#vessel oneshot
Note
How about a comfort fic with Vessel/reader? Your choice on if Vessel comforts the reader or the reader comforts Vessel!
Just Like Rain
(Vessel x Gender Neutral Reader)
Synopsis: Your anxieties overtake you, and Vessel is there to guide you through them.
Warnings: Self-deprecation, thoughts of unworthiness and self-hatred, language, unintentionally cathartic for me
Word Count: 1557
A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this, anon! I'm so excited for you to read my first Vessel fic!
A little housekeeping for those who have read through my Request Guidelines, and may be confused about me writing for a real person when it says I don't. That is still the case, but Vessel is a character when it comes down to it. So, I feel comfortable writing for him, especially in the way I've written him here.
Also—and I hope this goes without saying—I will not entertain theories and rumors about any of Sleep Token's identities.
Enjoy the music for what it is, as the band intended. And I truly hope you enjoy my interpretation of Vessel.
The burn felt good. The steam made you breathe heavier, but you didn’t want this to be easy. You wanted to feel every inhale—stand under the water until you were seared from within; until it felt like you were in your body and not a whisper away from being dragged into oblivion.
You choked back a sob; still so fearful someone would hear you when you were the only one home.
There was no reason for you to cry.
So many people had it so much worse.
But here you were, on the verge of panic because you didn’t feel like yourself. You didn’t even feel human.
You wished you could put a name to it, but you couldn’t.
What was wrong with you?
Why did you have to feel like this? It came out of nowhere. Like you were struck by a fucking semi.
You just wanted it to stop. You wanted to feel normal, to not have these sudden bouts of...of what? Melancholia? Sadness? Anger? No word seemed strong enough for it.
All you wanted was to rip it out.
Your tears fell harder.
The water cooled. You turned the knob further.
And then there were arms around you.
You tensed, choking back your sobs and covering your mouth as if you could hide what he had already seen.
Slowly, carefully, as if you would break, Vessel turned you to face him.
Without a word, he cupped the back of your head and brought it into the crook of his neck.
You refused to remove your hand.
All it did was make your shoulders tremble.
His fingers traced up and down your arm, more of a breeze than a touch. His other hand slid down to the back of your neck. The pressure of it spread through your body.
Your hand dropped from your mouth and tentatively found its way to his chest. And as he inhaled, you let your hands travel to his back as you stepped closer.
He held you there, head resting atop yours.
It was only when you shivered that you realized he had turned you, blocking you from the piping hot spray.
You sniffled, finally looking at him.
He cupped your cheeks, brushing away the tear tracks, then pressed his forehead to yours.
Let us go to our room, my love.
His words passed into your mind. You nodded.
He stopped the water, helped you out of the shower, and dried you both.
He guided your limbs into your sleepwear and covered himself with loose black pants. He looked almost...human...like this.
You couldn’t help thinking that he was more human than most everyone out there.
---
Your day started out fine.
You woke from a wonderful dream—one Vessel had created. A peaceful afternoon beneath a willow tree, snuggled into his side, his fingers trailing along your forearm, down to your fingertips.
He had tilted your face toward his, kissing your forehead. You had closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you were in bed, his lips still pressed to your skin.
You got ready for work, Vessel watching as you moved through your room to the bathroom and back. He enjoyed observing you. The personal rituals you did for different occasions, different times of day. Perhaps the one he enjoyed the most was when you asked for his opinion when your ensemble was complete.
He’d stand from his perch on the foot of your bed and step toward you as if in a trance.
“You are breathtaking, my love.” He always spoke it. He wanted you to hear the power in the words—the power you held over him.
You left, and Vessel would gather with the others. You’d ask him about his day, but admittedly, you were still confused about everything they could do—everything they were charged with doing.
Maybe that was where is started.
You didn't understand. Could never understand.
And a chasm opened.
You were so fucking stupid.
You deserved to feel like this.
Insignificant.
Unneeded.
Unwanted.
Everyone was better off without you.
He’d be happier without you.
All these fucking noises.
Why was everything so goddamn loud.
Dogs barking. Cars honking. That fucking clock that wouldn’t shut the fuck up!
It all made you so angry. Why were you so angry?
You had to make it stop.
That’s how you ended up in the shower. At least there you could control the noise. You could feel it mark you. Let the heat punish you.
A hand on your back pulled you back to reality.
Let me see you, darling.
You didn’t move, wished you didn’t need to breathe.
He didn’t deserve this. He needed someone as extraordinary as him, someone who could understand. You could barely wrap your mind around how vast he was; he was everything, and you were—
“You are my heart.”
A sob escaped. You had forgotten. Too consumed in your own thoughts that you forgot to keep them from him, to stop projecting them.
He whispered your name, and all you heard was his heartbreak.
You refused to look at him, covering your mouth to keep your cries back.
“Please,” he urged. “Please believe me. You are the most precious to me. Do not think of yourself with such loathing.”
His hand rested on your side, a silent plea to face him. When you didn’t, he forced you to. He never did that—used his strength against you—but this was an exception.
“I am the one who does not deserve you. My existence is burdensome to you...but I am too selfish. I cannot lose you. I will not leave you willingly. I...I will stay by your side...until you demand otherwise.”
It pained him to imagine it. He was so bad at hiding his emotions. And yet, it was what you needed. That break in his voice parted your darkness. The thought of him ever not being here scared you.
“I don’t—” You hiccupped. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“Darling,” he breathed, sympathy and relief in that one word. “Come here.”
You wrapped your arms around his waist while his settled over your shoulders.
“My place is by your side,” he said. “Thank you for allowing me here.”
Squeezing, you nuzzled your face into his neck. The edges of his mask-like features settled you into reality. He was here and so were you, and you were together.
You sniffled; throat too thick to speak.
I love you.
His mouth pressed into your crown.
You are the one I cherish most.
At the end of your exhale, relaxation enveloped you—a heaviness only he could instill.
You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t need to. You just needed this day to be over.
Sleep, my beloved. And awake anew.
---
You didn’t dream that night, and you were grateful. It was the kind of emptiness you needed.
When you opened your eyes, you were facing Vessel. Your fingers were touching, bodies apart but connected, always.
Sometimes it was difficult to tell if he was awake. Even facing one another, the spaces where his eyes should be neither opened nor closed. His breathing was what gave him away. But not this morning. Today, it was the way his pinky finger wrapped around yours.
Dearest one.
It moved through your mind like a gentle breeze, and it sounded like “good morning.”
He seemed to move before you did, anticipating you shifting closer, so his arm wrapped around you and his hand caressed the back of your head.
You are rested?
You hummed. He always asked when you both knew he didn’t need to. His insecurities needed the reassurance that he had helped you.
Yes. Thank you.
You punctuated it by gliding your lips along his throat and placing a kiss above his Adam’s apple.
The purr that erupted pulled the corner of your mouth up. He was always responsive in the mornings, less guarded before the walls of your bubble faded.
What are you feeling?
Not “how,” but “what.”
Inhaling, you took stock of yourself. You recalled your pain from yesterday, but that already felt so long ago. Like your mind was trying to protect itself after what it put you through.
All you really felt was him.
Safe.
His head tilted downward so your foreheads touched.
That pleases me.
You rubbed your nose with his. Content to simply feel him.
The others and I have decided I shall remain with you today.
It had taken you a while to get used to the connection him and the rest shared. Honestly, you were a bit jealous. After all, how convenient it was to cancel plans just by thinking about it. He probably did it in the seconds before you woke up.
So, what should we do?
Anything that will make you happy.
That sincerity always made you pause and scrutinize him. How could anyone truly mean that?
Yet somehow, he did. Every time.
And if I said this?
You traced curves and swirls onto his back, reveling in the strength you felt within. Sometimes you swore his power was tangible.
“Then I shall continue to warm your bed.”
Your flush was instantaneous, and you knew he could feel it against his neck. But before you could stutter a reply, your stomach growled.
“Perhaps breakfast first?” he asked.
You nodded. “Definitely.”
Taglist: @steph-speaks because one of my only points of pride is introducing you to ST.
Comment or message me if you wanna be tagged in future Vessel fics!
#sleep token#vessel#vessel sleep token#sleep token vessel#vessel fluff#vessel angst#vessel oneshot#vessel one shot#vessel x reader#vessel x you#vessel fanfic#vessel fanfiction#vessel imagine#vessel imagines#vessel x gn!reader#vessel x gender neutral reader#sleep token band
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The Heart of it All
Wrote a oneshot fic based on this art piece I did with the Voice of the Hero. There will be spoilers ahead so read at your own risk!
She finds herself in the Long Quiet once again. And this time, she is now aware of who she really is. She is the Shifting Mound, the very embodiment of Transformation. But before she can awaken to her true self, she must wait for Them to come back. While she waits, she finds something unfamiliar. Beneath her is a broken shard of glass.
For the longest time, she had seen nothing else but herself and Them in the Long Quiet. No one else had ever been here but them. So she is not sure how this little shard found its way to her. Where did it come from? Why is it here? Why has she never seen it until now? It may not be a new vessel but was this another gift from Them? There were many questions swarming in her mind but it would be fruitless to answer them all.
She reaches to the ground to pick up the little shard. In her hand is the shard and a bright light shines inside of it. It is the only form of light she has ever seen in a place filled with nothing but darkness. A warm flame burning in the bitter cold. A spark of joy floating in a sea of sorrow. A speckle of kindness and compassion glimmering in a cruel and unforgiving world. For something so small, it was so beautiful.
What role did this little shard have to play? It must have been there through all the perspectives she was given. Now that she has found herself, she can easily answer this question.
“Little one, let me see who you really are.”
Her multitude of hands reach out to the little shard, palms gently grasping it and overlapping each other so that they would not break the small fragile being. Even if it wasn’t a part of her, she is just as gentle as she had been with her vessels. Her curiosity was begging her to know what it is. The hands, itching with anticipation, continue to cover each other until they stop with a pause. Then they slowly remove themselves one by one to reveal the little shard’s true form.
In her hand is a little bird, unconscious and curled up into a ball. He bears a resemblance to Them but with the appearance of a knight. His helmet is adorned with a bright red feather on top. His silver armor appears to be well-built but stiff, as if it was a heavy weight he had to bear. His red cape flows elegantly as he floats above her palm. He is just as small and fragile as he was when he was a glass shard. But she can still sense that bright light shining within him.
“Now I see. In a world trying to silence us with lies and confusion, a little voice wanted to be heard. A voice with a desire to help others in need. That must have been you. You were the one who guided Them to me.”
She didn’t expect a reply for the little bird was still asleep. She remembers the time when They told her about several voices speaking to Them. She figured this must be one of them. But there was something about him that made the swarm of questions return to her mind. Why is this the only one she could find? Just how long was he a part of Them? She is still uncertain how this little bird was able to find her in the first place.
“Little one, you have done so well to make it this far. Your resolve is a bright light that wanders in the darkness and it is a wonder to behold. I am sorry that you had to witness so many horrible things, but the pain you’ve endured was not in vain.”
She brings the little bird closer to her until he is within her view. Then she gives him a gentle smile as she whispers.
“I will let you return to my other half. Soon it will be time for Them to come back to me. And that means you will come back to Them as well. But for now, please rest easy.”
And with that, she kisses the little bird. As if he had been broken by a spell, the little bird whimpers and slowly opens his eyes. But before he can do anything else, she clasps her hands and places him into her heart. It is finally time for her and Them to reunite once again and this little bird will be there to witness it all.
