kitchen not even an hour ago, looking like he’d just seen the personification of death itself.

And instantly, Sarah knew.

She’d tried to coax him to let her bring him to the station so he could come clean there, but he refused. He said the information was too sensitive and he didn’t trust the station to not have cameras recording every angle of every room.

And so they settled on her living room instead. Mark and Jacob arrived, seeming none too surprised by the arrangement, and more than willing to follow Phantom’s direction if it meant they would finally get the truth.

Which Phantom didn’t seem remotely ready to give.

“I guess…” He tried again, closing his eyes. There was another tense moment of silence before a pair of white rings appeared around Phantom’s waist, traveling up his body and leaving behind a skinny black haired teenager.

Phantom cautiously opened his eyes. And, to Sarah’s surprise, they were blue.

“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Mark said.

She heard Jacob suck in a breath.

“Yes. I’m Danny Fenton.” Without the echo, his voice sounded much closer, much more down to earth than Phantom’s. “And a year ago, I was in an accident.”

His voice, like the rest of him, seemed softer without the powerful aura of Phantom behind it. If Sarah had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Gone was the cocky personality, the perfect posture, the floating white hair, the bright, determined expression. Gone was the jumpsuit, the logo, the strong voice that seemed like it could project for a mile, the banter, the confidence.

It was just a kid. A kid with baggy jeans, dirty shoes, and a plain shirt. He didn’t seem lithe, he looked weak. The green undertone to his skin was replaced with red, and his shoulders hunched in a way Sarah had never seen on Phantom before.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

“When my parents first completed their interdimensional ghost portal, it didn’t work. I decided to—it was my fault. I just decided to go in it. I don’t know why.” He looked up to the ceiling. “It was a stupid idea. The portal was plugged in, but there was a switch inside that wasn’t turned on, and I tripped over a wire and turned it on. From the inside.”

Sarah felt a pang in her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It was,” Phantom agreed. “And then I guess the portal stabilized the connection between Amity Park and the Ghost Zone, because ghosts started appearing in town. So I decided that if it was my fault that they were here, I was going to protect the town. And that’s what I’ve done.”

That’s his Obsession, Sarah realized. It’s protection.

“Why not come out with it?” Jacob asked. “Why bury your body? Why still try to pass as a human?”

Phantom’s head fell into his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do! It—I...you have to understand, my parents would never understand. They think all ghosts are evil. I couldn’t just come out and tell them what happened, they’d kill me!”

“So you decided it was safer to play human,” Jacob said.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Especially since...I sort of still am?” He lifted his head and stuck out his wrist. “I still have a pulse.”

No one moved.

“You’re shitting me,” Jacob guffawed.

“No, I’m being serious. The portal killed me, but then it brought me back to life. Except by then my body was already altered from the ecto-electricity, so the working theory is that I exist in this sort of limbo state between dead and alive. Hence why…” He transformed into Phantom and then back to Fenton. “Hence why I have two forms.”

“And the body,” Mark said. “The coroner report said it only weighed a little over half the weight of a normal body due to all the ectoplasm. But if you’re half alive, how would you have a body?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know? To be honest, that day was such a nightmare that I’ve mostly blocked it out.”

Mark finally reached over and took the boy’s wrist. He pressed two fingers against the skin and waited.

“Damn.” His eyes widened. “It’s actually there.”

“No way,” Jacob said, leaning over to take Phantom’s wrist. A few seconds passed before he was joining Mark’s reaction. “It is there.”

“I know.” Phantom tucked his arm back to his chest. “I don’t understand it. I have a heart and also a ghost core. I can feel it all the time, even as a human. I have human thoughts and feelings and ghostly instincts playing constantly.”

As confusing and morbid as this was, it made sense in a sort of twisted way that Sarah only reserved for the rambling logic of her paranoid, senior grandmother. It explained why Phantom, a ghost, would willingly risk himself day in and day out over the safety of humans. Phantom was a ghost who was driven to protect his home, and he was also a human who wanted to look after those he loved.

He was truly Schrödinger’s cat. Dead and alive inside his little box, his little town, with no one able to measure him.

“That’s the thing that sets you apart from the ghosts,” Sarah said, tapping her knee with her finger. “That day when you came to my house saying that you were different, this is what you were talking about. You also said it would be dangerous if this information got out.”

The question was implied, and Phantom seemed to pick up on it, judging by his grimace.

“You weren’t talking about your parents.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“So then who is it? Who was trying to destroy the morgue? Who are you hiding from?”

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said bitterly. “The government. GiW, all of them. Think of what they’d do if they knew someone could be both dead and alive at the same time.”

“Well fuck the lot of them,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

“And the ghost who was trying to take down the morgue?” Mark pressed.

“I…” Danny’s eyes shifted. “I can’t say. It’s a ghost thing. All the ghosts in the Zone know about me, they call me a halfa. Half alive, half dead. Honestly, I don’t think it took much convincing for them to want to protect me.”

“But you were fighting against them,” Jacob countered. “If they were really trying to protect you, then why not go along with them?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. Words from Maddie’s ecto-biology papers fluttered across Sarah’s eyes, about how ghosts were evil, they were liars, they’d say and do anything to keep themselves safe.

But as Danny let out a defeated sigh, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side, Sarah couldn’t help but see the face of a scared teen who was just doing his best.

“It’s a ghost thing,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what they were doing because...because I needed to protect my body. If the building collapsed, it would have gotten damaged.”

Sarah blinked, and her and Mark exchanged a glance.

“I see,” Mark said carefully. “So if there was a plan to recover your...body...safely, you would have gone along with it?”

“I don’t know. Ghosts are weird, they all have their own agenda. I’d rather if it were just...left alone. In the ground. Untouched. Like it had been.”

They were silent for a moment, and Sarah watched as Jacob and Mark stared at each other in silent conversation. One that only partners could properly understand.

Finally, Jacob relented. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I go talk with Chief Davis and he agrees to keep your identity secret. In exchange, all you’d have to do for us is tell your parents.”

For a moment, Sarah thought Phantom was going to bolt out of the armchair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re screwing around putting your life in danger every day, kid,” Jacob said. “Not to mention, your parents’ house is a walking minefield for you. You godda protect yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine.”

“Doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’re running off getting in fights every day with ghosts, and then coming home to a house littered with ecto-weapons that could kill you. You know, all the way.”

“My parents will kill me if they find out though,” Danny said darkly. “You don’t know them.”

“Which is why you won’t be alone. Crowley and I will be there with you. And I know a woman in CPS who can keep this on the down low too. We won’t let anything happen, promise,” Mark said.

Phantom glanced between them, his wide blue eyes betraying just how fearful he was. “You promise?”

“Yeah kid, we got your back.”

---

“It’s going way better than I thought,” Danny said, throwing the stick up the path.

Atlas didn’t hesitate, bounding after the object with an enthusiasm rivaled by no one.

“I’m glad,” Sarah said. “You deserve a safe place to go home to.”

Danny cocked his head. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Getting to know Danny these past few weeks was surreal. For a year now, Sarah had a set mental image of who Phantom was. The hero, the great protector, the thrill-seeker.

But now, as she got to know the quiet yet snarky kid who went to school and stressed over his math exams just like any other teen would, she’d gotten to appreciate the person that Danny truly was, the person he became when he wasn’t trying to hide his ghostly persona or playing the larger-than-life character.

Atlas pranced back, the stick held high like an Olympic medal.

“Good boy!” Danny praised.

At Sarah’s nonverbal command, Atlas dropped the stick in front of Danny, who was more than happy to pick it up and hurl ahead of the dirt path again.

“It’s weird. It’s almost like...I don’t know, it’s just kind of relieving? To not need to hide? Like don’t get me wrong, my parents are still kinda weird about it. I still don’t really use any of my powers at home because I just don’t think I’m ready. But the other day I used intangibility to get a cup out of the cabinet instead of just opening the cabinet door, and my mom didn’t even say anything. I remember back when I first got my powers and I couldn't figure out how to work them. I spent so long trying to hide any weirdness, and to think that now I can just do stuff and nobody cares.” A blissful smile dressed Danny’s lips. “It’s just nice, is all.”

“I bet,” Sarah said. “Must be a huge weight off your shoulders. And your sister’s okay with it?”

“Oh yeah. My sister actually already knew about it.”

“You’re kidding. Really?”

Danny threw the stick again. “Yeah, but I already knew about that. She told me a few months ago. But she’s been really helpful at home with trying to get everyone on the same page.”

“That’s good.”

“And my dad’s already been begging to take me out to the field with him.”

“Have you taken him up on it?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sarah peered cautiously over to him. “Why not?”

“I dunno.” Danny’s eyes tracked Atlas’ triumphant return from the woods. “It just seems a bit weird still. And besides, it would be kinda odd if my parents went from trying to kill me to suddenly Phantom’s new best friend overnight. For now they’ve agreed to a public truce.”

Ah yes, the truce. That had been all over the news when the Fenton’s announced it, citing new research into ghost psychology that showed instances of benevolent ghosts. The news had rocked the city, some calling the duo crazy, while others praising them for their growth.

Even though Phantom and the Fenton couple were still in the growing pains of their new truce, no one could deny how much more smoothly ghost fights had gotten since it began. There was less property damage, less citizen’s hurt, and overall the process seemed far more professional than it ever had.

“I’ve noticed a change,” Sarah said. “I really think it’s for the best.”

“So do I. Even though it’s still kinda weird.”

“It’ll get easier, just give it time.”

Atlas dropped the stick, apparently distracted by some scent on a bush. He stopped to sniff the plant before wandering behind it, his nose glued to the ground.

“Wait, Atlas—” Danny started, watching as Atlas disappeared into the foliage.

Hearing his name, the dog leapt back onto the trail and over to Danny, who paused to scratch him behind his ear. “Good boy.”

Sarah grinned down at the duo.

Who knew a cadaver dog and a half dead kid could make such a good pair?

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #my writing #morge #invisobang #invisobang 2021

174 notes · View notes

plsimsuchasimp · 3 years

Text

cheating pt. 2

part 1 here

Ft: Suna Rintarou x !gn reader, a little bit of atsumu miya x !gn reader

Genre/warnings: hurt/comfort, brief mention of fighting, panic attack, angst to fluff

Wc: 2.6k

NOT PROOFREAD!

The morning after you broke up with Suna, you wake up with a sour taste in your mouth, hugging a pillow. Momentarily disoriented, you look around your room until you spot your phone, and it all comes crashing down.

Oh no. Your chest tightens when you see 41 missed calls from Suna and 118 unread text messages over the course of the night. You'd fallen asleep with your phone set to silent, crying into your pillow at the immense betrayal.

Slowly, you unlock your phone to see increasingly frantic messages from Suna, begging you to forgive him and take him back. Ten new voicemails. You shouldn't press it, shouldn't listen to his voice. But you do.

"Y/N," immediately, your heart cracks at the sound of his voice. He sounds so desperate, so frantic, tears clinging to the words. "I'm so, so, sorry. You have every right to be mad at me, every right to hate me. I hate myself too, and I'll never forgive myself for doing that. I-I just wanted you to know that I-" the recording becomes quieter, only the faint sniffles picked up on it. "I love you."

It ends there, and you freeze. He'd never told you he loved you before, skipping over it whenever you jokingly mentioned the future. You knew he was scared of commitment, but it still hurt whenever he ignored it. A particular memory from two weeks ago floods your mind, no matter how hard you try to push it away.

You were lying on Suna's bed, resting your head against his chest as he scrolled through the videos he wanted to upload to Worldstar. His arm was slung around you, his lips pulled up in a smirk, his green eyes flicking from the phone to you and back again. It was comfortable, a lazy Sunday with the sun just beginning to set behind his curtains. You nestled further into his chest, his heartbeat regular and reassuring. You let your eyes drift closed, basking in the warmth of his affection.

Almost too soft for him to hear, half hoping he wasn't listening, you whisper "I love you." He stiffens, and you know you messed up. His heart skips a beat, and he pretends like he didn't hear you. You swallow, embarrassed that he didn't say it back, but neither of you moves until Suna gets up, saying he has to use the restroom. He doesn't come back for a while, and when he does, he mutters something about it getting late (it was barely 6 pm) and how he'd forgotten that he had to do something today. Taking the cue, you took your stuff and left, silently cursing yourself for saying it before he was ready. Things had been awkward the next few days, with him responding less and less frequently and seeming more distant and cold.

