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abiiors · 3 months

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red lines - pt. 2 ║// matty healy x reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a late christmas/new year's gift for you lot but oh well, consider this an early valentine's day gift now lol. this is sad but also smutty which seems to be my favourite thing to write so enjoy ♡ cw: angst, crying (so much of it my god) (seriously, matty cries after sex like a loser) and arguments, a briefly sick baby (she has a cold) fucked up relationships in general, typos, probably cringe idk. wc: 6.5k here's part 1

matty’s red rimmed eyes stare back at you.

if it weren’t for your baby’s soft babbling grounding you, you would have slammed the door in his face the second you opened it. before he even had the chance to get a word in. not like he’s said anything yet—he’s busy looking from mia to you and back to mia who’s strapped to your chest, face away from him.

his daughter. he doesn’t even know what his daughter looks like.

your heart hammers in your chest as you look at him, take him in properly. he looks like he’s been frozen in time—the same man you left almost a year ago, maybe with a few more greys on his head now. but everything about him harshly pulls you back in time.

looking at him after all this time is like having the last piece of a puzzle click in place.

“hi,” he says, and looks at the back of mia’s head for a moment. his hands twitch at his sides and matty shoves them in his pockets quickly.

you clear your throat. “hi.”

the silence that lingers is so awkward that even the baby senses it. she fusses and lets out a soft whine and you know you only have a few moments before the whine turns into a full cry.

“come in,” you offer and he nods.

the door shuts behind him with a deafening creek and the silence returns with a vengeance.

you watch matty as he looks around him. you wonder how it all looks through his eyes—a house that’s neither too clean, nor too messy, mia’s toys on the sofa, her bottle on the kitchen table, half finished. the half cooked pancake in the pan. and then he looks at the baby.

you watch him carefully, look at the way his eyes shine so brightly and the subtle tremble of his lips. matty takes his hand out of his pocket and reaches out. about to touch her blanket. but you step back on instinct and his hand lingers in the air before falling at his side, limp and useless.

“what do you want, matty?” you ask, your voice more steady than you expected.

he swallows harshly. “i wanted–i thought i’d…”

“you thought…?”

he squares his shoulder and straightens his spine, gathering courage just like you’ve seen him do so many times in the past.

“i wanted to see her. mia. it’s a beautiful name…”

“who told you her name?”

you don’t know where the snapping, harsh tone comes from but matty flinches regardless. you don’t give him a chance to answer though. you know who told him her name.

“it was adam, wasn’t it?”

“please don’t be mad at him,” matty tries hastily and takes a step forward before coming to an abrupt stop. “i begged until… yeah, i begged him to tell me.”

“look i…” he continues, “i messed up, okay? i messed up big time. i've spent every day regretting it. i miss both of you, and i can't—”

“you miss her?” your voice rings out around the room.

mia in your arms is the only thing stopping you from yelling as your entire body shakes with so much rage. you try to keep the tears at bay, you really do but they fall one after the other. land softly on her head.

“you miss her, do you, matty? do you even know what she looks like?”

he shakes his head and looks down in shame.

“no? you didn’t beg your best friend for a photo?” your voice has taken a mocking quality—ugly and cruel. words meant to hurt him, to damage him. words that might give him a taste of a fraction of what you went through.

“please, i—”

“get out.”

“no, listen to me! please, just—”

“leave!”

matty stumbles back and mia breaks into a cry. whatever possessed you to yell like that leaves instantly, zapping away every ounce of strength in your body. your knees shake with the effort of standing upright. your arms tighten around the baby.

matty wipes his eyes quickly and makes his way out the door.

it’s the thud that breaks the last of your restraint. quietly, you sit on the floor, soothing her for what feels like hours. trying to calm yourself by breathing in her scent. she’s safe. you’re both safe.

you don’t need a third.

you only need her.

matty doesn’t give up.

although he doesn’t show up again in person, a box shows up at the door—one addressed to both you and mia. it feels heavy in your hands and something rattles inside.

as curious as you are, you set it on the dining table and go about your day.

you don’t need any of this, whatever he’s sent is probably useless. it’s silly and meant to break down your defenses. you’re sure of it.

still, every time you pass by it, the box seems to wink at you. so you chuck it in a random drawer—one where you keep the extra nappies, the backup-backup-backup ones—and breathe a sigh of relief.

relief that’s almost comically short-lived.

the days pass, and life falls back into its routine—diapers, bottles, and the sweet sound of mia's coos and giggles. the box from matty remains tucked away in the drawer, almost forgotten. you convince yourself that whatever he sent doesn't matter; you've built a new life for you and mia, and that's all that matters.

it's a rainy afternoon when mia decides to unleash chaos upon her last clean onesie. a cosmic fucking joke really that she should need her backup-backup-backups when you’ve almost managed to forget about the box. but there it is, sitting atop the neatly stacked diapers—a plain cardboard box, tied with a simple piece of twine.

you take it out and set it on the kitchen table. then you brew yourself an extra strong cup of coffee and sit in front of it, almost like it’s a staring match…

who’s going to break first?

but obviously it’s a cardboard box, it stays fucking still no matter how hard you wish for it to burst into flames. so you take a sip of coffee and begin undoing the twine. your hands tremble as you lift the lid. your heartbeat quickens.

first you see a layer of tissue papers covering something and then under it, a plain envelope with your name written on it in matty’s handwriting.

inside it is a piece of paper, slightly torn at the edges. folded and refolded a million times.

hi, my love please come home i’m so sorry i don't expect you to forgive me. i messed up. horribly. there’s no other way to put it. and there's no excuse for the pain i've caused. i understand if you never want to see me again, but please, i’m begging you to let me see her just once. just to let her get to know her father. so that i can get to know my daughter. i know what i did is unforgivable but it’s like half a piece of my heart has been missing since you walked out i let you walk out. i don’t expect you to let me back into your lives but please let me hold her just once. i would also like to set up a small trust fund in her name if you give me permission. i won’t have any control over it, but i want her to have something from me for anything she might want in the future. i’m leaving that decision up to you. there are post cards in here that i wrote for you and for her when things got really really bad. it’s not an excuse for how i behaved but some day i hope we could be together friends again. till then just know that not a moment goes by when i don’t wish i could go back in time and stop myself from till then i hope you know how incredibly sorry i am. i hope you know that i will always have nothing but love and respect for you. and for mia. love, matty

the weight of the emotions threatens to suffocate you. the scratched-out bits from the letter are just slightly visible. not really enough for you to make it out properly but whatever it says has to be too personal, right?

you sink further into the chair, and tears blur your vision. the postcards are right there under the letter—a hundred or so—his heart bared to you. all of the best and worst parts. all the ugly ones too.

and then there’s the trust fund that he wants to set up.

you know it’s the smart thing to do. you can’t have emotions clouding your judgement when it comes to securing her future. and he said he won’t have any control over it so that’s good, right…?

and yet a part of you hesitates to pick up the cards and read his words.

everything feels too raw, too vulnerable and honest.

everything feels too much.

you think and you think and you think for the next few days.

all you do is think about him and the postcards and the trustfund. you even have a little spat with your mum when she says it’s a good idea. you accuse her of playing the devil’s advocate but ultimately she’s right.

this is not about you. this is about your daughter.

so you let her bathe mia and get her ready for bed, and then you pick up your phone and open the old text thread.

have an amazing night, babe. break a leg.

the text sits there innocently. the words are still the same—casual and loving and normal and almost like they were written in a foreign language. you quickly wipe up your tears and delete the old thread before there’s time to second-guess it.

gone. winked out of existence just like that.

and then you open a fresh new thread.

hi matty, hope you’re well. got your letters hello matty hey. i got the box. can we talk?

it amazes you how much back and forth you have to do for a simple message. how many times you talk yourself out of sending it. but once it’s gone. it’s gone.

half a minute later, three dots dance in response.

hey, would love to. next sunday?

sunday works. that’s exactly a week from now. enough time for you to prepare mentally. it’s also a day after your mum gets back from her mini holiday so you can just leave mia with her without having to worry about bringing her with you.

sunday works. see you then.

and that’s the end of that. you switch your phone off and vow to not think about him till then. if only it were that easy…

three days later you wake up to a shrill cry coming from the nursery.

hastily you check the time, 2:37 am, and run to check up on mia, heart thudding in your chest. she’s usually such a calm baby. she sleeps so well through the night and yet the closer you get the louder her cries get.

the more you feel fear grip your chest.

“oh my love, what’s wrong? what’s wrong, baby?”

she continues to wail even after you check her diapers and feel her cot for any wetness. it’s only when you gently touch her cheek do you realise how warm she feels. heat radiates from her little body and panic sets in as you rush to the kitchen to grab the thermometer. the digital display confirms your fear—a fever.

not very high but still, she’s sick for the first time in her life.

“you’ve got a fever sweet girl,” you coo and clear your dry throat.

fuck! calling your mum’s not an option. calling the gp’s also not an option.

her loud cries make your heart squeeze in pain. rocking doesn’t help. strapping her to your naked chest helps only for about ten minutes until she’s screaming once again.

you try a bath, hoping the vapour would clear her cold a little but all it does it give you a headache.

your head feels like it’s about to burst open, blood splattering on the walls and everywhere else as mia continues to cry until her whole body is pink and red from the effort. how does a tiny baby have this much strength in her lungs? you feel her forehead for the tenth time—warm, and you wipe away her runny nose. but no amount of cooing and rocking her helps.

“calm down, darling,” you try to shush her, a note of begging in your voice. your temples throb and mia wails right next to your ears.

you think maybe singing to her would calm her down but any more exertion and the black dots in your vision continue to swim around.

fuck.

you need help. and your mum is not an option. absolutely no one you can call at 3:30 in the morning.

absolutely no one who will even answer.

but that’s not true is it…

with shaky hands you pick up your phone and dial his number. you’d promised yourself never to go crawling to him for help. but the universe has a funny way of forcing your hand.

desperation for your daughter's well-being overrides any pride or resentment. the phone rings, each tone louder than the last. just as you’re sure it’s about to go unanswered, his groggy, sleepy voice comes through from the other side.

“hello?”

you barely give him the chance to speak before launching into your panic-filled pleas. “matty, it’s mia. she’s sick–she won’t–she’s so warm and my mum’s not here and i don’t–nothing's working—”

“hey, hey, love calm down,” he shushes from the other side and then there's rustling in the background. “i’m coming over.”

matty doesn’t even take fifteen minutes to get to your house, eyes widening the second he takes a look at you and your daughter. she’s been attached to you like an extra limb ever since you woke up to her crying. not that you’ve had the heart to set her down for any longer than necessary but you’re aware how deranged you must look with your hair all over the place and red eyes, exhaustion embedded so deep down in your bones that no amount of sleep will get rid of it.

“she won’t stop crying,” you launch into it the second he steps inside. every two words you hiccup, trying and failing to keep the sobs at bay. “she has a cold, matty. i’ve tried everything. we had a warm bath, i gave her some calpol. i’ve tried rocking her and singing to her and i’m so fucking tired but she’s just–she won’t stop—”

“hey…” it only takes one gentle touch from him to make you forget every single feeling of apprehension. matty’s frown deepens.

“are you sure?” his voice has suddenly gone quiet, so quiet that you barely hear it over the baby’s cries.

you look at him in confusion. “didn’t you listen to me? yes i’m fucking sure, she’s ill, matty. look at her!” your voice rises another octave, more and more panicked as another moment passes by and she refuses to settle down.

“no i…” he steps closer and extends his hand. almost afraid to touch her or you. maybe afraid that you might step away like last time. but you stay in place and matty touches the back of her head. it's featherlight at first as if she might break if he puts too much force into it. one touch and she’d crumble away like she was never here at all.

as if this was all his dream.

“no, i meant…” he swallows harshly and clears his throat. “are you sure you want me to take her?”

the hold you have on her loosens ever so slightly.

you called matty here. it’s not like he showed up, unannounced and drunk, no! he showed up at an ungodly hour to help you. if anything… that earns him a tiny, miniscule brownie point.

“do you know how to—”

“hold a baby?” he quips and you notice the way his face brightens almost imperceptibly, barely even noticeable. “i do, i’ve uh… yeah. i do.”

he doesn’t elaborate further, he only stands there patiently until you find your hold on her loosening. you will your heart to calm down, will your body to not be so rigid. then you take a deep breath and extend her to him.

she looks almost different in his arms. smaller somehow, so much more like him than you realised. and matty’s face holds an expression you’ve never seen before.

something about it makes your heart stutter.

he’s enamoured by her, so much so that he barely even reacts when she sneezes in his face and keeps crying even though it’s a bit softer now. maybe she’s just as distracted trying to process him, maybe she feels something too—a bond that’s somehow always been there, hidden and battered and hanging on by a thread.

in a heartbeat, his face changes and he holds her to his chest.

in a tentative voice, matty shushes her, bounces her a bit just like you had been. you wring your hands nervously waiting for something to happen. maybe he’d realise he still doesn’t want her, that he was wrong to think he did. maybe he’d give her back and leave you again quietly.

your chest hurts at the thought, but you will it away and watch matty cuddle her closer.

he holds her as tightly as possible without hurting her. matty closes his eyes and presses his face into her head, he swallows harshly and for a moment his whole body shudders. when he opens them again, they’re tinged pink, and he quickly looks away.

“can you—” he clears his throat and tries again. “can you show me where the nursery is?”

you nod and gesture for him to follow. mia’s cries slow a little when matty starts walking. he continues shushing her and attempting baby talk which is slightly amusing despite everything. he gives up in a few seconds though and goes back to talking to her normally.

“just a cold, my love,” you hear him faintly, “they’re really annoying though, aren’t they?”

in spite of yourself, you smile and stop in front of the nursery.

“she usually likes the chair.”

matty looks to the corner of the room where you’re pointing and nods. then he clears his throat.

“should i… uh, does she have a favourite blanket?”

the fact he thought of it is impressive. and she does, but you know it’s just been washed and folded. to get it for her, you’d have to leave them alone. for the first time ever.

the rational part of your brain knows it won’t be a big deal. it’s two minutes at most and it’s not like matty’s gonna run away with her. your heart pounds regardless, and your feet feel leaden.

“sure, it’s–yeah, let me just…” and then you leave before you have the chance to overthink it.

by the time you’re get back to the nursery, soft blanket in hand, matty’s already settled in the rocking chair, mia in his arms with her cheek squished against his chest.

he’s unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt so he’s not entirely shirtless but just enough to feel her against his skin—to get a second chance at the skin-to-skin he missed.

“that’s it, darling,” he speaks softly and strokes her cheek. “settle down for me. daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

with every word he speaks, her eyes get droopier, her sniffles turn to quiet breaths until matty takes a deep breath and starts singing a quiet song.

it’s unfamiliar at first, and he starts off unsure and off-kilter. his voice cracks, but mia babbles something and presses further into his chest. it’s then that he really smiles—wide and breath-taking and so incredibly happy that the air whooshes out of your lungs just at the sight of it.

daddy’s gonna take care of you, okay?

and that’s exactly what he does. he pats on her back softly, presses small kisses to her head until your eyes sting and a sob almost escapes.

quickly, you back away, still clutching the blanket. still holding back tears until you’re far, far away from him and somehow in the empty kitchen. the sky is only just turning pink, even then, the darkness lingers. and that’s when the dam breaks.

great, heaving sobs spill out of you—ugly and wretched and loud enough that it’s a miracle matty doesn’t come running. your legs give out from under you and you slide against the counter, leaning against it and praying for any amount of strength. your chest aches and your body trembles. a distatant memory flashes across your mind—of the last time you cried like this. when you accidentally called adam instead of your mum.

when adam did show up even if you tried to get him to leave.

the cool surface of the countertop offers a small comfort. with trembling hands, you clutch the soft blanket, and bury your face in it. it still holds the scent of baby oils and powders, of her fluffy little head that you adore so much. the same head that’s full of his curls.

you gasp for a breath and stifle another sob. the blanket helps too—it’s grounding and comforting. it’s familiar. you force yourself to take another deep breath, and this time it comes a bit easier. the weight on your chest eases just a bit. the grief that felt so overwhelming all these months loosens its grip around your heart and in the stillness of dawn, matty’s voice floats into the kitchen.

you stay there on the floor, counting one breath after the other, listening to his lullaby until the whole kitchen is bathed in the orange light of dawn.

then you wipe away the snot and the tears and make yourself stand up.

you hold your head in your hands, hoping the dull ache would go away soon, along with all the memories of the last 24 hours. at this point, you’d settle for the complete erasure of the last thirty minutes.

you just want to go back to before—back to your happy cheerful baby, back to being busy enough that you have no time to think about him.

you desperately crave the before where the crack in his voice doesn’t haunt every thought. where the song doesn’t echo in the crevices of your brain and mia’s cries don’t grow quieter with every word he sings. in fact, you crave an alternate world where she doesn’t cry at all. she sleeps through the night like always and you video call your mum when she wakes up.

that’s what was supposed to happen. not…this.

not matty being in your house with your—his—daughter, watching her with that devastated look on his face.

a soft thud of the door jerks you out of your thoughts but the house remains devoid of baby cries. the only thing you can hear really is matty’s footsteps growing louder until you can see him at the door to the kitchen from the corner of your eye.

he hesitates and lingers like he’s trapped in a limbo.

“you can come in, you know?” you straighten and roll your neck to get rid of some of the pain. there’s a momentary relief before the ache comes flooding back.

“she’s asleep…”

“yeah, i thought she would be.”

“she feels a bit cooler to the touch,” he reports and relief floods your chest.

for a moment the kitchen stays silent. the birds outside chirp once in a while and you hear the occasional sounds of a car but everything else feels like it’s come to a standstill. quiet. the universe holding its breath in anticipation.

“i should go—”

“coffee—”

you both speak at the same time and shut your mouth again. another pang of pain lances through your body and this time you barely hold back the wince.

he wants to leave, of course, he does. just because he came through in a time of need doesn’t mean he’s ready to be a father. it doesn’t mean you’re ready to let him be her father.