#wysty writes#slay the princess#stp spoilers#maybe? just in case#voice of the hero#the shifting mound#just a oneshot I wrote based on that one art piece I've done recently#this takes place after the final vessel is collected#it seems that even shifty's fond of our dear hero <3
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𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗜 𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗔 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘?
Sobs in a lot of words - i might have changed it a bit from the lil teaser I made maybe a week or so earlier so don’t mind that tehe
2k+ words !! what if I said by the time I posted this I was already working on part 2?
Step, step, step. Your heart pounded but you had no idea why, perhaps you didn’t turn off the stove when you were on your way to pick up Riko? No it couldn’t be that, but there had to be a reason you felt this..upcoming dread in your stomach.
Something was off..completely. You knew something was wrong, yet you brushed it off thinking it was nothing as you cotninued on your way home with your little sister.
By the time you reached home you had received a call that changed your life completely, your so called lovely parents were dead. You knew you couldn’t do much about it either way and it surely didn’t help you knew Riko was but only a 4 year old who would probably have no understanding of what is really happening.
A crush worthy reality that would break her small heart into more pieces than you could count.
“Hey hey nii-san! Look, this is what i wanted to show you!”. You slowly looked up to see something that made you feel as if you were completely shattered into pieces. You felt guilty, you knew you weren’t responsible for what had happened, but how would you be able to respond when she had such a angelic smile holding up a drawing of your precious family?
As if you weren’t controlling your own body your body went down on one knee and hugged her. “Hey riko..promise me something?”
The child felt as if you knew something she didn’t, she was well aware of her age and didn’t quite understand why you looked so..sad and distant but payed it no mind with the train of thought that you would be find not too long later into the day. “Promise you’ll listen to me and you won’t leave me, you fine with that?”
The child nodded her head enthusiastically “of course!”, holding out her pinky “to sweeten the deal” with a contagious smile that also spilled upon your face. “Deal”.
Ever since that day she was in your care until a woman named Misato Kuroi came around to take care of not only her but you as well. It was also thanks to her that you discovered you had cursed energy in the first place.
It was around this year that Riko was in junior high as you were secretly taking classes with Masamachi Yaga that you later found out to be the next principle of a school called “tokyo jujutsu high”. He offered to entroll you but you declined knowing that you still had to take care of Riko even with Kuroi taking care of her at times.
Obviously you having this amount of cursed energy wasn’t normal and most would be as bold as to assume you came from a very powerful clan but in reality, you were born of barely anyone with cursed energy fit to take down a 3rd grade at the very most.
Yaga knew about you potential and made no haste to waste it in no way at all, he knew that if he even hesitated in doing so the higher ups would get to you first considering a literal ball of huge cursed energy was just around and not being trained properly.
Despite your protests he made it so you would be entrolled either way.
“Yaga-san..as much as i appreciate you, I’d still like to stay away from that place as far as po-” You were cut off with his glare that really screamed ‘it wasn’t a question it was a order as your instructor’ and considering that you probably and most likely wouldn’t stand a chance against the older man in your attempt to change his mind, you gave in.
The same year prior you were ordered to come to his classroom in which you thought wouldn’t be a problem until you were proved wrong dearly.
In which that brings us to our current predicament
#PRESENT
You were on your way down the corridor to Yaga’s classroom, the closer you got the more annoyed you got. “Why the hell do I have to wake up this damn early because the old man just wants to chat?” you mumbled as you dragged your feet to your destination.
The sunlight shined more than usually and to be honest you couldn’t confidently say you were a morning person. The way you weren’t able to get proper coffee didn’t help you either as it tasted like absolute crap.
As you were busy cursing out the very man you were going to go see in your thoughts, your train of thought was cut off by voices on the inside which you could say were particularly a bit too loud for your liking.
“He’s finally lost it”
“It is spring after all, with him being the next principal he’s probably gotten carried away”. Two deep voices from the inside of the room said.
You stopped your movements immediately realizing other people were in the room and with the amount of cursed energy coming from inside you could tell these weren’t just some average everyday sorcerers.
“I’ll decide whether that’s considered a joke or not..” The rest of what was going on was muffled and you considered yourself even grateful to hear some of it to some content. You were so deep in thought you couldn’t hear footsteps on the other side of the door approaching.
“Ah, I almost forgot to mention,recently we were able to come in contact with the said girls relative. The only one who has been taking care of her that is.They will be helping you escort her. Y/N you may come in now.”
The door opened and two pairs of eyes were on you. The silence that followed was unbearable as you were forced to stand in front of the two boys who looked at you with equally curious eyes.
One with white hair as pure as snow, seemingly had a slender figure with small round glasses covering his eyes. The other with jet black hair that was rapped into a bun at the back of his head as one starnd of hair neatly hanged in front of his face completing his handsome features.
Wait, handsome? When did you start thinking that? You cleared your throat knowing you couldn’t stand there for too long.
Bowing your head as your hair fell over your face like a curtain you introduced yourself. “I apalogize for coming in on short notice, my name is Amanai Y/N it’s a honor to meet you”. Raising your head you expected a response, not a specific one but the one you got made you stand there flabbergasted.
“So..are you supposed to be the hotter older si-” The black haired boy next to him smacked the back of his white haired friends head and turned to you with a smile “I’m geto suguru and this is gojo satoru” as he bowed his friend and forcing his seemingly supposed friend to bow his head too. You chuckled a little bit happy you could put names to the two faces in front of you.
Gojo scowled and yelled “WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”. His friend slowly turned to him with a equally annoyed voice but not as loud “maybe because if you were about to hit on the very girls older sibling that we are supposed to be ESCORTING”
Sparks flew around the room as the boys started roughing one another up. You slowly turned to yaga with a blank expression, “so this is what you set me up for?..”
“Goodluck.” He responded with a dry voice that told in more ways than one that he deals with this more than he gets paid for. With that you both walked out the classroom leaving the two to their own devices.
“But honestly..I get why the curse-user group Q is after her but why would the star religion group want to kill her?” Gojo exlaimed opening a soda can as he caught up so he could walk with you and geto. “You have any N/N?” You turned your head to him with a confused expression, “N/N?..” “Yeah! That’s my nickname for you!” he said cheerfully putting his arm around your shoulder “Y/N will be just fine”
He took a rather massive chug out of his drink like a dehydrated man and took a sigh “N/N it is!”.
“Rather than getting off topic, they worship a pure masten tengen so if what I heard was right it’s that their beliefs led them to think a star plasma vessel would soil that purity.”
“And where did you supposedly hear that?”
“Rather than hear it’s more like the documents that yaga gave to us earlier, did you even read them?” you piped in.
“Nope!” gojo said making sure to pop to ‘p’ at the end.
“But the star religious group are all non-curse users so it shouldn’t be necessary to worry about them too much.” geto continued.
“Shouldn’t we be wary fo Q then?” you asked without looking at him. “mmh” he hummed in agreement.
“Anyways there’s nothing to worry about” gojo said and paused for a little bit to take another chug. “We’re the strongest so don’t worry your pretty little head Y/N-Chan!” you scoffed and started walking ahead of the two males “tell me the same thing when my little sister is safe idiot”. You mumbled yet still loud enough for them to hear.
“Hey satoru, i’ve been meaning to tell you this..” The black haired male said side eyeing his best friend sightly before fully looking at him. “What?”
“It’s just..you should be more aware of the way you talk, especially around your superiors.”
“WHAT-?!” gojo said as his eye widened at geto’s words.
“Maybe that way your juniors or new people won’t be scared of you y’know”
Throwing away his soda in a trash can he let out an exasperated sigh, “sheesh..gimme a break won’t you?”
“Yo slowpokes! You got long legs don’t you? Less chatting more walking” you yelled out to the two males behind you.
Just as gojo was about to let out a snarky comment back you all stopped when an explosion came out from the large building in front of you.
“SHIT!” you yelled running to the building at full speed.
“You think Y/N will kill us if the kid’s already dead?” he said as geto started holding a curse in his hand getting ready to unleash it incase anything else were to happen. They stopped when they saw something or rather – someone falling out the building.
“Forgive me” a voice said from the top of the building “feel free to blame this on tenge- WHA?” he stopped mid sentence staring wide eyed at geto who had riko in his hands on top of a flying curse.
You jumped up and kicked the man who had barely managed to block it. Debris flying everywhere from the very impact. “Keep your filthy hands off my sister you MUTT” you started to activate your cursed technique and millions of electric sparks started flying everywhere before a big clash of thunder came down on him.
“Don’t go making a mess now, we just got in trouble this morning” geto said with a satisfied expression still holding riko in his arms.
“Whatever” you said holding the man by the neck before giving him another punch to the face. This made geto sweatdrop at your anger you were seemingly letting out just for even attempting to harm your sister.
From below gojo let out a dramatic sigh, “phew! Just in time”. 6 knives then came rushing at him but were stopped by the contact of his limited technique. “Amazing” clapped a Q soldier coming close to the white haired male. “You’re Satoru Gojo I presume. I’ve heard you’re quite strong” he started to glare at the boy. “Show me if those rumors are true”, he said voice getting deeper with the last few words.
A smirk started to rise on Gojo’s face “sure, but.. Let’s make a little rule.”
“Rule?” His eyebrow raised in curiosity yet still on guard.
“I don’t wanna go all out and get in trouble so..cry now and apologize. Maybe I won’t kill ya”
“BRAT!” the Q soldier snarled with a pissed off look.
“So it begins..”
TAG LIST: @megumisemo @todorokistoya @sammyiguess @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9 @boo-kugo @vile-woman
Couldn’t @ the last person named woozzz someone do it for me I beg 💔 message me to be next on the tag list!
#{-muxis writes#x reader#x y/n#headcanons#headcanon#oneshots#jujutsu headcanons#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#jjk x reader#jujutsu tech#riko amanai#star plasma vessel#premature death arc#suguru geto#suguru geto x reader#geto x gojo x reader#gojo x reader#yaga masamichi#misato kuroi#young gojo#young geto#jjk series#jjk headcanons#jjk spoilers#jjk x y/n#older sibling reader jjk#shoko ieiri#shoko x reader#jjk shoko
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was having Nightmare feelings, and was inspired to do my AU design for her
#it’ll be *a while* before any of the voices come across her#but I kinda wanna do some oneshots from the vessels perspectives too. and I have a vague concept for a Nightmare oneshot in my brain#no idea when it’ll actually become something concrete I can write tho lmao#gotta give time for my brain to cook#The Nightmare#Heathens AU#slay the princess#stp princess#Sal Draws#finished drawing
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I've noticed a trend in my games library. It will be continuing.
#games in order of appearance:#apex legends#risk of rain 2#ultrakill#deep rock galactic#vessel#team fortress 2#oneshot#portal 2#budget cuts
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Say hi to the Flukemaem addition, courtesy of @ship-of-skitties. Is Hrimm a MILF now? You Decide
The Invincible, Fearless, Sensual, Mysterious, Enchanting, Vigorous, Diligent, Overwhelming, Gorgeous, Passionate, Terrifying, Beautiful, Powerful Radiant Broken Fluke Parent Collector Traitor Kin Soul Master Sage Prince Hogrimmuutekosk (+ friends), stronger than ever!
#hollow knight#hrimm#hrimm vs pure vessel#poll#flukemarm#sorry for the delay i was tearing uo while playing oneshot
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OH WARM, DISTANT JUNE
- Oneshot
- Vessel and Sleep (not a pairing.)