Come to think of it, it was right before he started acting strange.

oh.

Pressing a shaking hand to your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut. Was that why?

Before you could sink deeper into your thoughts, you heard a knock at the door of your bedroom. The door opens to reveal Atsumu, standing awkwardly in your door frame. Yelping, you bring the bedcovers up to cover yourself, forgetting that you’re still wearing your clothes from last night. “How did you get in here?!”

He blushes, eyes flickering around your room and refusing to land on you. “Yer mom told me where the spare key was.”

You sighed, and he came over and sat on your bed, looking at his feet placed on the floor. “Ya okay?” he asked, voice low. That wasn’t what you’d expected. It was rare for Atsumu to be serious, rare for his brow to be furrowed so severely.

“Well, that’s debatable,” you said, scoffing a little. He nodded, eyes still fixed on the floor.

“I saw Suna last night,” he blurted out.

“You did?” Your eyebrows lift, surprised at his uncharacteristic behavior.

“I punched him,” he admits, lifting his head. “I was just too angry at him for hurting ya.”

Then it was your turn to look at the floor, not responding to this statement. What were you supposed to say, anyway? You sit in awkward silence, waiting for Atsumu to gather his thoughts and speak again.

“He’s in love with ya, ya know,” he says quietly. “That’s why it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why would he cheat on me if he loves me?” you ask, lip quivering slightly. You noticed the tense of the word; is. Not was. He sighs in frustration, shoulders slumping.

“I don’t know.” Seemingly debating on whether to say something, he decided to anyways, “He just let me hit him.”

“What?”

“He just stood there when I punched him, didn’t even punch back or anything. He just looked so sad, ya know?”

“Sad?” you scoff. “He was the one who decided to do it.” He nodded, knowing you’re right.

“I don’t really know why I came here,” he admitted. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. Aren’t ya missing class right now?”

“I’m not going today,” you mutter. He understood. Silently, he got up and left the room, and you heard the door shut short afterward, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It wasn’t raining anymore, but the clouds still clung dark and heavy, low to the mountains and shrouding the distant buildings. Puddles shone on the ground, the leaves outside your window glistening with raindrops.

It hurt. It hurt so badly, the confusion and anger and sadness all combined. The truth was, you still loved Suna, and apparently, he loved you. Falling back onto your pillow, you felt like crying, but the tears wouldn’t come. Your eyes were dry, the pain finally internalized. The good memories of your time with Suna came then, flooding your mind and squeezing your heart.

The first time you two kissed, in a parking lot of a 7/11 at two in the morning. His lips tasted like soda, the sweet fizz almost intoxicating. It was a quick kiss, feeling him smile against your lips and seeing the smirk on his face when he pulled away.

Watching the stars together from the roof of a building on a moonless night, offering you his jacket when he noticed you were cold. You fell asleep in his arms that night, the cool winter air brushing your cheeks and inciting him to hold you just a little bit closer.

The playful insults exchanged, the banter slowly turning into backhanded compliments, and then sweet nothings whispered in your ear.

The warm, enveloping hugs, although somewhat rare- he would hold you, one arm on the small of your back and the other caressing the back of your neck.

The skeptical look on his face when you took him to the grocery store, fully intending to make a new dish you’d seen on TV with him. Not noticing the softness in his eyes as he watched you, your excitement contagious in his smile.

The teasing he endured because of you. The day you walked into the gym, bringing him a homemade bento, the boys had teased him relentlessly. He didn’t mind, because it made you happy.

All of that was gone now, and the miserable aching in your heart was a constant reminder of it. You let sleep take you away again, the pain in your expression being smoothed away by the gentle lull. When Suna slipped into your room using the same key Atsumu had failed to properly hide, he saw you curled up, hugging a pillow in your sleep, a small crease marking your forehead. He always said you looked angelic in your sleep.

“Suna…” you murmured, shifting slightly, and his eyes grew sad at how you grimaced slightly at his name.

He made his way to your desk chair, sitting down silently and grabbing a piece of paper from the desk along with a pencil, beginning to write.

When you awoke to the sound of a pencil scratching paper, it took you a second to register that there was someone else in your room. You screamed, clutching your pillow until you recognized Suna.

His eyes found yours, and the guilt and shame in them were almost overwhelming. You looked away, clenching your jaw. The pencil fell from his hand, seeming to fall in slow motion until it hit and bounced off of the floor, clattering once, twice, and then three times before rolling away from his foot.

“Get out,” you whisper.

“Can we just talk about this-” he rushes, standing up and impulsively moving closer to you.

“I said get out!” You yell, flinching away from his touch as if it’s some sort of deadly disease. His face falls, and he withdraws his hand, swallowing hard. “What is there to talk about? You cheated. It’s not a mistake. It’s a choice, and you chose to break my heart!” You look at him, anger and pain mixing in your eyes, and he finally gets it. You’re not coming back. He ruined it with an impulse decision, a reckless choice in the face of his fear of commitment and the overwhelming feelings that he didn’t know how to deal with.

The day you told him you loved him, he froze only because he didn’t know what to do. He’d gotten up, gone to the bathroom, and sunk down the door, back straight and head tilted towards his knees. This had never happened to him before- every time he’d been with a girl, he’d never felt like this. Was it love? He already knew he messed up by not saying it back, but his emotions were confusing, distracting, almost frightening. He’s taken his mind off of it by falling into a stranger’s arms that night, reassuring himself that he was still the same old Suna, the one who didn’t need anyone.

God, how he hated himself for that. Tears welled up in his eyes against his will, and he stared down at the floor.

“Why are you still here?” You spoke, back turned to him, “I thought I told you I didn’t want to talk to you.” Your words stung, you knew they did, but you didn’t really care. The paper in his hand fluttered to the floor, almost inaudibly brushing across the wood. His bottom lip quivered, and the tear that clung to his eyelash slipped silently down his face, making his green eyes appear even brighter than normal.

Thunder crashed outside your window, and Suna froze, his sharp intake of breath making you turn. He looked petrified- his entire body seemed to be shrinking into itself, his hands trembling and clenched, his eyes wide with unmistakable fear in them.

“Suna?” You got up from your place on the bed, curious as to what was happening, then remembered. Suna had a crippling fear of thunderstorms. “Suna. Suna, hey, look at me.” You waved a hand in front of his face, but he just started shaking harder, his breathing getting faster. Gripping him by the shoulders, you gently pushed him towards your bed and helped him sit down, your brow furrowing. “Can I touch you?” you asked gently, receiving the smallest of nods in return. You sat beside him and started rubbing his back, gently holding him closer to you. Thunder triggering a panic attack had only happened twice before, but you were familiar with how to help him through it. “I’m going to go close the curtains now.” Almost methodically talking him through your movements in an attempt to distract him from the thunder growing louder outside, you went to close the curtains and turned on your bedside lamp. “Tell me how I can help.”

He struggled to speak, his breath turning into short hyperventilations until you sat down next to him and started breathing loudly and evenly, hoping he would hear you and try to match his breathing. To your surprise, he turned to you and hugged you, burying his face in your chest and huddling close to your body. Stiff at first, you slowly wrapped your arms around him and rocked back and forth, whispering into his ear that it was almost over and he would get through it. You could feel his back shuddering, trying to maintain control of his breathing and failing. Out of instinct, you rested your cheek on his shoulder, staring at the picture of you two that still rested on your nightstand, and you felt his breathing gradually slow. Soon, he stopped shaking, but he still clung to you as if you were his life raft in a tumultuous storm.

It wasn’t until you felt wetness on your shirt that you pulled back, concerned, only to see tears dripping down Suna’s face. He instantly missed your warmth, your smell, the feeling of you holding him, but he knew it would be selfish of him to try to pull you back in.

You didn’t speak, eyes flickering from him down to the blanket underneath you. Your anger was gone now, and as hard as you tried to hate him, looking at the vulnerability displayed on his face melted the resolve you had.

“You look terrible,” you say, eyes wandering over his disheveled hair and puffy eyes.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he responds, and you instantly feel awkward.

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumble, unsure of what to say. He just shrugs, gazing downwards.

“About what I said in the voicemail.” At these words, you freeze. “I meant it, and I’m so sorry for not saying it earlier.”

You turn away from him, eyes burning, as you feel a lump in your throat. “If you love me, why did you do it?”

His words die in his throat because that’s what he’s been wondering this whole time. If he loved you, why did he do it? “I-I did it because I was scared.”

“Scared?” you spit, pain lacing your words, “Scared? Do you know how terrified I was to tell you? I know that you’re scared of commitment, I know that it’s hard for you to express your feelings, but do you have any idea how many hours I spent wondering if you even liked me anymore? If you even cared at all?” Hot tears spill down your face, your lips quivering as you tip your head back and stare at the ceiling. Quieter, you say, “Do you know how many times I cried myself to sleep because of you? No, you don’t. But I still believed in us, I really thought it could work, and you threw it all away because you were scared?”

You shook your head, and he stared at you, hating that he made you feel like this. “I had no idea,” he rasps, voice husky from the breath caught in his throat. “When you told me you loved me, I realized I loved you too. I’d never felt like that before, and I was scared of my own feelings, so I wanted-” He stopped, unsure of how to continue. “I needed to distract myself.”

Each word stings, a knife stabbing into your back, as the tears fall harder and faster. You look up at him and see there are tears streaming down his face too, the shame too much for him to bear.

“I would do anything for you to come back.” His voice breaks, becoming breathier as his shoulders begin to shake again. “Please.”

In one swift movement, you pulled him close to you, and it was your turn to huddle into his chest as you sobbed. Just for a second, just for a moment, just to feel his touch again, but he wrapped his arms around you tightly and didn’t let you go. Clinging to each other, you shared the pain.

“If we can move past this,” you mumbled, face pressed against his shirt, breathing in his scent, “you can’t ever do something like that again.”

“No, no, of course not,” he assured you, voice thick with emotion, “I promise I’ll be so much better. I’ll try to give you everything you deserve.”

He pulls away and looks at you, drinking in your face, before pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to your lips. When you reciprocate, he kisses you harder, with more passion, holding you as if he can’t let you go. “Thank you,” he mumbles against your lips, and you feel the pain and anger and worry seep out of him.

It was going to be okay. a/n: i’m not really sure about this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed! sorry for the major angst, lmao also tiny reminder my requests are open even tho i kinda suck at them

#flangst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #suna angst #suna rintaro imagine #suna x y/n #atsumu miya #suna rintarou #angst #fluff #hurt to comfort

722 notes · View notes

peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

between lightning and thunder|harry styles.

summary: he’s your best friend’s boyfriend, you have feelings for him, you know the drill.

“In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile. In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were.”

word count: 7k

pairing: Harry Styles x reader

warnings: alcohol mention, a bit sad, Little Prince, some songs.

PART TWO: thunderstorms and shooting stars PART THREE: stars and fate

So, here’s my first official Harry Styles one shot (kind of two-part one shot), thanks to @peachybloomss and @laurieteddy for helping me out with beta reading. Yes, there will be part two if you guys want it. I’ll see if you like it, please send feedback, reblog, be kind.

The rain pattered against the asphalt, now bright and dense, reflecting the tinkling lantern that barely gave an excuse of light to the street. There you were, in that corner, shading the sidewalk with those sneakers that used to be white. You were getting wet, that was an understatement, you knew you would have a cold the very next day. You clutched your dark blue umbrella as you waited for a miracle.

You saw the sky light up and counted the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

The lightning struck with such a crash it made you shiver.

It seemed like it was the worst day of your life. It probably wasn't, but that's how it felt. It is difficult to understand why a relationship ends. It’s even more difficult to understand when you’re an outsider. You were not one, though, not really. You wished you were.

Your best friend’s boyfriend, now ex. Probably ex.

Harry.

You saw him, right outside of the building where you were supposed to be in, leaning to give a shoulder to your friend. You would, of course.

But you wondered what would happen if you didn’t. If you instead went to him. Of course the imagination can go as wild as we let it go but this was just not what you needed.

Harry.

It felt weird, and you didn’t know if she’d seen her. He was pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to breathe in. They’d probably had another fight. One of those loud arguments where both of them made absolutely no sense at all. The relationship both of them were fighting for but there was barely any relationship to be saved at all.

Harry.

There are secrets in life we all like to keep. This was one you’d kept for a long while right now.

