#you can fear someone departing from you but you can never take the love away and trying to avoid it to relieve yourself of the pain- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghost-proofbaby · 10 months

Note

Can I request Back to December with Eddie?! and if you could make it kind of angsty 🫣🥹

back to december (eddie's version)

warnings: angsty. very, very angsty. hurt/no comfort.

wc: 2.6k+

a/n: fuck it we ball. i have nothing to say about this one. if it's trash, that's between me and god.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie.

Maybe it was due to his upbringing, maybe he was another victim of circumstance, but love and him had always had a complicated relationship. It had left him scorned usually, a long line of failed situationships that trail behind him like ghosts of his pasts. Times he let bury themselves, relationships he’d get involved in knowing he’d never achieve the kind of love he’d seen in books and movies. Other people would talk about their small town romances, and he would only think of all the one night stands he’d subjected himself in which tore off a piece of himself every time he’d depart. He was the type of person to be used, to be drained of what fun the other participant could suck him dry of and then discarded for the next one. He wasn’t relationship material – he wasn’t love material.

Until you. And how unexpected you had been.

You, who was suddenly sitting in front of him in a coffee shop, hunched over your laptop and no doubt working on finishing up classwork for that degree you’d always talked about getting with him. You, who had been the exact opposite of someone Eddie would have ever anticipated falling for. You, who had never looked at him as something to use and to discard, but to have and to hold. You, the one (and possibly only) exception to everything he thought he knew.

You’re just as stunning as you had been on late summer afternoons in the passenger seat of his van. Same messy hair, same glowing eyes, same jestering lilt to your lips that seemed ever present even in the most serious of situations. Even with brows furrowed and new stress lines in your forehead, a slight pucker of your lips at whatever was on the screen in front of you and accentuated eyebags that hadn’t been there in your past life but now exist in the here and now, most likely a symptom of the long hours you’d always been willing to put in for the things you wanted – you still took his breath away, even now.

The first time you’d ever spoken to Eddie, he had considered it a cruel joke. You were beautiful, someone who entered the room and everyone just knew you were the smartest person there. Teachers loved you, others at the very least tolerated you if not admired you. It prodded at every insecurity he’d already harbored. All his fears of not being good enough, of being judged for his repeating years, of forever being doomed to be worn as a mark of shame rather than a badge of pride had been put in front of him with a pretty bow on top. You were something to show off. You were something good. But those wide eyes that had slowly pulled him in, had broken down all his defenses. He’d never stood a chance.

“Eddie?”

It’s not your voice, but that of the barista sitting down his order on the pickup counter. But his name still tears you from your concentration, and when you pale at the sight of him, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he had been staring.

They have to call out his name a second time before he moves to grab the coffee, turning his back on you just as he had all those ages ago. His fight or flight kicks in; he doesn’t know whether it would be better to leave it as it is and hurry out of this coffeeshop with his tail between his legs, or if for once in his life, it was worth leaning into the discomfort. Instead of running from that crackling in his chest and all the hurt flooding him the same as that final time he’d seen you, maybe he should take a deep breath and dive right in.

Would you even recognize him as he recognized you? Would your soul see his as if for the first time all over again, and sadly smile with a whisper of, oh. There you are, again?

Or would you pretend to be strangers again? Would you pretend like all the history had faded to smoke and he was just some guy you’d bumped into at a cafe? Would you give him the honor of wiping his slate clean and just starting over, as if he’d never hurt you?

He had been an idiot when it came to you. A loser who had been handed a gift on a silver platter, and instead of cherishing it until the end of time, he’d ruined it. Ruined you.

The decision is made long before his palm wraps around the overly warm cup, and his feet carry him to your table before doubt would wrap its chords around his throat.

His chest flutters just like it had in the autumn when he’d first realized that how he felt for you was different. As the leaves of Hawkins had changed color, so had his feelings, turning their own brilliant and vibrant shades between him draping his leather jacket across your shoulders and the gentle kisses you’d wake him with before the sun even rose. Quiet and private moments between just the two of you that Hawkins had never bore witness to. Hazy afternoons spent under the guise of tutoring him in subjects like math and science bled into dinner dates at Benny’s, sharing milkshakes and him teaching you how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue.

He had loved you. He still loves you. And he’d been a fool, because it had never occurred to him that during those Autumnal months, more than just the leaves or just him had been falling.

Even the warmth of all your love that he had been blind to wasn’t enough to stave off the chill that had crept in by that December. Winter was cruel. You’d both learned that the hard way. One bad argument, one stormy night, and it had all fallen apart. He’d lost you — he’d lost that ray of sunshine in his life, the one thing that should have kept him warm through icey December nights. All over something that had started off over a disagreement of future plans and unraveled into an argument over differences.

His voice cracks as he stands before you, eyes wide as he says, “Hey.”