- Word count: 3.7K
- Warnings: Mentions/implications of past abuse, self harm (NOT GRAPHIC.), body dysmorphia
- Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53180854
Vessel awakes in the void – the nothing that is not really nothing. The cold, daunting emptiness that manages to leave a perturbed feeling in his hollowed-out chest.
Small lights dance like lovers in the endless landscape. They flicker and glow with the warmth of stars; gaseous balls of Hydrogen and Helium that shine like new silver. For all the hope they represent, they do nothing to illuminate the darkness; they stay far out of his reach, like the fireflies that appear in June. Oh warm, distant June when the heat burns his pale and peeling skin. Warm, distant June when everything is in full bloom.
Warm, distant June where the sun traced its warm hands over his face, drawing curious patterns across his skin as he rested under the ancient canopies. Canopies that will be long gone in a month’s time.
They are good memories, kind ones that bring a pleasant feeling to his chest; a pulsating warmth that rests in the nook between his heart and his diaphragm.
But it isn’t summer anymore, and he is far from those old memories that grow fuzzier with each depraved night he spends here.
He knows he’s asleep, yet, the vivid hold of the void’s frigid fingers tells something inside him, something primal and far past his age, that this is real. That he truly is standing in the nothing that is not usually nothing and he is being watched. It’s not a new feeling, the eerie paranoia that has begun to follow him outside of his dreams like a hound that hunts a wounded fawn, but it still unnerves him.
This whole place, this whole situation unsettles him because the void is not usually just a void. Sometimes it is the bottom of the ocean, and he’ll feel the pressure of eleven thousand metres of water on his shoulders. Other times it is the woods, and he’ll feel like a prey item all over again. But no matter what, this place is always something; a scene he will never see outside of his dreams or an old memory that leaves him in a layer of sweat by the time he wakes up, completely unsure why he is halfway to cardiac arrest.
No matter the experience, it always ends the same. He wakes up and forgets it all. All he’s left with is a stabbing feeling in his chest that grows as each night passes, each night that he spends trying to avoid this place. Something is taken from him each time he is here that leaves him empty.
He loses a piece of himself to here, wherever Sleep decides Here will be, and it stares right back at him as a dull-eyed ghost each time he comes back. And each time he does, he feels whole again. At least until the morning comes, anyways.
Even so, The Nothing is new, and, just as he’s sure Sleep intends it to do, it scares him.
The floor of the void is damp beneath his bare feet. With each step he wills himself to take forward, he descends a little further into it before the tepid liquid is up to his ankles, and he no longer sinks. He can’t be bothered to walk, or do much of anything, really. Sleep deprivation is a heavy crown he wears with despair; his head hangs low with the weight of it. Either way, what is there to walk, to run to anyway? More nothing? More void that delicately wraps its cold arms around his torso? More darkness that traces its inky fingers and bitten-down nails in between the shortened strands of his hair? Why bother to run when there is nothing ahead of him, when there’s nothing to look forward to?
So, he stays still. But, eventually, he grows bored, as all humans do, and swishes his feet back and forth, and watches with surprise as tiny creatures in the liquid, plankton, he guesses, begin to glow excitedly with his movement. He feels as the water seems to buzz with the glowing creature’s movement. It leaves him with an odd feeling crawling up his leg; something like pins and needles.
Gently, he draws patterns in the liquid with his movements, creating swirling galaxies of blues, greens and yellows that rotate like great water mill wheels. It’s mesmerising. Both the movement of the colours and the little glowing creatures themselves. They glow to the point of creating patterns in his rolled-up pants leg; little fireflies glimmering in his skin with each movement of his foot.
A small smile finds its way onto his now ashen skin. The white, sharpened canines of a walking corpse peak through, and for just a moment he isn’t afraid. He feels like a kid splashing water around just for the sake of it.
Nevertheless, the small, childish joy he temporarily entertains himself with turns cold when the small animals in the water rush away from his movement, fading into the gloom of the liquid he barely stands upon. The heavy darkness makes its presence known again with the twinkling of the lights dimming in the distance.
Covertly, he flicks his pairs of eyes around the space, twisting his torso around to check behind, beside and above him. He doesn’t dare look down.
Eventually, a smell of rot reaches his nose. The back of his throat itches and he almost wants to gag with how strong it is. A muffled sloshing of water, like waves against a shore, finally greets his ears, and he is now much more afraid of what he stands upon. Quickly, he turns just in time to see what he thinks is the tip of a rotting fin dip carefully beneath the surface.
He doesn’t want to think about how deep the water is.
With an inhale of stifling air, an attempt to calm himself, he glances downwards to see his God appear in the muck. Sleep appears to him in a bioluminescent rainbow of colours; glowing viscera ebbing in the cage of a rotting shark’s corpse, somehow fitting for the God.
"Good evening, Vessel.” Sleep’s dulcet, dreamy voice, well, voices, echos loudly in the dark.
Vessel. Just Vessel. His friends are Vessel Two, Three and Four, respectively, but he is just Vessel. Not one, nor five. Patient zero; Cain at ground level. At least, that’s what he likes to believe. He prays silently in his mind that there has not been more before him. For the sake of their suffering, or his possessiveness over Sleep’s attention, he is unsure.
And, in those three words, there is a tinge of annoyance there. A layer of exasperation hidden under formal greetings and the flick of a bony tail.
“Evening.” He mumbles back, following Sleep like a lost dog as it swims, slowly, forwards; just underneath his feet. Its innards squirm like a dying insect and he feels the fear seeping back into his bones. The liquid sticks to his feet like tar.
Then, there is quiet. A quiet that Sleep decides to fill.
“You look tired.” Sleep mocks, a sarcastic lilt in its tone; there’s not even a crumb of worry there. He spots an eye, or what’s left of one, roll upwards towards his form. It’s a misty grey; blind with age and rot and Vessel knows Sleep cannot see him through that eye, but it still sends a shiver up his spine.
“I am tired.” He replies with the same sarcastic lilt.
Sleep lets out a bemused laugh at his answer, the taunt echoing from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Sleep dips further into the gloom again, out of his reach, and begins to speak again. “You knew what you were sacrificing.”
He looks down at himself: his changed body that he didn’t ask for (what did he ask for?), the scarred skin of his flesh that he has had to crawl out of, bloody and bruised, more times he can count. The dark wisp of his cloke, the stitching on his robes that he picks at after each ritual. He looks down at himself and replies, “I don’t think I knew anything when I shook your hand.”
"You knew. You were just desperate. And naive.” Sleep adds the last part on as an afterthought, another jab at him.
“Are you calling yourself two-faced, then?” What God calls its acolytes naive for following them, after all?
“Perhaps. But that’s how you like your friends and lovers, is it not?”
He scoffs, irritated and tired beyond belief. He kicks at the liquid beneath him like an angry child, as if it’ll do anything to harm his God. As he does so, mumbling words in tongues even he doesn’t understand, Sleep surfaces again, as per usual in a different form. Underneath the tension he stands on a mass of tentacles emerges. Long strips of black, almost purple in the dark lighting, velvet wave with each slow movement Sleep makes, followed by the head of a jellyfish; a warm orange light glowing within its centre. It's like a small fire, a kindling of sorts, within the black mass of velvet and tentacles. When Sleep speaks again, it glows brighter, pulsing with each word like a heart.
“Was that too far?” It chuckles out, tone devoid of any particular emotion now. Vessel doesn’t reply and doesn’t feel the need to give Sleep the satisfaction of truly getting a proper dig at him. He doesn’t mind the silence, he craves it like water hunger for the cavities of people’s lungs, but he’s found that Sleep is fond of noise, conversation; no matter how trivial.
“You’ve been ignoring me.” It begins.
“You don’t say.”
It laughs again, a broken thing that is more filler than amusement, and he realises exactly why Sleep has chosen the void for this conversation. He wants to dial his sarcastic responses back, to save himself from the inevitable reprehending he will receive, but he’s too tired. Too fed up with it all. He knows the consequences, he’s learnt his lessons well in fire and blood and anguish, but he still pushes. That is his flaw, after all. Not knowing when too much is too much.
“You’ve always been the more interesting one,” again, Sleep fills the silence. “You’re not afraid to be defiant, at least, most of the time.” It drowsily comments. With it, a low humming noise fills The Nothing and Vessel wonders if it is Sleep singing a tune. It’s calming, one a mother would sing to a child. Disarming, almost. It puts Vessel more on edge than anything.
“Less afraid to talk back than iii?”
“Oh, good argument. But you know he isn’t fond of the dark; of being alone. Cries like a youngling if I leave him alone for too long.”
“That’s vitriolic.” Anger seeps into his tone again.
“Watch your tongue.” Sleep puts exasperated emphasis on each word, tone dipping deeper with each statement it makes.
“You know,” He begins, his mouth moving faster than his brain as he follows Sleep’s movements aimlessly, “I’d be more pliable if I could sleep properly each night without having to visit you.” Even as he says the words, he feels oddly ungrateful. Like a child who’s been given all they want but still shouts and screams for the thing they can’t have. Immediately, he can tell he’s struck a chord of some kind. He’s plucked the string too hard and has ended on a bad note. He’s unsure exactly what, but, by the strained silence that greets him, he knows he’s done something wrong.
Sleep again pipes up, beginning Its sentence with a loud sigh that leaves his heart thumping.
“I’ve taken pity upon your ugly human soul, and you spend your divinity ignoring me and trying to deny what you asked for?” Its voice is eerily calm.
“I didn’t ask for this.” He breathes out.
“Oh, sad little human. What was it you said?” The warm red of Sleep’s head throbs and glows brightly with each word. Sleep is mocking him, talking to him like an unknowing child who does not how to take care of themselves.
A memory forms in the murky waters of The Nothing. A blurry one; an incomplete watercolour where Vessel can tell each shade is just slightly different from how it should be. A voice, his own but so different, answers Sleep for him; “Please. Anything; all I want is to be someone new. Don’t let me be broken like this, I beg of you.” The sentence ends with a malicious chuckle as it slowly fades back into Sleep’s voice. It mocks and it copies Vessel’s pain with infuriating accuracy as the watercolour bleeds back into darkness.
Sleep’s velvet tentacles gently break the surface of the water he walks on, coming close to his legs. His chest aches with lack of oxygen. When did he stop breathing? When did it become so hard to do so? Shaking, his hands find their way up to his neck, as if scraping into the skin will remove the lump in his airways. The Nothing suddenly feels like a small black box that he’s trapped in. Maybe this isn’t a dream.
“That certainly got a rise out of you. Calm your panicked breathing, Thing, you sound like an angry animal.”
His eyes dart around his claustrophobic enclosure as he attempts to calm himself. Through a gritted maw he replies, “That is what you have made of me.”
“You are much more than an animal. I made you more than that.”
“You made me into a hollow corpse.”
“I made you into a God. I have given you all you have ever wanted, have I not? I have made you into someone new, I have given you friends, I have shown you love: and this is how you repay me?” Sleep’s loud voice booms like the cracking of the Earth. He’s only half sure it’s the first time It has raised its voice at him. Thousands of whispers accompany the reprimanding, some of which he recognises. Some that he knows by the lilt of their accent that make him want to cover his ears and curl into a small ball. Some that he knows that makes him want to be nothing again.
“You should have known that to touch divinity was to forgo your humanity, mouthpiece.”