But you didn't know how longer you could keep it. You were in love with your best friend’s boyfriend. Probably ex now. Who wouldn’t be?

It was the same old story, coming of age kind of story with no happy ending whatsoever and which led to this absolute mess, with every day your feelings growing deeper. It was your fault for becoming so close to him.

You saw him again, cursing at the rain as his hair was soaking, he only cursed between his teeth again as he was debating whether or not to go back into the building, he kicked the puddle forming in front of him and groaned. That’s when he saw you.

With your dark blue umbrella, and coat. Calmly watching him, not moving, not doing anything at all.

You wondered if he knew.

If he’d ever notice how your eyes brightened up when he was in the room. Maybe he had, all those years, with you in the shadows.

When you met him, him sitting down with some friends, they’d introduced you to one of his, and Sierra had insisted on pairing you up with that guy. Teenage years, when one escapes to parties and tries not to come back home drunk for your parents to notice. A Halloween party, you’d dressed up as Wednesday Addams, he’d dressed up as Elton John.

You had noticed him first, his green eyes had crossed with yours. It wasn’t really his zone, it had seemed. Sierra had caught his eyes, though.

You barely remembered anything from that party, it was like any other party from that time. Drunk teenagers, gathering around to smoke and play a bare excuse of beer pong.

It had been raining but it had stopped, that you could remember. You had gone outside, tired from the buzzing music that you could barely recognize, just loud strums and unnecessary words put together. Songs talking about material things and partying. Not feelings.

You remembered walking outside to the wet grass and you avoided some other people making out on the floor, Britney Spears making out with Frankenstein, that was something. Some other kids yelling through their phones as they assured their parents they weren’t drunk when they clearly stung like warm cheap beer.

You didn’t remember why you had walked out. But you did remember seeing him there, too.

“Got bored of the games?” He asked you, he was leaning against the wall.

There it was, the reason you went outside. He had intrigued you, why hadn’t he stayed with his friends? Why was he staring at the night sky? Was he that drunk?

You had crossed a few words with him throughout the party, nothing important or particular. Very… forgettable. You’d played beer pong against him and his friend, the one Sierra had insisted that he liked you.

But nothing too important.

However you’d seen him walk out. It had awakened something in you.

“I’m terrible at beer pong,” you admitted. “Not even risking playing.”

“That’s the fun of beer pong, though,” he commented. “Ge’ing your ass drunk enough.”

You chuckled. “Well why aren’t you playing anymore?”

“I’m too good,” he sassed. “Ain’t nothin’ fun in that,” he pointed out. “So, Wednesday Addams, huh?”

“Yes,” you smirked. “Be afraid, be very afraid.”

“You’re too smiley to be Wednesday, very pretty smile,” he grinned.

“Thanks, Elton,” you grinned. You didn’t know if the warmth in your body was from embarrassment or if it was the effect the alcohol was having on you.

He winked at you. “So, no beer pong for me.”

You rolled your eyes, and laughed a little. “I’m sure that’s not the reason why you’re here outside, your friends are having fun.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I just came here to see the sky—That sounds so pretentious.”

“It does,” you conceded. “But I’ll give it to you, it’s pretty, can’t judge you, I partly came outside for it, too.” Although you hadn’t. It was no secret his eyes had staggered in your mind for the whole night and that the constant smiling had caught your attention.

He had smiled, you still remembered it to this day. “Haven’t had a clear sky in days,” he commented.

You shrugged, “haven’t noticed.”

“You haven’t noticed,” he sounded incredibly offended, “didn’t you miss this?” He pointed at the sky, he was just slightly tipsy you could tell. “The stars?”

That had made you smile and even laugh. “Oh, yes. I missed it, I just hadn’t realized how much.”

“You hadn’t noticed how much you missed this beautiful night sky!” His movements were big, hands up in the air. He even caused some of the other teenagers to stop making out.

“Shh! You’ve interrupted them!” You pointed out as the couple walked away angrily.

“Tha’s great! Look at the sky fellas!” He reached out for them.

You laughed. “Oh my god.”

“Huh, they can be horny teens else here. Why ruin m’moment with the sky and a beautiful girl,” he grinned at you. “This only happens in the movies!” He yelled again.

You couldn’t help but blush and cling to the red cup in your hand. He was drunk.

“In the movies though, the guy isn’t as drunk,” you mocked.

“I’m not even that drunk love,” he said. “I’m just concerned how you haven’t noticed the stars.”

“I had noticed the moon was gone,” you admitted. “Bigger fan of the moon, alright?,” you said. “Right up there, see it?”

“She’s gorgeous,” he grinned. You stared at it, bright and round, and you turned to him shining bright enough in his nose. “She’s the love of my life,” he stated.

You had chuckled. “It’s a shame she disappears once every month.”

“She’s reborn,” he chuckled. “Maybe we should learn from ‘er, huh?”

“Really?”

“Each month she rises up again and she’s beautiful in each one of her stages,” he commented, “no matter if she’s on her way to the darkness, she’s stunning.”

You only scrunched your nose. “We’re getting a bit too poetic, are we?”

He laughed. “Maybe,” he admitted.

“I’m kidding, I like that,” you’d said. “We should all be like the moon.”

“Hm, but if we were, who’d be the stars,” he commented. “It’s funny, we take the stars for granted but y’know what?” He chuckled. “Each one of ‘em is very particular.”

“No one would notice if a star was gone,” you pointed out.

“I would, the sky would look sadder,” he said. “And even if I love the moon, everyone does really, the stars are what paint the night sky so beautifully.”

“Well the moon works hard to be seen,” you grinned. “I think we should compliment her effort.”

“What about the stars? They’re so far away yet they’re freckling the dark sky,” he smiled and then turned to you.“This does feel like a movie scene, innit?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“It’s not one,” he added. “Or else you would’ve kissed me.”

You coughed, blushing. You had felt butterflies. The kind of butterflies that hadn’t disappeared in all those years. “Yeah, it’s not—Not a movie scene.”

You should’ve kissed him, though. But he hadn’t kissed you either so maybe that was the answer you needed.

“Is it the Wednesday Addams in you?” He wondered with a chuckle.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, trying to get as serious as you could.

He blushed. “What would you do if a guy worshiped and adored you? Who'd do anything for you? Who'd be your devoted slave? Then what would you do?”

“I’d pity him,” you quoted Wednesday.

He laughed. “You do know her, great.” He kept staring at the sky. “It would be great if a shooting star passed by, would add to it.”

“Shooting stars, are they like the moon?” You asked.

He chuckled. “No, they’re one of a kind and shall be treasured. If you miss your shot then it’s gone, you should take the chance when you get it.”

“Never thought of it that way,” you admitted.”hm who would’ve thought a drunken teenager dressed as Elton John would teach me of this.”

“A wise drunk teenager dressed as Elton John,” he corrected. “You’re a lil’ bit tipsy yourself huh.”

You grinned. “Yeah, just a little.”

“Besides, you proved my point!” He chipped. “You hadn’t noticed the stars!”

You smiled. “Now I will, I guess, thanks Elton.”

“I love the stars,” he pointed out. “Shame they’re barely seen.

“The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart,” you said.

“The Little Prince,” he grinned. “You know that book?”

“Everyone knows it,” you chuckled. “But yes, it’s my favorite.”

“But everyone barely does,” he grinned. “It’s my favorite book, too, read it each year.”

“Me too,” you beamed. “Helps me out when I’m lost.”

“I always learn something,” he said.

You grinned.

“I’m Harry,” he had introduced himself to you. “Harry Styles.”

And it rolled on the top of your tongue every now and then, that named you crushed and cursed. It had lingered until now. Of course his stupid name was perfect, too.

You should’ve kissed him or ran along with his—had he attempted to flirt? Was he trying that? You knew you had liked him. One of those stupid connections, like he’d said. It had felt like one, one of those coming of age films. But it wasn’t.

Short conversation that you couldn’t quite put your head to it. Didn’t make any sense, if you were honest. You should’ve kissed him, and to this day you still wondered what would’ve happened if you had.

The story of how Harry and Sierra had officially met was his favorite to tell. He’d say it over and over, how a beautiful girl dressed like Puglsey Addams, because of course best friends always match, had accidentally ran to him and he’d spilled his drink on her moments after meeting you. How he had helped her in the bathroom to clean herself and they’d instantly laughed. How he had fallen in love with her the second he’d met her.

Funny.

They had walked out of that party, they’d probably gone for a walk. You remembered it. How since that day you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

How since that day you always stared at the night sky and watched the stars.

Funny thing, he was the one to call you out for being in love with the moon and never paying attention to the stars, yet he had never noticed you. Taken you for granted.

You couldn’t blame him, after all, the moon was the love of his life.

You’d grown fonder of him, and Sierra had made sure you both got along.

“My best friend and my boyfriend have to get along.”

You shouldn’t have, though. Because with time you both were hanging out a friendship was forming, from his side. And then a growing feeling in yours.

Had he ever noticed?

Each time Sierra dragged him so you wouldn’t feel left out, but it was counterproductive because you’d fall for him. Because it seemed that his jokes were just made for you, and you couldn’t help but think that you were meant to be.

Maybe he’d noticed that time near her birthday, years ago, when he’d call you to bake cookies together for your friend. He probably had noticed then. Maybe he had felt something, too.

Licking a spoonful of cookie dough, and laughing against each other, how he would hide his smile, and how he’d give you those shy green eyes before avoiding a laugh when you’d said a very bad joke.

How both of you were tiptoeing and dancing in the kitchen, music playing loud, as you were sitting on the counter and he leaned against it, scrolling on his phone as he played songs.

“Okay, so this,” Harry had said, “this is one of my favorites,” he said before a guitar started to play.

“The Zombies, She’s not there!” You guessed quickly. “A classic, please, you have to be kidding me, play something difficult.”

“How do you know it?” Harry frowned, jokingly turning to you. “I swear—“

“I love them, what do you mean?” You chuckled.

“But you’ve guessed every single song I’ve played,” he pointed out very dramatically. “Every single one, I swear Sierra wouldn’t have guessed one.”

“Sierra has bad taste in music,” you pointed out. “I love her, but really, but she’s got great taste in cookies so she’ll love this.”

Because you knew him. Sierra dated him but you knew him. And sometimes you wondered how Sierra couldn’t really see his magic.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, back then, how you fit so well together. How your laugh would synchronize with his and how every single joke he’d make, no matter how stupid, was funny to you. The way you’d try to hide some smiles, and how the tension would be broken when she arrived. She whom he loved.

A usual friend. Should’ve remained as friends. You still were. You felt dirty each time they looked at each other, it hurt, so much. And they talked too cute, and they were always adorable.

You had to stop thinking about him.

Except you loved him, and you had realized it, that one time, around Christmas, one of those Christmas parties that you always had with your friends in which eventually Harry had joined in. You remembered how you got his name in Secret Santa.

Cozy night it was, they were cuddling each other.

You remembered how he had opened it, Love is a Dog From Hell by Charles Bukowski, a book he’d constantly mentioned, a book he loved. He had thanked you and hugged you and it had been the perfect Christmas present.

You knew that.

You saw them, kissing under that mistletoe that he’d jokingly placed on top of them. You wished you were her. Sierra being pretty and lovely. And Sierra having him.

But then he’d decided to give everyone presents, maybe for accepting him on your Christmas party, or whatever he meant. How he was the life in the party, and how he had made you smile.

And everyone got presents, and each of them proved how much he put thoughts into it, because he really wanted to make them. How he had given that one friend some brushes so they could paint, or a new camera to that other one.

You remembered how perfectly unevenly wrapped yours was, with that silly wrapping paper that had little Santas on it. He probably had wrapped it himself, you could see how it was cut, and the tape all over it, with a hand-made bow, so pretty. It felt warm, and it felt like him. You opened it, he told you you could rip it off, and you hadn't, you had so slowly opened it, you still kept that wrapping paper to this day. The Little Prince. As if he was joking with you.

He had only winked at you, probably unaware that he was digging a deeper way into your heart.

And you kept loving him, watching him from afar as they kissed over and over again.

How you’d help her with gifts for him, when his own birthdays came around, like when you told her to give him more rings for his fingers, because you knew him. And how he would share his news with you first because he knew you’d listen.