When you look back up at him this way, it’s hard to believe that he never saw it. That love, swirling with endless depth. That quiet but firm matter of fact that you loved him, and a piece of you if not all of you always would, even after he’d shattered your heart on the ground carelessly.

“Hi,” your voice is meek. Even after nearly a year, all it took was him being here, and you felt the person you’d worked so hard to build from scratch fall right apart, exposing all your old wounds and still-sensitive nerves. Before Eddie, you’d always seemed so sure of yourself.

He should walk away. He should leave you be. He should just live with what he’d done, the damage he’d inflicted, and let you continue to heal.

He can’t. “Is this seat taken?”

You hesitate as you stare at the chair that his hand lands on the back of, and he doesn’t blame you. He isn’t sure he’d let him take that seat either.

“No,” you answer honestly, clearly against your better judgment, “It’s… open.”

There were a million other seats he could have taken. A plethora of empty tables he could have chosen over your currently occupied one. Hell, he could have even just walked out of there and let your soul rest. But for the life of him, he couldn’t. Because you’re here, and you’re only staring at him rather than cursing him with every foul name under the sun like he deserves, and all of the rotten parts inside of him are clawing out for your kindness. Like a child desperate for comfort, like a wounded animal taking shelter.

He takes that seat wordlessly, and watches you slowly shift your laptop out from in between you two.

You clear your throat first, offering that first olive branch, “How’ve you been?”

He almost wants to wave your question off. He’s been giving a rare opportunity and almost can’t stomach the thought of wasting it on small talk.

“Good,” he forces the answer out, “We, uh- we got picked up as openers for a tour this summer.”

We as in the band. The thing he’d put above you. He just might regret that decision for the rest of his days.

You’d had a college plan. He’d had a drop out plan. But you had still tried to fight tooth and nail for him; you'd given up a fraction of your reputation for him, a side effect of being associated with the freak, and you hadn’t even blinked an eye. It had been the bare minimum, at least in your eyes, but to him it had been a sign that he was nothing but poison for you. It went further than just the fact that you had your shit together and he didn’t. Once the first weak spot had his attention, all the fragile delicacies that your relationship hung on by did. He stopped ‘studying’ with you at Benny’s, choosing Hellfire Club over you. He always forgot to congratulate you on your accomplishments, whereas you never missed a beat in recognizing his. It was always him taking, taking, taking. He had watched you give, endlessly, over and over, and convinced himself that one day, he’d bleed you dry. He convinced yourself it was better to break your heart than to drain you for all that you were worth. He’d never considered your perspective of it all.

“That’s amazing,” you should be scathing, hurt and angry to have to hear about how the very thing he’d broken your heart over was working out for him. But you aren’t, and you both know you never could be; you were happy for him and still cheering him on, even after all the damage done between you two, “What’s the band you’re opening for?”

Stiff, cool small talk continues. Talk of this band that had so graciously taken Corroded Coffin under their wing. Discussions of the weather. Comments on the college you’d been accepted into, and confirmation you had been working on class work when he’d found you. You had a full ride. He tries to remember all the times you’d discussed your specific accomplishments that would award that, if you’d ever bragged about your GPA to him or any of the extracurricular activities you’d taken part in for a shiny bit on your applications. But he can’t recall them; maybe he had just gotten too jealous at the time, or maybe you’d been aware of the hurt it would have caused him and avoided the bragging rights. (It was the latter. God, he knows it’s the latter, but it hurts to admit it).

It’s painful. So, so utterly and terribly uncomfortable. He once knew everything about you. The mundane things like your favorite song to belt out with the windows down, and the remarkable things like how it felt to feel your heartbeat pressed to his while his bedroom window was open on frigid November nights. He’ll never know that feeling again. He’ll never feel your breath sync with his, and he’ll never get the chance to not take for granted that serenity you’d always offered with open palms in his direction.

When the conversation dwindles and the coffee goes lukewarm, he knows it has to end. He’d replayed this scenario a million times — rehearsed his apologies and tormented himself with endings where you took him back. You’d forget the past and drop your guard as you welcomed him back into your arms. The night he should have vocalized his fears of dragging you down with him but instead claimed you were holding him back would be erased. His pride would become a caged animal who had spent enough time roaming free and wreaking havoc on the best things in his life. Everything would go back to the way it was. Everything would be okay again. In his mind, that’s how this should have gone.

It didn’t. But he could still offer at least one piece of his dress rehearsals to you, leave at least one bandage behind for the trouble he’s caused.

“I’m sorry, you know,” he stumbles out, and it’s not nearly as smooth as all the words he’d repeated to the mirror, “I’m sorry for the way things ended.”

You’d loved him. Really, really loved him. And he’d taken it for granted, he had used it and discarded it for all it had been worth.