That's not what he wanted, he wants to scream, but he doesn't.
He hates it when he feels warm tears trickle down how tired face. They fall from each set of eyes and create a small stream of saline solution, collecting in a puddle in the crook of his collarbone. He wishes with all his might they’d rub the ash of his skin and reveal the once peachy, now probably pale, human skin underneath.
He looks down at himself and sees what is left of him as a reflection in the glassy waters of The Nothing. He wants to ask his past self, a man he barely remembers, if this is what he truly asked for. If this is what he expected when he asked to become someone new.
Calloused and clawed fingers dig into his skin and scratch at his pairs of eyes. He wants to dig each one out with a finger until he is bleeding and blind; until he doesn’t have to see this place or himself ever again. He scratches and digs at the new scars that he didn’t ask for; opening wounds he told himself he would let close.
He doesn’t think even Sleep knows what he would give to go back to it all. Go back to the past where he hadn’t broken the bough. Go back to the past; go back to warm, distant June and lay under the ancient canopies. Go back to warm, distant June where the night did not belong to God.
And Sleep, in the midst of his cracking and drowning, sinks away into the dark again, and he prays that it is time for him to wake up. For him to forget all of this if only to feel hollow and remember it when he falls prey to slumber again.
Yet, as luck never seems to be on his side, he does not sink and awake in his bed. Instead, in the blurred vision of his eyes, something, or someone surfaces from the liquid.
A woman. Or, at least, what’s left of her. Sleep emerges out of the darkness draped in moonlight and glittering stars with skin as pale as sea foam. Long, greasy, black hair wraps across Its’ shoulders and cascades like a murky waterfall. Three sets of eyes have been clawed out; black holes resting in their place, oozing puss and blood that drips onto the midnight of its cloak, decorated with rusting rose gold chains and ripped lace. However, one eye remains in the middle of Sleep’s forehead that glows a crimson red. It is human in shape, if not for how tall It presents Itself as, but not in aura. He knows he’s in the presence of a God. He can feel the eleven thousand metres of water on his shoulders and he feels like a prey item again. Yet, oddly, with Sleep’s appearance, he feels comforted. He wants to run, towards or away from it, he is unsure.
He is always unsure.
The singular eye watches him with a mixture of affection and pity that brings back the fearful feeling in his chest.
Slowly, as if It is afraid to startle him, Sleep opens Its’ arms and beckons him with the words “Come forth.”
He does so hesitantly, slowly finding his way to Its cold arms as It wraps them gently around him, petting his hair and back in an act of trying to calm him like he’s some type of wounded animal.
“You are truly naive, Vessel.” The calming dulcet, dreamy tone is back, and he feels a warmth spill into his chest as he sobs into Its’ cloak.
“I’m sorry.” he weeps, stumbling over his words as his hands grasps at the velvet fabric, trying to bury himself into the comforting darkness.
“And what are you sorry for?” Sleep pauses in Its comforting rubs, and one of his hands finds its way to the crumbling bone and muscle that’s left of Sleep’s; holding Its wrist.
“For not listening.”
“Mm.” It begins Its comforting pats again, a reward for doing something right in his life, and he leans into the touch. But he can tell Sleep expects more of him.
“For not…for not being grateful.” His crying only picks up, and he feels embarrassed to be reduced to such a state. He’s sure he would fall to his knees if he wasn’t holding on so tightly to Sleep’s cloak.
“Good.” Sleep releases a pleased hum.
They stand there in the dark, intertwined, his tears staining the dark of its aged robes. The sacred silence is only broken by his damming sobs. Intently, he watches as his tears drip from his cheeks to the dark waters of The Nothing below him.
Out of nowhere, Sleep begins speaking again, and the sudden sound of Its’ voice causes him to jump slightly in its hold. “Modern humans have no will to dedicate themselves, to lose themselves, in worship anymore. But not like you, Vessel. I know you can be different and will be different; you will be better than them all. Better than those before you.” He ignores the last part, conscious of keeping himself in the patient-zero mentality. Even so, he finds himself enraptured by the touch, a thing so rarely afforded to him, that he mistakes Sleep for another warm body, another human, and he wants so badly to bury himself in it.
He mistakes the mandatory touch of his God, who knows exactly what to give for him to stop with his ‘childish temper tantrums’, as true affection. It's a mistake he’s made before, and it’s a mistake he never learns from. But who could argue with him, when the faux feeling of being loved, of being wanted, is so sweet? It tastes like sugar on the muscle of his tongue, and he’d break his kneecaps just to taste more of it.
“The question is, Vessel, will you be better?” It is an easy question with an easy answer. However, knowing Sleep’s standards, it is easier said than done, as well. The caressing has stopped again, and Sleep’s voice has grown distant.
His answer is almost instant; “Yes.”
Sleep breathes out another pleased sigh, and answers him, “Good.”
Slowly, Sleep begins to melt away into a viscous liquid and, startled at the sudden loss of contact, he grasps desperately at the darkness for more of it; for more of Its’ touch and comforting words.
He thinks he hears a malicious laugh echo in The Nothing as he splashes around in the shallow waters for the one person, the one God, who is able to give him what he needs. But his actions are fruitless. As per usual.
And then? Then he is alone again. As per usual.
In the midst of his sleep-deprived panicking, at what he thinks is the loss of the one person who can give him what he needs, he begins to sink into the cold depths of The Nothing.
The water tastes of pondweed and diluted beer.
With his lungs full of water, legs and arms thrashing like a dying thing because that is what he is, he is led downwards to the other side.
Waking up has never been so painful.
Vessel awakes in his bed. His cold bed covered in a layer of sweat with tears running down his face.
The light filters in, softly, through his thinning blinds that he’s had since forever.
There are people downstairs, laughing loudly at some joke he isn’t in on. At first, it feels malicious, like the echo of a dream he’s trying to remember, but then his delirious mind concludes it's just his friends; up early as usual. He rubs his eyes as he tries, feels the odd scars that have slowly formed over the months under and above them, like every night, to remember what dream has left him in this state, but he comes up empty.
In the corner of his eye, he swears he spots a shadow flickering its way out of his window; into the misty morning of another winter’s day that leaves him yearning for warm, distant June.
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First oneshot of the year! Pretty damn happy with it. I may or may not have projected a bit with this, but oh well; what's done is done.
I wanted to experiment a bit with the ever-changing forms of our least favorite God, so I hope I got what I wanted to across in this! I will note, that on the odd occasion Sleep is actually mentioned by Sleep Token, they are given male pronouns. I decided to go against this a little bit and use It instead. I hope I didn't throw anybody off with it!
I made a post a while back asking everybody what their presentations of Sleep look like, so thank everybody who reblogged that for the descriptions of Sleep's forms (other than my favourite rotting fish thing lmao).
Further, this is my first time writing for Sleep Token, so, if anybody has any constructive criticism, I'd be glad to hear it! Thank you to anybody who sat down and read this, I hope you all sleep well tonight <33
#vessel is just touched starved#consistently tired with everybody's shit but will crumble when given affection#(me fr)#vessel sleep token#ii sleep token#iii sleep token#iv sleep token#sleep (the deity)#mentions of abuse#self harm#oneshot#sleep token#st#mel's musings#vessel
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Ace of Kings.
Base belongs to PinkiePieParty136! ↓
#art#fanart#oc#oc art#sleep token#sleep token fanart#sleep token art#sleep token oc#sleep token 666#this again.. references to Ascensionism.#I feel like I need to HC this that Vessel will do anything to protect Ace desperately after he found out what Sleep did to him.#angst yaoi I guess hehe#vessel x oc#<- ( implied. )#btw. hcs and a oneshot writing coming tomorrow!#sleep token band
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Fan Service (Sleep Token oneshot)
Summary: Elena had been a fan of a lot of bands over the years. Her favorite had been Ghost and Sleep Token since she'd discovered them over a year ago; unfortunately, though she never had the opportunity to meet the band or go see them live before. What she didn't expect was for Sleep Token to have a show playing live just a few hours away from her city! Jumping at the chance to see them finally live she never expected how her night would turn out!
Pairings: Platonic!Vessel x OC, Plantonic!iii x OC
*Please note that I am aware Sleep Token does not interact with fans like this at concerts! One could only dream; this is just a silly little oneshot for you guys! I have not seen them live either and I know the interactions may seem oc considering what kind of band they are and their lore. Bear with me, it's just imagination just like all the other fanfics of bands out there! Hope you enjoy. This is not to portray their actual personalities or interactions! SIMPLY FANFICTION! Please don't come at me....I DO respect the band and their privacy to keep their personal lives and personalities out of media; I love them dearly and mean no disrespect to them as people or as a band. This is just something silly I thought up; experimenting, if you will...If you haven't seen them or listened to them; boy honey you're missing out!
My Workshop
She was jittery. Bouncing on the toes of her black hightops as she waited in line. The ticket clutched tightly in her hands as she scanned the rest of the crowd that lined up to the venue to get in. The excitement and anticipation for tonight's show were palpable on her tongue as she took a calming breath to stop the scatter of butterflies in her stomach from exploding from her body and out of her mouth. There were so many people here and although Elena was not fond of large crowds like this, she knew she'd regret it immensely if she didn't come tonight. The very idea that she could have, even by her own volition, missed out when her favorite band was so close to her performing made a knot form in her stomach; not helping her out at all with the nervous energy her body carried.
She'd been in love with the music this band created since she first found them out a little over a year ago. Sleep Token had bumped her love for this kind of music higher on her list - making her more obsessed with the addictive blend until she'd played playlist after playlist on endless loops through her speakers at her small apartment. And tonight, she drove a few hours from her hometown just to see them.
When her turn came at the line she handed over her ticket to get punched before being allowed entry. Her green eyes widened at the scene around her. Countless booths lined up with canopies advertising merch sales for everything under the sun. From T-shirts to sweatshirts, wristbands with the band's logos, to copies of their latest albums on CDs and so much more. The girl found herself standing near the barrier of other fans who were browsing the tables; staring down at the items displayed for purchase and bit her lip. It wasn't as if she didn't have the money; she'd saved up months from her job at the music store she worked at just for this chance to get a souvenir from the band she loved the most.
But despite her eagerness to snatch something up like a sweatshirt she refrained with all her willpower; she wasn't going to blow her whole paycheck until she'd seen everything there was to see. A slight breeze blew through the open venue causing her to shiver a bit and glance back at the stall showcasing the black zip-up sweaters only partly regretting not buying one since she didn't expect the weather to get cold tonight. She was dressed in a pretty dress. Black with white dragons all over it and the collar was high - like a turtleneck without the extra fabric and it hugged her body perfectly while a pair of hightop black shoes cased her feet for comfort. Her long brown hair was hanging down her back unhinged by the tie that was wrapped around her slender wrist. It wasn't like she was trying to dress to impress. She certainly didn't seem like she fit into this sort of environment while others dressed more for comfort or wearing varies of bandwear. But she'd just bought this dress and figured today would have been the best to wear it; even if it didn't go lower then the middle of her thighs. She got cold easily and she was beginning to regret not bringing a jacket to wear.
She'd followed the crowd towards the large open field where a large stage was constructed for the band to play and she weaseled herself to the front with ease; being so small at only 5'2" kind of helped. She wouldn't have been able to see Sleep Token on stage any other way not that she needed to - their music spoke more than the show they put on but man did she really want to see Vessel doing his adorable dances as he unhinged from the world and allowed the music to guide his body. She'd seen videos of other fan's uploads of his hopping and jumping on stage as he danced and she really wanted to see it live. So she took position at the iron railings that bracketed the fans from the stage at a safe distance and watched as tech people got the stage ready.