“coffee sounds nice,” he speaks so softly that you barely hear it at first. there’s trepidation in his voice; a slight tremor that he might be pushed away again but a rock lodges itself in your throat and all you can manage is a slight nod.

you can feel his stare burning into the back of your head when you turn. the coffee pot is still full of yesterday’s grounds—something you haven’t had the chance to tidy up yet. now that you look around, the whole kitchen is a bit of a mess. you scoff to yourself. your mum’s been gone for three whole days and your life is already falling apart trying to be a single mother.

the gurgling of water fills the kitchen as the kettle starts boiling and you look around for a spare mug. yours is right by the coffee machine but an extra one should be high up in the cupboard.

matty’s shoes squeak on the floor but he doesn’t come any closer.

“need any he—”

“no. i’m fine!”

and just to drive the point home, you yank the door to the top shelf open and stretch extra high to reach the spare mug. cool air brushes the exposed sliver of skin and just for a moment you’re tempted to see if he’s looking, just for a tiny second, until pain lances through your neck and shoulder and this time the loud wince slips out.

before you know it, matty’s behind you, steading you with a hand against the small of your back—warm palm pressed against warm, exposed skin. somewhere deep down you would have recognised him through smell alone—the same warm spicy smelled laced with just a hint of cigarette smoke that you’ve thought about on many lonely nights.

sometimes when you’re deep asleep, it sneaks up on you, envelopes you so thoroughly that you wake up surrounded by it, suffocating almost and still desperately trying to get lungfulls of it.

the same smell surrounds you now and matty’s body presses close to yours.

“careful there,” he breathes and the warmth of it spreads goosebumps all over your body.

“you alright?”

you know he’s referring to your wince from two seconds ago but your brain takes an eternity to form a coherent sentence.

“fine,” you manage. “i was rocking mia all night, think i pulled something.”

instantly, warm, rough fingers touch your shoulder and the space between you comes alive with electricity.

“trust me,” he murmurs and somehow you find yourself nodding and closing your eyes, sighing when his fingers press into your skin. the wood the counter digs into your pelvis, almost like a tether to this world, something to stop you from floating away and giving in to his touch. heat simmers in your blood just as the water in the kettle comes to a full boil.

“this feel good, love?”

distant thoughts remind you to say no, to move away and shut hm off again. he has no business touching you again, but your body seems disconnected from your brain. instead of walking away, you lean back, into his chest and away from the wood of the counter.

the tether snaps but matty’s there to hold you down. his hand snakes around your waist and you spin. spin till you’re facing him and pressed flush against his chest. until his scent is all around, finally enough to settle into your lungs and not dissipate into the cloying scent of nightmares.

“we s-shouldn’t…” you try to sound firm but the word makes you choke. matty’s eyes dip to your mouth.

“we shouldn’t,” he agrees and presses his lip against yours.

the kiss takes you back to the last time—to the before, in that cosy hotel room by the sea. you think of the two people tangled up in the bedsheets, naked and sweaty and happy. one of them looks remarkably like you—the same hair and eyes, the same smile, slightly fuller cheeks though. she laughs and whispers something in matty’s ear. then he nips at her lips just like he nips at yours now.

it’s a kiss teeming with longing and desire and everything in between.

your teeth knock against each other and matty takes advantage of your gasp to slide his tongue in, to let it run over your lip and against your tongue until you’re panting and leaning against him for support.

“m-matty,”

“tell me you don’t wan’t me,” he says all of a sudden but his eyes are so full of so much hope that your heart might shatter into a million pieces to see it die away slowly.

“i want you…”

and that’s the only permission he needs before his mouth is on yours again, hungry and hot, your lips between his teeth until they’re red and swollen, and only then does he move to your jaw.

his stubble leaves a faint burn on your skin and the fire in your blood burns hotter.

“please,” he chokes out and swallows roughly, “need to taste you, please.”

you don’t trust your voice enough to speak, instead you give him a light push on his shoulders. instantly, matty kneels between your legs and pulls your shorts down until they fall to your ankles, along with the underwear.

silently, you curse for not bothering to shave or wear decent underwear. not like you knew this would be happening. but he’s like a man starved and every ounce of hesitation leaves when your fingers tangle in his hair.

the tresses slip between your fingers, soft and curly and exactly how they used to feel a year ago, the greys stand out against your hand and a whine escapes you the moment his tongue connects to your clit. your breath hitches at the sight of him—eyes half-lidded, dark enough that they are almost black, lips swollen to the point they are wet and red. for a moment, you consider pulling him up just to kiss him again, to taste him again. but then matty’s tongue plunges inside you and your mind goes blank.

his rough hand is against your thigh, fingers digging into soft flesh, another against your ass, holding you up and squeezing the flesh at the same time. your legs tremble and almost give up but he pushes you back and traps against the counter.

you shouldn’t. you shouldn’t. you shoudn’t. you try telling that to yourself over and over again and yet your belly erupts in butterflies that just won’t go away. your hands move of their own accord, guiding his head, pushing his mouth right against your clit, and matty takes it all.

“fuck–” he chokes out and goes back to licking another broad strip, “missed you, missed your taste, fucking missed you so much!”

tears sting your eyes and your body trembles for a different reason this time but you push it back and rut your hips against his face.

despite the thoughts in your head, this feels good. this feels familiar and fantastic and as much as you don’t want to admit it, this feels right.

matty moans against your clit and swipes a finger through your folds. euphoria makes your vision go white and you let yourself cry out his name. perhaps for the first time. the sound echoes around the kitchen, confined within the four walls of this room somehow even before you stifle the second scream. there’s a sleeping baby in the house after all, the last thing you need is for her to wake up and put an end to whatever this is until the awkwardness would push matty out of the house and possibly out of your life again—

your eyes scrunch shut as another lick makes your head spin.

“fa-faster,” you moan out and shamelessly throw a leg over his shoulder, holding onto his head so tight now that he surely feels the tug. if anything, his efforts double, and his tongue plunges deeper into you than before.

the world goes hazy and soft around the edges as your eyes roll back into your head.

fuck! he’s good… he’s always been good. he’s always known your body better than you have. besides, no one’s made you feel half as good in a year, no one besides your vibrator on occasional lonely nights.

“fuck, darling you’re perfect…” he breathes and the word echoes around in your head.

you were perfect. together. even after everything, nothing and no one can erase the that.

you swallow another cry and hold onto him tighter. your head buzzes and pleasure floods through your entire body until you’re chanting his name over and over again. somewhere through it all, you’re aware of grinding against his face like a wild animal in heat but his mouth keeps up with it. if anything, his thumb joins in, pressing on your clit, pinching it just so till you jerk and let go all over his tongue.

ecstasy replaces the blood in your veins, runs at lightning speeds and you feel as if you’re floating up, up and away if not for matty standing up, holding onto you, kissing you till you can taste yourself on his tongue—taste so much more that heat pools in your stomach again and you push your hands inside his t-shirt.

his whole body tenses, muscles taut against your hand until he’s practically vibrating and rigid.

“you really w-want this? me?”

the hope in his voice is barely controlled but you refuse to open your eyes. one look at him and you know your resolve will crumble and the tears will come. instead you push your face into the crook of his neck and nod.

“i’ve never been more sure of something…”

for a moment, his breathing stops completely and matty goes still—you can almost feel his heart stop too, almost feel the stuttering beat pounding right under the palm of your hand. then the spell breaks and the clinking of his belt buckle fills the room.

his lips press against the hollow of your throat, leaving wild, reckless marks behind before he moves over to where your pulse thrums wildly. his mouth finds the spot, sucks on it gently, and you find yourself losing in him once again.

you feel the hardness of his cock through the boxers and before you have the chance to touch him properly, matty pulls away slightly, making you look at him in confusion. it’s only when his hand reaches for his wallet do you realise that he’s pulling out a condom.

good. there should be some barrier between you. some semblance of a boundary even though it laughably flimsy and pathetic. and well, that lack of barrier is really what landed you here in the first place.

“i need—”

“yes,” he interrupts and goes in for another sloppy kiss.

your hands wander until you’re pulling his hard cock out, feeling him moan into the kiss and he reluctantly pulls away to put the condom on. the moment stretches on and suddenly this whole thing feels juvenile, like he’s your high school crush. like this is your first time. excitement bubbles up in your chest—dull but unmistakably there. maybe just this once, you let it surge.

as if in a daze, matty slides the stray hair off your shoulder, brushing away the strands until your shoulder is bared to him and kisses the exposed skin. goosebumps erupt in its wake.

the whole affair is silent—just moans and sighs and the sound of his shuddering breath before he’s slipping into you, deeper and deeper until all you feel is him and his heartbeat.

“fucking perfect, so fucking perfect…” he chants and thrusts again. and again. and again till your breathing becomes ragged and your head loses every thought once again, and then he’s the only person to matter in the world.

you’d die if he were to let go of you now.

his grip on you tightens and his pace becomes faster, hips slamming into yours until you’re both moaning and panting, until your face in in the crook of his neck, mouth against his neck. the kisses excite him more, make him shiver in delight, and somehow you feel him grow harder inside you—streching you out till you’re nearly in tears and crying out from pleasure that is almost overwhelming.

“matty, you’re—i’m—”

“can’t wait to feel you drenching my cock,” his voice turns into an unexpected growl and pleasure coils in your belly. his hand inches between your legs, fingers circling your clit until his thumb is pressing down on it once again and you mewl. his chest barely even stifles it.

“please…” you beg and get swept away by another feverish kiss. your head spins and matty’s saying something, he’s fucking into you so hard that you can barely hear a word over the obscene, wet sounds. or maybe it’s the blood rushing through your whole body that drowns it out.

none of it matters though, not when you feel white hot pleasure swirl through you and then you clench around him, hard enough that he cries out too. hard enough that you feel him cum despite the condom. and that’s what tips you over the edge.

matty keeps going through it, slamming into you until he eventually slows down, until he eventually stills but doesn’t pull out. you keep your eyes closed, chest heaving, breath mixing with his, bodies pressed together so tightly that you can practically feel the rush of his blood under his skin.

some pathetic part of your brain makes tears prick at your eyes and you finally open your eyes, taking just a second to look at his face. there are lines etches into his forehead now—deep grooves that used to be much softer. a reminder of all the time that’s passed. his sweaty curls stick to his forehead, much more grey than before. much messier. still, he's as beautiful as ever, as beautiful as a forbidden fruit.

then he opens his eyes too and the breath truly gets knocked out of you.

after all this time, his eyes are the same warm hazel. the same eyes you look into every day. mia’s eyes. matty’s eyes.

for a moment, the room feels colder. the orange hue feels odd and unnatural but it’s just a trick of the light, just a trick of an overthinking mind.

“we—”

“don’t,” you interrupt quickly. “please, just… let me stay like this. let me have this memory.”

matty hmms, then moves his hand to the back of your head, fingers in your hair until you feel something wet on your cheeks, on your shoulders. until you feel his body shaking. you don’t look up. you don’t try to console him either. you just stay like that, breathe him in until your lungs feel full enough to burst.

you know how this ends. deep down, you’ve always known it.

still, letting go of him feels like plunging a knife in your chest.

there will be a part 3, this was getting too long.

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman

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#read the cws pls!!!#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fic #matty healy angst #the 1975 fic #angst #minors do not interact #matty x reader #matty x you #matty healy smut #smut

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blue-jisungs · 2 months

Text

SO I DANCED

author's note. im sooo proud of this one like?? both the banner and the fic huhuhuhuh idk man

word count. 1597

summary. you and your fiancé have rather... unusual ideas how to sped your dates. and making money during it.

warnings. petnames, cursing, stealing (money and a car), mention of chan carrying a gun and shooting but it’s not mentioned whether he killed someone, general illegal actions lmao, mention of blades but they’re not used!! ++ it seems chaotic but i kinda wanted to reflect the mv ++ black haired mullet chan with a lip piercing (you know EXACTLY which one) bc it deserves a warning itself ^_^

if someone asked you what activities you and your fiancé do during dates, your answer would be: “normal, couple stuff”.

for example going to the movies, cafe hopping, walks in the park, shopping…

and that wouldn’t be a lie.

what you do on your nighttime dates, however, you wouldn’t dare describing to a stranger nor even a friend.

maybe after all you and chan aren’t a normal couple.

“you ready? because i swear to god if you suddenly remind yourself that you left water running at home… and you actually didn’t… i’ll choke you with my own hands” chan grinned teasingly but you didn't feel threatened at all.

“it was just a one time thing, dumbass. i’m ready” you nodded and turned your head, resting it against the headrest. “let’s go?”

chan leaned over and pecked your lips, the cold piercing in his bottom lip grazing over yours.

you two left the car and the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance roared, like a hungry predator hiding in the bushes. dark clouds took over the evening sky, a wide palette of greys and navies spreading above your head. cold air is hugging your body while a gentle gust runs through your hair.

“in and out, quickly. i really wanna know how that hospital playlist episode ended” chan murmured and threw you a black mask. you caught it mid-air and hid in your pocket, alongside a switchblade.

there was no way of putting it softly, only very straightforwardly: you and your financé did robberies. what started as a joke when you were out drinking turned into… well, this.

chan patted his holster and then did a dramatic bow, letting you go first.

it was a small bank in the suburbs and your fiancé got their blueprints beforehand (he said something soonyoung helped him get them and you decided to trust him), therefore you already knew how to get to the vault. and the plan was quite simple – and usually made up the day before.

for example, today, you’re just going to pretend to be a unsatisfied couple who is going to nag to see if their money is safe. chan had a huge talent to persuade people into doing what he wants… paired with his dangerous aura (mostly thanks to the lip piercing and dark makeup), it could only lead to success.

walking in, your boyfriend joined your side and intertwined your hands together. giving it a gentle squeeze, he lead you to one of the assistants available. the other three must have been in a break – or so the silver “be right back!” signs in their counters suggested.

“hello there, how can i help you?” the young man behind the glass greeted you in a monotonous voice. the air inside the building was chilly, a pleasant hum of air conditioning (and something that sounded like elevator music) playing in the background.

“we wanted to see if our deposit is safe. we heard various rumours about this place and we won’t leave until we see our money in a secure place” chan said sternly, causing you to nod. well, straight to the point.

the worker sobered up and looked at you. chan let out a grunt and pulled you closer.

“let’s just go get the manager right away, sweetie” you cooed at the boy, making your fiancé’s lips turn upwards into a derisory smirk.

“i… uh… okay!” the worker nodded and off he went. chan leaned in to place a soft kiss on your jaw, the cold mental grazing against your skin.

“so far so good” he hummed, his cologne filling your senses.

the worker arrived and chan didn’t care – he pecked your jaw once again before slowly leaning away.

“are you the manager?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. the man nodded, looking you in the eye coldly. to be fair, it was late. you’d wanna go home too.

“let me get this straight… you want to see your money?” the worker asked, letting out a deep sigh. now it was your turn to nod “and may i know your name?”

“we put the deposit on my name. pi cheolin” chan answered unbothered, putting an arm around you. you had to hold your breath in – no matter how many times he’s gonna use the fake name, it’s still going to make you snicker.

“ah, yes” the man nodded, checking something in his papers. then he glanced at his watch “whatever. how much did you put?”

“twenty million won” chan grinned proudly. the manager checked the time again.

“fine. i can only let one person in, though” he said and looked between you two. chan nodded.

“i’ll go. it won’t take too long, right? go start the engine, sugarbear” he hummed and stood up. you watched him follow the manager and quickly after they disappeared behind a door, you decided to go back to the car. if chan told you to start the car, it could only mean one thing.

you put on some radio, nervously shifting in the driver’s seat. usually, you were the passenger princess and you’d prefer it stayed that way… but hey, maybe it won’t be that bad?

suddenly, the bank door burst open and you saw chan running with a black bag.

let the race begin.

he yanked the door hantle and almost jumped into the seat, causing you to immediately hit the road. chan let out a yelp of surprise, closing the door. good thing he was fast with it, otherwise you might would have lost a mirror.

“it’s not our car either way…” he let out a dramatic sigh, wording out lost what you were thinking. he put the bag between his legs and turned around in his seat. you just changed the gear to the next one, ignoring the speed limits “go into the city, we’ll be able to lose them”

“do you think they’ll call backup?” you mumbled, glancing in the mirror. chan scoffed, shaking his head.

“by the time the backup arrives, we’ll be drinking wine on our couch. put the pedal to the metal, sweetcakes” your fiancé sent you a toothy grin.

you glanced at the gear box, then at the growing red arrow on the speedometer.

you were on the highway, it was quite empty. deciding to mess with chan, you purposely took your foot off the clutch a bit too fast after putting the highest gear. this caused the car to jerk forward and chan – who was without seatbelts – bonked his forehead against the headrest. he looked through his arm at you.

“yah” he scoffed in amusement and returned to observing your tail. they seemed to not catch up, which was great “the exit is soon, don’t worry”

“it better be because my heart is about to jump out of my body” you gritted your teeth and your knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel.

chan suddenly opened the window and the wolf-alike howl of the wind hit your ears, your hair flowing in every direction. then, he took out his gun and leaned out of the window.

“chan–!” you yelped and were met with a gunshot ripping the air. he quickly leaned back, his back hitting the seat with his chest rising up and down irregularly.

“the exit!” he suddenly grunted and pulled the steering wheel – not enough to take a sharp turn but to lead you towards it.

“sorry, i was just shocked by my fiancé using A GUN?” you grunted and felt - somehow - relieved finally entering the grounds you know.

“i aimed for a tire… and it worked, i assume” chan breathed heavily, running his fingers through his black hair “we’re fine, y/n. let’s just go to the docks and leave the car there”

“you’re insane” you murmured and felt his hand on your thigh, caressing it in a reassuring motion.

the city was soaked in night sky that already turned coal-black. the stars shone brightly, keeping you a little hopeful. as you passed the high skyscrapers and buildings, their lights blending into palettes of yellows, greens, whites and reds.

when you arrived at the docks, chan gave you the bag to hold and took care of the car (more like drove it into the water). then, he stood next to you and wrapped an arm around your shaking self. standing in silence, you watched the vehicle disappear underneath the water surface.