He’d always known you were smart. You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, even if that love still burrowed in the channel of your heart frozen in time, forever cursed to a loop of the December night he’d chosen to chew you up and spit you back out.

“Don’t be,” you smile sadly, and he sees the glimpse of the you that still loves him, that still wants the best for him. The piece of you that will always treat him better than he deserves, “We got everything we wanted, right? It all worked out in the end.”

“Right.”

His tongue is dry, almost swollen, heavy in his throat.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that no, he didn’t get everything he wanted. None of it worked out in the end. Because at the end of the day, he finds that the only thing he really wants is you, and he will never have you again. You had treated him so well, had been so damn good to and for him, and he hadn’t known what to do with himself. Some foolish part of him still believes that with the knowledge he finally holds now, he could treat you better — treat you right. But he can’t. He’ll never even get the chance. He’ll never even deserve the chance.

An exchange of goodbyes. A final glance. An acceptance that even if he locked away his pride now, it had already dug its claws into you, and the scars would always remain.

He leaves more unspoken words in that coffee shop, at that table with you and your cold latte, than he can count. You both promise to reach out to each other more often, but you both know it won’t happen.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He never does these days.

Repentance churns his chest, a familiar friend, and demands to be felt until he can see the sun begin to rise through the curtains of his hotel room. He swears he feels the ghost of gentle lips kissing his cheeks, whispering to come to bed, but it might just be the wind.

There may only be a small piece of you frozen to that night and all your time together, and you may still have a possibility of thawing from the cold that he left you out in, but there is no such luxury for Eddie. He’ll always be there. Repeating words he doesn’t mean, watching tears well in your eyes as he destroys everything he’d ever wished for, setting aflame the one thing he could have done right in his life.

He writes another song about it, ignores the tear stains on the paper and adds it to the collection of all the ones that came before it.

Across the city, your pillow matches the sheet of lyrics. Tears shed that Eddie would never be able to recognize through his own smoke and ash.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie. Regret, on the other hand, always would — always, for as long as you exist somewhere out there, frozen in December.

“And I think about summer, all the beautiful times when I watched you laughing from the passenger side – and realized I loved you in the fall.”

#speak now (ghost's version)#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #the power it took to resist adding any more lore than what i did #this is one of my top songs on the album fuck #no one understands how badly i wanted to add a flashback to those summer times and then the mention of fall #that's one of those lines that makes my heart ache when i hear it every single time #you know what? loosely based on real events #being told i was 'too good' and 'too smart' for someone and that's why they broke my heart really has happened to me #like cool i don't really understand but cool #ANYWAYSSSS

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detectivestucks · 21 days

Text

A Jealous Hokage XV

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader x Obito

Summery: Last chapter babes! You start your new role as the intelligence department head and go on your first date only to be interrupted by work. The night's activities resulting in a surprise.

Warnings: NSFW, sexual teasing, toy usage, biting, nipple play, unprotected penetration, mentions of period.

Word Count: 7.3k

Art Credit: @akirasukuna

Part 14 New Here? Check out Part 1

A/N: Lightly edited so be kind.

There he is, the last person you wanted to see. So why did his mere presence in your doorway steal your breath? Maybe it was how he stood there tall and slender, hair in a pristine swoop, red armband snug around his bicep, and soft brown eyes focused on your starstruck face.

The two of you stand there, staring at each other, unable to think, speak, or move.

His apologetic face makes it all feel raw. Once more tearing open your wounds. Seeing his hurt expression did exactly what you feared it would. The love never went away, it pangs your heart to see him. How are you supposed to work together when there is this much tension caught between you?

“May I…may I come in?”

“I guess”

Kakashi hesitantly strides into your new office, inspecting the floors, walls and oak desk.

“Congratulations by the way.”

“Thank you Lord Sixth”

Kakashi visibly cringes. “Please don’t ever call me by that title again.”

“Kakashi, there’s a time and a place-”

“Not with you there’s not.”

“Kashi…”

You don’t know what to say in response to the pain coating his face. He regretted it. He has so many regrets in his life but the ones that lead to losing you hurt the most. One expects to lose loved ones during times of war, but he never expected to lose you. He thought you were his just as much as he was yours, but he was wrong.

“How-how are you doing?” you ask

Kakashi looked down. A normal question for most conversations but between the two of you it was loaded like a gun.

“I don’t think I can bring myself to answer that honestly right now.” he says with downcast eyes.

Your gaze drops to the floor. “I’m sorry.” you whisper. You never wanted things to be like this between you.

In a deep low voice you hear Kakashi respond, “That’s what I should be saying to you.”

“You’ve already apologized enough.”

“No, I haven’t. I could never apologize enough.”

“Kakashi, I-” but the words get caught in your choked throat as your eyes turn up to see tears streaming down Kakashi’s cheeks while he continues to stare at the floor. You rush over to hug him, incapable of seeing him so heartbroken. You bury your face in his chest. “It’ll be okay Kashi.”