The sun was already low in the sky, the show going to start very soon - it was better experienced at night with all the light affects and strobe lights. Simply watching the way the tech people worked on stage made her heart race a bit as she knew in just minutes the show would begin and she would be right there at the front watching.
More people gathered behind her and Elena rested her arms against the railings as she watched; purposefully ignoring the fans behind her and on either side as they wanted to get the front row as well. If she dared to look behind her at all the people she would probably freak; she hated being at the front of any line let alone in the middle of a crowd so she didn't. Simply watched with anticipation and bated breath as the techs left and the lights began to come on. The show was beginning.
It was magnetic. It was addicting. It was like a shot of adrenaline through her system. Vessel's voice was like dark silk as he sang his lyrics and she was practically in a trance as she watched him perform. A big smile crept onto her face as she watched; her heart aching so much with adoration as she watched him get lost to the music; watched as he interacted with the fans through his signature hand movements and fruitiness with iii on stage. She loved it all and knew if she were to die right now she'd die with a blissful smile on her face. The crowd behind her was just as enthralled by him. Jumping up and down, dancing, and swinging around like crazy people behind her as they got lost in the music.
But then Elena felt her body slam forward into the railings in front of her when a fan not paying attention to his surroundings practically decked her in the back with his wild arms making her lurch forward aggressively against the metal. Her arms seared with pain as they jammed against the harsh cold railing causing her to hiss in pain; she would surely bruise come morning. And then just as suddenly a strong arm grabbed her arms and she looked up startled as security was quick to lift her tiny frame over the barrier and away from the danger. She yelped in surprise and clung to the man's shoulders as he carried her away from the railing and to a chair at the side of the stage causing her heart rate to spike when she realized where she was.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" the man asked scanning her over as she clutched her arm.
Elena laughed nervously and began nodding. "I am! I just hurt my arm a little bit on the railing there's no need for-" she began to protest feeling so very wrong for being on the other side of the barrier; feeling like a child that isn't supposed to be somewhere but before she could get the sentence out a figure jumped off of the stage as the music began to change into its melodic melodies instead of lyrics. Her gaze lifted up to find one of the guitarists coming her way still holding his instrument to the side of his body as he made his way over.
At first, Elena expected to be yelled at or told she needed to get back to the crowd but instead, her eyes widened when they met the familiar blue of iii's eyes as he came to stand beside her. One large hand rested on her shoulder as he did so.
"Everything okay here?" his voice was a little rough around the edges; probably from screaming out to the crowd to hype them up some more but there was no anger in his voice from what she could tell. She cleared her throat and shook her head a little as she pointed to her ear as if to tell him she couldn't hear him very well; which honestly wasn't a lie, being this close to the stage the music was a lot louder than in the crowd.
The bassist's black mask with the familiar Sleep Token symbol shifted as if he was smiling beneath his mask before he was bending down to speak in her ear; his larger frame tall and imposing seemingly less intimidating this way.
"Are you okay honey?" he asked near her ear allowing her to hear him better.
Elena blushed slightly at the proximity and nodded slightly as she laughed nervously. "I'm okay, it's just a misunderstanding really-" she began but the guard cut her off.
"Another fan behind her was being a little rough and she got injured on the barriers."
iii's eyes softened in concern as he looked her over and Elena quickly waved her hands in front of her. "It's okay really. I'm not bleeding or anything, just gonna bruise. It's not that big of a deal really. I appreciate the concern but I mean it is a concert; something was bound to happen." she tried to protest.
iii was already grabbing at her slender arm and examining the redness of where her skin had been hit against the railings minutes earlier and his head tilted a bit.
"Damn. I'm sorry sweetheart. We want our fans to have fun but not to hurt each other even by accident." he said and Elena shook her head again as she glanced over her shoulder catching Vessel's figure as he walked closer to their side of the stage; his head tilting towards them but because of the mask covering his face and the mic close to his mouth as he sang, she couldn't tell his expression.
She ducked her head; allowing her hair to hide her expression as she felt the embarrassment heat up her face. "It's really not that bad. Nothing that involved me being whisked away. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distract you from the show. Please, go on and finish! I'll be back out there cheering you guys on." Elena began to stand but a pair of warm hands covered in black pain suddenly gripped her knees and she looked up to find Vessel crouching in front of her.
She sank back into her chair with a start and looked up at him. She couldn't see his eyes through the slits in his mask but the lower half of his face and jaw were exposed. Good god this man was beautiful even without full features being shown; she could tell by the shape of his lips and the half smile on his face - the strong neck and jaw coated in black paint that was starting to wear off from the light sheen of sweat that coated his naked torso.
"Are you hurt, honey?" Vessel's normal speaking voice was just as beautiful as his singing one. Deep and raspy from singing but beautiful causing Elena to feel as if her tongue was made of cotton instead of flesh and muscle as she dumbly nodded to him.
"She was injured by another fan during the show." iii mentioned and Elena shot him a look from the corner of her eye.
"I told you. It's not life-threatening! I'm okay really!" she protested before looking at Vessel and then the nearly empty stage behind him.
"Shit the show! You guys better go before people think something's wrong," she said frantically; her hands raising without though to gentle press at Vessel's shoulders as if to push him back towards it.
"Hey hey, calm down sweetheart." Vessel's hands gripped her wrists and his bright white smile was on display. "Don't worry about that right now. Tell us what's wrong, are you hurt?" he asked.
Elena's gaze dropped to his mouth so that she didn't stare at his naked torso instead and nodded. "I'm fine! Seriously!" she laughed a bit at their persistent concern for a random fan; god she loved them so much but they did have a show to finish and she wouldn't allow some scandal to happen over a few little bruises.
"I'll probably have a bruise but nothing bad. Now go!" she willed herself to gentle shove at Vessel's shoulders again even when all she wanted was to wrap her arms around him and give him a massive hug; she refrained and tempted down the fangirl within her.
"Aw, so sweet aren't yah?" iii cooed playfully causing another hot flash to creep up Elena's neck.
"Seriously?!" the girl covered her face but then there was the gentle caress of lips against her ear as Vessel drew nearer to be heard over the crowd of the fans several feet away.
"I'll tell you what, princess. Stick around after the show and come find one of the security for a personal escort to a VIP. Deal?"
Her eyes widened as she stared over his shoulder at the stage; petrified as much as thrill raced through her. "I-I can't do that. I can't let you guys do that! Come on it's not that bad of an accident. You're overreacting...it's not something you need to worry about let alone give me a personal VIP-" she protested turning her head slightly.
Vessel's grin was on full display now as he cocked his head to meet her gaze behind his mask. He smelled like sweat and body paint but also something that was either some sort of body wash or deodorant; something that was all Vessel.
"We want to take care of our fans, honey. It's partly our fault for the crowd being like this so let's make this right. It's the least we can do." Vessel said and Elena stared up at his masked face as he withdrew.
The red details of his otherwise white mask were beautiful up close and she could tell there was a lot of artistic love put into it. Blinking up at him her lips turned into a frown and they parts as if to decline but the singer only shook his head playfully and placed a finger to his lips.
"I won't go finish this show until you agree. We'd love to get to know you a little better." he offered.
She knew he was bluffing. Why would he just shut down the entire show for her? but wasn't this what she dreamed about since the moment she found his band? She never expected something like this to happen; it was like some kind of dream. Swallowing thickly she finally nodded with a shy smile on her face.
"If I'm not going to be a bother...I don't want to cause trouble for you guys."
Vessel's laugh was adorable as he leaned over and pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek. "You're not a bother at all, honey." he replied pulling away.
"Elena." she corrected on impulse causing both Vessel and iii to tilt their heads at her.
"My name's Elena." she smiled slightly at them.
"Nice to meet you, Elena. We'll see you soon, darling." Vessel grinned at her as he backed up towards the stage again.
"See you soon, angel!" iii winked giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before he and his friend darted back up the stage to continue the show.
Elena let out a shaky breath; practically reeling from the unexpected interaction. She rose from the chair as if to make her way back to the crowd but she glanced back up the stage only to find Vessel pointing at her as he sang; his head tilting towards her playfully and she could practically hear his voice in her head with his directions without even him speaking them into the mic.
she laughed a bit; the sound lost in the fray of blasting music as she sank back down into the metal chair and crossed one leg over the other as well as her arms over her chest as she stuck her tongue out at him playfully; feeling the familiar heat of a blush on her face as she caught the last second of his pearly smile of approval as he turned back towards the crowd; belting out the lyrics to 'Chokehold' as he did so.
~
A/N: Thank you all for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know if you'd like for me to continue writing for this band. Again, Sleep Token has stolen my heart for a while now and I love them dearly I can't put it into words so I'd be more than happy to write some more if you'd like to read it! <3
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oop i dont post enough
have these doodles i did on my insta
#hollow knight#hollow knight fanart#hollow knight pale king#hollow knight broken vessel#oneshot#oneshot fanart#oneshot niko
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Vigilance
(Vessel x Gender-Neutral Reader)
Synopsis: Vessel contemplates what you mean to him while you're laying together.
Warnings: Maybe a little self-deprecation on Vessel's part, but besides that...?
Word Count: 599
A/N: This one really came out of nowhere. The first half is part of this dream I had, then I filled in the ending. Short, kinda fluffy, but in a serious way. If you've read "Sun Daze," "Morning Blue," or "Found You," it's that vibe.
You felt his presence before you were truly conscious. Sitting on the edge of your bed, he watched you. You’d gotten used to it by now. It was reassuring. His constant vigilance—a protective bubble that embraced you.
His nimble fingers grazed your side, trailing to the small of your back. “Rest, my love.”
Humming, your eyes remained closed, enjoying his feather-light touches. You had shoved the blankets off you in your sleep and were rewarded when his skin caressed yours.
The bed shifted, then his lips brushed the side of your head.
“Lay with me?” Though it escaped as a statement, you meant it as a question. One you knew he’d never refuse.
He slipped behind you, one arm sliding beneath your head, and the other around your middle. You threaded your fingers through both of his hands, needing to be as close to him as possible. With his exposed chest pressed against your back, you relaxed into him, head resting in the crook of his shoulder.
This was your safe place. Nestled in his hold where no one else existed.
You took in every part that connected to him and wished you could stay like this forever.
“Ease now, beloved. I am with you.” He pressed his mouth to your shoulder, lingering to feel more of your skin.
He would stay like this until you woke next. Until you had to move. Until you indicate otherwise. He would remain.
He could not follow you into blissful unconscious, but this almost seemed better. The trust you put in him, the way you let him embrace you, how openly you received every part of him—he witnessed it all in these moments. As you drifted, your walls receded. He saw you for who you were and vowed himself to you. Even if you didn’t know the extent of his allegiance to you, it didn’t matter. You belonged to one another. He would ensure your happiness, your safety, your peace—because they were his own.
The scent of your hair enveloped him. You were home to him. He could not determine the last time he had a home, but the word was fitting. In all his travels, in all his life, he had glimpses of reprieve, but with you he had gained more than that. You had given him more than he ever had in the centuries before you. And for that he owed you his existence.
Every time he looked at you, spoke to you, touched you, was like the first. You did not want anything from him—like so many others—you simply wanted him. So, he gave you all, every piece of darkness within himself, every memory from before, every task he was given, because he wanted to make sure. Was this what you wanted? Was he what you wanted?