“let’s go home, pretty” chan pecked your temple and grabbed the bag, hanging it over his shoulder.

once inside, chan placed the bag on the kitchen counter. his eyes scanned your face in worry.

“you’re okay?” he asked, taking off his leather jacket.

“just… a little shocked, that’s all. how much did you even take…?” you asked. a joyful smile bloomed on his face as he approached you, his calloused hands landing on your waist “channie? how do you feel?”

he broke down into laughter, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. chan started swaying your bodies, dancing in the kitchen. you soon joined him, giggled erupting from your lips.

“let’s just say our wedding will be not from this earth” he hummed into your skin, suddenly twirling you around; moonlight shining on your faces, dancing in the middle of your shared kitchen.

main masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyuuu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu

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most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer · 8 months

Text

celestial surveillance + some garden of eden parallels

For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open. - Luke 8:17 (NIV)

Over and over, we see how the bookshop feels safe/private while simultaneously being sort of a fishbowl, leaving its inhabitants quite exposed to onlookers. *garden of eden vibes*

Similarly, Aziraphale and Crowley tried to conduct a class-A surreptitious 6000+ year agreement/slowburn romance and yet their 25 Lazarii relationship is fairly obvious to others.

Reminiscent of how Crowley is painfully aware that nothing is certain and time is horribly finite, Aziraphale lives with the knowledge that anything he does or says can be used against him—or much worse, used against Crowley or others our little guardian cares about. Unlike his emotional support demon, however, Aziraphale was afraid Before the Beginning, before The Fall.

While Upstairs aren't the only ones watching, they have the potential to be the most dangerous threat (emphasis on potential bc they have to take an interest and also maybe stumble into important clues): The heavenly office overlooks the entire world. Where Hell had to send Furfur to the theatre with a camera, Heaven's got Earth Observation Files they can pull up to see what someone was doing at any point in history—not even St. James Park can keep you anonymous in the face of thirty-seven classes of scriveners/recording angels!

Aziraphale may tend to underestimate danger in general because of his misplaced hope that Heaven is truly Good, but in the same way that he can be both clever and stupid, I think he trusts Heaven and fears it at the same time. Why else would he be so worried about breaking their rules even when he knows they are wrong?

Of course, Aziraphale is also a courageous little bastard with a deity-defying protective streak! Despite Heaven's indoctrination, we see him navigating all sorts of grey area as he learns to 'blur the edges'. But he knows it isn’t safe to do that openly. He keeps this more human side hidden and tries not to think too hard about why doing good is wrong in heavens eyes. (lol other people's aziraphale metas are my main food group rn)

At the end of S2, we see him leave A.Z. Garden & Co. after tasting the forbidden fruit large oat milk latte, armed with his naïve/misguided 'knowledge of Good and Evil'. (and perhaps he knows he can't 'let the sun can’t go down' on him in Soho lest the the Metatron mete out death instead of coffees?) When Adam and Eve left Eden, Aziraphale and Crowley observed from above. When the angel and demon leave their own garden, we get the sense that they are also being watched.

(also idk if this is anything but Adam facing off against the lion while Eve looks on in the bg seemed a bit like Crowley watching Aziraphale walk into danger w the Metatron. could be a good sign since the lion gets turned into salami)

There are hints at the end of S2 that the watching is getting a little a spicier (at least I think they are hints haha): the bookshop windows are still broken during the last part of E6, further decreasing privacy; the zombies used binoculars to watch A&C from the Dirty Donkey under cover of darkness in 1941 but the Metatron just looks across the road in the light of day. And then there's the whole 'hefty jigger of almond syrup'.

#im watching you wazowski always watching #also i'm just thinking jigger -> jiggery-pokery = trickery?? that's got to be on purpose right? *admiral ackbar voice* ITS A TRAP #good omens meta #good omens analysis #the metatron #a.z.fell & co.#the garden of eden #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2e6 #the final fifteen #aziraphale #crowley #lol this started as a paragraph in the GO:Lockdown Aziraphale draft but it was getting too big so here we are #i'll finish it eventually but i just like looking at everything everyone else is posting sm and i get distracted #a.z. fell and co.

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Text

The clockmaker, the crow and the mantis

[contains vulgar language]

SUMMARY: When an infamous assassin breaks into his office, Kaz Brekker is offered a part in a strange scheme. Despite their mutual dislike, the two might yet have a common goal.

(enemies to lovers I guess?)

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.2k

A feeling of a cold breeze brushing against his clothes makes Kaz stop immediately - he hasn't opened the window in weeks. The barely noticeable gust of wind tugs gently at the paperwork in front of him. Flames dance ever so slightly on their wicks. The darkness pooling in the corners of the room, where the candlelight can’t quite reach, seems deeper, more imposing, as though it wasn't the lack of light creating it but something much more alive, much more sinister.

Something moves out of the corner of his eye, bordering realism and phantasm. He gets up quickly, hand gripping the decorative cane that had seen its fair share of blood. Calculated, careful steps lead him to the centre of the room as Kaz studies the shapeless shadows encircling him like an ominous vignette.

His heart picks up its pace. A muffled sound of chatter and laughter reaches his ears from behind the heavy door. Horse hooves clatter against cobblestone, a wooden carriage quietly creeks as it rolls through the streets somewhere outside the building. But not a sound, except his own laboured breathing, comes from inside his office. The air doesn’t smell differently and even his eyes can’t quite discern between malicious darkness and the shadows he’s so used to being surrounded by.

By all accounts, Kaz is alone in his office that couldn’t have been tainted by an intruder. Despite his senses not earning him any useful information, he knows his privacy has been breached. It’s unclear what to call this sensation but it appears only in certain kinds of people - those who have been tried by particular ways of life. Their consciousness as if expands, almost miraculously sensing long knives in the dead of night.

Kaz swings his cane at a rather formless shadow by his side. Just as he expected, the staff comes into contact with something. Right there, where light meets darkness and safety of visibility becomes an impenetrable abyss, tips of gloved fingers appear, holding his cane mid-air. The grip is strong, textbook as if. Foreseen.

"Maybe listen to me first, you knucklehead,” resounds from the darkness.

He has to take a step back as the stranger emerges from the veil of the night, both of them still tightly gripping either side of the cane. The deep hood covers their eyes, making the lower half of their face easily visible. Kaz immediately notices a characteristic, pinkish scar ending about an inch below their right eye. The first button of their long, dark double-breasted coat is left open, revealing a grey shirt with moth-shaped collar pins. There’s so many pouches and pockets attached to their clothes - he couldn’t count them if he tried. Even more, Kaz can’t even begin to guess what they hide. A golden chain of their pocket watch glistens in the dim candlelight as they move forward, pushing Kaz farther back.

There’s only one wraith haunting Ketterdam that fits this description:

"Mantis,” he spits out.

"You know Krolmeister, the old clockmaker?" she asks calmly. Despite their less-than-friendly meeting, the assassin appears hardly bothered. One can only assume she has, in fact, been greeted in much worse ways and if one was to believe the wild legends people tell about her, even after applying a generous grain of salt, she can compete for the Dirtyhands title with him.

"I don't see how he has anything to do with you breaking into my office."

"He's the direct, well, indirect, reason why I'm here but we'll get to this in a moment. Mister Krolmeister has offered me a contract. A contract for you, to be precise.” She pauses for a moment, no doubt studying his demeanour, the reaction for such news. Her own face, however, remains just as unmoved making it impossible to say what she makes of his behaviour. Kaz clenches his jaw, already preparing for a fight with someone he can never measure up to. Part of him isn’t surprised in the slightest - after all, in what other way could the Bastard of the Barrell possibly pass away? Mantis leans offhandedly close to his face and continues in a voice barely above a whisper: “Now, you and I both have heads with more use than just wearing hats, so you're probably wondering what you had done to poor Bernard Krolmeister for him to have you killed. The short answer is nothing but the long answer is a lot more interesting. Care to listen?"

The woman lets go of the cane, giving Kaz a chance to strike her but he only lowers the staff to lean on it once again. He may be proud but he’s not stupid - if she had indeed come to kill him, he would have already been long dead, before his mind could even compute the final blow.

"Do not waste my time. Speak."

If he was trying to appear menacing, he has failed. Mantis casually strolls past him, towards a chair by the desk. She sits down, crosses her legs and only then gives Kaz an explanation: "My expertise on the matter tells me that Krolmesiter is nothing but a proxy, a dummy middle-man to blame if something goes south. Blackmail, probably, but that doesn't matter for now. That scenario suggests that there's someone above him, a puppet master if you will. And that puppet master, whoever they are, has good business in having you gone. Considering those two elements, the proxy and the determination, I'm certain you could accurately guess who's truly behind that contract.”

Kaz can’t help the scowl on his face. Her perplexing audacity, a clear and yet indirect disregard for him, makes the man grip the model crow atop his cane ever tighter. His teeth clatter against one another while Kaz contemplates the nature of a violent act that is bound to take her down a peg. Even after his list reaches double digits in just a few seconds, he knows better than to try anything - not yet, at least.

"You’re just a murder, Mantis, no matter how expensive.”

His words don’t bother the woman as she continues to play with a paperweight on the desk. Her fingers make him wonder for a moment - even when gloved, they’re clearly thin and long, without a sign of heavy labour on them. They move swiftly and elegantly across the figurine, feeling its dips and rises as though she’s trying to remember them. Those are hands of a pianist or a prestidigitator, someone who’s precision borders on a miracle.

She’s not even looking at him. Kaz feels his patience running thin. One can still work as an assassin without a finger or two, no? Without a whole hand, perhaps?

“Why should I believe even a single word of this fairytale built on hypotheticals?" he grits through his teeth.

The gentle movement of her fingers stops abruptly. Finally, Mantis looks away from the brass paperweight. Kaz still can’t see her eyes but he can feel them - there’s something primal about her gaze like a predator studying its prey for any sign of hesitation. Heavy paperweight or not, if he turns his back to her, it might just be the last thing he does.

“True, I am but a humble murderer.” Mantis mockingly puts a hand on her chest and bows her head. “But I’m really fucking good at it, too. I’m not asking for belief. Just trust my reputation.”

Kaz doesn’t answer for a longer while. His eyes bore into the hooded figure sitting in front of him. Disillusioned, he knows she’s doing exactly the same thing. The observation makes him even angrier but for an entirely different reason - perhaps, they are, after all, similar in some way. The restless urge sitting under his skin gets only more urgent. Kaz needs to hit something. Now.

“Why are you telling me all of this? Want me to pay you for telling me someone wants me dead?”

The man scoffs. It’s no news to him - everyday someone tries to get under his skin. Some figuratively, others literally.

"I need you to play dead for the next two days,” she states candidly. “You're silent, so I'm guessing you're interested. If I'm correct, and there's hardly any possibility I'm not, after I tell Bernard that the mighty Kaz Brekker had been dealt with, he's sure to inform a direct messenger between him and the possible blackmailer. I follow him, learn a thing or two and get back to you. And you'll get half of the reward. How's that?"

In slow limps, Kaz narrows the space between them. Mantis is still sitting, making the man tower over her but he knows it’s not much of an advantage. He leans further on his cane moving his face obscenely close to hers. An aroma of rainwater and grease fills his nostrils as he takes in a ragged breath:

"What do you get out of this deal?"

"Aside from like a hundred thousand Kruge? Peace,” she says with a shrug. Mantis looks away for a moment. She puckers her lips, sighs and turns back to him. “I don't like you, Kaz Brekker.” The way her words pierce the tension between them leaves no doubts about their honesty. “Damn, I'd probably open champagne if your head rolled into the gutter.” A light shake of head before she continues. “But you are, I'm afraid, a necessary evil. Say, if you do die, who will take your place on this throne of filth called the Barrel? You're a shitstain but you're tolerable."

To his own surprise, Kaz is speechless. Out of all the things she could ask in return for the information, Mantis only wants the Barrel to not get more problematic than it already is. As strangely kindhearted as it may sound, he continues to have a hard time tolerating her condescending attitude. Kaz Brekker is the king of this steaming pile of shit and to her, he appears to be nothing beyond an over glorified guard dog. Not even an imposing one, it seems.

"Those are some big words for someone who kills to make a living, don't you think?” He tilts his head in a futile attempt to see more of her face. “I suppose it takes a shitstain to know a shitstain."

"As much as both of us hate to admit it, a day has come when we need each other. Anyway, I won't take any more of your time. Places to go, people to kill, you know how it goes.”

Mantis throws her legs over the armrest of the chair and in swift strides makes her way towards the window. Considering her line of business, doors of any kind were prohibited. In a clearly experienced motion, she places a flat metal bar between the window frame and the windowsill, opening her exit in a smooth act. Before she climbs through his window only to disappear like a dream at the break of dawn, Kaz stops her one last time:

"You should be wary. Birds tend to eat praying mantis."

He watches as her lips curve into a cocky smile. "Only if he can catch her."

And with those words, she dives through the window, dissolving into the black night as though it was his fantasy that brought her to life. Kaz stands alone in his office. Nothing about the room has changed, even the brass paperweight is placed exactly as it was before Mantis put her hand on it. In some way, the assassin was never there. Despite her elusive nature, the smell of grease and rain will linger in his nose for a few more days, haunting him like the wraith of Ketterdam she is.

Jesper knows something is wrong the moment he notices Kaz’s bitter expression. Although his boss appears to wear a grimace most of the time, the wrinkle between his eyebrows seems slightly deeper than it did just a few hours ago. He’s clenching his jaw, looking at the people in his club with a patronizing scowl.

"You alright, boss?" he asks when Kaz reaches the bar counter.

But Brekker isn’t fast to answer. He downs the drink Jesper got for himself. Gripping the edge of the counter like his life depends on it, he begins to explain:

"I'm dead, Jesper."

Kaz isn’t funny. Truth be told, he doesn’t seem to have even a speck of a sense of humour. Despite that, Jesper dismisses the notion that his boss could be serious. It sounds ridiculous.

"You look pretty alive to me,” he says in a slow, reluctant tone. Maybe he missed something obvious?

An accusatory index finger makes Jesper unknowingly lean back slightly. "Tell everyone I'm dead, stabbed in my own office. And do it now."

"Hold on, what?” He shakes his head. “Why would you be dead?"

"Just do it, Jesper.” Kaz lets out a defeated sigh. The smart choice just so happens to be the one he hates. “You'll know in due time. All we can do now is wait."

Jesper watches Kaz’s back as he walks back up the stairs into his office. A familiar anxiety blooms in his chest - something big is about to happen and he might just have the front-row seat.

#kaz brekker #shadow and bone #six of crows #kaz brekker fanfiction #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker fanfic #the crows #crooked kingdom #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #six of crows x reader #six of crows fanfic #six of crows fanfiction #six of crows imagine

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sameschmidtdiffname · 3 months

Text

Lapses

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: In the wake of death our minds begin to wander. To better times, to little moments. Reality is so fickle in the minds of the weak. But he's coming back. Eventually.

Tags: No use of Y/N, hurt/no comfort, set mostly during the nine months Reader spent grieving before Billy returned in 'My Ghost,' disassociation, distorted reality, death, references to 'Twin Peaks' (1992).

Previous Works in Series: 'My Ghost' (original) • 'Repentance' (prequel)

Warning: You should at minimum read 'My Ghost' before reading this work in the series first. (For best reading experience, please read both previous works beforehand.)

Notes: :)

-¤°》◇《°¤-

Down comes clumps of wet snow from the grey sky, falling.

And falling.

I don't know when I wake up.

The TV has been on for hours. Flashing the same photos.

He smiled at me from across the room.

Don't think. Don't perceive. Don't focus.

"I think you look pretty with your hair like that," I told him. His cheeks are so rosy when he smiles.

Smiled.

Why is he smiling?

Where is that photo even from? Have they contacted me with any new details? Check your email.

"Is the internet working? I can't get this fucking email to go through."

He left on an errand.

"Did the auto-payment go through for the bill?"

He's coming back.

"You didn't tell me that was due, I don't have anything on the account."

He's coming back.

"You don't have anything?"

He's coming back.

"I don't have anything."

What are you supposed to do after a death?

There's no guide. There's no instruction manual. Grieve, move on. That's it. That is all we know. How am I supposed to do the second if the general public disapproves so heavily of the first?

There's a long while I don't even leave my house. I lock the doors, shut the curtains tight and nail them to the walls so he can't leave. Like he's captured in my basement, wilting in the darkness as I try to preserve his voice ringing in my ears like the sirens on the TV I eventually break when I throw the remote at it in a fit of rage and desperation.

"It's a piece of shit anyways," Billy would say when he saw it again. "I always meant to buy us a new one."

First thing I did when I found out was rip open my nightstand drawer. "William, have you ever shot a man?" I ask, bolting upright as I wipe the crust from my eyes.

"What the fuck did you do? What the fuck did you do?" I whispered under my breath. "Where the fuck is the gun?in my nightstand. And if I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to use it. I haven't before, but I can't imagine it's hard."

I tore the house apart looking for it. He's unwell. Wasn't it just last night he was curled on my bed, so sweet and small as he stared at the wall in front of him?

He didn't feel well. He said his stomach hurts. My stomach hurts. Must have been something he ate, he mentioned a mistake. He wouldn't do this of his own free will, I know him.

He walks through the living room, pulling on a jacket to fight the cold air that seeps through the thin windows.

"Whatcha watching?"

Your report "'Twin Peaks,'" I told him.

"Oh shit, seriously? I haven't seen that since high school," he laugh'sowhodoicallabouttheremains?"

"Apparently they came out with a new season," I said. "Got us a free trial if we wanna watch."

"We gotta start from the beginning. Won't make sense if we don't," he says as he throws himself and one other dead thus far against the couch, almost landing on top of me in his excitement. It makes me scream.

Our first date was a little bit of a mess. I wasn't really expecting to meet someone when I did. But I met him. And he was sweet.