He silently hugs you and cries as you feel your heart being ripped from your chest. You did this to him. You caused him this pain. This is what regret feels like. You start to bawl into his vest.

“I’m sorry Kakashi. I didn’t mean it. I was just hurt and I felt like I was backed into a corner. I wish I could take it back.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” He squeezes you tight. “Please, I only have myself to blame.”

“No Kakashi, you’re a good man.” You lift your teary face from his chest to stare into his eyes. “Amazing in fact.”

Kakashi’s soft eyes sparkled as they looked down on you. Overcome by a wave of affection, he leans down to press his lips into yours when you pull back.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I-”

That’s when it hit you. It felt wrong. Pulling away from Kakashi felt wrong. Trying to tell him there was someone else felt wrong. Choosing Obito was wrong.

You look back up at Kakashi’s crushed face. There was someone else, he knows it. And he’s pretty sure who knows who too. “I’m sorry. I overstepped.” Kakashi quickly withdraws from your arms and retreats to his office, trying to collect his emotions.

“Kakashi, wait!”

You run after him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling so he’d turn around and face you. “Please Kakashi, don’t go.”

“Are you dating him?” He snuffles

“No…it was only one night and we never got the chance to talk about it.”

“What do you mean you never got the chance?”

“He kinda freaked out when I said I was going to take the position with Gaara.”

That piece of news caught Kakashi off guard. “You were gonna leave?”

You bite your lip and l look to the side feeling a little awkward. “...well, yeah… I just didn’t have any reason to stay and it would’ve been a promotion for me so...”

Kakashi’s eyes fall to the floor. “I’m sorry I put you in a position where you wanted to leave. I-I would’ve really missed you but… I would’ve been proud of you too. It was a good offer.”

“Thank you…but please stop apologizing.”

Kakashi’s eyes fluttered up to look at you. “I don’t think I can.”

You feel solemn and need comfort. “May I hug you again?”

“You don’t have to ask”

You dive in to embrace him, squeezing him tight.

“I still love you.” you whisper

“I love you too.” he whispers back.

Tears leak out of your eyes as the two of you stand there holding each other. You almost feel yourself center as you soak in his body heat and his scent. You take one last deep breath before he speaks.

“I, um, I need to get back to my office. I have a mission briefing to complete.”

“Okay” you whisper as you withdraw from him.

He kisses the top of your head before he lets you go. His glassy eyes looking down at you with complete adoration. You catch his hand as it drops from your shoulder and hold it in yours.

“I uh-I think I need to have a talk with Obito…”

“Yeah?...”

You can hear the hope in his husky dry voice.

“Yeah.”

After giving his hand a quick squeeze you let it go, walking backwards towards your door, maintaining eye contact with him till you reach the threshold. You lean against the doorframe staring at him. A small smile gracing your lips.

“I’ll see you later Kashi.”

He turns away to walk to his office when he stops and looks over his shoulder.

“See you later, Angel.”

A smile stretching his lips under his noir mask before he walks away. You linger a little while longer, watching him walk away before you turn back inside your office and close the door, finishing what you started.

********************************************

Kakashi sits down working on his mission report for Obito. After a half hour he hears a knock on the double doors.

“Enter”

Obito turns the knob, stepping in a bit nervous. It was the first time he’d seen Kakashi since professing his love to you and he wasn’t sure how to act. Should he tell him? Should he ask permission to date you? Should he wait? He didn’t know what to do.

“Hey Kakashi”

Kakashi clears his throat, “Uh, Hey.”

Kakashi extends the mission briefing that was on his desk towards Obito. “Here’s everything you need to know for your next mission.”

“This is the one that’s gonna be a little over a month?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Obito grabs the scroll and unfurls it, giving it a once over. He turns to leave but before he walks out he pauses. “I’m sorry Kakashi...”

“I’m sorry too, Obito.”

Kakashi’s response caught Obito off guard. He had no idea why Kakashi would apologize to him. He had done nothing wrong, but instead of questioning him he just nodded his head and strode away heading home to pack.

At his house Obito put a change of clothes, some food pills, and medical supplies in his pack. Stashing some creature comforts in his void, he stopped a moment in the vast gray space to think. He needed to see you. He didn’t want you to leave him but maybe he could come with you. The Leaf and the Sand were allies. Maybe they would welcome him, allow him to join their shinobi forces. Taking a deep breath he focuses on the image of your home and materializes there.

You leap off the couch out of terror. “Obito!! What the hell?! You scared me!”

Obito only laughs in his rich raspy voice that makes you close your eyes and hum.

“Sorry Princess”, he says as he approaches and kisses you deeply in a breath stealing kiss.

You melt slightly in his arms, enjoying the feeling of him embracing you.

This is gonna be harder than I thought.