In response, you showed him all of you. Your regrets and failures, your hopes and dreams, your fears—and they were beautiful. You were...everything.
For that, he had pledged to be yours. He had proclaimed his love, and you returned it.
So, he would remain by your side, in every sense of the word. In ways he could not explain.
He matched his breathing to yours, steady and deep. Once your fingers had slackened, he curled his a little more to keep you connected. And his eyes closed, letting your skin warm his and your scent fill him.
This was as close as he could follow you, but it was enough. You were with him. This was all he needed. His greatest treasure. His love. His meaning.
Taglist: @steph-speaks, @themultiverseofmars
Let me know if you want to be tagged in future fics!
#vessel#sleep token#sleep token vessel#vessel sleep token#vessel fluff#vessel x reader#vessel x gn!reader#vessel x gender-neutral reader#vessel x gender neutral reader#vessel x you#vessel fanfic#vessel fanfiction#vessel fic#vessel fics#vessel oneshot#vessel one shot#vessel imagine#vessel imagines#sleep token fluff#sleep token x reader#sleep token x gn!reader#sleep token x gender neutral reader#sleep token x gender-neutral reader#sleep token x you#sleep token fanfic#sleep token fanfiction#sleep token fic#sleep token fics#sleep token imagine#sleep token imagines
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𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗜 𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗔 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘?
Quotev has a terrible grip on me please free me *sobs*
series coming soon! Message me to be tagged when it comes out <33
SYNOPSIS: You are Riko Amani’s older sister, however you end up finding out your dear little sister is the star plasma vessel for no other than the famous master tengen of the jujutsu world. What will happen on your journey to protect her from the dangers of this new adventure along with her new caretakers?
#PREMATURE DEATH ARC
SATORU GOJO : “y/n-chan, come give your favorite person a hug!”
SUGURU GETO: “yes hello? Yes this is suguru..riko tried to swallow soap again.”
IEIRI SHOKO: “maybe if a idiot didn’t try to hump a tarantula we wouldn’t be here”
RIKO AMANI: “nii-san..get these crippled hypocrites away from me”
TOJI FUSHIGURO: “I’m getting impatient you stupid brat..”
#STORY
AT a young age ever since you and riko had lost your parents, you were stuck with your caretaker Misato. A few years in you had been able to use jujutsu and entrolled at Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High school.
YOU had never been in the actual class but had gotten private lessons from the other students since you were born with a unusual amount of cursed energy.
ONE day however, you were called to the office only to find out that your little sister was compatible with to match with Master Tengen which had you more worried than ever, compared to your sister who had almost no problem whatsoever. What will this journey lead you to in the end? Let us find out!
#{-muxis writes#x reader#x y/n#headcanons#headcanon#oneshots#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#suguru geto#riko amanai#premature death#jjk x reader#star plasma vessel#shoko ieiri#toji fushiguro#jujutsu tech#jjk manga spoilers#jjk season 2#gojo x reader#geto suguru x reader#ieiri shoko#ieiri shoko x reader#jjk headcanons#jjk oneshot#jjk x you#geto x gojo x reader#gojo saturo#gojo saturo x reader#suguru geto x reader#geto suguru
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The sixth chapter of Responsible Practices in Engineering (a Vessel) has been translated into Chinese by the wonderful @templar-of-tyre!
Work Summary:
The Pale King, God of mind and knowledge, King of Hallownest, was first and foremost a scientist and an engineer.
It would be foolish to just get one Vessel from the Abyss for his plan to seal the Radiance
What if the first one broke?
Maybe he’d just get one more from the Abyss, oh and there’s another one, and another one, and another one…
Chapter Summary: Hornet hunts a vessel! (大黄蜂追捕小容器)
Translator Comment: 苍白之王和白色夫人是那种在购物时不小心把孩子（指表弟）落在超市里的粗心父母。 (PK and WL are the kind of neglectful parents who accidentally leave their baby (GV) behind when shopping.)
Original English version on AO3
#hollow knight#hollow knight au#rpieav#baby hornet#hk greenpath vessel#technically little hornet#the hornet terrorizes greenpath vessel chapter#my favorite i even wrote an alternate oneshot for this
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WHICH DND CLASS SUITS YOUR PERSONALITY?
Pact of the Genie Warlock
Warlock: You’re a charming and ambitious person who cares a lot about the people you are close to. Sometimes you might worry that you rely too much on the help of others, as if you’re not good enough on your own, but you have a knack for pulling out unexpected skills or solutions at just the right moment. You may have a bit of a lazy side at times. You have dreams for the future and you want to end up better off than where you began.
Genie: You have made a pact with one of the rarest kinds of genie, a noble genie. Noble genies are varied in their motivations, but most are arrogant and wield power that rivals that of lesser deities. They delight in turning the table on mortals, who often bind genies into servitude, and readily enter into pacts that expand their reach. You’re an ambitious and resourceful person with big dreams, and you’re not above taking shortcuts to achieve your goals when needed. You have a certain taste for luxury and comfort. Sometimes you might find yourself running away from your problems instead of facing them head-on. Certain people in your life are really important to you and you might find yourself (consciously or unconsciously) modeling yourself after parts of them over time.
tagged by: @perceptualephemera <3333
tagging: YOU!
#that's so funny i'm about to play a pact of the genie warlock + arcane trickster rogue in an upcoming oneshot#tagged meme#wu is def a high cha character. dump stats for everything else though LMFAO#debating if he'd make a deal with a dao or djinn though#he'd love living in a fancy genie vessel
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✎ heaven's fury
- gojo satoru x reader
sometimes you forget that your husband has burdens as the strongest sorcerer alive. when he goes back home from a bad day and you're the first person he comes contact to, you're made aware of it once again
genre:
angry!gojo, a bit of hurt with looots of comfort and fluff !! it’s self-indulgent too🤭
note:
i knooow i said i'll post gojo angst next, but i forgot i have this in backburner too so... this hurt/comfort goes first :') based on an anon's request. loosely takes place after baby!
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
“Sukuna's vessel is a threat— he must be executed as soon as possible!”
“The more we put this off, the greater the risk he poses to society!”
“Gojo, you can't delay his sentence any longer—!”
Weak. All of them. They always make excuses. Trying to pin blame on someone else.
The jujutsu world he lives in… is wretched. Gojo Satoru thought he knew that well already, or at least knew enough to not get riled up over it.
Apparently not.
“Gojo-sensei? You look scary...”
Typically, he would mask his clear disdain with sharp-witted jibes, but he reached his limit this time. Especially since they had been pressuring him relentlessly to execute Itadori Yuji for at least five times a week, each week.
. . .
“Satoru, oh, you're home already!”
At the end of it all, he went home with the worst of moods. It served as a reminder—of his deep-seated contempt for weakness and how burdensome he found the task of protecting the insufferable to be.
“Satoru...?”
And it's because of their weakness that Suguru—
“Satoru, are you—?”
“Just fucking shut it!”
And that was when he saw you, standing before him with wide eyes, cradling your—his—precious baby in your arms, who was sound asleep.
“Huh…?”
Satoru immediately tensed up, realizing his mistake. And what hit him even harder was— is that a flicker of hurt he saw flashing across your face?
If so, then you quickly blinked it away because in the next instant, your face lit up with a warm smile— kind of forced, to his dismay. “Welcome home, Satoru.”
Something inside him churned, his heart started to ache, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth then.
There you were, as accepting as ever, and he cherished you for it.
But not tonight. Not for this. You didn't deserve any of his misplaced resentment.
Damn it. Damn it all!
In response, he offered you a subtle nod and headed to the bathroom, thinking a shower might help clear his foul mood away.
Contrary to what Satoru might think, you didn't really hold anything against him.
You were surprised, yes, because he was usually such a ball of energy even when he got back from intercity missions, but more than the hurt, you would understand if now, he was pissed some way or another.
Your husband is still a human. He is entitled to be upset on some days.
After ensuring your son was comfortably asleep in his cot, you returned to your bedroom to find Satoru already in bed, facing away from you. Hmph... now that you thought about it, this silence between you was unacceptable.
“Satoru.” You poked his side, but he didn't budge and still had his eyes shut. You arched an eyebrow. “Satoru? You can't be asleep.”
“…” No answer. Okay, let's try something else.
“Honey, talk to me? Hmm?” you decided to swallow the heat on your face as you addressed him more intimately. Mind you, you didn't usually call him that. He was the one in charge of pet names.
“…” This shithead. That's it.
“Satoru, my tummy hurts—”
“What?” In an instant, he flipped over, abruptly sitting up. “What hurts—”
Seizing the opportunity, you tugged him by the neck, and both of you tumbled onto the bed, with him landing on top of you. Satoru instinctively held himself up and cushioned the back of your head with his hand so you wouldn’t crash into the headboard—his blue eyes wildly flickering, searching for any sign of discomfort or harm.
“You good?” he made a face upon realizing your ruse.
“You won’t talk to me otherwise,” you noted with a hint of annoyance. But then your eyes softened into a concerned frown. “Satoru… what’s wrong?”
Once again, Satoru felt hollow. You were worried and it reached him. “It’s nothing,” he replied, looking away, trying to downplay his fury.
You pulled him close, his head against your chest, and though he was stiff and taken aback at first, he released a reluctant sigh and instinctively snuggled closer, finding comfort in your embrace.
“There, there…” you soothed with a smile, gently running your fingers through his hair. “Feel better now?”
He let out another sigh against you, returning the hug and nuzzling his face against your chest. His body heat enveloped you like a blanket.
And after a while...
“...’m sorry for yelling at you...” he muttered with such regret it made your eyes widen. “Didn’t mean it.”
The slight prickle in your heart dissipated at once, hearing his muffled voice.
“Mm-hmm, I know.”
“Really.”
“Mmm, really, really.”
He held you a little tighter, breathing in your scent, and you kept stroking his head. He looked so despondent it warmed your heart, and made you want to pet him. “Our baby loves being held like this too,” you giggled fondly. “You big baby… you’re just like him.”
Your husband let out a soft grunt against your chest, exhaling deeply.
“Whenever you’re ready, talk to me, yes?”
And so after several more pats on his head, Satoru finally told you everything, about how the higher-ups were relentlessly pressing him to put an end to Yuji, the new kid he recently enrolled to the jujutsu school.
“They're just some paranoid old fools—”
“Mm-hmm.”
“—stinky, cringey, looks depressed most of the time—”
“Heh— now that's just plain disrespect.”
“Yuji is just clueless and just has a lot to learn,” Satoru grumbled sullenly. “They didn't even teach him a thing and incapable to— how dare they? To keep him ignorant and then murder him?”
...oh.
And at that moment, you found clarity. Why he got so worked up, why he got irate this time whereas he was usually insensitive.
First, it was because of your tragic youth. No one protected Haibara from his unfortunate incident and was there for Geto when he needed it the most—which still haunted him to this day.
And secondly, because he himself is a father too. No one deserves their youth being taken away. That has been his moral compass, and the sense grows even stronger ever since the baby was born.
It made something inside you flutter.
“Satoru...” you breathed out, smiling, squeezing him affectionately. “You’re ... a kind person.”
“Huh?”
“You take it upon yourself to mentor those kids,” you mused. “Just look at Megumi and Yuta; they've turned out just fine.”