"So he didn't tell you anything about this?"

I've dated. I've seen a few guys. Not to sound easy, it was only a handful. But I'd only dated one other guy seriously. It was high school, lasted all the way through. Didn't end well.

"He was running an errand. He does it all of the time."

Billy picked me up fifteen minutes early. Claimed Google overshot the time estimate to my address, so he left early. Later he admitted it was a lie.

But he's not a liar. Why won't anyone believe me?

"What does he do on the errands?"

"I don't know, get groceries or something. I never asked."

I never wanted to know.

Billy hasd this romantic side to him. Oh yes, Mister 'Primps and Primes in Front of The Mirror For an Hour Just To Get Drinks' had a flare for the dramatics. Who would have thought? And he showed up with this grocery store bouquet of lilies and baby's breath mixed with wildflowers from the local park.

"They price the hell out of these things for half the product. Figured I'd give you the proper amount," he said with a wink.

"Did you know he was affiliated with gang activities?"

"No!" Yes. "Of course not!" I helped him pack a bag of coke about a week ago.

Did you know that I love the color blue?

No.

Mm hmm. Had it on everything. Even dyed my hair that color in high school.

You with blue hair? You're full of shit.

No, I'm serious! Hated the bleaching process though. Do you know how bad it looks when you grow out dark hair from neon blue?

I imagine It'd look co-

Ld.

It's cold.

It's been a week. The police have decided I have nothing to do with this. The town has nothing to do with me.

The house is in shambles. But some things are prestine. Like his ashtray sitting on the kitchen table. I kept the surface clean for him, for when he comes back. A string of photos is on the wall from when we went to the arcade and found a photo booth. Half of them are photos of us just looking at each other. Not kissing. Not smiling. Just looking. He has such gentle eyes, you know? I tried to draw them once. They're really hard. They're just so soft, just the right angle. The skin on his eyes crease so specifically. And if you don't draw them right, it doesn't look like him at all. Told him I was gonna get it perfect eventually.

"I may have to go away for a little bit."

They won't give me anything to bury. They won't let him come home. One time Billy was trapped at a bus station during a snow storm and couldn't come home. He'd been running an errand for a friend. I think I know who that friend is now. Billy could hardly even call on the phone from how bad the storm was. He was so cold. Said he wished I was here. Said how much he misses me. Said there was a rerun of 'Twin Peaks' at the station keeping him company. So I put on the same episode and stared at the TV while I waited for him to regain service and let me know where he was. I told him to give me a call when he could.

I'm at the bottom of his closet. Our closet. I don't know why I'm here.

When I was a child, I liked small spaces

Yeah?

"This is a hard time. It's only natural that you're grieving," says my mother on the other side of the phone.

A month ago Billy sat across from me, eyes trained on the TV as we smoked our way through season two.

"If I have a psychotic break, would you reenact history for me?" He teased around his joint.

"Why don't you go to church?"

"No one talks to me there. I've tried, momma. They hate me. They keep thinking I was in on it." I helped him pack a bag of coke.

"God won't judge you."

Scientists aren't really sure what happens to your mind when you die.

I've looked it up. Once. Read an article. Well, read is a strong word. More accurately I stared at it on my ancient computer I'd had since college while I disassociated for hours on end trying desperately to concentrate. Maybe it's morbid, but when your soon-to-be husband dies in a fire one is prone to wonder about such a thing.

Recent articles suggest DMT- a psychedelic drug that can occur naturally in plants -can actually be produced by your brain in the final moments of brain activity.

"Do you think there's anything after this?" He'd asked me one time as we layed beneath the stars, sand in our hair from the beach of the lake.

"I think we see what we need so that we'll be content as we drift away."

"Studies of animals undergoing brain death have found that the organ begins to release numerous signaling molecules and creates unusual brainwave patterns to try to resuscitate itself, even as it shuts down external signs of consciousness."

I'm sorry. I can't focus anymore. On anything. I feel like my lungs are being squeezed from bottom to top like a tube of gogurt.

We were hardly paying attention to the show anymore. So smoked out it was hilarious to us, laughing at everything as we focused on nothing except for the feeling of each others skin. My hands on his cheeks, his hands covering mine so soothingly. It was so sweet when he guided me off the floor where I lay. Julee Cruise sang on the old TV. Falling, falling. All I can feel is falling as he guides me into a gentle sway across the old shag carpet lit with the mid-July sunset, holding me like I'll fall far, far away.

"I think I've fallen in love with you," Billy whispered against my ear. His breath is warm.

"Yeah?" I'm too high for this conversation. I didn't even realize how low my tolerance had gotten since the last time I smoked. "You make me feel like I'm in high school again."

We'd danced the whole night. He didn't know hardly any of the songs, causing him to be off beat. I was too drunk to keep time, so I stepped on his leather boots enough times there was a visible scuff on the top of one by the end of the night. I always felt bad, offering to replace or help pay to fix it. He wouldn't let me.

"I could die tomorrow and I'd be happy," Billy confessed in a strained voice, finally letting all of the walls come tumbling down around us to the gentle beat of the song. "I'm so glad I got to meet you."

I was so nervous during our first date that I forgot how to eat hummus properly. It sounds so silly, doesn't it? But there was something about him. He wore this white button up shirt, basic jeans that were tight on his thighs. Not that I was looking. Much. His hair was combed neatly, gelled away from his face in a chic manner. Really, he took the whole thing so seriously he almost looked like some youth pastor they would have shuffled into a room with high schoolers to play a guitar and say 'you know, I was troubled once' before offering his story of repentance. It was so different from how he usually looked. Was he scared?

But anyways, I was so nervous that when they brought us our tray of hummus and bread to share, I took my little triangle slices and barely dipped them so to not look greedy before shoving the whole piece in my mouth one by one. I didn't even remember I was supposed to tear them apart until a week later. I was just trying to avoid double dipping.

"I think that's the first time I fell in love with you," Billy confessed. I giggle so stupidly, so incredibly high as I float on air.

"Because I was stupid?" I ask.

"Because you were sweet," he said.

There's a long moment of silence, the music swelling and making the cheap TV vibrate from the bass it was unequiped to handle.

"Tell me you'll marry me one day," he whispered.

What do you do with a ring that no one wants you to wear? I'm sorry I couldn't help you.

"Isn't it a little early for that?" I laughed softly.I'm sorry you went out on a romantic whim and borrowed money you shouldn't have for the ring I was too ashamed to wear on the proper finger. "It's only been a year." I don't even think we're dancing anymore. I think I'm sorry you couldn't come back for me.we're just swaying softly to the music flowing around us in a blind stupor, the humidity so suffocating outside that Billy shoved an electric fan in the living room window to try and blow in the cool air earlier that afternoon.

And I'm sorry for hating you when you showed up unannounced at my door.

“It shuts the door to the outside world and takes care of internal business because the house is on fire,” says biomedical scientist Charlotte Martial of the University of Liège, who studies near-death experiences.

He looks guilty sitting on the bed, watching me fiddle with the small container in front of me.

"You can't bring much," he tells me. There's sadness in his voice, honest and tired. His clothes smell like lavender.

"It's fine," I said.

He simply stares at me, bags heavy under his eyes. He had this spark of life before he returned to me that evening. I'm so glad he's home. Things weren't the same.

"Your hair looks so pretty like that," I said, stepping closer to cup his face in my hands. The contents of my nightstand drawer stabbing the bare skin of my feet as I walk to him. He blushes, looking away in shame.

"You can't ever come back if you leave with me," he says softly.

"I have nothing to return to. Everything is gone," I insisted. But I can see he's having second thoughts, glancing down the hallway. "You can't leave me again."

"What the fuck is that?" I screamed into the phone.

"Baby, I don't know-"

"There is a manhunt for my fucking fiánce who can hardly kill a fucking spider and all you want to say is you don't fucking know?!"

There's an article staring at me. Sent by my mother just a few minutes prior. Billy had been gone for a couple hours after leaving me with a small little keychain on the kitchen table and a soft kiss on my forehead, saying he had some plans for that evening. But he'll be back soon. He wasn't lying.

"I want you to come. But you have to be sure."

His eyes are desperate, staring up at me as I stoke his hair away from his face. His clothes smell like lavender.

They finally sent him home today. Took nine months. First they had to confirm it was his remains. Then I had to decide where I wanted him to go. It's such a hard process trying to get your loved ones back, especially when you were running out of the pills that kept you sane. Kept you wrapped in the thick fog of memories left behind to damn the living in a house that has turned more into a tomb. No sunlight, no visitors. My mother came over to see us once, but the smell was so bad she left soon after. I got a new bottle today. Might as well, after all.

He looks so tired on my bed. Curled in on himself. You could fit him in a box. So small. So tired.

It's so cold.

"You know, today would've been our anniversary?"

Zemmar says, because “death is sort of a mystery—we don’t really know what it is.”

I wonder who found me alone in the closet of our room.

We were too busy dancing to notice.

▪︎》◇《▪︎

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

Masterlist • Article

#Spotify #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #josh hutcherson x you #jhutch #billy burn 2019 #billy josh hutcherson #billy burn imagine #billy x reader #billy burn #burn movie 2019 #burn 2019 #josh hutcherson burn #hurt/no comfort

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ceruleancattail · 1 year

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Yay! Open requests :D may I request octavinelle, but this time reader is THEIR butler instead? I was thinking of an efficient, eye-brow raising, maybe a lil smidgen joke-snarky butler, who is still caring none-the-less, but! wherever your ideas take you personality-wise, i am totally on board! :)) Thank you for everything you write! It's always a joy to see you on the dash :) hope you're having a good day <33

ANON. ANON. YOU’RE ONTO SOMETHING.

I AM LISTENING.

Holy shit this is good food my goodness-

AND YOU’RE SO SWEET THANK YOU Q W Q I’M GLAD I COULD BRIGHTEN YOUR DAY!

I’ll split this into three parts,because I have to pace myself. I have horrible stamina, especially when writting. Hope you don’t mind!

Octavinelle, with a butler!

Part one:

Azul x Butler reader

General neutral reader, but I use butler to describe their job. (Is there a gender-neutral term for butler/maid? Help-)

There’s something to be said, working for the House of Octavinelle.

You always have a underlying sense of unease, treading through its winding halls. Your feet heavy under you, pressing deep into the carpets. These feelings are rather irrational, especially for a butler.

Your duty is to serve. Anything else is irrelevant.

Although those feelings aren’t that unfounded.

You stop in front of a oaken door. Hand hovering over the silver doorknob, a slight chill running through your palm. A premonition of what was to come?

Nonsense. Sheer nonsense. Your masters may be… unique, but they have never done anything to harm you.

Yet.

Pushing open the door, you keep your head bowed tactfully.

“You called, Master Ashengrotto?”

A chair swivels around, a blur of motion. Light grey pupils peer at you behind a pair of crystal clear lenses. Curls of silver run down the left side of his face, swaying with his every movement. He was wearing a shirt , however, the tie seemed to be loosened for comfort. His blazer was hung behind his chair, casting quite the imposing shadow over the room.

Azul Ashengrotto. Head of the family.

“Ah, you’re here.” He runs a hand through his hair, knocking his glasses askew. You sigh, before reaching for his face, adjusting his frames for him. Fingers reaching for the back of Azul’s ears, pressing the glasses in place.

You pull back, taking your spot at the front of the table once more. A light pink dusted his cheeks. Perhaps from the heat. You’ll have to ventilate this room well later.

“You called, did you not?”

Azul’s hands raise up in a gesture of surrender.

“So I did.”

You straighten your back , tilting your head slightly. Prompting him to spit out whatever he had on his mind. Time was rather precious, both to him and you.

A moment of silence, before you spoke up.

“Might I inquire why you require my presence?”

A laugh, tinged with an underlying melancholy. Bitter, hidden behind a facade of amusement.

“Does there always have to have a problem for me to wish for your presence?”

An raised eyebrow, you stare at him.

“What else would you require me for then?”

Rising from his chair, Azul takes hold of your hands. Clutching them tight, his fingers creep into yours. Intertwining with your gloved fingers, a shockingly intimate gesture.

“Is it so hard to think that I simply miss you, my dear?”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #lucky potion🔹#azul ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x reader #twst Azul #Azul x reader #butler reader #butler au #Azul x butler reader

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phoeebsbuffay · 7 months

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Imagine you are consoled by General Skywalker after a shitty day at work.

Warnings: short fic. fluffy, light and comfort reading. It contains some drama, though.

Warnings 2: Y/C = your choice (this fits for the subject Y/N teaches, etc).

***

It’s one of these days, Anakin feels it even before landing Coruscant. Ignoring Obi-Wan’s scowls, he goes right after you, knowing where to find you.

As he crosses his way through the countryside to see you, Anakin is anxious, feeling your feelings from afar, aware of the reasons that took you—albeit momentarily—and praying to find you well, despite his suspicious that you are not.

Unaware of his presence, you had just left your work—you are a teacher and you teach Y/C there—with eyes puddled with tears. You’ve been feeling lonely and frustrated because lately you give your very best to make a nice class, you put such a great effort to be kind, gentle and loving and all you get in return is a shitty treatment?

You start to wonder whether you are capable of doing what you do and all of a sudden what’s been choked in your throat dissolves in tears. You are outdoors, grey clouds begin to rumble, but rain pours from your eyes.

Such is the scenario when he meets you. And your eyes go wide when you find the great General Skywalker right coming to you.

Reading your thoughts brings a smile to his face.

“Y/N”, he says softly. “Why’d you believe I was not coming to see my best friend?”

You blush lightly at his words, slamming his arm playfully before being engulfed in his embrace. Ah, to smell his perfume, to feel protected by his strength.

“Would you please not read my mind, Ani?”

He smiles at how muffled your voice comes out because you bury your head against his chest.

“I cannot help myself, Y/Nickname. Besides I had a bad feeling about you. What happened, uh?” As he offers you a seat on his ship, leading you to his place instead of piloting it to yours, you notice he’s been anxious.

“Is everything okay, Ani?”, you take hold of his hand, enjoying how easily your fingertips interlock, a sight that makes you smile.

A simple gesture that warms your heart. Anakin feels it too.

“You know? Being with you makes my day a lot better”, he smiles at you, side eyeing you all the whilst he keeps his eyes on the road. “I mean it, Y/N. I could listen every quality now, I could praise you for being you.”

You are sure your face goes bright red. You suddenly look away, even though your hand is still tied to Anakin’s.

“Shush, Ani. You really don’t know what you are saying.” And then you suddenly take notice that he’s not taking you home. “Ani, why am I here? I have to go back home, you know. I work tomorrow and…”

“Now I should shush you instead, princess”, he smirks at you. “Come here…”

Once he stops at his home, he makes sure to bring you with him, leading the way all the whilst he ensures you are comfortable there. You glue your eyes at his moves, watching as he does some tea, his concern over you, the way…

Oh.

The way you love him so much.

Anakin may have heard your thoughts because he suddenly freezes whilst waiting water to boil, but it’s only because he feels the same. And yet he senses the bubble within will explode because you are overwhelmed.

Leaving aside his fears, after preparing your favourite tea, Anakin rushes to your side right as you burst into tears at long last.

“Princess, princess… hey, come here”, he puts the tea on table and embraces you as he rocks you against his chest once you both seat at the couch. “What happened, my darling? Tell me everything that’s been troubling you. Should I use my lightsaber?”

You raise your eyes and giggle between sobs.

“Of course not, Anakin. What kind of question is that?”

“Well, it did bring you to laughters, did it not? Who brought you to tears, love?”, he holds your chin, eyeing you like a lover. As he strokes your cheek, Anakin smiles. “Do you have any doubts about how I feel for you, Y/Nickname?”

“I was afraid”, you tell him, not sobbing again. “I feel so…terrible, you know? Like everything I do is not enough. Where I am kind, I get rudeness. People are so mean! We are at war, but it feels like we fight it here too. We don’t use the Force like you, but words are our weapons. They hurt so bad and they don’t even care!”

Anakin listens attentively as you speak out. He soothes your arms and back, holding you protectively, not letting you go.

He presses a kiss on top of your head, at times wiping your tears. When you finally stop sobbing, he makes you look into his blue eyes again.

Though fragile you may feel, strange is that the feeling of protectiveness is so much stronger. You feel heard, seen, understood…and loved, even if you feel like you don’t deserve it.

“You are not responsible for other people’s thoughts and sentiments, dear Y/Nickname. You are, however, only attainable to your deeds. Don’t let other people’s corruptions corrupt your mission”, he speaks softly. “Your heart is kind and generous. You are pure, you are gold. I love you for who you are and honestly I couldn’t love anybody else.”

“Not even Senator Padmé Amidala?”, you tease him, making Anakin roll his eyes.

“Really now?”

He smiles as you giggle, before pressing a kiss over your head.

“How does it feel?”

“Thank you for listening, Ani. I…”

“I know”, says Anakin. “Drink your tea, dear one, otherwise it’ll get cold.”

You snuggle against him after getting the tea he prepared for you. The two of you spend the rest of the night like this, cuddled. This evening you stay at his household, though to hold his affection is a greater comfort that truly soothes your pained heart.

You offered love to the world but getting Anakin Skywalker’s love is one true kind of joy that elevates your heart to another loving purpose…

***

Epilogue.

“Do you see the stars?”, he asks you.

Today, he is at your household. He’d just dinned with your family and now you two share some privacy outdoors.

“Yes. They spark such a vast universe”, you tell him.

“One day I’ll take you with me so we can explore it together”, Anakin vows it, taking your hands and pressing a kiss on top of every finger. “You are my sun, Y/N. I can only gravitate to you.”

“As you are my moon and stars, to whom my love is infinitive and beyond.”

You exchange glances. There is peace at long last. And as you two kiss… well, it can be said that this is where the fun truly begins.