He finally releases your lips and presses his forehead against yours, “Hi Princess.” He pecks your cheek before standing up to his full height.

You take a moment to recover from the searing heat on your lips and cheek as you gather your wits. “Hi Obi”

You look up into his adoring eyes and feel yourself shrink.

“I leave for a mission tomorrow and I wanted to talk to you.”

“I wanted to talk to you too.”

“I’d like to go first.”

You bite your lip before you agree, offering to sit down while you speak. Obito takes your hand and begins to play with it, watching how he toys with your fingers as he speaks.

“I know you want to move to the Sand and if that’s what you need to do, I support you and maybe…maybe I’ll go with you.” His eyes snap up to your face, reading your expression. “I love you and, I-I want to make this work.”

You feel your heart twist in your rib cage. Your eyebrows falling to an empathetic gaze.

“Obito…I umm…”

He takes your hand and squeezes it, lifting it to his lips to give it a kiss.

“Obito, I have news.”

“Yeah?”

“Lady Tsunade, she came to the flower shop last night.” he looks at you with keen interest.

“And…she offered me the position of Intelligence Department Head.”

“That’s amazing!” He hugs you tightly and you can tell he’s brimming with pride.

“But-um, Obito, I…” You push him off of you to look him in the eye as you speak the next few words. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Obito, I, I don’t think-”

“-don’t say it.”

“Obito-”

“Please Princess, don’t.” He looks down in his lap and you can quite visibly see his heart shattering before your eyes. “I already know where you’re going with this.”

“Obito-”

“I was in Kakashi’s office earlier and he apologized to me. …now I know why.”

“I’m sorry. I have feelings for you but-”

“I already know.” Tears start to leak out of your eyes as he speaks. “You’ve always been his…I wish I had met you first. If I had just met you first then just maybe…”He drops his head defeated, tears freely falling from his lashline.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes…”

“But you love him more…”

“I’m sorry. I really am, but Obito, you don’t deserve to be someone’s second choice. You should be her first.”

“Not if she’s you.”

“No Obi.” You begin to cry.

He pulls you into a hug and you can feel tear drops fall into your hair. “It’s okay Princess. I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He squeezes you tighter before pulling back to kiss your forehead. Murmuring softly,

“I love you. I probably always will, so just be happy for me. Okay?”

“Okay” you sob.

He pulls you in for one more hug, “I gotta go finish packing for my mission. I’ll see you around, Princess.”

He releases you and stands up. His eyes locked on yours as he swirls away. Leaving you alone on your couch staring blankly at the space he left.

********************************************

Sunday passed in a blur but now it’s Monday morning and you are a nervous mess. You changed your outfit several times before settling on a simple cream colored knitted body con dress with gold stud earrings, and low heels. You stride into your new office and take a seat behind the big oak desk, taking a moment to savor it.

You hear a familiar light knock on the doorframe and look up to see Kakashi holding a flower in his hand.

“May I come in Ms. Department Head?”

A smile splits your face. “Yes, Mr. Hokage.”

Kakashi walks in and extends the flower in his hand. “This is for you.”

“Thank you.”

You grab the flower, resisting the urge to pull down his mask, giving him a peck on the cheek instead.

“I’m sure Lady Tsunade will be in soon looking for you. There’s a translation about the Otsutsuki that she wants your opinion on.”

“Oh, that could be serious.”

“Yes, it could be. Plus she’s your biggest fan. …besides me of course.”

You can’t help the rose color that flushes your cheeks at his words. Looking at the ground unable to handle his flattery. A singular finger lifts your chin, causing your eyes to flutter up to his.

“You’re going to be brilliant. You’re incapable of anything less.”

Your cheeks tint from pink to red.

“Don’t go giving me a big head, Kashi.”

He chuckles and kisses your nose. “We have a briefing with the entire Intelligence Department in 30 minutes and then a council meeting right after. Then you and I are grabbing lunch. Okay?”

“Got it.” you smile with a nod.

Kakashi turns to leave just as Lady Tsunade walks in.

“Lord Sixth”

“Lady Fifth”

The two smile as Kakashi turns down the hall.

“Well Y/N, I see you’re in your new office.”

“Yes. Just as you asked”

“And I see you and Kakashi are doing better.”

“Uh, I uh…” you scratch the base of your ponytail as Tsunade laughs at you.

“Oh this is gonna be a fun day!”

“Lady Tsunade-”

“Relax! Come on, here”

She pulls out a small vile of sake from her coat pocket and takes a sip, extending it to you.

“Lady Tsunade!” you squeal with wide eyes.

“Come ooon! It’s not big deal. I did it all the time as Hokage.”

You quickly glance over to the door before taking the bottle and having a drink.

“Thata girl!”

“You’re so embarrassing.” you laugh as you hand the sake back

“Come on, let me show you what the current projects are before we get to the department briefing.”