Truthfully, Satoru didn't consider himself as kind as you made him out to be. At times he felt like he was doing it because it was right, sometimes he thought it was for fun, and at other times, he simply didn't feel like seeing more deaths or wrong paths. And he was sure if you had asked Megumi whether he was a good teacher or not, the grumpy boy would only roll his eyes.
But then, just as he looked up at you, the prettiest smile blossomed on your face, and you said to him—
“And as your wife, I’m... proud of you.”
The way you sincerely told him that made his breath catch in his throat, and his heart pound a little faster.
The woman who has become his everything. This unabashed, pure love you show him.
“Sweets, I—” he suddenly rose, back to on top of you. But his voice faltered, remembering the way he coldly snapped at you earlier. “I...”
You looked up at him innocently. And he swallowed the shame because he had to tell you too.
Because you were so, so incredibly precious to him, and he wanted you to know that.
“…love you,” he mumbled, his beautiful eyes meeting yours with no hesitation. His cheeks were burning, tinted with a shade of pink—and you out of all people knew best that him being embarrassed meant as good as him not being horny—
But before you could point it out, he leaned down towards you, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. There was no trace of the man who was hungry for your body— it was just a long, chaste kiss that contained his feelings for you.
And when he pulled back, both of you were panting slightly, trying to catch your breath. Then, he pursed his lips, his eyes glittery—somehow reminding you of your baby's face just before he cried out for his milk.
“I wanna pay for my sin. Wanna cuddle you too.”
And so you let him. He held you close, his arm under your head and you traced lazy lines on his chest, feeling contented and somewhat giddy.
“You feel that bad, huh?” you chuckled, noticing his continued gloominess.
“I am,” he puffed out his cheeks before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Because if anyone else dares to tell you off like that, I'll wreck them on the spot.”
“Hmm, how romantic. But come to think about it... you did look a little scary though...”
At that moment, he felt his heart drop, his eyes instantly rounded in alarm, looking at you with dismay.
“No, no, I'm not scary! Wifey, I'm your devoted and loving husband!”
Epilogue
Your morning started with your baby's cries. When you glanced over, Satoru was gone from your bed already. Curious, you made your way to the baby's room, and what you saw there caused you to raise an eyebrow.
"Satoru... what are you...?"
He turned to you with an expression so heartbroken as he rocked his wailing baby. "He keeps crying, I don't know why..."
However, your attention was drawn more to his disheveled appearance. Messy hair, slitted eyes as if he hadn't brushed off sleep, and most of all, the dark eyebags under his eyes.
"Uh, Satoru... give him to me."
When he did, your baby calmed down almost instantly, his sobs turning into light sniffles, and your husband could only scratch his head in confusion.
"Why...? When I tried to look at him, he cried even harder—"
"...no offense, but if I were a baby and someone who looks like a panda holds me up, I'd get scared and cry too."
Satoru let out a theatrical gasp, clutching his chest as he hovered your baby—
"Nooo! Papa didn't mean to scare you—!"
...but to his horror, your baby turned away from him, hiding his face in your chest instead.
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo satoru imagines#jjk fluff#gojo satoru fluff#dad!gojo#satoru gojo fluff#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jutusu kaisen x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo
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𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄
— BUCKY BARNES COLUMN (ONESHOT)
Dark Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader
—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—
| A/N | DISCRETION |
A/N — Yes. Yes... YAAAAS! IM DOING IT! I'm frickin' writing a pirate Bucky! Mmmm! Fuckin' love pirate stuff, I'm just living for Bucky being a hotto potatoh commanding a vessel on the high seas.
Pirate Bucky — semi dark Bucky — submissive/soft captive reader — possessive Bucky — SMUT 18+, Minors DNI! — P in V sex — memory loss/wiping via magic (reader affected) — light use of physical and sexual acts to avoid conflict — indirect breeding kink? — pet names — brief consumption of alcohol — I think that's it?
| SUMMARY |
He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him. Yet overboard and on the tide you sail across, in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul… a song so familiar yet unknown.
Forgotten. Bucky reminds you yet again that there is no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there.
*4.1𝐤
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| M-LIST | TAGLIST:
@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic
────────────────┘
There lays a song forgotten in your heart and soul, distantly faint as the receding tide to the shore. With each spare moment of peace you were given to dwell beneath the lapping waters, you spend a portion of it in search of that song. And what time remains within the falling sand’s glass, you bask in the blue and faded black abyss.
Tonight is no different. You could not remember the forgotten song that lulls you tenderly, pulling through skin and scale, calling you somewhere far, much too far, away from the balancing hull above.
You could not abandon your captain. Betray the trust between you both. After all, it was he who found you washed atop the rocky crevices of the island, who rescued you from a fate of drying out in the sun’s merciless heat. Who took care of you when there was nothing left of the life you once knew.
To break that earnt trust, to betray him, you can’t think of anything far more heartbreaking than that.
“Time’s up, my Siren,” the voice of your captain beckons you. He calls you to the surface.
A sigh ripples through the water and your head tilts up towards the surface, the darkened slits in your milky white eyes shrink away from the moonlight penetrating through the waves. The long limb of your tail sweeps back and forth, thrusting you upwards, skin and scales shimmering brighter as you near the barrier between water and air. The breach pulls a lungful gasp of the night's chillingly crisp air, the only warmth coming from The Avenger.
Hair drench-pressed and thinned forms a curtain over your features as you peer up at the looming figure pridefully arching over the ship’s wooden rail. The slivered slits of your eyes grow wider as they focus on him, with a lantern beside him, glass scorched and worn by smoke, it illuminates the upper portion of his body. His white shirt ruggedly wrinkled and loosened to showcase a muscled chest, skin tanned by the sun’s heated kiss, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black ink painted legendary stories over his body in memorabilia. Stories forged into his flesh for all to study and cower in fear.
He summons you with a kink of his finger and you obey his silent command with an all too eager nod. Around you, the water spirals into a column and rises up, pushing you higher to reach the wooden railing. Aboard the ship, the crew is merry in their celebrations. Another successful day of conquest and battle on the high seas, another amassed sum of gold and valuables to add to hull and reputation.
Of course spirits would be high and cheerful tonight. And of course, what was a conquest without the captain’s prize at the end of it all?
Gathering yourself over the rail and onto the deck, the glistening shine of your tail morphs into two shapely legs, the milky hues of your eyes and other remnants of your true body hide in their human disguise. Your eyes find the hourglass on his opposite side, the sand all gathered in the bottom glass pit. Your captain holds something out for you and you graciously accept his gift, pulling the thin veil of your robe over your naked body.
His ocean blue eyes scan you up and down, the left corner of his plush, chapped lips turns upwards.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” He purrs his question and it brings a cold chill to run up and down your spine, your lungs freeze with what little breath they had at that moment.
He turns his body properly to face you, burly shoulders and thick muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. His eyes fold slightly into a sharpened stare of interrogation.
“I–I don’t…” You shake your head, breath hitching. “I don’t understand, Captain. I search for nothing that is not you.”
“Aye?”
Your gaze drops to the limb of his remaining flesh hand, the other limb itself brings an uncomfortable yet hazy familiarity, you dare not to look at it up close when in the awoken presence of his intimidating stature. Often you would question its being there and admire its raw and unique - mystical - materials, when your captain lay beside you fast asleep.
Wrapped tightly over and under the callousness of his palm, the golden chain twinkles in the pale moonlight, the larger pearl at its centre holstered by binding gold and tinier pearls, beneath the gilded net a more refined shape of a pearl dances on its link.
However, your mesmerised pupils flicker up in an instant, brought to the attention of your captain awaiting your obedient answer. A noise is pitched in your throat with the answer but it dies swiftly before its deliverance.
Your vision focuses behind him then, up near the ship’s helm, her fingers lace slowly in their hypnotic movement as the fabric of her scarlet magic is weaved together. A warning. You do your best to hide the distressed visage of fear, batting your eyelashes and brushing aside the death of your verbal response, you bow your body forward submissively to his that towers over you.
When your lips touch his, he almost instantly devours yours in a hungry kiss, the soft caress of your fingers tracing the curves of his chest brings pride and lust to possessively reel you into him, your nude front colliding against the hardened wall of his own.
Your hands run their course of exploration up the swollen bulk of his arms until they find purchase and entangle themselves in his dark locks. His own hands ravage your body, kneading the flesh and slim muscle of your hips.
He groans when you submit to his overpowering will, mouth parting to his eager tongue that shoots forward like a fired cannon, aimed to dominate you in every sense of the word. Your soft whimpers beneath him bring him unimaginable pleasure, the sort that drives him to seek it evermore, with no seeming end to his insatiable hunger for what is you; your entire being. Wolves are known to be ravenous beasts. It’s why he’s known by the moniker as the White Wolf.
His tongue fiercely dances over yours, swirling and his bottom teeth tease you by nipping your lip, earning a high pitched squeal from you. He chuckles, the sound rich and dark in its intention. Your core comes alight, burning hotly and the once cool air dissipates as heat courses through every vein and nerve in your body, your mind swimming in the ocean pools of his eyes. Eyes that at times are the only thing you need to be connected to the sea.
The prominent tent of his erected endowment presses against your stomach and lower abdomen. You finally pull away, however, in his caging embrace it’s not very far you’re able to move back.
“Wait for me in my cabin, little Siren,” he orders gruffly. Your mouth falls agape and you sputter in your rattled confusion.
“But I—” Still he penetrates you with that cold stare. It prods at you with radiant intensity, it matches the ominous scarlet glow that now burns brighter now as it moves down the upper deck’s stairs. Your eyes dart between the woman who controls the rolling waves of red magic and the ferocity of your captain’s hardpressed gaze.
Your head bounces quickly. “Yes...”
A few words of compliance are cut off by a gasp. As you attempt to follow his order and return to his cabin, he halts you within his metallic grasp and pulls you back in, curled lips mere inches from your own, in the clutches of his brazen hold, he commands your attention. Your hands are forced to rest over his chest.
He drawls with a warning growl, “Yes?”
“Yes, Captain Barnes.”
Bucky nods his head once and lets you go, his eyes flicker between the cabin door and you, silently instructing you to hurry along. Your bare feet barely make a sound over the wooden deck in your traversal towards the cabin, where you would await your captain to claim his prize. Treasure that he greedily gets to have all to himself. The conquest he takes glee in ravishing himself full of.
Once you’re tucked inside, exactly where he wants you, Bucky scratches at his stubbled jaw, his recent shave already beginning to grow in again. Wanda approaches his side, the fabric of her magic ceasing at her fingertips like embers passing over into lowly ashes.
“That was a close one,” Bucky growls, his tongue that savours your taste runs over his teeth. She hisses with a hushed tone, “With each outing she is given to delve into the sea, my magic weakens, Captain.”
His eyes roll to glare at the woman beside him. She sighs with a bow of her head, eyes downcast as to not provoke him into thinking her words a challenge.
“All I mean to say is that you must reinforce her rules. She’s beginning to suspect far too much, and with each piece of recollection, my power is sapped by her own. Enforce her rules once more.”
Bucky’s shoulders shrug upwards with an all too arrogant huff, haughty in his conviction. He idly tilts his flesh hand, admiring the piece of you he has wrapped up in his iron grasp.
“She will do well to keep in mind her place. She’s intimidated.”
“She’s conflicted, Captain.” Her words bring about a scowl to Bucky’s face, lips coiled into a snarl and nose wrinkling, eyes thinning. “And it will be a matter of time before she is free of you, and you will be known as the captain who lost his siren.”