#star wars #star wars imagine #intimate #consolation #fluffy reading #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #imagine star wars #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin Skywalker x female reader

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underscar · 1 year

Text

LOVESTRUCK FOOL

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro/Female Reader

Summary: Love-struck is being blinded by love. A state of being so enthralled with someone that you can't stop thinking about them; moreover, to the point that they don't know what to do with themselves. Like a kid after going trick-or-treating. A sugar high and so much candy that they have no idea what to do with themselves. Megumi was a lovestruck fool, and you, Satoru's little sister, had struck him. Once accepting his affection for you, Satoru has appeared to turn into more of a pest, striving to ruin his student's chance for your affection at all costs.

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

A/N: Is it obvious that I adore megumi?

this is a old oneshot i dug out from my wattpad drafts so it may be familiar to a small percentage. i rewrote, changed, and added A LOT. cause damn did the writing suck. but i liked the concept and was in the mood for some megumi romance and satoru shenanigans. so enjoy!

WORD COUNT // 2,898 words

Love-struck: being blinded or struck by love.

A state of being so enthralled with someone that you can't stop thinking about them; moreover, to the point that they don't know what to do with themselves. Like a kid after going trick-or-treating. A sugar high and so much candy that they have no idea what to do with themselves.

Megumi was a lovestruck fool, and you had struck him.

Megumi has known you for as long as he has known Satoru, so since childhood. You were born with the Gojō clan's inherited technique, Limitless, but not with Six Eyes, so you weren't able to efficiently yield it like your older brother. You were constantly under protection because of your relation with Satoru, with all his notoriety, the fact that you are, in general, a Gojō, and your lack of combat capabilities. Every time you go in public, bodyguards must chaperone you.

Despite not having immense power like your brother, you were still held to a high standard and bore high expectations. Your clan was very strict regarding you since you were the last child left in the household, one of few daughters amongst your siblings, and the youngest child of your parents. They were very strict about who you could be friends with, who you could see, where you went, what you did, and so on. Lucky for Megumi, he fits the criteria for who you openly could be friends with.

It wasn't long ago when it struck hit him. It was sudden and all. Occurred when you had visited Tokyo one weekend to hang out with him for the afternoon, and he recognized he felt something for you as he was escorting you to your chauffeur.

At first, Megumi mistook this feeling for his fondness for you from childhood. He has clear and warm memories of growing up next to you. You were inseparable then, not that you aren't nowadays, but now you were both just too busy to just stay attached 24/7 since you live such a distance away. With him training as a shaman in Tokyo, and you not, you both attended different schools in different cities.

Due to the strictness of your clan and the intense security you maintain, your gatherings are limited to twice a month.

He looks forward to your monthly visits.

Because of how periodically you're allowed to see one another, to satisfy his neediness for the next visit, he always walks you out of the school campus to squeeze in a few more minutes with you. Megumi didn't want to admit it, but he was lonely here without you.

This particular day was a rather foggy day. The sky grew darker and dimmer; moreover, the air got damp. The clouds scattered the sky at sporadic gaits and trends. Shrouding the sunlight in a grey filter and conveying a melancholic sense down below. When Megumi was with you, however, nothing could turn him blue, so you both disregarded those caution signs, too invested in each other's company as he walked you toward the campus parking lot, where your guards were expected you.

As projected, the irregular drips of rain swiftly evolved into a shower of rain following you and Megumi's steps. Megumi's involuntary instinct was to sprint to the parking lot for your ride, rushing the usually languid stroll. He didn't want to, he wanted to spend more time together, but it was the prudent course of action. He didn't want you to get a cold.

You however didn't allow him to make this choice.

Before he could move to direct you to a quicker route to the parking lot, you swiftly captured his warm hand in yours, and in turn, chilled him to the bone. You had placed him into an outbreak of remembrance.

"This is perfect Megumi! Let's hide!" you say. You looked into his eyes and there was nothing but bliss in them. As if the child in you was still behind those eyes. "Like we're kids again!" you added, joyfully. You smiled in the murky rain that clouded the area. The sun within this storm you are.

Megumi would've said normally how foolish and immature that was, but he was voiceless as you lured him away towards your entanglement.

The palm of your hand felt like a glove in his, it fit wonderfully, as it always has. When you were younger, you would always hold his hand. Mostly to drag him along with you to participate in whatever shenanigan you were up to. Just like you were now.

With his hand in yours, he felt something. There was something different about this moment then what Megumi recollected from his childhood, he wanted to squeeze your hand with his, he wanted to kiss your hand, and caress it. This "something" had felt different from the fondness he had for you from childhood. It felt oddly romantic and intimate at the moment.

Megumi was a lovestruck fool

and had fallen in love with you.

That day you stayed a few hours more with you both hiding from your guards who soon went searching for you. Megumi knew was going to get in a lot of trouble for this once you both got caught, which will happen eventually. Regardless, it was difficult for him to say no to you. He could never refuse more time with you.

You were both apprehended when Satoru was summoned to fetch you up instead, and he found you both in a matter of seconds. By then you were exhausted after running around the campus and had fallen asleep behind some sofas in the student's commons area.

What caught Satoru's attention was seeing your head resting on his student's shoulder, who did not move an itch.

That was the day Megumi conceded he had an affinity for you. It was also the day Satoru found out his student had a crush on his sister, and he became a pestering asshole.

There is a lively atmosphere in the coffee shop and the air is filled with the smell of pastries and beans. The early morning sun filtered through the windows into the shop and illuminated Satoru's ghostly-white mane.

In the booth, Megumi sat down in front of his teacher, who had suddenly invited him for breakfast. He initially declined but was coaxed after Satoru rambled for what felt like 30 minutes about how lonely he is and how no one cares about him anymore. Or something along those lines. Megumi simply accepted with a groan to keep the conversation short.

Satoru rested his arms on the wooden tabletop. His palms were entwined. "Megumi," he said, bringing his students' focus away from the coffee he was drinking. "Are you excited to see my sister this weekend?" he asked, before continuing to speak before he could respond. "—you know, every time I visit her, she only asks about you."

Megumi's pine eyes narrowly broaden. Did you really? He restrained himself from moving his palm to cover his face. Well of course you did, your friends, he reasoned. Making his emotions too visible would only catch Satoru's attention if his behavior hasn't already. The man in front of him now having a devoid smile on his face.

He had to behave as if what Satoru was saying didn't matter, or Satoru would never live it down. Rather, he just gapes outside the window next to him, his face flushing.

Satoru continued when he didn't get a response from Megumi. "My baby sister doesn't love me anymore, it's depressing. She doesn't even give me a good morning text anymore!" he whined. He shakes his head in displeasure, flicking his wrist. "It's Megumi this, Megumi that. It's like she's been possessed to only speak of you, Megumi!"

Megumi twitched at the sound of his name being repeated. "So?" Megumi forced out. Satoru was annoying but he wasn't annoying for no reason. He just wanted Satoru to stop talking around the bush, and ultimately admit his central reason for bringing him here this morning.

Satoru fell back into his seat. "You're the same Megumi!" he wept. "You're always asking about her too! No one cares for me anymore!”

Megumi frowned at him as he dropped his head onto the table. Then, with his head on the table, Satoru pretended to weep into his folded arms. The other patrons in the coffee shop are now fixated on the two of them because of this.

Megumi sighs and sips his coffee slowly.

Satoru suddenly stops sobbing and gives his student a smirk while looking up. Megumi only had a hunch as to what this meant; he knew something he shouldn't.

Satoru crossed his legs and sat back in his chair. He then begins by sipping from his frappuccino. "You know Megumi, you've been getting rather close to my sister. As if...you're attracted to her almost,” he surmised.

A look of seriousness suddenly appeared on Satoru's face, but the whipped cream on his lip almost made it hard for Megumi to take him earnestly.

Megumi places his mug on the table and listened.

Satoru kept talking. "I am aware of your little crush on my baby sister. So, tell me, Megumi, do you think you're worthy of being with my sister?" he inquired outright.

Before Megumi had the chance to consider responding, Satoru cut him off. "—I want you to think about that Megumi!" he barks. He pointed a finger at the teen. "Think of it as an assignment from your Sensei."

Megumi simply agrees. Satoru appeared to be babbling nonsense to anyone else, but in fact, he just lightly threatened the boy. But he wouldn't let Satoru stand in the way of him because he was lovestruck by you. This was the start of Satoru's "assignment" and the first time he would use those exact three phrases repeatedly in the future.

Five hours. You're five hours late.

In spite of the fact that today was the day for you and Megumi's monthly hangout, you were nowhere to be seen It wasn't completely uncommon for you to be late, your family put a lot of duties on you, yet you've never been one to be late. Additionally, you would've at least texted him. He's had his phone clutched to his palm for the last five hours waiting for that said text.

This wasn't like you at all. Megumi feared something might have occurred to you at home. So, grudgingly, he leaves his dorms to find your pain-in-the-ass brother to question him on your lateness. It had been a few weeks since his meeting with Satoru at the coffee shop and nothing has really occurred since. Just a little bit of teasing from him in class but other than that he hasn't really done anything.

It didn't take Megumi long to find Satoru in the commons area. He was sitting alone with a rounded cake on the table in front of him, a napkin tucked into his shirt.

Megumi entered the room and made his presence known to the man. "Gojō-sensei, _____ hasn't come today and she hasn't texted me back. Do you know why?" he asked, keeping a distance away.

Satoru nodded. "Ah, right, I forgot to tell you. She broke her phone or something, so she's going to get a new number," he replied, biting right into the rounded cake without bothering to cut it into pieces.

Megumi supposes that makes sense, but that doesn't explain why you didn't show up today. He's too embarrassed to say that he was looking forward to seeing you. But screw it, as soon as he learns how you're doing, he'll put up with it and listen to Satoru's teasing.

"…But why didn't she show up? She was supposed to visit.”

Satoru wipes his face with a napkin before replying. "Actually, I took her out today. You know, for some brother and sister time," he responds nonchalantly, purposely not looking Megumi in the eyes.

Why in the world would Satoru do that? He chose to take you out knowing that this was the only opportunity you had to be with each other. Megumi won't deny it; he was furious. Satoru had the freedom to visit you whenever he pleased, and on the one occasion he did, he chose to take you out on your and Megumi's day. He shoots Satoru a deadly-looking stare, but Satoru fails to react, leaving Megumi with a splitting headache.

He sighs and doesn't even attempt to continue the conversation with the man before turning around and heading back to his dorm.

Satoru doesn't raise his head until Megumi is no longer in view. When he hears a door slam off in the distance, a grin spreads across his face and he starts chuckling to himself.

Satoru thought, leaning his face against his palm, "So Megumi likes you more than I thought." He accesses Megumi's contact on his phone after taking it out. He explains in the message how he persuaded his parents to give you two another day to meet tomorrow with extra time with himself as your escort.

Some people might believe Satoru was being overbearing but he merely wanted to witness Megumi's feelings for you at all times. To poke fun at his developing feelings for you and the frustrating moments when he was unable to see you. Satoru pondered seeing Megumi concerned for your wellbeing.

On the other side of the coin, after reading Satoru's text message, Megumi couldn't help but groan into his pillow. He got played. What was that blindfolded idiot of a teacher doing? Megumi had to know; he isn't sure if he can take the uncertainty any longer. It's already hard as it is to get the confidence to confess to you, but If Satoru keeps being a pestering asshole, he can't attempt to pursue a relationship with you.

The following day, you and Megumi hung out and actually left his campus to engage in some enjoyable activities, just as Satoru had promised. Satoru had come to watch over you two; yet, stayed in the background behind you both, leaving you with some space. It was an enjoyable evening which only led to Megumi feeling more conflicted with his feelings for you, especially with your brother being near.

Satoru sent you off to your chauffeurs with joy at the conclusion of the evening, and you returned home. He and Megumi then returned to the school grounds in silence after watching you drive away into the distance.

With this silence, Megumi spoke up.

"We need to talk, Gojō-sensei."

Satoru stopped, slightly ahead of Megumi. "I'm assuming this talk is about my baby sister, " he guesses. "I'm right, huh?"

"I wanted to confront you. In private," Megumi explained.

Satoru smiles enormously. "Oh really? Are you going to try to kill me for my sister?" he taunts.

"Be serious Gojō," he sighs. He hadn't wanted to say these things in front of you, for obvious reasons; nevertheless, it had to have been expressed. "Why are you so against me…liking ______?" he asked.

The smile left Satoru's face and he turned away. "I'm not."

Why did he interrupt your brief time together before persuading your parents to extend it? Why inform him about how much you like him and then threaten him about liking you in return? He doesn't understand what Satoru's thinking.

Megumi narrows his eyes. "Do you want me to date ______ or not?"

"Uhhhh," Satoru groaned. "I don't know. I haven't decided yet." He shook his head. "No, that's a lie. it's really just that...she's weak, and you'll have to protect her. And I only wonder if you're strong enough to do so."

You are cherished by Satoru. You are the sole member of his family where his love for you is thoroughly pure and not tainted. He doesn't mean to insult you when he calls you weak, but it's accurate nonetheless.

You can't defend yourself against curses, and Satoru would feel more at ease if he knew for sure that Megumi could protect you when he wasn't near.

"Are you strong enough to protect my beloved sister Megumi?"

How does he even answer that question? Megumi desires to say yes because he would do anything for you in his heart. In contrast, he is uncertain in his mind. You attract the attention of special grades, the likes of assassins, and have bounties on your head. You worry about your life and the lives of your family members every day. Is he truly powerful enough to keep you safe from the danger that you face?

"I think I love her, Satoru," he admits. The words were almost painful to say to Satoru. "And I'll protect her to the best of my ability and more. Even if I have to die trying."

Megumi despised how cliché his confession sounded, but he really did mean it. The truth is often sappy. While he cannot promise to protect you with certainty, he can promise to make every effort.

Satoru didn't tease his words, which caught Megumi off guard. He firmly asserts, placing his hand on his student's shoulder while gazing into his azure eyes, "She'd cry if something happened to you,” he said.

He continues, the corner of his lip lifting, "You'll have to get strong enough so that you don't die trying to save her.”

"So think about that Megumi~"

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

© UNDERSCAR 2023 - All rights are reserved to underscar. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarize, translate or screenshot my work: this will also include not reposting my writing on other social media platforms and writing platforms.

#© UNDERSCAR #x female reader #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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juw0ng · 10 months

Text

chaewon x g!p kazuha

warning: smut,a bit of mommy!kink,hate relationship.

words: 3,3k

note: sorry for the long update TT

— —

Chaewon was irritated.

They had just finished what, she thought, would be the last schedule of the day, when their manager greeted them with a sheepish smile in the group's van. Immediately, they knew that the sleep they had been greatly anticipating had just been postponed without their permission. "I'm sorry, girls," their manager apologized, "I know you've been awake for a long time." 28 hours to be exact.

Upon arrival, they were immediately ushered inside and surrounded by a team of staff members.

It was cold. The temperatures in Seoul had dropped below zero and the location didn't seem to have a heating system. She was standing there, scarcely clad in a short denim skirt and white crop top. Her arms were wrapped around herself in an attempt to keep herself warm. Chaewon yawned. They had been at their surprise schedule for over 2 hours at this point. The group pictures were already taken so she was now waiting for her turn to take her solo shots. The group's main dancer, Kazuha, was first. Chaewon shook her head in annoyance as she watched the youngest pose for the photographer. God, she wished she could punch that smug smile off her face.

Kazuha was gorgeous and she knew it. She exuded the type of confidence that Chaewon could only dream of.

Of course she would never tell her that.

Ever since the two girls first met in the HYBE practice room a year before, they were sworn enemies. Up until that point, Chaewon was the undoubtedly best dancer among all female trainees so when Kazuha walked in, it was clear that they were going to be each other's biggest competition. Their sadistic coaches egged the competition on further, making them dance the same solos and pitting them against each other in their monthly evaluations. While there was a strong sense of competion among all trainees in general, they usually all got along well and helped each other through tough times. All of them but Kazuha and Chaewon.

When both of them were chosen to be part of Lesserafim's final lineup, their other group members tried to help them mend their hateful relationship but it was pointless. They were so used to ending ever conversation in an argument that they simply didn't know how to talk to each other normally off camera.

On camera, however, they managed to fool everyone.

"Chaewon," the photographer ripped her out of her thoughts, "Your turn!"

She nodded and flinched as Kazuha's shoulder colided with hers, when she tried to pass the older girl. An angry growl left her lips. Kazuha did that on purpose and her smirk was proof of it.

The lights on set were almost blinding but at least they provided the freezing girl with a bit of warmth, allowing her to stop hugging herself. As she started posing for the camera, she could feel the youngest's eyes on her. A short glance to the side confirmed her suspicion. Kazuha had taken a seat, crossed her arms and legs and watched the older member closely with a smug smile on her lips, which she knew Chaewon hated. Asshole.

It took a good hour until Chaewon's solo shoot had finally wrapped up. She let out a relieved sigh. She was so tired and so annoyed because Kazuha didn't move an inch throughout the entire hour. Keeping an eye on her older member, making sure to irritate her further.

"Get changed and I'll drop you two off at the dorm. No point in making you stay here another 2 hours when you could sleep instead. Next time it's your turn staying longer, though, while Kkura,Yunjini and Eunchae get to go home early, deal?" Their manager informed them.

He didn't have to tell them twice. In no time, Chaewon was back in her white oversized hoodie and black skirt she was wearing earlier, while Kazuha put on her grey sweatpants and hoodie.

The ride back to the dorm was silent. Both girls tried to sleep but the shaking of the van prevented them from doing so.

When they finally arrived, they climbed out of the car and waved their manager good night.

Tiredly, they made their way into the elevator. The silence between them was awkward as always. Without the other two girls, they couldn't stand each other's presence. A Ting signalled the arrival of the elevator so they pushed themselves off the walls they had been leaning on and exited. Kazuha was the first to reach the door so she punched in the code and opened the door for them.

"Shit," the younger girl stumbled shortly after entering the dorm.

Chaewon looked up to see what was wrong.

"Chaewon unnie," Kazuha hissed at her, "why do you seem to be unable to put your fucking shoes in the shoe rack? Is that too hard for you?"