“Sounds good.”

The rest of the morning went well. There was not a single smirk or snicker during your introduction as the new department head. Shiho talked to you afterwards and told you that they had been struggling quite a bit since you left. This gave you some vindication as you enjoyed the thought of them regretting their earlier teasing.

The meeting with the counsel went well too. They did bring up some rules about interpersonal relationships which left you flustered but all around they seemed pleased to welcome you into their ranks.

After everyone was dismissed, you went to the breakroom to get some hot water for your tea. You stand up in the empty room and put your mug on the counter as you steep the tea bag when strong arms envelop you.

“Hi” a deep whisper softly speaks in your ear.

“Hi” you hum back as you sink into Kakashi’s arms.

You spin around to face him and bury your nose in his chest as your arms sling around his waist. He nudges the top of your head with his masked nose and you look up at him.

“There’s those pretty eyes I missed so much.” He smiles

“Yeah? What else did you miss?” you giggle

Kakashi slides your mug to the side and lifts you up onto the countertop, spreading your legs so he can slot himself between them. He lowers his mask before wrapping his arms back around you.

“I missed these lips.”

“Yeah?” you breathe the sound barely audible as you lean in.

Your mouths connect in a hot and passionate kiss swirling your minds and leaving everything hazy. You forget for a moment that you’re not on your kitchen counter at home as you moan into him, wrapping your legs around his waist and threading your fingers into his hair. Deep wimpers come from him as he pulls you closer, letting desire get the better of him. His hands fist your clothes and he feels himself about to get carried away when he pulls back.

The both of you pant heavily as you calm yourselves down.

“Sorry, I-I missed you.”

You nuzzle your face into his neck. “I missed you too.”

You continue to hold each other as you let your ankles unhook and fall to either side of Kakashi’s hips.

Kakashi hears footsteps approaching and grabs your hand, to steady you as you hop off of the counter.

“Lunch?”

“Lunch sounds good.”

The two of you hold hands as you walk through the halls. It felt right to stand by his side, your fingers interlaced with his. You hold your head high as you walk past the gawking faces. You weren’t going to let other people’s opinions bother you anymore. They can say what they wanna say. You know your worth and you know how you feel. You grip Kakashi’s hand tighter causing him to turn and look at you. He sees your lips pull up at the corners and he can feel his heart soar.

********************************************

After a week, everything was going good. Like really good. Not even your period could ruin your mood after the week you’ve had. The transition into your new position went smoothly and on Friday you left the building with a skip in your step. On your way out you stopped by Kakashi’s office but noticed he went home already. You couldn't blame him for slipping away after all the late nights he had this week. So you went on your way home to go relax on your couch. Only when you arrive home you find Kakashi standing outside your door with a bouquet of roses and baby’s breath.

“What’s this?”

“Y/N, will you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

“Us? Go on a date?” You say with a smile on your face.

“Yes. A date. A real date. Like a real couple.”

“I don’t know, that sounds a little too normal for us.”

“Don’t make me beg.”

You laugh as you throw your arms around him. “Of course I’ll go on a date with you, but can we wait till my period is finished? I don’t wanna be all bloated and gross.”

Now it was Kakashi’s turn to laugh. “You could never be bloated and gross to me.”

You give him a smooch on the cheek. “I know, I know, you love running red lights.”

Kakashi laughs nuzzling into you. “So when can I take you out?”

“Monday.”

“Then I’m making a reservation for Monday.”

“A reservation? Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just dress to impress and let me handle dinner”

You give him a slightly suspicious look before breaking into a smile. “Fine, I guess.”

“Now about running those red lights…”

“Sorry, Mr. Horn Dog.” you say as you poke him in the forehead with your finger.

“Fine …”

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck before you finally move to put your key in the door.

“Come on, let's go inside.”

********************************************

All day on Monday Kakashi was an absolute tease. You walked into your office to find a bouquet of flowers already sitting on your desk with a note: Can’t wait for tonight, my Angel

You smile as you set the note down on your desk.

During your weekly briefing with your team, you catch Kakashi slide into the back of the room. He leans against the wall, folding his arms, and gives you that stare you only see when he wants to take you in the closet. Your throat goes dry mid-sentence causing your voice to crack. You gave Kakashi a quick look before he smiled and walked out of the room.

In a council meeting he sits down next to you and keeps his hand on the inside of your thigh, making you clench your legs together. Moreover in the hallways, when no one is around, he presses you up against the wall, his breath tickling your ear as he tells you exactly what he wants to do to you during dinner tonight. The two of you hadn’t been intimate since before your last mission and the sexual tension is causing you to slowly snap. Finally you were nearing the end of the day, however, after a quick meeting in the Hokage’s office he corners you once the room is vacant. Kakashi cages you in with his arms and props his leg between yours.