The bridge of this knowledge leaves Bucky in a state of strife. An aspect to his notorious reputation was garnered by your captivity. The White Wolf known by all as the fearsome pirate captain who tamed a siren; held you in the oyster of his clutches. If he did lose you, then his reputation would be suffering a heavy loss. As if to sense his change of demeanour, her hands raise up with her glowing, magic tipped fingers. His nostrils flare and the harsh prestige that made him a force not to be trifled with, he commands, “Do it.”
Bucky struts off with a roll of thunder beneath his leather worn boots, swiping up a half drunk bottle of rum and swallows an animalistic gulp, joining in on the festivities of his crew. Wanda observes her captain for a moment before diverting her attention towards the cabin. Her hands fold over one another, and with her palms outstretched, the scarlet hue dances through the air in a thin, cloudy blanket, searching and finding the miniscule gap beneath the wooden door.
He pummels into you until your back pushes far into the mattress, eliciting sharp whines and sultry moans from your parted lips, breath caught in a pattern of shallow pants. He chases after his second high as he drives his cock deep into you, the sound of skin slapping skin perverts the cabin’s air and already you begin to feel your core tremble in its own pursuit for its fourth orgasm. With each powerful snap of his hips, his throat chokes out a grunt in his exertions, the girth of his cock sinks deep into the channel of your hot, velvety cunt.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he growls lowly with a hiss, “so fuckin’ tight! You feel so good, you’re— taking me so well.”
With an exceptionally powerful rut of his hips and he has you on the precipice of screaming, thighs quivering in their hold around his waist, heels digging into the dip of his large, muscular back. Any coherent thoughts and words die on the vine of your vocal cords, only able to procure sounds of pleasure, to chant his name over and over again.
“Captain Barnes!” you mewl with fervour. Bucky’s chest vibrates with a husky chuckle. “That’s right, scream my name, let the crew hear you, Love. Let them hear how drunk you are for my cock.”
His one palm is laced with sweat, thick and roughened fingers squeeze yours in a passionate display of his dark possessiveness over you. Your captain could be very jealous when another’s eyes lingered on you for even a second too long, many others had suffered the brunt of his fury - weapons ablaze - and you in the end suffered the brunt of his envy with his cock pounding into you for the next several hours.
To remind you to whom it was you belong to.
His lips suckle one of the erected peaks of your breasts, moaning as his tongue leaves a wet trail around it before passing over to the second to repeat the treatment. Your head turns to the side sharply when the head of his cock splits you open even further than you could previously imagine, hitting a hidden crevice that leaves you without breath.
He gauges your reaction, the colour of your eyes blurring, phasing between the natural milky white canvases and the hue of your disguise, your canines and incisors now elongated, all because of the pleasure that pools at the junction where your bodies meet. But for a moment, you catch the glimmer of gold still wrapped around his hand, glimmering metal gnawing and rubbing across his skin, you’re torn between your euphoria and clouded curiosity.
“Say it again,” he grunts with a hard thrust that makes his muscles ripple insanely beneath his skin.
“C’mon, say it for your captain, Love.”
Your lips and tongue drag across the flesh of his wrist, the pulse of his racing heart beats through, you can almost taste the rhythm. His sweat tastes strong with his musk, a strong flavour of the salty sea, sandy beaches and gunpowder.
You moan softly, almost in a whisper, “Captain… C-Captain Barnes.”
The effect you have on him is indescribable to him. Never has he been able to put it into words, all he can do is feel it; carnally. The repetitive pounding into that deeper and sweeter spot has your back arching up, the smooth layer of your sweat covered body rubs against his, able to feel each defining muscle, he uses his metal hand to grip hold of one of your thighs, angling you so that you’re spread further apart for him. Your eyes begin to fall heavy and roll back into your skull in your drunken haze, the shimmer of scarlet presently blooms from time to time in them.
“That’s right. You belong to me, little Siren. It’s my cock that has you dripping wet.” His thrusts become faster, losing the precise edge he had before, his climax inevitably as close as your own. Your nails embed crescent moons into the skin of his one hand while the other bites into his shoulder.
“I’m the only man— fuck! The only man who gets to have you like this. Shit… shit. ’M going to fill you up.”
“Please, please… Cap—”
“Aye, I’m going to fill you up, have you nice ‘nd full until my cum is leaking out of your little cunt, Siren. Fuck… you want that, don’t you? I know you do.”
You gasp with each attempt to breathe, each push and pull of his cock strikes you like a match to light the powder keg, the explosion of your climaxes comes as a white hot flash in your vision, momentarily blinding you. Your hot walls squeeze around his large endowment, forcing him to thrust back and forth even harder, grunting hot breaths against the shell of your ear.
His seed is flushed into the channel of your pussy in thick, seething spurts that paint your walls that milk him for every precious drop.
What he gives makes your lower abdomen weigh a little heavier, a little bit fuller than you were before. His hips grow slower with each dissipating explosion from his tip. His large chest expands hugely with every intake of air to his lungs before deflating as a pleased groan.
In his reverie of contentment, having had his fill of his prize - for now - he withdraws his softening cock from your pussy, a moistened pop echoes in the emptiness of your thoughts. Bucky rolls off of you to lay at your side, atop the furs and silken drapes of the bed. Before you can make a move he uses his metal arm to drag you in closer, tucking you into his side, the coldness of his fingers skimming the delicate texture of your arm.
The soothing rock of the ship is enough to lull you to sleep, the lids of your eyes inching closer and closer together.
“Still deny that you found nothing?”
His question only brings your brows to knit together. You shake your head and huddle closer into his side, basking in the comforting warmth of his body. Why on earth would he ask you such a silly question? As if there was anything of importance that outranked him, by being at his side.
The answer you give is instant in its resolve, “I don’t understand, Captain. I needn’t find anything out there… I have you.”
Your answer, though unable to see it from your position, pleases him and his lips curl into a toothy smirk, long sweeps of his dark brown hair tousled about in his post sex state. You lay your head against his chest to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, eyes closing to seek rest and refuge in the arms of your beloved captain. The man that grants you safety, that promises you nights of passion followed by the comfort of his body next to yours. All he asks in return is your loyalty. Your devotion.
For you to be his siren.
Behind the blurry curtain of sleep layered over your eyes, you awaken and by your estimation, only for around an hour or maybe a little more. The morn still hasn’t risen over the ocean’s horizon, the moonlight shimmering and shining over the waves. The candlelight that bathed the cabin with a sensual atmosphere had now burnt out.
Breaths of deepened sleep sound next to you, the chiselled sculpt of his chest you’d used as a pillow takes steady form, as he sleeps. It makes you wonder as to what he dreams about, sometimes a scowl is etched into his attractive visage and he becomes restless, leaving you to somehow comfort him. And other times, mostly after he’s spent drawing orgasm after orgasm from the two of you, he finds respite.
You take the time to thoroughly yet delicately rub your eyes, robbing the tiredness of its hold to take you once more. With a tilt of your head, hair coming over your shoulder to graze the top of your breasts, his other hand lay out over the bed, residing just over the edge.
The mysterious object that somehow you know is linked with you, but as to how or why, or its significance to you in any case, is still laced around his calloused palm. Despite its odd gleam of familiarity, you believe this is the first time you’ve seen it before, however, the tiny voice in the back of your mind says otherwise. Then you must have seen something like it before somewhere.
Something deep in the recess of your heart, you have to know. Is this somehow linked to the estranged longing to a home you can’t remember? Does this necklace bind you to the lost melody of times erased from your memory?
You take caution in moving carefully, inching your way to lean over the sleeping form of your captain, skin brushing skin, you slowly rotate your hips and hoist a thigh over his waist. Heated crimson flushes into your cheeks as you analyse your newfound position, but also from the way his body stirs lightly, still enraptured by sleep yet his body adjusting to your core lining over his naval.
Thawed from your frozen idle of panic, you take a moment to calm the racing of your heart that hammers vigorously against your chest, your nimble fingers reach out towards his flesh hand that clings protectively to the mysterious necklace.
This almost feels… too easy. You swallow a silent gulp, fingers grazing against his palm when his body shifts, bumping up into yours, you pull your reach back so fast, your hand slaps against his ribs, doing your best to cover up your true intentions. His stills beneath you once more and your shoulders fall lax with a sigh of relief.
Again you dare another attempt to grab the necklace, this time you don’t risk breathing, holding it for what seems like forever until your lungs begin to swell with an ache that makes them feel like bubbles about to burst.
You work the chain until it's loosened and finally allow your held breath to escape you, the strain to remain silent proving far more difficult than you would have liked. The weight of your body shifts backwards, now sitting up, you allow your eyes to take in every detail of the object in your hands. The gold chain is light, ghostly as it graces your hands, your fingers lace and loop it around amidst the process of your conjuring thoughts.
Like a puppeteer pulling the strings you raise the necklace up by its precious thread. The pearl encaged by its makeshift net swings from side to side, as though even when you are completely still, it has a soul of its own accord.
Everything you knew about pearls is forfeit, the identity of this one brings the bevel between your brows to form in thoughtful wonder. Therein lies the piece of some puzzle, the missing notes to the melody to which you only recall the faint rhythm of the song.
It has to mean something of greater importance. But if it did, then why is your captain so adamant to dismiss your curious nature to find the answers?
As if the pearl itself is the key, you hear within your heart and soul the song. Voices sing a tone that is calming to your senses, a sweet and endearing lullaby meant for you to hear whenever you find yourself in the loneliest of places, in the darkest reaches of the ocean, the connection will bring you somewhere you call home.
But your home is The Avenger. Aboard the ship with Captain Barnes. The man known as Bucky to his closest inner circle. So why do the voices mingling with the tide call you away from all that? With each passing second you become ensnared by the spell of the pearl, the voices of whom you somehow find solace in become louder, the softened chorus of their song echoes a hundred times over in your head.
Before you even give pause to reason, your own voice becomes paired with the orchestra of sirens. You have no words, and maybe you never did, all you did need is the pearl to help guide you in remembering the melody. The uncertainty of your humming eases, the unforeseen instructors aiding you, your voice is soft within its deep reverie when it all comes to an abrupt pause, a gasp severing the tune.
He has you by the wrist, fingers bruisingly tight and giving you no choice to pull away from him, as he often did whenever he saw you retreat from him without his say so.
Bucky’s eyes bear into yours, penetrating the barrier of the necklace, he stares you down the way a wolf does the lonely prey in its path. His eyes match the brooding darkness of a storm at sea, a breed of villainy that threatens those who dare to try him.
“Captain…” Your throat bobs with a nervous swallow. “I– I wasn’t—”
Out of pure instinct to not tempt his fury, your hold on the necklace ceases and it gathers in the roughened pad of his palm, large thumb that has caressed your sensitive nub plenty of times now works against the spherical shape of the pearl, brows heavy in their judgement to assess your punishment. His movement is sudden upon the brink of your awareness, a sharp gasp that cuts into the tender muscle of your chest as he plants you flat on your back, hands both of flesh and metal pin your wrists on either side of you until the bruising ache becomes far too unbearable. But you do nothing to voice the level of your pain. He would not hear of it. His newly erected shaft ghosts over your entrance, the beginnings of your slick painting his already drooling tip.
“I’m beginning to think you like breaking my rules, Siren.”
#female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#pirate au#pirate bucky#siren reader#bucky smut#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#bucky x reader smut#bucky x reader
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