She rolled her eyes at the Japanese girl. "Don't be dramatic. Besides, this is your fault. You were telling me to hurry up this morning."

"Sometimes it feels like you're doing these things on purpose," the Japanese girl growled.

"And why would I do that?"

"To piss me off, clearly." Kazuha deadpanned.

A loud laugh left Chaewon's throat, "Yeah, because I love having you yell at me for no reason. Be fucking serious for a moment, Kazuha. If this happens to one of the other girls, you couldn't care less. You're only mad because it's me."

"Maybe because the other two don't have a reason to fuck with me. You, on the other hand, love seeing me mad."

"You're being ridiculous," Chaewon laughed in complete disbelief and tried to pass the youngest girl to get to her room for some peace and quiet.

However, Kazuha stepped right in front of her, blocking her path. This caused the older girl to walk right into her. Their breaths hitch at the sudden proximity between them. "Does it turn your on?" Kazuha mocked her, "Do you think I look hot when I'm mad at you?"

Chaewon wasn't sure if it was the Japanese's low and seductive tone that made her gulp or if she was simply tired, confused and in desperate need of sleep, but her eyes wandered to Kazuha's plump lips that were merely a few inches away from her own. She teared her eyes away and tried to walk around the younger girl but was stopped yet again.

This time it was Kazuha's turn to stare at Chaewon's soft pink lipsc clearly taken aback by her own actions. Her eyes flicker between Chaewon's lips and her big black eyes that were staring at her expectantly.

The mood shifted and they both felt it.

Suddenly, Kazuha curled her hand around the back of Chaewon's neck as she crashed their mouths against each other. She kissed her the way they fought so often. Hard. Chaewon hated herself for enjoying it but she couldn't help it. Once she regained control of her limbs, she wanted to push the younger girl away but, much to her own surprise, she fisted her shirt and pulled her closer instead.

An embarrassing whimper escaped Chaewon's mouth when Kazuha ground her hips into her, causing her hardness to rub against her core. The youngest chuckled and tugged at her short black hair, making her look up at her. "You want me so bad."

"Fuck you," Chaewon hissed in return.

"Is that what you want? To fuck me?" Her mocking whisper ghosted over the older girl's lips.

She didn't give her a chance to answer, though, and closed her teeth around Chaewon's bottom lip instead. The action sent another wave of pain and pleasure through her body. A low growl rose in her throat. She finally shoved her off. Heart racing and lips and pussy throbbing frustratingly, "I- I do not want to fuck you."

Kazuha raised an eyebrow at this, "Let's make a bet, Chaewonie. I bet if I bent you over and yanked up that little skirt of yours right now, I'd find your pussy soaking wet. And I also bet that I'll have you begging for my cock in no time. Another bet? I'll make you cum so hard you won't be able to remember your own name."

Chaewon's teeth clenched in anger. She hated everything about her. And yet, she was so wet she could almost feel her arousal dripping down her thighs.

"No way, Chaewon."

She refused to give Kazuha the satisfaction of winning.

"Are your scared?"

Her eyes narrowed in aggravation, "I'm just not interested."

They glared at each other, breathing heavily, before the gap between them was closed again as they mouths crashed against each other yet again. This kiss, however, was faster, more desperate, harder. Tongues fighting for dominance as their hands explored every inch of skin they could reach.

Kazuha pushed Chaewon against the wall of the dorm and frantically started removing their clothes. They all fell to the floor as the two singers made their way to the younger girl's room.

"On all fours," the youngest ordered.

Chaewon wanted to argue out of habit but her pussy was throbbing too hard so when Kazuha pushed her to the floor, she let her.

Kazuha locked both of her wrists behind her back in a strong grip with one hand as her other slipped between Chaewon's folds, rubbing her swollen clit teasingly.

"Fuck." the older girl threw her head back from the jolt of pleasure.

"You like that?" Kazuha smirked as she pushed a finger knuckles deep into her moaning group member, while keeping her thumb on her clit, "You're soaking, and so fucking tight."

Chaewon was panting. She was so turned on, and they hadn't even properly started. She tried to move on Kazuha's finger but the Japanese held her in place.

"I want you to beg for it, Chaewon." She curled her finger, hitting a very sensitive spot in the process, eliciting a desperate moan. Teasingly, she pulled her finger out and slammed it back in. "I want you to beg me to fuck you."

Chaewon bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. She didn't want Kazuha to know just how good her finger felt in her pussy.

"I w-won't. My toys are doing a better job than you. On lowest s-speed."

"Is that so?" Kazuha laughed. She released Chaewon's wrists and fisted her hair instead, jerking her up until her mouth was close to the older one's ear, "You're only making this more difficult for yourself." She then shoved her head back down and thrusted another finger inside her.

In, out, in, out.

Faster and faster.

Harder and harder.

Chaewon could feel a strong orgasm come closer when a soft hand reached around her body and pinched her nipple. God, she was so close until-

It all stopped.

Her petite body slumped forward as her arms gave in without Kazuha's support. She let out a frustrated growl and twisted her head around to glare at the orgasm-denier, "You're a fucking asshole, you know that?"

Kazuha looked breathtaking in the moonlight. Chaewon let her eyes wander down her body. From her gorgeous face, over her voluptuous breasts down to her impressively long, thick and hard cock that looked like it could wreck her in no time. She wondered how it would feel to have that length pound deep inside -

"If you want to cum, you have to beg for it." the Japanese's smug tone, ripped her out of her thoughts. She pushed the shorter girl's legs further apart, "God, you're such a fucking mess. Desperate for me."

Chaewon growled in annoyance because she knew it was true. She could feel her wetness on her thighs and every movement and brush of air against her bare pussy caused her to whimper pathetically. She was torn between giving into her body's desires and keeping her pride. Begging? One thing was for certain, Kazuha would never let her hear the end of it.

So she remained silent.

If everything failed, she could still make herself cum with her toys later but, God, she was hoping for Kazuha to give in.

But of course, the younger girl didn't.

"You don't want to cum?" Kazuha grinned. Her thumb lightly and slowly drawing circles on Chaewon's clit. Enough to elicit a moan but not enough to satisfy her.

This was pure torture.

"You're denying yourself so much please, baby," the younger girl whispered in a low and seductive tone, "Be a good girl for mommy and beg, Chaewonie."

Fuck.

"mommy is going to make you feel so good, I promise." the pace of her thumb on the black haired girl's clit picked up slightly, drawing out moan after moan.

Chaewon could feel her pride hanging on by a thread.

Screw it. "Please," she finally whimpered in embarrassment.

"Good girl," the younger smirked as she lined herself up with Chaewon's entrance.

In one quick movement, she slammed into her from behind with a hard thrust. A hoarse scream ripped from the older one's throat. Kazuha felt even thicker than she looked. The roughness in which she fucked her almost caused tears to leave her eyes. The pain eventually faded into pure pleasure. A string of desperate moans left Chaewon's throat as Kazuha pounded into her.

"You like it rough, don't you? Always acting so innocent in front of the camera but behind the scenes you want to be fucked like a little slut."

Chaewon releases a bunch of mindless whimpers. Incredibly turned on by Kazuha's lewd words.

"I h-hate you," she panted. It was the only sentence she could manage to get out before Kazuha's harsh thrusts scrambled her thoughts yet again.

Instead of replying, the Japanese pulled out completely and flipped her around so her naked back was pressed against the cold floor. In one swift movement, Kazuha propped Chaewon's left leg on her shoulder and slipped her pulsating cock right back into her tight heat, hitting spots she didn't even know existed. It was now the younger girl's turn to moan in ecstasy. Her group mate's pussy hugged her length so deliciously, causing her to fuck her even harder. The room was filled with the sound of their groans and their bodies slapping against each other.

Chaewon deliberately clenched around Kazuha, eliciting the most satisfying whimper from her lips.

"I guess I'm not the only one desperate to cum," it was Chaewon's turn to tease her colleague. Her cheeky grin, however, disappeared the moment the words left her mouth, when Kazuha's hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed and her thrusts became even harder.

Nothing about the way they fucked each other was sensual or sweet. It was all about lust.

Between screams and moans, Kazuha leaned back down, capturing Chaewon's lips in a sloppy kiss. Teeth clashing against each other as they fought for dominance. The younger girl eventually won and slipped her greedy tongue into the shorter girl's mouth, eagerly drinking up all her breathless moans. Fuck, who knew that innocent Chaewon had it in her to be like this?

"zuha," Chaewon whimpered into the Japanese's mouth. She knew she was so close yet her orgasm felt out of reach. Every time she felt herself almost tip over the edge, Kazuha would slow down, drawing out their session of purely animalistic hate-making.

"Beg for it, Chaewon." she reached between their bodies and stroked her clit again, "Tell mommy just how badly you want to cum."

Chaewon was too far gone to think clearly but with her last bit of pride and sanity, she managed to shake her head. She had humiliated herself enough for one night. It was Kazuha's turn to beg her so she purposely clenched her dripping pussy around the younger girl's length, causing the latter to hiss. But the Japanese could see right through her and laughed through her heavy breathing. She eased her thrusts much to Chaewon's frustration.

"I hate you," she moanded and rolled her hips up, seeking friction. A strong yet soft hand found its way to Chaewon's pelvis to hold her down and stop her from moving.

Kazuha slid in and out of her at a torturous pace again. "Use your words, baby. I can do this all night. I can fuck you without letting you cum. Tell me what you want from mommy and I'll give it to you."

Chaewon couldn't hold back her pathetic whimpers as she was edged over and over again until she was about to lose her mind.

Swallowing her last bit of pride, she choked out, "Please."

"Please what?" The smugness in the younger's tone was hard to miss.

"P-Please, mommy," she panted in desperation, "Let me cum!"

Her words faded into a pathetically loud moan as Kazuha picked up the speed. Sweat beaded on her brow; tension lined her face. It was obvious that holding back was just as torturous for her as it was for the other girl.

"You can do better than that, Chaewon."

A frustrated scream left her throat, "mommy, please!"

Something in the younger girl must have snapped, because she suddenly stopped the torture and started fucking her thoroughly with full force.

"You're so tight," she moaned, "Your pussy feels so good."

Chaewon whimpered when Kazuha's fingers found her clit again. This time, however, they were eager to bring the girl to her long awaited orgasm.

"God, I'm going to.. I'm... Oh, God, fuck!"

With a particularly hard thrust, Kazuha hit that very sensitive spot and sent a wave of pure hot ecstasy through Chaewon's lithe body. She wasn't able to think straight. All memory and thought leaving her mind. She felt as if she was levitating. Nothing but pleasure and explosions inside her. But they weren't done yet. The Japanese kept fucking her with all her strength, sending her right into another orgasm. And they kept coming until she was nothing but a screaming mindless puddle of nothing on the cold floor of the dorm.

It must have been her fourth or fifth orgasm, she wasn't sure, when Kazuha finally exploded inside of her, filling her with thick white strings of her cum. The younger girl moaned in pure bliss as she emptied herself inside the older girl, who was still clenching around her, milking every last drop she had to offer.

She slumped forward in exhaustion, covering Chaewon's body with her own. Their chests moving against each other as they breathed heavily, trying to calm down from the pleasure they had just experienced.

"That was...," she started as she nuzzled her face in the crook of Chaewon's neck.

"Yeah."

It took them a few minutes until they were able to move again. Kazuha sat up and slid out of Chaewon's hot tightness, almost causing both of them to moan again. She looked down to where their bodies had just been connected a moment ago. The girl's pussy was still pulsating, releasing gushes and gushes of her hot semen. Kazuha had to force herself to look away, before she could feel herself get rock hard again.

Fuck.

The reality of what had just happened seemed to hit both of them like a train in the exact same moment. Their eyes met each other. Chaewon gulped, closing her legs and covering her chest with an arm.

"Let's get cleaned up," Kazuha coughed as she stood up and helped the older girl get up, too. She pulled an oversized hoodie she found on her floor over her head and reached for a blanket that was hanging over her desk chair and offered it to Chaewon, who took it and immediately covered her naked body with it.

The Japanese had to hold back a smirk as she watched the leader limp a little as she made her way out of her room. Semen dripping down her leg.

"No word about this. To anyone. Okay?" Chaewon suddenly turned around and glared at her. "Not even the members."

"Of course not."

They stared at each other for anoher moment before Chaewon turned back around and left, closing the door behind her.

Both of them released a deep breath. Fuck. They just had sex with the person they despised the most and ... they liked it.

— —

#kpop gg #kpop imagines #le sserafim #lesserafim smut #chaewon #chaewon smut #kazuha #kazuha smut #kpop smut #g!p

88 notes · View notes

espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

Text

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

one - the lonely diaries

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader

summary: The battle with Thanos has left the Avengers scattered across the world. Y/N is lonely and in her grieve, she seeks out an old friend.

a/n: Please be aware that this is still a piece of fiction and I did not adapt all attributes of Westview or the characters into the story. The timeline is shifted as well but other than that, it should be fine. Also… the beginning is kinda lengthy but I promise it’s worth it so don’t give up midway please!

!Divider is mine. Please give credit when using!

word count: 4.9k

chapter warnings: mentions of characters' deaths, angst, reader being kinda lonely, a teeeeny bit of language, and a whole lot of uncertainty

✶ 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ☾

I would be super excited about some feedback or just general thoughts about it. It would mean and help me as a writer a lot and I always love interacting with you 💙

Life felt dull ever since Thanos had been defeated. Like a never-ending kids' carousel that had no exciting highs and lows. Just steady, boring sameness. Every day.

Y/N had grown quite accustomed to this sameness once she had settled into the normal everyday escapades of her new non-Avenger life. Of course, sometimes she wished for some aliens to descend down to earth and stir up a little trouble. And sometimes she thought about doing what Peter did, which was basically strolling around the neighborhood in hopes of the tiniest robbery to feel that sense of purpose again, but then she remembered that it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be because so many people had been lost on the journey that lead her to this lonely apartment in the midst of Brooklyn.

It was intriguing, though. Falling into a normal routine - as weird as it was for the former superhero. And she even thought of the silly idea, the future could hold a lot more than what she had now. She would lose herself in scenarios that seemed too good to be true, sometimes too crazy even. And as she stood by the kitchen sink, washing up some dishes and looking out the window into the ever-steady business of New York City, her mind began to wander again. This time, to a much calmer place. The Suburbs, and life as the cliche housewife, she would never be.

Maybe her kids would be coming home from school around this time, and she would be busy planting hydrangeas in the front yard of a pristine suburban family home until her husband would get back from work in a dark grey company car. Then she would be serving a home-cooked dinner that she claimed to have love as the secret ingredient and watch as her kids were bothered with the same questions about school she had always wished for when she was a child herself.

It was weird to think about the life Y/N could have had if fate had not pushed her into the Red Room when she was ten years old. But she wasn’t complaining. She never would. The life she had lived so far had led her to meet the most amazing people she had ever known. And even though some of these people were gone now, she still reveled in the experiences and wisdom they had brought to her.

Like Natasha, who had taught her how to enjoy a little joke along the way of a strict and surveilled life. Or Tony, who made sure to always push her to excellence by her own choice - something she had not known before she became a part of the Avengers. Which was also something she had both of them to thank for.

Y/N had been lost in the sudden feeling of freedom when Natasha destroyed the Red Room, a home they had both grown to despise while still living in it. And because of that ‘being nobody,’ a person not true to herself - because she simply didn’t know who herself truly was - she had found her way to Nat. Or Nat had found a way to her. It didn’t matter which way. Important was this: The day Natasha recruited her, Y/N’s life had changed for the better.

She got to know what friends were. People she was not obliged to spend time with because there was no other place to be. And maybe it was the connection of the Widows that still had her drawn closest to the redhead, but that was by choice nevertheless. Natasha understood her deepest darkest fears, mainly because she shared some of them with her. And she was a cool, independent version of the person Y/N strived to be. She wanted that back then and now she was proud to have fulfilled her dream.

Then Vision died and Y/N got a taste of the grief a person felt once they started to care. Vision had been a friend just like everyone else in the group of superheroes. And it broke her heart to see Wanda fall apart. She was a friend, too. Maybe even the closets right after Nat.

When the Blip happened, Y/N was the one staying with Nat at the compound, growing closer if that was even possible. Natasha was like a sister to her. And they helped each other get over the losses Thanos was to blame for.

Then Natasha died and it was the worst thing that had ever happened to Y/N. She had thought seeing Vision die was bad. Well, this was a thousand quadruple times worse. Because Natasha had been Y/N’s only friend for a long time. The person that led her to everything great in life and when she died, everything felt bland. Like the world had been stripped of its colors and shapes and sounds and smells. Life was like a boring sad piece of unsalted bread that had been laying out for a day too long. She didn’t want to touch it, to experience it.

And then Tony died and Y/N felt bad because she was not able to grieve him properly. All her feelings were drained. There were no tears left for Tony even though he deserved them all. By that time she had turned into that plain sad piece of bread for everyone around her, even though she tried not to be.

It had been a rough time. And when the group slowly started to disassemble after Steve went to return the stones and decided to come back as an old man, Y/N was determined to work herself out of the steady misery she had gotten lost in ever since. So she moved out of the ruins and it helped to not be surrounded by constant reminders of the people she’d lost. But she still missed them so much that it hurt and prevented her from everyday life practices. Then she tried meditation, and well, that was a total flop because her apartment was squeezed between noise and business, which made it basically impossible to calm down. So she decided to try the opposite to calm. Y/N would start dancing and jamming out to music, or she would sing on the top of her lounges - so loud, that a neighbor had come up to complain. She would go out for runs in hopes of draining the energy that was otherwise used to mope. But these things didn’t distract her for long, and - even though it made her forget for the time being - the nights that followed felt even worse. Because she was not only grieving again, she was also exhausted.

Of course, some things stayed with her still. Y/N knew that it was impossible to remove such branding core memories from her mind but it took some time to realize that was okay. She didn’t need to forget about the losses she had endured just as much as she needed to hold onto the good moments that had made these losses so unbearable.