“Ms. Yamanaka, where do you think you’re going?”

The position steals your breath away.

“I, umm, I was going to go back to my office, Lord Kakashi.”

“I think instead you better head home and get ready for a very important evening.”

“I should?” you say as a whisper, still feeling breathless from the compromising position.

“Yes, you have a very hungry man anxious to see you.”

“But I don’t get off for another hour.”

“Maybe the Hoakge is willing to grant you permission to leave early. He also wanted me to tell you to wear this.”

Kakashi slips out the pink vibrating pad from the Gala and pushes it into your hands. Your eyes dart back up to his and you immediately chew on your lip out of nervousness.

“Consider it an apology for sleeping with Obito.”

“Yes, Sir” you whisper in his ear as you tuck the pad away feeling your mouth going dry at the memory of last time he made you wear this.

“Now hurry home, Angel. I don’t want you to be late.”

********************************************

Kakashi was right to send you home early. You took an extra long time getting ready cause you wanted to look perfect. Just like you did for the Gala, you style your hair into long soft waves, pinned back on one side. You bring out the earrings and bracelet Kakashi got you for the Gala, and slip on your strappy black heels. Standing in front of the mirror you smooth out the wrinkles in the black fabric with your hands as you admire your choice in dress. It was a beautiful all satin strapless corset top with a calf-length flowing chiffon skirt, complete with a little thigh slit just how Kakashi likes.

You hear a light rap on the door and go to answer it. There stood Kakashi in a white button up with a black tie and gray dress slacks. And of course in the hands of the Copy Ninja is a bouquet of flowers.

“Wow Kashi, you look so handsome.”

“Look who’s talking. You are absolutely breathtaking, my love.”

He steps inside so he can remove his mask to give you a proper kiss. After your lips disconnect he hands you the flowers.

“These are for you, Angel.”

You take them and giggle. “At this rate I’m going to run out of vases Kashi.”

He lets out a light chortle before he grabs your waist and pulls you near.

“You ready for dinner?”

“Of course.”

Arm snug around your waist, the two of you walk to a beautiful and very fancy restaurant. Apparently it was an establishment frequented by the Feudal Lord. They had live music and extravagant decorations. Everything was plated in gold, the walls, the plates, the chopsticks. You felt timid to touch anything so expensive, lest you break it.

“Kashi, this is quite the space”

“I wanted to go big for our first date. Plus there are certain perks to being Hokage.”

“I don’t know if I belong in a place like this.” You say as your eyes dart around the room nervously.

“Angel, you most definitely fit in a place like this. You are finally standing in a room almost as beautiful as you are.”

Kakashi tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear looking down on you with every drop of adoration a human could possibly muster. The two of you are led to a secluded table near the back of the restaurant. You sit down beside each other and not a second too soon your breath hitches as Kakashi turns on the pad. Your hand immediately shoots out to clutch his bicep in an attempt to brace yourself. Kakashi cooly reaches over, resting his hand on your thigh, stroking it with his thumb.

“Something wrong dear?”

You turn your head with wide eyes and Kakashi increases the intensity. Your fingers dig deeper into his arm as you attempt to catch your breath.

A huge smirk is seen under his mask.

“It’s not funny Kashi!” you say in a panic, feeling yourself pant from the vibrations tickling your clit.

“I’d beg to differ. Now be a good girl and enjoy yourself.”

“Kashi-”

“Good Evening!” The waiter interjects.

“Good Evening!” Kakashi greets sitting up straight

“Hi” you say looking down. Redness flooding your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Can I start you off with any drinks tonight?”

“Two glasses of awamori, please”

“Great, and have you had a chance to look over the menu?”

“Actually we will get two of what the Feudal Lord normally has.”

The waiter raises a brow at Kakashi, knowing the price tag of the meal but Kakashi simply smiles beneath his mask and nods. Satisfied, the waiter returns the nod and heads to the kitchen. As soon as the waiter is out of earshot Kakashi turns off the pad allowing you to breathe.

“Well that was fun.” he says as you pant beside him.

“It most certainly is not.”

Kakashi turns the pad back on. “I wholeheartedly disagree.” he muses before leaning in and whispering in his deep voice, “I love watching you squirm in public.”

“S’not fair, Kashi.” you cry as your eyes screw shut in the intense pleasure of the vibrator.

“Sweet Angel, can we have a nice meal before you get so needy?” he jests

You open your eyes pleading with him to turn it off. You feel your underwear soak and you’re worried your arousal is seeping onto your dress.

“Tell me, how wet is my Angel?”

“Kashi,” your hand goes back to gripping him “People will think I’ve wet myself.”

You spread your legs and readjusted the position of your hips to let the pad sink between your folds even more.

“Mmmm, seems like you wanna ride.”

Your head nods to the side, your mouth falling open. You feel yourself going dumb to the stimulation and shift slightly back and forth on the pad.