You wondered if Sierra ever noticed he was more than the guy who had nice clothes, and the guy with that pretty smile. Did she ever stop to listen to his thoughts? Those that came at 2 in the morning. Those you’d been able to listen to at a party, where both of you were away from the crowd as Sierra was partying with some other of your friends.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Harry had asked you, that New Years party. They had kissed at midnight, of course. He had brought his guitar, a new habit that he had earned over the time. You loved every time he sang, raspy and quiet. Over the years he’d sing more and more with you, and less and less with crowds. He thought nobody wanted to listen, you did, you always wanted to listen.

You only looked up to see her, she was. Dancing as the lights were jumping around with her, the music bouncing with her. Harry had his fingers brushing against the strings, barely stroking it, as he was so mesmerized watching Sierra. You always wanted to be seen that way, you never would.

You could never be Sierra, and of course, why would Harry ever turn to love someone like you? When Sierra was so perfect and lovely.

You’d never say anything, maybe Sierra did notice. But she trusted you.

“Yeah,” you had answered. You had been cold.

He could tell, you knew that.

“You’re cold,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.

“I am,” you admitted. “Tis cold, though.”

“You’re never cold, though,” he pointed out.

“I am today.”

“I’m not cold,” he had said. “Want my jacket?”

And he had given it to you, and Sierra had seen it. And she didn’t mind. Because Sierra trusted you, and she trusted him.

So she didn’t mind when Harry had taken your hand to shove you into the dancefloor with him. Sierra had said it once: ‘he sees you as a best friend, I think he’s claiming you’.

And you remembered being silly while dancing with him, how he put his hands in fists and shook them in front of his chest, giggling to himself, and gave you that damned smile. And by then by that time you aready had your own way with him, always singing to each other, being stupid really.

Heroes by Bowie was playing, a song he loved, and you did too.

“Just for one day.”

You still thought it was your song.

And though you were the one to wear the sweater, she’d be the one to go home with him. So in love. It didn’t matter.

But life goes on, the birds sing, the sun keeps rising.

It had been a long time since you thought of him that way, he was just one more, another broken heart. And you knew it, that life does not stop, she did not either. And crying for a love that never had a chance to be sounds foolish, insensitive and useless.

At some point you did move on. Because you had to, and you wanted it to pass but then it would always come, how he’d smile at you and you’d think of it, the start that one time when you should’ve done something.

And it was weird listening to Sierra talk about him, she was so desperately in love with him. That’s what mattered, they made each other happy. And so, so happy. And though it hurt, you knew it had to be that way.

You were the one to listen to both of them, whenever they had a small fight or whatever, both sides. You usually agreed with both, honestly, but always took Sierra’s side. She was your best friend, after all.

And you couldn’t tell the world that he made you oh so happy, and you new Sierra probably didn’t even think of it, because you weren’t obvious and you had dates of your own, you dated other people of course, but you always ended up wondering what would happen between you and Harry.

It probably didn’t ever occur to Sierra. Not to Harry either, probably. Because everything was so platonic. Like when he picked you up in the middle of the night just because he wanted to drive around the city, whenever him and Sierra had a fight and he needed to understand her and he knew that the way to understand her was through you. And you’d end up sitting on the trunk of his car, watching the stars, listening to him, making him laugh until the sun was rising.

You knew everything about him, meaning behind every single tattoo, favorite movie, favorite song. You always had to stop yourself, so patient, but sometimes you couldn’t help it, your hand would brush his hair and you’d think about it, if you could only kiss him. Would it feel the way you dreamed of it?

An indentation between you and him, always stepping back. But then he’d smile at you and you’d want to close it. Please, please, please, just once. How would it feel? To seal the notch, close the gap.

And once it had happened. Nothing serious, really. A few years ago, around spring, nothing serious. Not at all. It was an accident.

Really was, of course.

Harry had been excited about Spring, and Sierra always said that whenever spring came around love was in the air, and Harry wanted to plan out a picnic for Sierra so of course he asked for your help.

It had been so stupid, an accident. He had asked you to go to the supermarket with him, and you were prancing around, laughing and having fun. He was always so sweet when it came to be so domestic. He was singing in the hallways as he was choosing the pastries, picking out the wine.

“Something in the way she moves,” he sang along to the song, hand movements as he reached out for a feeling with his hand, exaggerated movements as he threw his head back.

“The Beatles,” you said, matter of factly. But you knew the Beatles weren’t singing that version. It didn’t feel like a usual supermarket song, but he was moving his head and singing.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “However, they’re not the-”

“Not the ones singing, I know, that’s a woman,” you answered before he could fight back.

He giggled, “Yea, this is Phyllis Dillon,” he pointed out. “Such a song. I’m impressed, y/n, you didn’t know her.”

“Didn’t, now I do,” you grinned. “Unusual song for the supermarket.”

He watched you, tiredly with that bright smile that could light up the entire world. Sunlight.

“This is going to sound rude,” he said.

You raised your brows at him.

“But like, if Sierra and I ever break up who’s gonna keep you?” He joked.

You had laughed. “Like a dog?”

He scrunched his nose. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Oh, I’m most certain you did,” you teased.

“Did not.”

“Well I don’t think you guys will break up,” you had said, and you had meant it, because you really didn’t want them to. He made your best friend happy and your best friend made him happy. All that matters.

He smiled, “you think?”

“Yeah, I’m making sure you don’t,” you winked at him. “Also, that wine, Harold?” You asked before putting it back and choosing a better one.

“Thanks for helping me,” he had said. “Y’er always such a good friend.”

“Just making sure everything is—“

“Perfect for Sierra, I kno’,” he smirked. “And you always make sure tis perfect for me too.”

You grinned. “I'm the mastermind behind the relationship.”

And the problem was he had leaned over to kiss your cheek, you guessed in an attempt to thank you for being a friend, but it had been an accident or maybe you had turned to him, subconsciously longing for your lips to meet his. Barely a peck. Yet it had felt… electric. As if a lightning had just struck you.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

And he had backed away.

Had he felt it? That buzzing and flickering spark? That thunder You’d kissed.

In a grocery store. Planking a picnic for his girlfriend. Your best friend. This was wrong.

“I’m—sorry,” both of you had said at the unison.

“I—was going to—“

“I didn’t know—“

But both of you knew it had been four seconds. It’s funny, someone had once taught you to count the seconds between thunders and lighting. In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile.

In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were. 4 seconds had been until he had pulled away.

4 stupid seconds.

Could mean a lot of things, could mean nothing.

Harry and you had stopped talking for a while after it happened. Neither of you told Sierra, but she had noticed you were avoiding her boyfriend which brought her to doubt him. No she didn’t think you had kissed. She thought you had fought or whatever she had come up with.

“Don’t you like Harry anymore? Why are you not hanging out with us anymore?” She had asked you.

“Maybe I don’t want to third-wheel anymore,” you snapped. “Enjoy your boyfriend, Sierra. I don’t have to be around twenty four seven.”

That’s when the problems had started. Not between you and Sierra, but him and Sierra. It was no secret you had been the “mastermind” behind their relationship. But you had walked out of there. However it had been coincidental, or so you told yourself. It didn’t really have much to do with you walking out.

Or had it?

You had guessed you’d feel that way each night, with the light of your phone illuminating your face while the dark room paled your tears. You’d see his initial on the screen, and doubt if calling was a choice. He was never a talker, really. He barely liked to speak up. He was more of...actions. So whenever he didn’t do anything, you knew something was up. He wasn’t... really, he wasn’t like this.

At least a text but he didn’t like texting. Nothing. His silent treatments were like others. The ‘H’ is silent, you thought to yourself.

Funny.

Sierra had mentioned he had been distanced. It was around the time you started dating Daniel. Danny.

And you saw Sierra arguing over and over through the phone, and coming back crying to your shared apartment. Giving her your shoulder to cry on.

She said that Harry had told her he wasn’t sure about it.

Which led to the first breakup.

One that didn’t really last. But you remembered it perfectly, you were at a museum, date with Danny. Nice, romantic.

And then you’d received a call, Harry. He hadn’t called you in a while and you weren’t sure why he had called you.

You had looked down at the caller ID. He wasn’t a texter, you knew that, but—you answered the phone.

“Hello? Harry?” You answered, with fear.

Danny hadn’t questioned you.

“Sierra and I broke up,” he stated.

You felt cold. “Oh.” Your first instinct had been to call your friend. See if she was okay.

“I—“he sighed. “I… can I see you?”

“I—sure but—“

“Okay, I’ll pick you up in ten,” he said. “Please don’t—“

“Oh, Harry I’m on a date right now.”

“You—what?”

“Yes I’m here with Danny,” you had said. “On a date.”

He had gone quiet, dangerously quiet.

“But-I’ll call you when I get home, alright?”

“Yeah.”

When you got home, Sierra had her door locked and didn’t want to talk to you.

“I need some time alone.”

And you had called Harry but he hadn’t answered.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four calls until he answered. Before you knew it, you were with him, driving again, he liked to drive, you knew that. To watch a sunset. As they said in The Little Prince, you see, one loves the sunset when one is so sad.

And he was sad, and he was quiet. ‘Could it Be Another Chance’ by The Samples was playing in the background.

“I guess Sierra told you,” he had said, gulping.

“She didn’t,” you said.

He hadn’t dared to look at you. It felt weird, you hadn’t talked to him a while and seeing him standing there with tears wanting to come down.

He coughed. “Well.”

“What happened?” You didn’t know.

He hadn’t answered, and there was that usual frown upon his face, thoughtful, very thoughtful and dark if he wanted it to be. He was sad or disappointed. You didn’t blame him, of course, breakups are hard enough.

“Dunno,” he admitted. Endless nightmare when he didn’t actually say what he wanted to. He actually had that habit, but he usually showed it, with his eyes.

“Then?”

“Are you afraid of me, y/n?” He blurted out the question.

“Why would I?”

“Not in the--scary way,” he said quickly. “But in the way that we both know each other,” he said. “The way that it feels off.”

“I’ve never felt off with you,” you admitted.

“That’s the thing,” he sighed. “That’s the thing,” he repeated. “I don’t get it,” he said.

“Did you feel off with Sierra?” You asked.

He didn’t answer. Maybe he should’ve.

“We haven’t talked for a while so I have no inkling on where you were standing,” you admitted. “Not from Sierra’s perspective, either.”

He shook his head. “That’s the thing,” he said for the third time. “That’s the thing.”

He had only turned the music louder, and sang along to it.

“Danny, then?” He asked eventually. “Danny?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“And do you feel off with him?” He asked.

“I don’t.”

He had clenched his jaw. “Is it going anywhere?” He asked. “Or is it like any other guy you’ve dated?”

“No.”

“You like him, right?” He asked.

You smiled, slightly, feeling warm on your cheeks. “I-”

“When someone blushes, doesn't that mean 'yes’?” He asked.

You didn’t answer.

“I’m just, I’ve been wondering I’ve always wanted to feel with Sierra the same way I feel with you,” he had said. “Not in-”

“Harry that’s-”

“Sounds mental, doesn’t it?” He sighed. “To want a friend in someone you love.”

“Someone you love should be a friend,” you said. “But I…”

“Did you ever wonder about it?”

“About what?”

He shrugged. “If that night I had ran into Wednesday instead of Pugsley.”

“You did run into me,” you pointed out. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Yeah, could’ve been.”

But it had you thinking. Maybe it had been stupid, but you had broken up with Danny after a few weeks of thought. Or maybe led Danny to break up with you because you had been off. And it had felt off, and it hadn’t but with one simple question Harry had made, it had you thinking.

And maybe it was stupid to think that now that Harry and Sierra had broken up you could simply get your shot, but he had been the one to say it, hadn’t he?

Shooting stars are chances. And he was one and you hadn't taken it.

Just after you’d walk in to your apartment with Sierra, you’d seen them kissing again. They were back together.

So there was your chance, gone again but then again it was stupid to think that you could get a shot, besides it was Sierra’s boyfriend.

Yes, heartbroken you were.

And it continued, for a long while. They were fine again and you had to be quiet again. Halloween, Spring, New Years, Christmas, Birthdays, parties, every single season they were there. All the time. And they were fine. For most of the time, other times not so much, and the second, and third breakup came around. Yet, they always got back together, even with all the fighting and yelling which you never understood, not really. Why would anyone stay in a relationship like that?