One thing in particular that had not changed, was the ever-so-slight crush Y/N had developed on Bucky as he joined the Avengers. It was only a short timespan before he too disintegrated from the group after Thanos. Y/N had been there the day Steve returned as Grandpa Rogers and when they parted ways that night, it was the last time she had seen him. She knew he was still in the city. And she had tried to contact him after Steve died. To be there, as a friend. Because she knew he didn’t have a lot of those in New York. Bucky had called her back and they had talked for four hours that night. Just recalling memories and the few fun moments they shared. And it was as though they were back at the compound with everyone else, reminiscing the events of the day as they slowly welcomed the night.

Y/N missed those moments especially. The smug look on Natasha’s face whenever Bucky talked to Y/N, or the excited glimmer in Wanda’s eyes whenever Bucky refilled Y/N’s cup. She had always been shipping them both, she had told her one night. And Y/N had wanted to punch Wanda for saying that in front of Bucky. He had just ignored it as he had turned away to talk to Steve or Sam but Y/N’s eyes had lingered on his frame for the remainder of the night, hoping and wishing for some form of reaction that told her that there was a slight possibility her feelings were reciprocated and it wasn’t just a farfetched dream to finally have him closer.

Maybe she would try to reach out to Bucky again. Not because she felt like he needed a friend, but because she did from time to time. And if her life had taught her anything until now, it was that it was fine to be a little selfish sometimes. It had only been a couple of months since everything went down, and even though Y/N felt like she had handled her emotions fairly well since then, there were times when they got the better of her. Like just a minute ago, when she had thought about a perfect wannabe life in the suburbs, and now? She was watching her tears mix with the dishwater in the sink.

She decided to call him again that night. And when he picked up and told her that it was nice to hear her voice, her heart felt like exploding. The phone call wasn’t that long, but it did end up making her feel better. Bucky had suggested they’d meet the next day to catch up and Y/N had happily agreed.

So Y/N made her way to the meet-up spot they had decided on a day prior. And when she spotted Bucky patiently waiting on the sidewalk, she had to take a second to catch her breath.

There he stood, adorned in a black leather jacket and his hands buried in his pants pockets. Bucky had his head turned to the right, watching as a bike rode past him on the street. He had a new haircut, it was a lot shorter, but it looked good. He looked good. Though there was still a slight hunch in his posture and an everlasting tension he never seemed to shake.

Y/N approached him, her hand clutching her purse strap and a tight-lipped smile on her face. Bucky was already looking at her when she came to a stop in front of him, mustering her as though he had to check her for any injuries. He looked gorgeous. The new haircut made his face brighter as it was not hiding behind the dark curtain of hair anymore. His eyes were somehow more piercing than she had remembered. Y/N wanted to reach out and stroke over his soft locks until they stood out in every direction. She couldn’t do that though.

There was a short moment of silence between the pair until Bucky finally broke a smile and Y/N wasn’t sure what to do to greet him. Could she hug him? Smile back? Everything was so uncertain.

“How’ve you been?” He asked then, taking the contemplation away from her by opening up the conversation. His voice was different too. A lot calmer and freer in a way. She liked it.

“Oh, you know...” She trailed off and looked up at him. There was hurt burning in her eyes. She didn’t want to hide it from him but still didn’t say it out loud.

Bucky just nodded in response. Then he looked at the ground again.

“You wanna walk?” Y/N suggested and the weight on her shoulders lightened once she saw Bucky relieve the tension in his by her idea.

When they would talk on the phone, everything seemed so carefree and normal. Like two friends who frequently did so. Which was what they were. But having him here, right next to her, brought a long-forgotten nervousness back to her stomach. Why was it so different? They were friends, right? Y/N was sure of that actually. But she couldn’t deny that something was bothering her about this situation. She wanted to enjoy this time with him, but something almost felt as though she was scared to do so. After all, this meeting served a purpose. An occasion to get their minds off of the horrible past they shared. At least Y/N thought that was the reason. She wanted to see Bucky, too. She had missed him - missed the heart flutter she experienced in his presence. And maybe it was stupid to think that it would be exactly the same as several months ago, but a part of her still wanted, maybe even needed to know.

They both walked in silence for 10 minutes. Weaving their way through crowded New York City streets and Y/N took that as an excuse to not talk. It was too loud and they could barely walk next to each other because of that. But when they reached the walkway next to the water, everything calmed down around them. They picked up small talk, a subtle and slow approach to deeper conversations that seemed to be only reserved for late-night phone calls between the pair. But it was nice and Y/N reveled in seeing Bucky taking charge of his life again. He seemed to have come a long way from the reserved shell of a man he used to be at the beginning of their story. And even though Y/N had noticed changes ever since he was back with Steve, the years that had passed seemed to have only done him good.

After a while, Bucky stopped and leaned against the railing and Y/N did the same. The metal was cool under her hands.

“Have you been talking to any of the others lately?” Y/N asked lowly, as her heartbeat skipped. She really missed the way they would all hang out as a group. But once the big fight was over, everyone kind of went their separate ways and Y/N wouldn’t deny, that not hearing from them definitely hurt like hell. Of course, she was also concerned about Bucky’s well-being. She knew he had a tough time adjusting in the beginning so she just assumed that new situations were hard on him in general.

“I'm hanging out with Sam,” he said shrugging his shoulders. “I made a new friend called Zemo.” Was that a smile crinkling in the corner of his eyes? Y/N was glad he was happy. She wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted to get into detail about his relationships and she didn’t want to push. Though there was another question on the tip of her tongue.

“What about you? Have you visited Wanda yet?”

“Visited her? I haven’t talked to her in weeks.” Y/N’s chest tightened at the thought of her best friend. “I don’t even know where she is.”

There was no particular reason why the girls had not been in contact, but it did bother Y/N. She had tried to call Wanda on several occasions in the beginning, but over time, she gave that up as well. Maybe Wanda needed some time to herself. Y/N could understand that now better than ever before. She was sure, however, that having a friend to talk to about their losses would benefit them both tremendously.

Bucky looked at her intently. “She’s in Westview.” A soft nod accompanied his statement. He had said it so easily as if that information were not impacting at all. As if it was a simple fact that everyone knew. Well, Y/N didn’t know and it made her heart jump once again.

“Westview,” she repeated in a whisper. Why did that ring a bell? Y/N was sure she’d never been to Westview before or heard of it for that matter. Or did she? “How do you know?” Her eyes swerved to Bucky with curiosity. She was wearing her thinking face now, and she knew that it must have looked a little off-putting because the brunette answered quickly.

“Uh- Zemo told me about a S.W.O.R.D. file. He gets his sources... I don’t know from where and I feel like I don’t wanna know either. But they are always trustworthy.”

“Why is she in a S.W.O.R.D. file?”

“Apparently she created a town with perfect neighbors or something.” Again, he said it so casually. Meanwhile, a tornado broke loose in Y/N’s mind.

“But how is that even possible?” Her look intensified with confusion, studying Bucky’s face as he looked at her with calmness through and through.

“She’s a witch, Y/N. How do you think it’s possible?” It wasn’t condescending, no. It was simply a statement, but Y/N did feel kind of offended. As if he was accusing her of not knowing her friends.

Y/N was silent. Of course, she knew that Wanda was powerful, but this seemed a little too crazy for her. She had always known her as this reserved woman, especially in crowds. She liked to analyze, stay back and watch - much like Bucky did. When they became friends, Y/N got to know her cheeky side. She experienced her teasing and enjoyed their late-night pillow talks. But most importantly, Y/N got to know Wanda as a very caring person. She liked to help and she liked to rule in fairness. Rational and somewhat normal - well, as normal as someone with mind-reading abilities could be. So yeah, Y/N didn’t know how she thought it was possible.

Bucky didn’t say anything, either. He let Y/N collect herself and she was glad he did so. ‘A town with perfect neighbors,’ he had said. Y/N chuckled. She couldn’t imagine Wanda in the suburbs at all. It seemed as ridiculous as Y/N herself residing as a housewife and pursuing a perfectly normal life after everything they went through. Her laugh got caught in her throat though, as she thought about how unfair that assumption was. Wanda, just like Y/N, had the right to dream of that life just as much as everyone else. And she knew that Wanda wanted it, too. They had talked about it over late-night teacups in bed with Natasha, as they spilled their hopes and dreams of could-bes on the fuzzy blankets beneath them.

Y/N’s chest warmed at the memory. And then her mind reminded her of how intriguing it was the day she imagined that life as well. The hydrangeas, the kids, the husband, the grey company car.

She picked up her smile again and was glad to see it mirrored on Bucky’s lips.

“I kinda wanna see it now.” It was a silly thought. A desperate attempt to fulfill that unattainable wish of hers to forget about everything bad that had happened. An invite to escape with her to a world that seemed free of bad and evil. And Bucky probably knew that, too. His eyes watched over the sea as he leaned on the railing that separated them from the water.

“Yeah, it’s intriguing,” he answered absently, and Y/N wondered if he was revisiting similar dreams. A chuckle escaped his lips shortly after. “Could you imagine?” His eyes found their way back to her. “Me in the suburbs behind a white picket fence and all that?” There was amusement in his tone, but his eyes told Y/N that he was looking for an honest answer. Almost in search of consolation of some sort, they switched between hers.

“I think it’s definitely an interesting thing to consider.” That wasn’t a lie. By all means, she couldn’t imagine Bucky in a suburban environment just as much as she couldn’t for herself and Wanda, but it sure was a thought that made her heart skip a beat. Seeing him happy, all smiley and domestic with a family, maybe a cat.

“I can see you there,” he interrupted her silent monologue, and only when Y/N’s eyebrows raised in question did he explain. “With a family, I mean. You always care so much. You’d be perfect for that kind of life.”

Bucky paused to wait for a reaction in her heart, but Y/N wasn’t able to reply. Bucky had thought about the suburbs and he had thought about Y/N in the suburbs. He could have thought about them together and that possibility alone made her stomach erupt with butterflies.

“You remind me of Natasha in that sense,” he continued a little quieter this time and Y/N’s heart tightened. Natasha always talked about children. She might have had a hard shell at first, but once you had cracked through her tough exterior, Natasha revealed a woman, who had dreams just like any other. But Natasha never got to experience a life beyond the superhero world, and because of that, Y/N didn’t think she would either.

“It would be nice, but it’s never gonna happen,” she stated grievingly. Her gaze wandered over the water, focusing on the sun reflecting off the surface.

“Why not?"

“I- I don know. I don’t see it in my future.”

“Y/N,” Bucky spoke insistently as he gently grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her frame toward him. “One thing this life has taught me - and take this from the 106-year-old I am - is that you almost never see things coming.” He smiled but there was a deep hurt in his eyes when he fought to keep them steady.

Y/N just held his gaze for three heartbeats and then she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and nuzzling her face in his shoulder. Buck instantly responded, guiding his arms over her shoulders and pulling her tighter.

That night, Y/N lay in her bed, her eyes wide open as she stared at the ceiling, revisiting the events of the day. There was no way she could go to sleep. Her head was spinning, her thoughts twirling around like a carousel: Westview. Wanda. Westview and Wanda. Wanda in Westview.

She had her fingers intertwined and resting on her stomach. Her pointer finger nervously tapped on the back of her hand. Wanda was in Westview, living her dream - her literal dream. And here Y/N was, after a day that was supposed to bring closure, anxiously twitching in her bed. Bucky had known about Westview. He had thought about Westview. Christ, he had thought about Y/N in Westview. Her heart picked up its pace again, her stomach indiscreetly bubbling with excitement. Bucky had thought about it all.

It was weird. Y/N never imagined she would be in this position. At a point in her life where she didn't know what her next move would be. When she was a child, everything had been calculated for her. There were only rules to follow, and if she didn’t, there was punishment. So there really wasn’t an option for choice. Then she had joined the Avengers, and even though that life was definitely more deliberating than the one in the Red Room, she never worried about the future. She was a hero - an Avenger. And while she fought alongside the greatest saviors of her time, she never felt the need to consider what she would do if it were to end. She had found her forever home with a family that she learned to love. The hero life was her destiny, she fell into place when she joined it.

And then, sudden as lightning and with the force of thunder, that life had ended. And it had taken purpose, stability, and safety with it. Y/N had been stripped bare of all responsibility and it was scary. The world was open for her, the future laid out as a blank page she was able to draw on with all the pens she desired. And yet, she felt lost and without inspiration.

When Bucky had mentioned Westview, a spark of hope had flared up in the dark. Westview: It seemed like the ultimate solution. A new place - new people. A change of scenery that had somehow helped Wanda distract from her grief... and her past.

Then her thoughts went back to Bucky. He had agreed that it was intriguing to see. And that feeling hadn’t changed on Y/N’s part. He had painted a picture in her head she had thought about before. The housewife, the kids...

‘Me behind a white picket fence and all that,’ he had said. And now, after thinking about the conversation over and over again, Y/N couldn’t help but wish herself in those little words. ‘All that’ - a wife, a family. And slowly, but surely that blurry husband in the gray company car merged into the shape of a handsome brunette Super Soldier.

She slid off the bed and reached for the phone on the nightstand almost mechanically. And before Y/N knew it, her finger had tapped on Bucky’s name in the contacts. She held the phone to her ear, her heart beating like a sledgehammer. Maybe she was nervous, or maybe it was excitement. She couldn’t tell. It just felt weird, like a constant tingle in her stomach that wouldn’t subside.

Beeeeep

She had called him before and it wasn’t weird. She had called him before and she wasn’t scared. So why now? Maybe it was the decision she had lingering in her mind and the intention of pitching it to Bucky. And maybe it was the fear to hear him laugh about it or that she didn’t know what she would do if he did.

Beeeeep

For god's sake, what took him so long? Maybe this was a bad idea. A really really stupid idea. She shouldn’t be calling people at 4 in the morning. But this seemed different for some reason. Because Bucky was different. He wasn’t ‘people’.

Beeeeep

Ok. This was definitely a sign. He was probably sleeping and couldn’t care less. Meanwhile, Y/N was sitting on the bedroom floor with her nerves running a marathon. She should hang up, she really should. When she was about to pull the phone from her ear to hover her thumb above the red button she hesitated. One more, she thought, and then she pressed the device to her ear again.

Beee- “Hello?” Oh shit, oh damn. She really wanted him to pick up but now that he had, she didn’t know what to say. Y/N’s heartbeat seemed to pick up an even faster pace and it felt like it was jumping right out of her chest. There was silence on her end of the line, mixing with the static that tingled between the two.

“Y/N?” His voice sounded groggy, heavy with sleep. She had woken him up. Another beat of since filled the air before her voice appeared, soft and careful. Y/N already felt bad for waking him, she didn’t want to aggravate him on top of that.

“Bucky?” Ruffling of sheets pushed through to her and then the soft thump of feet hitting the floor.

“Yeah?” It was muffled as if Bucky had his hand covering his mouth, but she could clearly hear the concern in his tone.

This was her last chance to back out of this incredibly impulsive idea. But somehow, her heart clung to the thought anchored in her mind, and it didn’t feel as though it would let go anytime soon. If this was a mistake, she would gladly let it happen. There was not much to lose, despite Bucky if he decided that she had turned batshit crazy. So maybe she shouldn’t take the risk. It was frustrating to wrangle her mind over the same thing again and again. She had played it safe so many times and it always didn’t turn out the way she wanted it to. Maybe this time she had to take a step in the opposite direction - a cautious, yet unexpected leap into the what-ifs of the universe.

Y/N took a deep breath to collect herself. She had made a decision and she was determined to say it out loud. So with her eyes closed and an exhale, she said her next words with a steady voice. “I want to go to Westview.” Please don’t laugh. Please don’t, because if you do I can’t handle it.

Bucky didn’t answer, and the lack of background noises coming from his end made her anxiety skyrocket again. Did he hang up? Did he fall unconscious from her stupidity? It was nerve-racking. Y/N looked at the clock on her bedside table and watched the seconds tick by. Each one felt like an eternity with the accompanied silence filling her ears, but she wouldn’t dare take her phone away. He was there. She knew it - she felt it. If he would just say something, anything. Her foot began to nervously bounce up and down as her eyes fell from the clock to her hand that was anxiously clutching the hem of her shirt. Please say something. At this point, he could even laugh. Y/N didn’t care, she just needed a response, something that told her whether her decision was valid or not.

A sharp exhale eluded from the speaker and Y/N felt like she could finally breathe again. Another second of silence before Bucky spoke up, steady and confident.

“Then I’m coming with you.”

𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓

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rhey-007 · 2 months

Text

Drag Queen Lance x Fernando Headcanons + Art

(Onedrive fucked the quality TwT)

Just had this little idea for a Drag Queen Lance cause another season of Drag Race came out recently, I hope you'll like it :))

It's just something light, to get me going on to the next things I want to write, an exercise I may say.

Also it's the first time I write actual strollonso so it might be wonky + please tell me if I should add any # cause I sure missed something TwT

• Lance didn't tell Fernando about his second passion neither before nor after they started dating.

• He was worried Fernando wouldn't understand, laugh into his face and leave him.

• But Fernie wasn't like that.

• Lance wanted to tell him way further into their relationship,

• But when Alonso stayed over at his boyfriend's apartment he accidentally stumbled upon an expensive dress.

• At first he thought Chloe left it there, but it was way too big for the woman.

• So he started to question Stroll until he revealed the truth.

• "Why didn't you tell me... There's nothing to be ashamed of cariño"

• "It's just that- You're- Ugh... You're older, I was afraid you wouldn't understand because most people from your generation see it as something weird, not normal... And I wanted you to get to know me waaay better to make a good decision after I tell you... Does- Does that even makes sense?... "

• Fernando sighed hugging Lance tightly and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek.

• "Of course it does. But you had nothing to worry about. Sure, I don't understand but it doesn't mean I'm gonna leave you right away. I'll never leave you. Now, show your old man what it's all about"

• And with huge smiles plastered on both faces Lance proceeded to explain what drag was.