You guessed that at the end of the day they still loved each other, and their fights were simply stupid and they always, always, always got over them. You didn’t, you remembered them yelling and fighting and just searching for an excuse to stay together, and then they’d kiss and forget it and they’d be calmed.

It still ached, to have him around nd think of the stupid ‘what if’ that would certainly never come because even if you were given the chance, you’d never take it because Sierra was and would always be your best friend.

Did she know? Had she seen it? The way your world stopped when Harry was around? How you’d make time for him or how whenever he was around you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Your bright and true smile, and how you’d listen to every song he told you to, or how you’d always be there to listen to him, no matter the time.

How you looked away each time they kissed and how you wished you could find someone like him and yet it wouldn’t be enough because it wouldn’t be him. Because his mind was the place where you wanted all your secrets to be hidden. His lips were the only one thing that could make you feel, or so you thought, that could make you get to paradise. His voice was supposed to tell your story, and his ears were meant to listen to you.

Yet, it was Sierra.

Not you.

Sierra.

And Harry would tell her. He loved her, he lived for her, spared his entire life and love for her. And though you knew they weren’t happy, you wondered if you were allowed to tell them. Maybe you were biased, and you did hear them say how they loved each other but then it… You could tell it was off.

The moment you had given up had been barely a few weeks ago, finally given up. You remembered how he had asked for your help.

“I’m picking out a ring, y/n.”

“Another one?” You had chuckled. “You’ll need more fingers, Harold.”

“For Sierra.”

“Oh, she’s not really a ring person-” you had started.

“No, I… y/n I’m asking her to marry me,” he had blurted.

You had paused.

“Seems like it’s time,” he said. “And she’s been hintin’ it. Doesn’t get any better than this.”

It hurt. But you had gone with him.

Walking through the store, seeing rings and rings, jewelry.

“I dunno anything ‘bout marriage,” he admitted. “It’s ironic, I love rings yet this one I can’t seem to know….”

“This one is pretty,” you had pointed out at one.

He had made a face, scrunching his nose. Always making faces.

“Why are you doing this?” You had questioned.

He had looked up at you. He knew why you were asking. Because things hadn’t been right but he probably thought this was the way to make things right, but he probably wanted you to question him. Harry couldn’t be tied, yet this seemed like he was tying himself.

It made you sad, how he had lost what made him oh so beautiful, oh so perfect. His freedom. He was willing to take away his freedom. Not because marriage per se was taking away someone’s freedom but for Harry this particular decision seemed like it was.

He didn’t smile anymore, not that much, he wasn’t as silly.

“She’s my moon,” he had said.

“Yet I remember you were a bigger fan of the stars,” you had called him out.

“The shooting star passed, y/n, this is what’s meant to happen, I lost a shooting star, but I love the moon,” he said. “The moon is meant to be loved.”

“Marriage won’t solve your problems.”

“I know, but it might make me get back to my senses, I’ve spent all these years with her, I love her, that’s it, no other explanation, and that’s--”

“Harry.”

“it is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important,” he quoted.

“Love doesn’t mean wasting time.”

And the conversation had continued and you kept playing it over and over your head, and tried to understand if this was your fault, which you were sure led to the fourth breakup, to the one you probably were witnessing now.

To this day, of you standing with your dirty sneakers, with two options. To offer a shoulder or to finally try and fight for something that probably would never work. To risk everything for once.

Standing with your umbrella, watching him staring at you. Wondering what could’ve happened if it had been Wednesday instead of Pugsley. Wondering what would’ve happened if you kissed him. Wondering what would’ve gone by had you made a wish to that shooting star.

You were willing to do it. Risk it all to count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder.

part two: thunderstorms & shooting stars

part three: stars and fate

I’ll tag some friends who might like this:

@saintlavrents @annathesillyfriend @tanyalooovesyou @harrysrightchelseaboot @harrysleftchelseaboot @wholesomestyles @whatevsholland @eerieharrie @pparkeramorr

#harry styles #golden #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles ff #bl&t

1K notes · View notes

ravixen · 3 years

Note

Hi! I loved the vocal unit reaction with the s/o that can’t take compliments! Can you do that with performance team pls?

svt + s/o who's awkward with compliments (pt. 2)

➔ reaction || requested || performance unit

➔ 661 words ➔ notes: fluff, slice of life ; i'm glad you liked the last one! hope you like this one, too. i think i've deviated from "s/o can't take compliments" to straight up how they compliment you LOL as always, pls reblog!

JUNHUI: he's so childish about it — i can't emphasize this enough. he'll get in your face and use his baby voice to say things like "y/nnie, you're so good at this. my y/n is amazing, wowowow! look at you, ahh!" and it's mo rt if y ing. he has no shame in pinching your cheeks and doing this in public because you'll either bury your warm face in his shirt or smile awkwardly. both reactions are amusing to him, so even if you hit his shoulder and scold him, he'll do it every chance he gets. "do you even mean it?" you scoff once, lips twitching between a flustered grin and a frown. that stops his giggles. "what? of course i do," he says, uncharacteristically serious. "i mean all my compliments to you." the fingers pinching your cheek smooths it over instead. "why would you ask that?" and he's so genuine that you almost apologize, but then he's back to being silly.

SOONYOUNG: you know compliments are coming when he starts chuckling to himself. it starts small and under his breath, and then he stops. and he starts again, getting louder each time until he's laughing and clapping his hands. "what's so funny?" you ask hesitantly, even though you know the answer. "hm? oh, nothing. except you, i guess. i just think you're really funny." he grins at you. you don't know if it's your recent set or an older joke you told, though. "i don't know why you're so scared to write a sketch. variety shows would fight over having you! like pow! kachow!" you cover your face as he pretends to fight the air. he likes to over-exaggerate scenarios like this, but you suppose that's his way of emphasizing his pride in your abilities. if you look uncomfortable, though, he'll phase out the praises and just pat your head instead. "i'm serious. you put in a lot of hard work, but you're also made for it."

MINGHAO: he likes praising you, and while it's incredibly sweet, you can't help feeling like you don't deserve the compliments, especially when they come out of him so easily? you can just exit the bathroom, patting your damp hands on your thighs, and he looks up with a soft smile and a "good work." what's good? what work?? you'd think that constant exposure would get you used to it, but if anything, it makes you warier. what mundane task is he going to compliment you for this time? when you tell him about your...discomfort — though discomfort isn't the right word for it — he blinks in surprise. "i didn't know it was confusing," he says. "i'll stop if that's what you prefer." and that's what he does. troubleshoots with you; what can and can't he compliment you for? he's all for striking a balance, but he wants you to know that he's grateful for your existence and everything you do, no matter how small.

CHAN: when he found out you wanted to learn the flower choreo, he insisted on being the one to teach you, an idea that absolutely mortified you because you're going to look like a fool in front of him? why? he breaks down the steps for you, similar to what he did for his members, and regardless of whether it's easy or difficult, he compliments every effort, which gets you super flustered, which leads to more fumbling. "can you not?" you huff, focusing on your own face in the practice mirror. he freezes. he's never had a student refuse his encouragement. "i don't mean completely, but maybe hold off until i learn more? you don't have to act like this with every simple move..." "oh, i get it. because it feels condescending?" you nod. "and really embarrassing when i mess up. there's a pressure to do well." of course, of course. he saves his verbal compliments, but his constant proud smile is enough to keep you going.

144 notes · View notes

sasa-gay-yo · 3 years

Text

Phone Call - Levi Ackerman - 200 Follower Special

Levi Ackerman - ModernAU - Light Smut - “Are you horny right now?”- “This was supposed to be a one-time thing.” - “We’re just friends? I fucked you though.” - MINORS DNI

❀ღ✦❁♡ッ✽❀ꕤღ✦♡❁✽ッ✧❀

In front of everyone. Literally, as you were trying to babysit the college kids from breaking into your liquor cabinet, yelling at your brother who started this whole drunken mess, he grabbed your ass. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it either, and it made you jump two feet in the air. At first, you thought it was one of Jean’s friends, maybe Eren who you knew had a crush on you, but the raven-haired man never failed to surprise you. I mean, who would have thought you and Levi Ackerman would have sex sober? You two always claimed to be annoyed by the other. Then, last week happened...

Levi was the uptight upperclassman, in your grade, who somehow got involved with the “brats” and could never get away from them. Part of the reason was because Hange, your best friend, and Armin, Jean’s friend, were co-presidents of the Biochemistry Club, and the other part, unknown to you, was that he thought Jean’s sister was incredibly hot. And incredibly beautiful. And Levi wanted you to date him. So much so, he even told Erwin about it. Levi was serious about pursuing something if Erwin knew about it. However, you didn’t know and the fact that he didn’t try to contact you for another round after what you thought was quite a good session, made you think he was over it.

Now, a week later, he’d shown up at your apartment on the tails of Hange and Armin. Jean had asked to host this party at your place, knowing how small his four-bedroom was, and you had no ability to say no to your little brother. Now, again, we come back to the present. Levi groping your bent over ass, something pressing into your thigh, while you were trying to shut your expensive liquor collection from the already drunk crew.

“What are you doing?” You stood up, facing him, and he had that blank look on his face. The first and only time he’d given you emotion was when he was inside of you. In class. Blank. Study session at Erwin and his place. Blank.

“I’m bored of these kids trying to mix the strongest drinks they possibly can using nothing but Coke and everclear. Want to do something?” Your eyes widened at bit, putting your hands on your hips to show some opposition. You weren’t going to let Levi Ackerman think you were that easy.

“Hm, I remember you saying in the morning that this was supposed to be a one-time thing. What changed your mind?” You want to walk away from him, rolling your eyes at how his faced morphed into one of annoyance. The hand he grabbed, he pulled straight down, right to his hard-on threatening the integrity of the jeans he wore.

“Could stop thinking of when I bent you over that cabinet. Thought I’d try to do it again.” You looked down the hallway at the kids who’d gathered to play a round of drunk truth or dare. There was no way you were letting him fuck you in a house full of Jean’s friends. One, you’d be mortified, and two, Jean’s friends would never let you live it down. You had a thesis to prepare and couldn’t deal with that constant headache.

“Maybe next time,” you said, swatting at his lower half to push him back. You tossed him a quick wink over your shoulder before joining the drunk truth or dare, only watching and laughing at the stupid things they made each other do. At one point, Hange had to put her clothes on upside down and Historia had to drunk call her ex-Reiner. Then, Jean noticed you were being excluded from his punishments and couldn’t have that.

“Hey! Truth or dare!” He yelled at you, and now everyone had turned, egging you on to answer. You guessed just one little round wouldn’t hurt.

“Dare.” There were ooh’s and Jean hadn’t expected you to say that, so he looked around the room trying to muster up a good enough dare. He wasn’t going to give his sister a sexual one like the others before it, but Connie had bigger ideas.

“I dare you to call the last person you had sex with and give them a rating! Like an Uber ride!”

“Connie, what the hell man?!” Jean yelled, not wanting to hear that, but the other certainly did. They’d heard things you and Jean have told them, and for the girls in the group, you were the resident sex advice expert, coming to you for any advise or sex item buying. You had no shame in helping them. Therefore, with your wealth of knowledge, they knew you’d have someone to call. However, you weren’t about to do that, when sitting right across from you was the receiver. He was staring right at you too, seeing if you had enough confidence to do it.

“Do I have to do it in front of you all?”

“No, I don’t wanna he-“

“Yes, you do,” Eren cut in, glaring at Jean. You sighed. It wasn’t the fact that you had to do this, in all honesty, it was a boring dare, but it was because Levi was in the room. If his phone rang in his pocket, you would die right there and then. Just a few days ago, you were ranting up and down to them, having your weekly lunch at the undergraduate cafeteria after your TA-ing, about how much you hated Levi. This was also during the time he ghosted you after giving you the best sex ever. You were a bit salty.

“Ugh, it’s not like I can give a good rating to this person.” You saw Levi’s eyes flicker with amusement, and he got up right away to walk down the hallway into the kitchen. That line was to hide your embarrassment, but he seemed to have a different idea.

“I’m not listening to her ass rant about sex again. All goddamn day I hear this shit,” grumbling in character, and you saw him take his phone out of his pocket before turning the corner. Now that you insulted him, he wanted you to call. He wanted to see if you had the guts to say that while he was whispering in your ear. He had big plans.

“Literally, this is boring. Can we just move on?” No one listened to Jean, even if you wanted them too, and Hange was the one who pulled your phone out of your purse and threw it at you… probably because she was the only one who knew. She wanted to see how this all would play out.

“Fine. Fine. It won’t be a long call though.” You scrolled through your contacts, thumb hovering over his name for a few seconds before pressing the call button. Levi was smart, and let it ring until it almost went to voice mail.

“Hello?” You shifted in your seat, hearing his voice on the other line. It was laced with the same poison he used to whisper sweet nothings in your ear last week, making you come so much, you’d lost count. It was all because of a dare too. Last week, you’d personally dared him. He couldn’t make a woman come, not with that attitude. Boy, did he show you the talent he possessed. Thinking about it made you shift in your seat.

“Hey, you got a minute. Just wanted to run somethings down with you.” He hummed, and the pairs of eyes staring at you got more and more intense. It was a good thing they couldn’t hear him, and that he was whispering in the other room.

“So, you remember last week right? After the bar?” He chuckled, and of course, it had to send shivers down your spine. No matter how awkward this was, no matter if your brother and his friends were staring and whispering, you were literally getting dirty talked to over the phone by Levi. This was, perhaps, a dream, but you had to play it cool.

“How could I forget the way you clenched around me? I made you cum twice with my dick, no? Three with just my tongue.” You gripped the phone, feeling your stomach heat up. You felt something else too, but you had to ignore it. You had too. There would be hell to pay if you showed signs of getting aroused in front of everyone, especially Hange who had a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Yeah, I know this is weird… but, uh, it’s a dare. Just play along, yeah? It’ll be over soon.” You heard him shift and started to get curious as to what position he was in, only a wall in between the both of you.

“Are you horny right now? In front of Jean and his friends? How dirty of you. Imagine if they knew you were getting off to just my voice, baby girl. Do you think they’d believe it? That I was the one who had you bent over on that very couch, spread for me?” You swallowed hard, and that’s when the smart ones in the group knew something was up. You could tell by Armin, Mikasa, and Annie’s faces that they knew. They knew whatever this stranger was saying was affecting you in all the right ways.

But, you continued like he was saying nothing.

“Well, yeah, so I’m rating it. Our experience. I’d say out of five stars, give it a two-point-five, maybe three?” He scoffed into the phone and had to hold himself back from laughing out loud and blowing his cover. He knew better than anyone that that was a lie. Levi’s dick had you crying out in pleasure. Hell, he still had the scratches on his back from you and the imagine of you squirming underneath him permanently engraved in his mind. An image of innate, lustful beauty. If anything, he should receive five-out-of-five-stars.

“You want to lie to me right now? Two-point-five? I should make you choke on my dick for saying that. Come to the kitchen and find out what a two-point-five is. I’ll just leave you on the floor after, my cum on your face, begging for me to fuck you.” The groan came out. You couldn’t hide it. It was the way he was being so vivid. It was the way you were glad you were sitting with your legs underneath you, trying to find some relief from his voice. God, he already had you dripping. You shouldn’t have fucking denied him by the liquor cabinet.

Still, you had to hide that groan.

“No, just stop there. Look. We agreed, just friends yeah. I’d like to keep it that way. If we do things twice, it’ll lead to something else. I mean, if you want I can-“ He cut you off, and you heard him groan to. You heard the shallow breaths he was taking. Was he… was he jacking off in your kitchen?

“We’re just friends? I fucked you though. Besides, I don’t give head to my friends, hm? Are you sure we’re just friends, baby? What did you call me the other night or did you forget because I fucked you dumb?” He moaned in your ear after saying it, adding to the pressure of the situation. You were getting so hot and bothered. The moan was just loud enough for it to have lasting effects in your stomach. He was fucking edging you over the phone, your body radiating with heat. Fuck. At this point, you didn’t care if the others heard, you needed relief. You were quick to give him some subliminal messages, steering him in your direction. You know you’d get shit for it later, but you didn’t care. You needed him to touch you and fast.

“No, no. I never said that. Just stick to what we’re doing, yeah?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, “Mhm, alright. If you wanna meet up with some friends Monday, sure! Like I said, we’re still friends. Yeah, totally. Your house?” You asked that last question, hoping to God that he would get the hint. You needed him now and he was just a five-minute drive. Damn, maybe you’d just fuck him in the car.

“My house? What if I just fuck you right here in front of all of them? I know Eren would like it. You want Eren to watch me fuck you? Claim you as mine? We all know you caught him jerking off to you. I don’t like to share. Even images in other peoples’ minds. They don’t get to dream of your pussy like I do.” You took one last shaky breath, seeing now everyone’s faces. They were either confused or getting bored of the conversation. Those confused were starting to pick up on your physical signals. Those bored were Eren and Connie, who were hoping you’d at least give them some explicit details to jack-off to later. Shoot, it was hard to not want to have sex with Jean’s hot older sister. Everyone in the group had a desire to do it at some point, but Levi had secretly gotten to you first.

“Yeah, you can, but I’d prefer my suggestion. Just works better in my timetable.” He chucked, and you heard him set the phone down, a belt buckle clinking in the background.

“How about once in the car and a few times at my place? Let’s try to break last week’s record, yeah? You came five times on Friday. Let’s make it six or seven. I want to see those tears on your cheeks. Meet me at my car?” You smiled and almost shouted out with joy, partly because you’d finally be able to get rid of the ache between your thighs, and two because you needed to keep up the act.

“Sure! I’ll see you then.” Finally, fucking finally, you got to hang up. It was a sigh of relief that followed, and then you turned to everyone.

“Talking to that guy is so boring. One of the wo-“ Your phone rang again, and you answered it without thinking.

“Hell-“

“I forgot to tell you, I don’t have condoms at mine, so were going to have to stop on the way back and buy some.” Levi smirked down at you, phone to his ear. He’d walked back into the living room, and you saw his shirt was untucked. You also saw everyone’s reaction and Hange bursting out in laughter. It only took a few seconds for everyone to realize what was happening, and in the process, Levi hung up, the stupid smirk plastered all over his face. He didn’t care what the brats thought or knew about his sex life, all that matter was the payback and feeling of self-fulfillment with the look he put on your face... and maybe making Eren Jaeger want to be him. Sure, he’d get some shit later form Jean, but nothing he couldn’t handle. The sex was going to be worth it anyways.

“You two had sex! Oh. My. God!”

“No way! You were just complaining about him last week!”

“If he was the last person you had sex with, didn’t you say that that was the best di-“ You shot up, cutting off Historia from indulging the others in front of you. They could talk about it however much they wanted when you left, and you knew you’d grow to regret telling her and Mikasa in detail about Levi and your experience. You left out his name, but at that point you wanted to brag about the best dick you ever received to them. You know, girl talk. Now it was fucking awful they knew.

“Goodbye!” You yelled out, grabbing Levi’s wrist and not caring that you just walked out in house slippers. You were leaving that place as fast as you could. It wasn’t until inside the elevator that you let go of him and could finally breath again. Then you turned to him.

“What the he-!“ He pushed you against the wall, a hand on the small of your back and the other above your head. His lips cut you off, using your open mouth to dive right in. He stole a small grope too, the same place on your ass that he squeezed earlier. Before the elevator hit the parking garage, he finally let you breathe, your lips already red from his attack. He didn’t stop though, continuing to kiss down your jaw, lifting your leg up off the ground just to grind into you slowly. Teasing.

“Best dick you ever had huh? Is that what Historia was about to say?” You groaned and he just laughed, noticing how red you lit up. You were also trying to move your body to feel his bulge over your own arousal. He was playing with you too much for you liking.

“The best dick I ever had ignored me for a week, too. Almost moved on.” The door dinged, and he pushed off you, leading you with his hand to his car.

“You want me to have sex with you so all of Erwin’s political science nerds can hear? I know Jean’s at your house 24/7 too.” That’s when you remembered that Erwin went home on the weekends to have family dinner with his mother. It was currently Saturday night.

“You just threatened to fuck me in front of all of them, I think you wouldn’t mind Erwin’s political science nerds.” Again, he pushed you up against his car, the chill of the red metal and his closeness, his heat, causing goosebumps to raise on your skin. He just moved his neck sideways, his mouth right on your ear to give you the same effect the phone call did. He brought his hand up too, gently squeezing the sides of your neck. It made you literally moan out loud, echoing through the underground parking garage. He smirked at how he was affecting you.

“You’re mine now. No one gets to see you stripped but me. Is that clear?” You whimpered as his hands began to wander, the heat pooling between your thighs. It took all of you to not jump him right there and then, but at least he had similar ideas.

“Yes, sir.” He chucked, pressing one kiss to the side of your neck. His seal of approval. Permission to finally do what you want.

“Good. Now take those panties off and get in the back of the car, beautiful. I can’t wait any longer.”

❀ღ✦❁♡ッ✽❀ꕤღ✦♡❁✽ッ✧❀

This request was supposed to have some fluff in it too, but I, uh, well this took me places.

#levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman scenario #levi smut #levi attack on titan #levi aot #aot x reader #sasa200 #attack on titan x reader #aot smut #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi #Captain Levi #snk smut #snk x reader

301 notes · View notes

stylistiquements · 3 years

Text

The Sorcerer pt. 1

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated. {Playlist}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

You’re about to blow your 23rd candles and Corpse is about to experience the consequences of it. Somehow, something about your rebirth is different this time.

☾ Words : 6009.

☾ Warnings : angst, mention of death (only suggested and not specific), grieving, swearing

Masterlist | Next

What does it mean to be a sorcerer in 2021? Corpse wonders as he chooses an outfit for his black bean character, lightly tapping his fingers in a crafted rhythm against his dark wooden desk. Nothing, really. The modern days turned his kind into a groundless concept, legendary creatures at best and it’s truly a shame when you think about it.

“Alright, are you ready?” Corpse asks as he moves his mouse above the “start” button and projects everyone into a new round.

“I won’t forgive you like I did last round,” Karl warns Corpse, dash of amusement in his tone.

“Sure,” he scoffs and the devious ghost of a smile shines on his lips when the bloody word “imposter” appears above his virtual pink cat hat.

Sorcerers used to be the rulers of this world and the most famous of well-hidden secrets; no one talked about it yet everyone knew. You just had to be here, respect and adoration followed their every move. People from all horizons went out of their way to meet them in hope of witnessing a miracle.

Oh, how the tables have turned now. They didn’t have to hide their face back then and it all went the harmonious way until a certain day when their fate met a tragic outcome. The day when life took a turn for the hidden.

Corpse is somehow retired now. Maybe that’s why he started doing youtube in the first place; because the craving of being needed had to be fulfilled one way or another. Or maybe because the thrill of life has been gone for so long he had to try everything to fill the void in hope of feeling a drip of something again. The weariness of a mere life stiffened in his rib cage from time to time, preventing a proper breathing.

He could have still been able to practice his magic facelessly -he wouldn’t be the first one to do so after all- but it seems crazy, surreal even, for him to picture being so public about such a heavy little secret nowadays. He found comfort in the concealed, in the invisible so long ago.

See, that’s the most important reason why Corpse is who he is today but stopping the explanations there would be neglecting the truth. Corpse would, but I'm more honest than he is.

Somehow, he believes a little too seriously that a kid’s app was designed to ruin his life. He feels this rotting taste that burns his tongue every time he thinks about it, he always talks about it with great passion; as if one minute videos could compete against the thundering energy that travels from his veins to the tip of his fingers. Witchcraft tiktok got the last bit of his ancestral pride and that’s a damn shame.

His character ambles around the hostile corridors dipped in yellow light, looking for a prey to slice in half. He doesn’t have a plan yet but he sure knows how to improvise by now. Corpse deems that he’s rather good at it. He meets Tina in O2. She’s wandering around, running like a headless chicken. What if he took that expression a little too seriously? Alas, he can’t wrap his mind around the idea of the unforgivable and she escapes his reach. Corpse’s nose wrinkles, better luck next time.

His fictional blood thirst gets stronger when he hops inside a vent and observes Rae’s red character doing her tasks. Corpse knows what comes next, it’s inevitable. A hint of excitement and nervousness hatch on his chest.

At the same time on the other side of the country, the ones you love are carrying a big cake to your table. It seems so silly and it leaves you slightly embarrassed that people are celebrating the fact that you were born but, somehow, you can’t forbid that smile to reach your ears.