• Fernando was visibly very interested in what his lover was saying, even making notes on his phone to remember some terms.

• He really wanted Lance to show him at least some photos of him in drag, but figured it could be too early for the youngster and didn't insist.

• Instead, he waited for Lancy to do it himself. And he didn't have to wait long.

• After a few months, the Canadian send Fernie some photos from a recent drag brunch.

• "Wish you could be here 😘"

• Fernando saved that photo immediately then commented on how beautiful the man looked, consciously causing Lance to blush on the other side of the phone.

• And it kept going. Lance sent his lover sweet pics and Fernando sent back a paragraph of praises and love emojis, and over and over again.

• One day, the Spaniard was able to attend one of Stroll's performances.

• He was astonished by the show and the other drag queens, to whom Lance later introduced him, but most importantly he was amazed by Lance.

• With time, when Fernie's grey hair started to peak through his dark locks and beard, Lance started to request grey strands in the wigs he ordered.

• It was a way to not only show his lover that it was normal to have grey hair, but also to thank him for the big support on his passion.

• One of the things the "big support" was, was the Spaniard buying Lance expensive dresses, shoes and accessories along with other gifts.

• The Canadian felt a little stupid cause he could afford them himself, but eventually gave in as Fernie was too stubborn and insisted on spoiling his sugar.

• The older man just loved to spent his money on him, no matter the amount.

• After some time Lance was brave enough to announce it to his paddock coworkers and fellow drivers.

• To his surprise, everyone was okay with it, some even getting very excited by the information, begging to see his in action.

• And if someone wasn't, they soon became after Fernando's little threats Lance had no idea about.

• Even when Esteban, or anyone else, just joked about it fire appeared in Alonso's eyes, his brows furrowed deeply and then everyone knew it was time to drop the topic before he exploded.

• He couldn't let anyone to hurt his baby even a little bit.

And that's it as for right now!

Maybe I'll add something later, or maybe you have some ideas? Let me know :))

Thank you for reading! 💞

#strollonso #lance stroll x fernando alonso #lance stroll art #lance stroll #fernando alonso art #fernando alonso #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 art #ls18 #fa14

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starlightshadowsworld · 3 months

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Sorry if I ended up spamming your notifs but I looked through your dashboard cuz of that Fukuzawa post- how he could feel the bond snapping if the people he consider his subordinates died, and... never in my life have I considered that bond could've applied to Fukuchi when the guy left---

(But then it crossed my mind as I write this that idk if it's fortunate or devastating for Fukuzawa if something life-threatening happened to Ranpo because Ranpo doesn't have an ability that bonded with All Men Are Equal.)

Anyways, I love your post about Atsushi being in the mafia as part of the exchange cuz I love seeing Mori suffer.

I always define Atsushi as "light in the darkness" because in Beast, that's how he was for Kyouka (he'll always be her light).

Sorry for rambling, I should've sent you this as a message but idk if you'd feel comfy about some random acc popping in your inbox.

First off, ramble away.

I love having discussions and stuff about the stuff I talk about.

You're good, I don't mind. If you or someone else was spamming my inbox, I'd let ya know.

I do generally prefer people message me thro the asks, especially if I don't know you.

That aside and onto ur message.

I just can't get over that line of Fukuzawa saying he'd know if Kunikida had died.

That in some way he would've felt it. And I see it as a connection, as an almost physical bond between them that would've been cut.

And the idea of his connection with Fukuchi breaking. What was possibly one of the oldest connections Fukuzawa had, dissolving over time.

Fukuzawa trying to hold onto it because he still sees him as his friend. But it's broken and there's nothing he can do to get it back.

And it being so sad because Fukuzawa is used to these bonds breaking at death, but Fukuchi was lost to him long before he died.

I didn't think about Ranpo.

I think Fukuzawa sees it as both a blessing and a curse that he can't feel if Ranpo is okay.

But it's a testament to their bond that it isn't required. They trust each other so much, that it's like a sixth sense for Fukuzawa to know what Ranpo's up too.

While also knowing that if he wasn't grey before he met Ranpo, he would've definitely gone grey after meeting him.

Agreed.

Atsushi is the beast beneath the moonlight. He is the literal light in the darkness.

The idea of Kyouka envisioning the light with Atsushi as a apart of that, is gonna make me cry I love them both.

Atsushi in the Port Mafia to me is Mori being like I'm gonna corrupt you and Atsushi's like power of friendship motherfucker.

Atsushi won't go to therapy but you bet your ass he's giving everyone in the Port Mafia therapy.

Atsushi met Mori as werid ex doctor who gave him good but advice once. I think he'd be a bit... Skeptical this man is the head of the Port Mafia.

I think he'd listen to him but would think through and use that advice while following his own morals.

Like he did before.

Which is infuriating and fascinating to Mori because clearly Atsushi gets where he's coming from... He just won't do it.

Quite a juxtaposition from everyone else in the Port Mafia follows Mori without question.

But Atsushi does not.

I love the idea of his interactions with Mori are him being mostly maliciously compliant.

Like he's not outright doing something wrong but he's still pissing him off.

Something Dazai and Kunikida would've definitely taught him.

Like Mori's going on a whole spiel and Atsushi is just colouring on the floor with Elise paying him no attention.

And Mori can't say anything because Elise is so happy so he's just silently seething.

That whole Anne's Room episode and seeing these two interact for the first time, with Atsushi not knowing Mori's identity

Is just so intresting to me. More interactions between them is something I want.

That and I'd be curious to see if there was any information to do with the Port Mafia getting the bounty for Atsushi from the Guild and Fyodor.

Because yeah it could've just been for the reward, but was there more to it than that?

Or if the Headmaster had connections to the Port Mafia.

Because however small it may be, the Headmaster still made contact with the Port Mafia to sell a gun.

He's not from the area, but somehow arranged a meeting with them.

And in my opinion died very suspiciously.

I mean I personally hc that the injections the Headmaster was giving Atsushi were obtained from Mori when he was an underground doctor.

Whether that's true or not, idk but it would be intresting if Mori knew more about Atsushi than we realise.

But yeah that's just some of my thoughts.

#atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #bsd mori #bsd fukuzawa #fukuzawa yukichi #mori ougai #bsd fukuchi #bsd ranpo #bungou stray dogs #Bsd #long post

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alsopartgekkos · 11 months

Text

✣ 𝕷𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖆 𝖂𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖔𝖈𝖐 ✣

Most commonly known as Lavi [close friends at Hogwarts] or Winnie [everyone else].

✣𝕭𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖈

Birthday: 28th of April;

Wand: Alder, 12 1/4 inches, Phoenix feather, Surprisingly Swishy;

Amortentia: old parchment, ink-stained fingers and fresh baked bread;

Boggart: the faceless figures of her parents* [changed after the events of the end of 5th year];

Animagus form: ginger main coon cat [learned from Natty during 6th year];

✣𝕬𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊

Height: 169 cm [5′ 6.5″];

Hair color: auburn, past shoulders [gets quite few grey strands after watching Isidora’s memories], usually in a loose bun;

Eye color: naturally brown, gradually got deep blue after awakening ancient magic. There’s a remaining ring of brown around her iris;

Scars: swirl-shaped over right eye and cheek [caused by ancient magic], diffindo-shaped over her left side, hip and thigh [thank you, Mr.Sallow], behind her left ear [fell off the tree];

✣𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞

[cunning - inquisitive - intuitive - resilient - determined]

Love starved puppy. Taught to rely on herself from a young age, Lavi does know how to stand her ground. Anxious and therefore intuitive, attentive to people's emotions, can easily empathize with strangers. Has quite amicable image with sprinkle of mischief, but reserves her true emotions to herself. Values friendship and her people to the point of quiet possessiveness out of fear of abandonment. Will do equally anything to make them feel better and protect both emotionally and physically, as do anything to make them stay in her circle, so she chooses carefully. Can be very motherly when comforting someone [as it's an orphan's copium she doesn't know any better], is in generally surprisingly tactile.

Despite having some repulsion towards authority, prefers to be on good terms with it, aka "i learn the rules before I break them". Is open to new things: would go on exploring equally before and past curfew but after all assignment are finished. Due to Ancient Magic she is quite well-rounded, but nothing too extensive, despite diligence. [Will do everything academically to not get sent back to orphanage, even if it kills her]. Picked up reading passion again after befriending Sebastian, but really got into it after the main events. Inherited her father's cunningness, will sweet-talk you into anything without much ado and tell exactly what you need to hear to further whatever she's pursuing because that's life.

[Suffers from two Obliviate spells and Isidora's pensives: can get moody or silent for visibly no reason, her memory can swindle before going back to normal. After 5th year enters whole identity crisis, where a "bleeding effect" might mess her up a bit.]

Likes: being cared for, sound of waves, sense of accomplishment, smell of moss and old paper, fresh pastry, long walks, things going her way;

Dislikes: hot humid weather, closed spaces [le milde claustrophobia], reprimands and general feel of shame, pine sap and mosquitos;

Has a knack for: dueling [it helps her relieve stress and pent-up aggression and she'll go into the forbidden forest for some venting purposes], non-verbal spellcasting, grave robbing treasure hunting;

Fears: to be forgotten and abandoned;

Strives for: approval recognition;

✣𝕭𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉

Known relatives:

Liam Whitlock [father, alive] - halfblood miracle monger, allied with Ashwinders;

Ambrosia Blishwick [mother, alive]

Miriam Fig [nee. Blishwick] [grandaunt, deceased]

Martin Locke [cousin, alive, belonging to @cetuscorvus]

Was an accident, but quite welcomed child, that was acquainted to nomad lifestyle since she was a wee-baby. Takes strongly after her mother, who was up to no good and eloped in the first place;

Travelled with her parents and avoided law till tender age of 8, then was rightfully labelled a squib. Without much remorse was dropped off in the godforsaken town of Portreath in an orphanage, obliviated and waved goodbye.

Raised a proper working class Victorian girl without a clue what magic is. Rose with the dawn, sang in church choir, worked as soon as she was the age, looked out for the youngsters.

Developing a certain disdain for authorities ever since, often found herself in the nearby ruins that townsfolk either avoided or did not even see, it became her hideout.

Made fatuous acquaintance with Miriam Fig in late 1889, when she first came to Portreath to investigate said ruins as part of her travels. Miriam, being the good bean she is, befriended her first cousin once removed, realizing Lavinia does see the traces of ancient magic and can aid in her search. [It is where the Portkey came from];

As Lavi’s magic was released at one point as a self-defence mechanism, it left her scarred and Miriam contacted the Ministry on her behalf.

During heated debate about what to do with Lavinia and all the Ministry paperwork and goblins taking track of Miriam’s research, it was deemed safer to take the bait off the unknowing child, so another memory charm was used. Due Miriam’s request prior to her death, Lavi was taken in by professor Fig for a few summer months to learn what she could about the wizarding world. The man was by all means still grieving, so not much about her practical education was actually done.

✣✣✣

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #oc: lavinia whitlock #well idk let's keep it at that #i'm not quite good with those things idk #have this rat of mine

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thetalltranstiefling · 1 month

Text

I WROTE A THING POST-S2 ENDING BYE

(tw: brief self-harm, severed limb mention, death mention)

“Fuck off.”

The words Taylor said to Nicky when it was all over. “You’re a loser. Go away. You’re not a part of this family.”

And those are the words Nicky hears in his head as he’s kneeling in the flaming pit of Hell, watching his mage hand cut off his remaining arm over, and over, and over again before it regrows no problem.

Another voice rings out, of a much younger child wishing to please his father. “Y’know what would fix this, man? Some weed, dawg. That always makes Dad feel better, right?”

It’s accompanied by a third, flat and perfectly consonated. “Have you no sense? That won’t solve anything. Listen to me instead, my Dad says-“

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” Nicky slams the flat of the sword into his own head, hard. Enough to knock him over into the ashes of his discarded limbs, all parts of him, but broken and disconnected. The ringing in his ears drowns all the voices out, letting him think for a bit. Kind of.

He realizes at a certain point, lying with all these shattered pieces of the past he once was, that the ringing is no longer coming from his ears, but instead from his pocket. His phone. He pulls it out and clears his throat before answering, not even bothering to check who it is because 90 percent of the time it’s Glenn butt-dialing him. But instead of the drunken slurring and usual crashing sounds he’s expecting, he hears the voice of someone who knows him all too well.

“Hey…it’s Cass…” is all she says.

Nicky wants to cry and start rambling on about how good it is to hear her voice and how much he misses her but he chokes it down and just responds, “Hi Cass…it’s Nicky.” God she knows that you sound so dumb she’ll think you’re drunk and hang up!

“Can we just talk?”

She didn’t hang up. Nicky sits up, “yeah, we can talk…” He climbs out of the pit of severed arms to sit on the edge, looking down into it. “…what do you wanna talk about..?”

Cassandra sighs, watching through the window of her house as Taylor leaves for Norm’s house, where they’re having tapas to celebrate the win. She promised to join up with him, but… “I just… You never really told me why exactly you left. -I mean I kind of have a general idea. It’s not because you didn’t love me or Taylor, or anything like that. I know that… I guess, ‘for your safety,’ isn’t really a good enough answer for me. I think I have a right to know the full story.”

“Of course, yeah, of course you do… Well I… Uh,” Nicky doesn’t even really know where to begin. “Well… Long story short, I’m a tiefling from Hell- you know that-“ he has a brief flashback from their first meeting, swords flying, “yeah, and, the guys wanted to do the whole Code Purple thing on Hell, and I told them no, and Terry shot my arm off, and it didn’t come back ever-“

“Yeah, severed limbs don’t tend to,” Cassandra flexes the robotic hand she recently got calibrated.

“Yeah…”

“Okay, but that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m getting there, I didn’t mean to end there- fuck I’m messing this up, I’m sorry-“

“Nicky.”

His voice cracks a little and he hates it, “yeah?..”

“It’s okay. Just slow down. Take some deep breaths.”

“Okay.”

“Do you need me to count?”

“No…”

She knows he’s lying. “Breathe in. One, two, three. Breathe out.”

She hears him exhale on the other side. “Good. Again.” They do this a few more times before she says, “now I’m assuming after that fight with your friends was when you came home.”

“Right…” Nicky remembers standing there in the doorway, Cass coming from the other room holding little Taylor, big grey eyes looking at him, oblivious to what was happening. “Not you, loser.”

“Why didn’t you stay?” Cassandra’s voice pulls him from his thoughts again.

“Why didn’t I stay,” he repeats to himself. Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I? I could’ve chosen to stay and protect them. I could’ve fought for us. I could’ve changed. So why didn’t I..?

…

“Because I didn’t want to be for you and Taylor, what my mom was, to my dad, and me…” Nicky only realizes what this means as he says it. “Cass, I- I was worried that there was a chance that I couldn’t protect you, that I’d die trying. And then I’d be gone and that’d be it- not that I’m scared of dying, I just- I saw firsthand what a death in the family can do, the rift it creates. I experienced it. What it did to me, and what it did to my dad. That is what made me who I am-“

Part of you, Nicholas’ voice says. Never whole, only part.

“Shut up, I’m talking,” Nicky hisses back, then panics, “oh god, Cass, sorry I didn’t mean you-“

“I know. It’s okay.” Nicky remembers with a wince the time he told her about the voices. “Please, continue.”

“…I’d rather that you have a deadbeat husband who was horrible and who left you than a good one who you miss. And I’d rather that you be angry at me than grieve the loss of a love-“

“But I did grieve over you!” She shouts suddenly, and it breaks Nicky’s heart how upset she sounds. “Every single day I did, for a long long time! Because you were my husband, and Taylor’s father, and I loved you more than anything! And every day I hoped you’d come back! And that’s your problem, you have no sense of your own worth! You think you’re worth more to me dead than alive?! Really? Are you fucking serious?!”

“Cass-“ Nicky can’t hold in the tears anymore, he holds the phone away from his head so she won’t hear him sob, only to pull it back to his ear as soon as he hears any sound from the other end.

“Nicky, I trusted you to come back. And you didn’t. But that’s not even what I’m upset at you for anymore, I’ve had plenty of time to be upset at you for that. The reason I yelled- which I’m sorry for- is because I am frustrated that even after all this time you’re still so focused on your hate for yourself and this whole complex you have about ‘always screwing things up,’ that you can’t pay attention to the things around you that would fix that. You know you can talk to me about anything, and in this case some communication about how you were feeling would’ve really been helpful-“

“But I didn’t know.”

“You would’ve figured it out a lot sooner.”

Nicky goes silent, he can’t argue with that.

“Listen, if you’re going to be a part of this family still, you need to start working on how you think about yourself.”

“What- what?” Nicky’s tail slaps the ground behind him repeatedly in surprise. “But Taylor said-“

“Taylor, well, you know how he is.”

“I kind of still don’t…” Nicky admits, defeated.

“Well, he’s not the kind of person to always say exactly what he means. He’s a little ‘delulu,’ as he likes to say.”

“‘Delulu’..?”

“It just means he’s in his own little world, an anime world. And I’m sure you know animes are..?”

“Very dramatic?”

“Yes. That’s Tay for you. Very dramatic. He gets it from me I think.”

“You’re not that dramatic.”

“Well I’m an actor, so, I certainly can be.” Cass laughs a bit, and Nicky’s glad she’s not there to see him melt at the sound. “My point is, he’ll come around, if you make an effort to change.”

“…And what about you?”

“Why do you think I called, dummy? We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t love you anymore.”

“Ah…that makes sense…How badly did I freak you out when I showed up at your door that one time?”

“Well I was startled considering you were banging on the window frantically, but if I’m being honest I almost let you in.”

Nicky laughs, “at least I’ve still got some rizz left.”

“It had nothing to do with rizz! I wanted to smack you!”

They continue talking about this or that, nothing all that important. But it’s thanks to Cassandra jamming her foot into the crack, that the slammed door does not stand completely closed.

#spoiler alert surprise surprise its about Nicky and Cass #dndads spoilers #dndads #nicky freeman #cassandra swift #the brainrot is so real rn

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