When you look at the cake, a snort escapes your control. Your friends drew a glazed picture of you but you find yourself hoping that there isn’t much resemblance between that Picasso-ish designed cake and your actual face. I mean, except for that particularity your face displays; eyes that don’t match in colors, one green and one hazel, it really just looks like a kid's doodle.

23, what a weird number. It doesn’t sit quite right with you for some reason. 22 is fine, same goes for 24 but 23 … Somehow, it feels like something is either missing or too much. You’re not too sure which one it could be.

The warmth that emanates from the candles is sweet and tickles your chin softly and everyone is singing along the most disastrous birthday wishes. You’re preparing for your wish. What could you need more? You’re a faceless horror narrator on youtube and life is just about good. I mean, there really isn’t much to complain about and that should be enough.

Your mind drifts off for a second, contemplating what the dream life could be about while one of your friends is already complaining about wax getting all over your glazed face. You could wish for material things but they come and go and their meaning is only ephemeral, maybe 23 is about getting more than that.

Ah, found it. You close your eyes. May I find the place where I truly belong. 23 candles are blown in one breath, not a bad performance.

That’s when the candle on Corpse’s desk starts shining a delicate and orange shade.

Corpse doesn’t notice it at first, too impregnated by his hunt, but when the unusual warmth finally informs him of the merry event, he wrestles to keep his mind into the game. His virtual character stands motionless for a second as he mutes his mic and takes his headphones off.

Fuck, not now please.

Somewhere, a new version of the love of his life turned 23. His mind drifts off, wandering near this idea as his eyes meet the flame.

It’s been hundreds of years and that fucking candle kept you hostage of his mind. Because Corpse couldn’t forget about you, he built those walls to provide you from slipping away, from invading too much of his busy mind. It was a compromise he made with himself so he couldn’t reach you entirely and, therefore, miss you completely. Yet, your rebirth leaks through the pores of his brain and past the fences no matter how hard he tries.

Corpse battles to breathe, he tries to get his mind back on the game but somehow his throat is already filling with a dangerously acidic concoction. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice immediately the way his fingers start shaking at a painstaking rhythm.

He moves his character around. Left and right. It’s mechanical and meaningless, nothing but a lost cause. Corpse clenches his grip around the mouse, hoping that the unsteadiness would pity him. How much longer can he carry that feeling? It sits on his shoulders and his chest. It tests out his patience, his own resistance to pain.

“Corpse!” Rae shouts wholeheartedly, rooting him out of his spiral. “Where are you?!”

Fuck; he has no ounce of idea of what is happening in real life, too busy going down this familiar and intimate loop once more. He swallows it all, praying that you would spare him some earned mercy. You’re always so cruel, unabashedly sneaking in and taking over his space despite all his efforts.

“I-huh- I’m in medbay, I have scan," he bluffs, hoping that no one would notice the way his voice cracks at the end.

Because if anyone did, he would have to admit that he’s not okay, that he never was and doubts that he ever will be. Just as if conceding the facts would’ve allowed him to feel how flourishing his despair was. There’s this knot inside his throat. It’s painful and he’s so tired. How many times was he left crawling on his bathroom’s floor when his heart fractured a little deeper? He misses you every fucking day but each rebirth brings back more and more longing.

He would love to abandon himself to the aching pleasure of this unsolicited reminiscence but he knows that if he did, you would possess him wholly and never give him back. You plague his mind like a mist that grows thicker and thicker on his lungs. It diffuses everywhere and intoxicates what’s left of him.

“Sure sleepy but that’s bullshit,” Tina whines. “We know it’s Corpse. He’s been sus’ the entire round!”

“He said he had scan, right?” Sean interferes, believing that Corpse is the jester. “Why don’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

They’re all waiting for Corpse to step in, to defend himself but he’s no longer here, too busy trying to swallow the emotions that are leaking all over the place. It gnaws him alive, piece by piece and it hurts so fucking much. Will it ever stop?

Silence is convenient, “I voted” badges get pinned on everyone’s chest. His black character falls into the lava, what an ironic metaphor.

“Sorry guys, something came up and I gotta go.” He finally says, hurry in his voice. He doesn’t try to hide it. In fact, he can’t.

“Are you s…” Rae’s voice gets cut abruptly when Corpse quits the call without further notice.

Corpse knows what’s next, when his head gets overcrowded by feelings and his heart too empty. It’s ugly, it’s messy and oh how he wishes it would be different this time.

The room is spinning from the crumbs of your sweet face and the trickle of your voice that drips through his ears as if you were still here. He clings onto that distorted and stained picture as if it was the ultimate proof that you were real. Were you even real once ? Remembering feels like repeating a word over and over again: with time, it loses its meaning. It wasn’t you he remembered, Corpse figured it out a long time ago. You weren’t there anymore.

The thought of it drives him crazy. He wishes he could get rid of that fucking candle, constant reminder of your rebirth away from him, constant reminder of the defeat he has to endure every time you turn 23 and you’re still not by his side. He has been looking for you everywhere for hundreds of years, from the biggest capitals to the most secluded parts of this world, without a single hint of your existence. You’re his greatest failure and he can’t, he won’t stand that.

Corpse grabs the candle and it collides with the floor with a thud that tangles with his raw voice. His chest moves heavily. It's scattered and in discord and there is this distorted gaze on his face when he remembers that the candle cannot be shattered. It’s this unsolicited spark of self-awareness that brings him closer to reality. Fuck. What the fuck is he doing? Corpse finally lost his damn mind. His hands wander uncontrollably in his hair and he looks around frantically for a second, trying to remember how to survive.

Corpse’s head is pressuring him, rushing him to turn off his computer and spill the words that are stuck on the back of his tongue on a piece of paper. That grip is unforgivable and unclear but he starts writing as if it was the only thing left to do, maybe it is. It feels like survival instinct at this point, it feels like the last attempt to collect the pieces of himself you left behind.

Dear you,

Happy birthday, wherever you are in this world. Another letter is about to join the pile. How many are there already? I wouldn’t know. I stopped counting since it made me sick.

As every time, I hope it’s the best birthday you have ever had. I remember the twenty-third birthday we spent together as if it were yesterday. I can no longer recall the way your eyes wrinkled under your bright smile or the sound of your echoing laughter but I do remember that warm feeling inside my chest, the pain in my cheeks from laughing with all my heart. How pleasant was it to be able to live it all with you? To be able to embrace you, to breathe you, to see you. Forgive me, my love, for I am no longer capable of picturing anything of you. I wish I could. I wish I could be haunted by a proper ghost, at least, and not just a glimpse of the range of emotions that animated me when you were by my side. All I can remember now is that you felt like a firework and that my eyes never met a prettier human. It’s so truly unfair to think about the fact that no one matters as much as you still do.

I am drifting off, am I? I always tend to do that in those letters. I hope you’re doing well, I really do. Did you spend your birthday with the ones who love you? I hope you’re happy and healthy. It’s the only important thing, or at least that’s what I have learned so far.

I hate those letters, they make me realize how lonely I am. Somehow, it feels like I’m expecting an answer that is never going to arrive.

Fuck. My skin aches from the lack of your touch. I miss you so fucking much. Just tell me what to do. I tried everything and you’re still stuck inside my brain. I’m a sorcerer for fuck’s sake, one of the most powerful beings to have ever existed and yet the concept of one single human defeats me day after day, rebirth after rebirth. I’m a fucking shame for my kind. I hate you. I love you so very much. Happy birthday.

Yours truly, Corpse Husband

The paper is stained by the storm that has been building up in Corpse's mind for hours. The letters are deformed now. Look at the mess you just made. He throws the letters away, where he can no longer see it and brings his knees to his chest, resting his head between his legs. He feels like screaming one more time but he’s choking. Sweet and sore agony grips his throat as his veins are burning with thick poison.

Don’t be fooled, Corpse would have been able to cast a spell or two to forget about your existence and spare himself a bit. Yet, it would only erase the last proof he had of you, not his feelings. He would have to bear the burden of a quest he could no longer figure out. He would be left longing for something that no longer existed. As if it wasn’t the case already. He wishes he could sleep, life would be so fucking easier if he could just fall asleep.

A few days have passed since your birthday. The thread between days and nights is thin and confusing and the candle on Corpse’s desk is still radiating with as much energy as the first day.

Corpse’s head is heavy, aching, he wonders if he could still carry it on his shoulders if he wasn’t lying on his bed. That sore body feels like it has been drained from an eagerness that has been growing for too long. Corpse groans, trying to figure out what’s sheets and blankets and what’s limbs, living up to the name he chose for himself.

Every ray of the sun is burning his skin. It leaves his body smelling like heat, he doesn't like that smell. Now, he could just get up and draw the curtains but that laziness is as weary as infiltrated. If only it could rain, maybe it would soothe his nerves and his growing migraine.

After a few minutes of silent fulminations, Corpse finally unlocks his phone and opens his texts one by one just to ignore them. He’s curled up on himself, as if a compressed version of his darkness could help in order to block the light. Sorcerers are supposed to be tied with nature, with every ray of the moon and the sun. His bond with the sun is molded, if not completely doomed to grow untie. Corpse is a sorcerer like no others and that goes without saying.

One text captures his breath and his attention, bringing back some interest into the numbness. It’s coming from you, y/n. Or at least, the “you” from this present life. The “you” who isn’t aware of the past and the “you” Corpse doesn’t know is the one he has been looking for during eternity.

In this life, the two of you aren’t close enough to be friends -and he would never let you take that role- but, by the time of your first Twitter interaction -which consisted of you tweeting emo Sykkuno with tattoo pictures and Corpse replying with a meme that said "If life is a simulation please turn it off", Corpse knew you should be near him at all time. Not too close for you to actually be able to touch him but definitely not too far. It’s peculiar but something that has to be felt, not explained; a primitive hunch so loud it couldn’t be unheard.

His mind is awake again. The plan for today, which consisted of him rotting in his bed, seems compromised right now. Corpse turns to lay on the left side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler. His brows furrow and he sighs heavily as he rubs his eyes with his thumbs.

Corpse really doesn’t know why he’d feel that way in the first place for someone like you. You always seem so organic, radiating, so free in the way you choose to exist. He envies you for being so authentic when all he can afford to do is remain hidden, where no light can really reach him if not to draw a faint shape of his being. No harsh feelings though, it’s just the way he feels about anyone who doesn’t sound fake. There is still a bit of remaining endearment in the way Corpse’s words are thrown at you, you just have to know what to look for.

Now, Corpse trades his horror narrator's advices against some social media help. Those things are bigger than him, he’s too old for that anyway. You think the way he still uses symbols as emojis is charming -no one does that anymore- but Corpse just can’t keep up with today’s slang and way of showing emotions via texts. Kids these days are just too creative with the way they express themselves.

[Hello, Mr Sorcerer, hope you’re doing good. I need your help on something.]

Huh.

He meets your words and his mind gets coated in sweat, frozen blood preventing the next heartbeat from happening. Who told you?

Corpse can’t wrap his mind around the fact that his most precious secret is being exposed with that much negligence. He can count on his fingers the number of people who are aware of his true nature, half of them are actually other magical beings of some sort. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

His head is hammered by thoughts. He thinks he’s screwed, that everyone will know. He can already foresee what is about to come. That’s why there is a bit of fear in the way his eyebrows are arching. His alerted mind screams for him to just throw his phone across the room but his fingers, covered in panic, are faster. The first text he sends is not directed to you, but to Sykkuno, his familiar.

Familiars are to sorcerers what assistants are to magicians. In short -but not limited to- a massive help.

Corpse’s link with Sykkuno transcends the law of words and thoughts. They just understand each other and the way they do, without even having to see each other, is just something that has to be witnessed once in a lifetime. It’s a sort of energy that travels through space, a special connection. It's light and invisible but leaves a warm trail on its way.

However, what doesn’t transcend their bond is the concept of time zone -which Corpse forgot about for a second. Sykkuno is probably asleep right now. Corpse’s panic takes back its race once he realizes he’s on his own and he types:

[Haha, very funny. You know, if you wanted to talk, you just had to say hi :)]

Denial, that will do the trick, right? You can’t be that persistent. Or at least that’s what Corpse hopes when he leaves his phone on an unstable balance on his forehead, waiting for an answer he hopes would spare his mind from yet another issue he has to take care of.

[I knew you’d say that but don’t worry, I promise I won’t snitch,] you reply, lips twitching under a sly smile. [I’m way too afraid of you cursing me or something.]

[Who told you shit like that anyway?]

[I just know someone.]

His expression hardens, that head keeps throbbing harder and harder by the minute. You’re so impetuous and it turns him into an impatient and choleric fog. The topic is too important, crucial and it shows how you truly have no idea what you’re talking about when you act as recklessly as you do.

[Some crazy folk told you about magic and you believed them, huh? Thought you were smarter than that.]

[Dream would be pretty upset if he knew you called him “some crazy folk”.]

Corpse stares numbly at his screen before sitting back on his bed, pulling away from his vision the curly strands that fell down. He throws a bunch of silent curses at the sun which is still attacking him, if not even more now. He types a few words but erases them in a snap, repeating the process once or twice more. Now he has to send another text, this one is for Dream : “we need to talk.”

What a weird day.

Questions, Corpse has so many of them but he can’t stop shaking his head with confusion. He had no idea you knew Dream. Why would Dream reveal something so critical as Corpse’s identity? Why would another sorcerer send you his way? That’s not how things are done unless it’s something they deem they wouldn’t be able to handle and there’s really a few things Dream wouldn’t be able to do. Corpse hesitates for second, fingers fidgeting in the air. He doubts that he would ever be capable of doing something Dream can’t do but does it really matter when, right now, you’re holding information you should never be holding in the first place?

[Feeling like trading secrets under the full moon?] You outbid. It’s always so tempting to tease Corpse when he sounds like a grumpy old man.

[A sincere fuck you.]

[That’s very rude, Mr Sorcerer.]

The way you avoid providing any sort of explanation grows in his mind like weeds that need to be ripped off. Really, from all the good timing in the world, you had to choose the worst one. But there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when he does the math and realizes that, if you wanted to use that secret to your advantage, you would have done it by now. A slow relief that softens his headache. Also, Corpse is well aware that, as annoying as you can get, he can’t refuse you a thing.

[Fine, tell me what you need.]

[So I keep seeing the same number again and again and your name keeps appearing in my head at random times. Still don’t get the correlation but I know there is one. I wanna know the number’s meaning and how I can get rid of you.]

Corpse huffs, he’d like to know that himself. He’s about to laugh it off when he reads the text one more time. Something about it is mysterious enough to pique his curiosity. You mentioned his name, it bothers him. Not that he doesn’t appreciate you thinking about him but because it sounds odd enough to be something related to magic in one way or another. There’s this mix of excitement and apprehension that fills the pit of his stomach and now half of a smile is embellishing his lips. This buzzing sound in his brain, maybe it’s the final signal that he should start practicing magic again, the final signal his life will feel thrilling again.

[Call you in 5. This is a consultation by the way, I’m not doing this for free.]

[Fine, you rat.] You answer with a victorious smile.

Corpse’s words linger in the air. It’s smooth like velvet -you could almost touch it if you pictured it hard enough- and it’s soothing in some way. It’s deep mumbles and bits of light chuckles and a little magic. You’re spinning slowly on your chair, playing with strands of your hair. There’s a different tone in Corpse’s voice. He sounds tired and it’s mixed with something else you can’t really pinpoint. For the best or the worst, that, has yet to be determined.

“So.” Corpse says, bringing you back to reality. “What’s that number you were talking about?”

“Right. So, I keep seeing the number 5 everywhere. I wake up at 5:55 every morning. When my eyes are looking at the clock, it’s 5:55PM and it extends to absolutely everything.” You faintly slap your palm against your thighs in exasperation.

Corpse is silent for a moment as he tries to collect the bits of knowledge that are still hanging here and there inside his mind. As he expected, the pressure below his left eyebrow makes it hard to think. He really doesn’t get why Dream wouldn’t be able to take care of a matter that sounds so frivolous. It feels like the most important piece of the puzzle is missing , the one that makes the whole picture makes sense.

“Okay, this is not really my specialty but the number 5 is an interesting angel number.” Corpse hums. The word “specialty” echoes. Dream talked about that once and somehow, that’s how you finally realized that Corpse was, indeed, a sorcerer. Not that you wouldn’t believe the information in the first place but there’s a remarkable difference between learning and experiencing. What would be his specialty then?

Dream introduced you to this new veil a couple of months ago and you never fully believed in it before getting involved. Maybe that’s why you never talked about it to anyone. Even now, your skeptical nature always finds its way back to you. He said all sorcerers had specialties and that his was clairvoyance. You don’t really know what that means but you wouldn’t ask too much. Knowledge seems like a curse in that field, or at least that’s what you have learned from Dream’s distressed tone when he talked about the past. He always sounded like a broken record, a little out of tune, as if his soul was still partially stuck back there and maybe that’s why Corpse always sounded that way too.

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” You raise an eyebrow, high voice brimming with confusion.

“Do you?” Corpse pauses, you’re silent for a couple of seconds and he realizes that he won’t get an answer to that. “The number 5 is your guardian angel trying to tell you that things are about to change in your life. In fact, it means that the process already started.”

“You’re kinda scaring me though,” you say as you readjust your sit, nose wrinkling under an almost grimace. You don’t like it, you don’t like their world. It’s not yours, you’re only a human with a mere life and an almost mere job. Sometimes, you hate Dream for letting you on this secret you were now forced to keep. It always felt so two faced.

“You don’t have to be scared, the change is only gonna benefit you.” Corpse’s voice is soft and the way you can tell he believes in the words he is speaking is almost as surprising as reassuring. You can’t help it, you don’t like change. The unknown is called that way for a reason and maybe this reason is the explanation for why it needs to remain that way.

“Sure,” you coy. “What do I do about you? That’s what really interests me.”

He scoffs. Trust me, that’s what interests him the most as well. Yet Corpse knows no answer to that. He hesitates for a second and his eyes wander into the void. Should he let you know that he doesn’t have a clue, that it somehow scares him as much as it intrigues you? It feels like his broken sorcerer ego would crack even more if he did. Maybe he just had to find out before letting you know.

“Are you obsessed with me, y/n?” Corpse winces. Why would he have to travel through sarcasmland(™) to escape the question? His eyes go wide for a second, flickering on corners of his empty room. It’s only fair that he would tease you like you tease him, right?

“You’re just being annoying now,” you mumble, cheeks flushing in a vivid tint of pink and Corpse snorts.

Corpse almost forgot about himself for a second, about that damn candle, but it hits him once the conversation fades away and the static silence is the only thing left. So he gets up, grunts in complaint rooted out by sore muscles, turns his computer on and plays some rain sounds. The melody of droplets hitting the ground is reminding him how to breathe.

“Rain sounds, huh,” you whisper. “You like those.”

Corpse hums and the two of you are left listening to the rain. It tickles your ears pleasantly, so you close your eyes and relax in the back of your chair for a moment. It’s a beautiful disharmony if you really pay attention, just like Corpse is. You feel like the conversation is about to end, you don’t want him to hang up just yet.

“Corpse?” Your voice trails for a second and Corpse hums again. “Why did you decide to be faceless?”

“What did Dream answer to that question?” His tone is interesting, a bit higher than it probably should have been. What came up as conversation modalities turns into a piqued interest.

“He never answered me," you mumble.

“So people like you can’t take advantage of our nature in real life too,” he lies and you can tell by the half chuckle that travels with the answer.

You know you won’t get more from him, way less than you wish you did. Those faceless sorcerers always leave you hanging. They let you in on their little Hannah Montana life but never bear the consequence that is this endless and flowing well of questions. The rain rings heavily through your ears. It’s time for the call to end.

"Goodbye, Mr Sorcerer,” you sing before hanging up.

When the darkness finally surrounds Corpse, he slips into a strange place that greets him with a familiar smell; vanilla and freshly cut grass. The birds are singing. He takes a long inspiration, his body knows before he does. Corpse looks around, trying to let the image of the surrounding setting sink in.

That place seems oddly familiar, yet totally new; a kitchen made of golden wooden walls. It's decorated with an old and distinguished taste. The wooden table is dressed with a pretty blue and red tablecloth. Vases of fresh flowers displayed on parts of the kitchen, dried herbs hanging above the sink in front of the window. It’s dipped in sunlight, too bright to be real. The rays of light are swaying with the shadows of branches which are dancing outside with the wind. Corpse doesn’t mind the light for once, he even closes his eyes for a second to let every pore of his body get soaked in it. God, did he miss that place.

“Honey, I was waiting for you.”

Corpse’s heart jumps a little before clutching harder. He knows who’s here, he knows it’s his unforgettable love and the idea makes him almost want to never open his eyes again. He can feel it, the profound kindness and sweet smiles that are surrounding you like it always have and it makes his eyes burn with tears that are ready to trail down his cheek, sobs jostling inside his throat. Corpse wishes he could just cover you in embraces and kisses but he can’t, he can never do that in those dreams.

Corpse tries his hardest not to let the frustration immerse him in bitterness by controlling his breathing which could get carried away at any moment now. He finally swallows it all to look at you. There’s a significant disappointment on his face when he realizes yours is as blurry as always. He wishes he could just witness this beauty one more time. He doesn’t remember what your face looks like, you’re not real. It’s nothing but a dream and you’re not here.

“I made some cookies for you.” The ghost of you says as it points out a chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, inviting him to take a seat as it does the same. “Those are your favorite, remember?”

With a voice sweeter than honey, so bewitching, Corpse’s body works on its own and mimics your gestures. His eyes are frozen on your silhouette. He tries to remember the shades and colors that were once painted on your face. If only he could remember.

“Did you redecorate our kitchen?” Corpse asks as he takes a bite of the cookie.

“Did I?” Your past self wonders out loud. “It’s been so long, I can’t tell.”

The treat tastes as good as it always has, Corpse takes another bite. The silence in the kitchen is delicate, contemplative. Outside, the weather is lovely; white clouds floating above the endless and bright green meadows. Corpse tries to take everything he can from that dream, from the peacefulness he feels now deep inside, and the perfume of your skin, to the sweet voice that caresses his ears. If Corpse could stay here forever, he would.

“Why are you here, my love?” You suddenly ask, forcing Corpse’s attention which he refuses by looking away.

“I wonder if the wind is warm or cool outside, maybe I should check.”

Corpse knows what happens every time you visit his dreams : you end up asking this question, he answers and suddenly he’s alone and you vanished into thin air. The response is always the same; because I miss you. It leaves him feeling lonelier than ever, craving a presence he can no longer be blessed with. Just a little bit longer, please. He blinks rapidly to expel the few tears that are forming in his eyes, so the knot inside his throat wouldn’t become more unbearable than it already is. Corpse is left feeling so desperate and helpless.

In a precipitation he almost can't control, he gets up and walks towards the door. He just wants to feel the wind on his skin. Please, just a bit longer. Corpse is almost at the door when his eyes deform with stupor under the pressure of a hand that grabs his sleeve. His heart stops, he was never able to touch you in a dream before. What changed? There’s a moment of hesitation before his eyes travel from your hand, to your arm, to your neck, to your face and he can no longer swallow his emotions when he dives into your eyes. Your eyes, he can see them.

When Corpse wakes up, wiped out of his dream, his breath is short and sweat pearls down his forehead. He’s in a rush, he remembers something about your face, something important. He knows what to look for now; your eyes, your irises. They don’t match in color. The left is green, the right has a pretty hazel color.

☾ A/N : Welcome on this new AU my friends I’m so excited to have you here with me on this new journey! I hope you liked the first chapter. A big thank you to @moontwinkles for beta reading the chapter and being a big help 💗 How are we feeling about this? Faceless leo men being sorcerers and familiar Sykkuno??? Idk I’m a little too passionate about it. Don’t worry the next chapter won’t be as angsty as this one but I needed to express my thrist for angst lmao anyway let me know what you think! Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

☾ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 *OPEN* : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @lochness-butmakeitsexy ; @bizarrebibitch ; @bellomi-clarke ; @ladybismuth ; @katyasrussianaccent ; @satanhauntedourcats ; @owl-llie ; @teenloves ; @notannis ; @mcntsee ; @rottenroyalebooks ; @peachdoppi ; @mirahg ; @foxxtrot-116 ; @koi-soi ; @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker ; @butterfly-skinnylegend ; @fanworrior ; @stickystrawberrysyrup ;

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse x you #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fic #corpse husband AU #the sorcerer #platonic!dream

297 notes · View notes