‘What a good girl.”

You turn towards him and bury your face in his shoulder. “This is so embarrassing.” you whisper as you continue to rut on the pad.

“I’m going to need you to cum before our waiter gets back, my love. I’d hate for him to see you like this.”

Your embarrassment dusts a shade of crimson on the tips of your ears as you rub more purposefully against the pad. Kakashi bumps up the vibrations and your knees begin to shake. Your breath catches in your throat before you fully collapse against Kakashi. Finally he turns off the toy right as the waiter arrives with your drinks and food.

Everything about dinner was nothing short of amazing. The food, the drink, the conversation, you wanted to commit every moment of it to memory. This was turning into one of the best nights of your life until a member of intelligence approaches your table.

“Lord Hokage, forgive me. A raven came in, they need Ms. Yamanaka’s assistance urgently.”

You and Kakashi look at each other, then back at the messenger.

“Give us a moment to settle our tab and we will be right there.”

The three of you make your way over to headquarters, speed walking across the village in your high heels. As you walk you are briefed on the situation. The Sand asked for an emergency intelligence consultation. A band of rogue shinobi have been raiding the outskirts of the village but are starting to escalate in violence. Tonight they came across a warning in an unknown language. They don’t know if it’s a cypher or a dead language but since the Leaf is notorious for their intelligence team’s translations, they are asking for your help. The only clue they can make out is the date which shows tomorrow.

Upon entry, you ask that the memo and the scroll be brought to your office where you have your textbooks. All the usual faces arrive including Shikamaru and Shiho. Much to your dismay it is not in fact a rare language but is rather a cypher.

“Kakashi, can you get Gaara on the phone? We’re gonna need someone with more knowledge about the Land of Wind to help us crack this one.”

********************************************

With the help of Gaara, Timarri, the Sand’s Intel team, as well as Kakashi, Shiho, and Shikamaru, you discovered that the note worked two ways. With one letter shift, it warned of a bombing to the village gates, however with a different letter shift it warned of a robbery to the village treasury. Shikamaru was the one who wondered why the bandits would warn of the bombing when they had never left clues for an attack before. Something told you it was an ego feeding itself and there may be more to the message than what they originally thought. It was quite an impressive feat. You felt disappointed in the decisions of the brilliant mind who could pull off such a work of art as this cypher. It was one of the most impressive intel projects you worked on.

You dismissed everyone around 4am however you and Kakashi stayed behind to finish up the paperwork that went along with the request and put together the invoice for Gaara. You felt so tired you didn’t think you could walk home. Kakashi suggested that the two of you spend the night on the sleeping pad in his office. You happily agreed and thought it was a humorous turn of events to have to have pulled an all nighter on your first date. It definitely fits your love story.

You and Kakashi enter his office, holding hands and lock the door behind you so no one will disturb you as you sleep through the day tomorrow. He pulls out the small mat he keeps on hand for days like this and climbs in with you, both still wearing your dress clothes.

Though the mat was small you shared it while you cuddle under a wool blanket. You lay facing each other, Kakashi with his mask off, each staring into the other’s eyes. The two of you memorizing your faces in the pale light of night. You couldn’t help but get lost in his mahogany irises, watching how they bore into you.

You gazed at his face, feeling his chest push into yours with each deep breath. Each inhalation coursing oxygen through your vessels, replenishing the weary cells, and centering your mass. You tuck your arms into your chest while he holds you close.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” he suddenly confesses. You realize he’s not talking about your date getting interrupted but about everything since the gala.

“I know,” you whisper. “and I’m sorry too.”

Like magnets, your lips draw together. A long soft kiss, resetting the balance of the world. The usual butterflies returning to your stomach as you lay with him. He is your person. He owns your soul. This is a fact. No matter the difficulties, you will always fall back into his arms.

As you kiss you begin to feel hardness form on your thigh.

“Sorry.” Kakashi says, embarrassed. “We haven’t, you know, in awhile and now that you're here it just um…”

You smile, “I see I was missed.”

“So much” He says as he dives back in to kiss you but this time with more heat. You return his passion as you lift your leg wrapping it over his hip. He rolls on top of you, laying all his weight on your chest before tucking his knees between your legs and pulling you up into his lap. You sit straddling him, rolling your hips and you feel his erection through your pants. It’s enough to make you moan.

“I missed those sounds. I thought I would never hear them again.” he says as he buries his face in your neck pushing his hips up into yours.

He begins to suck on your neck. “Kashi, please, people will see.”

“Sorry” he whispers as he lowers his head to suck at the top of your breast.

“Just take the damn thing off if you’re gonna do that.” you say.

You don’t have to tell him twice. Your black dress disappears to a dark corner of the office before you could take your next breath.

He runs his thumbs over your collar bone, tracing your shoulders before he drops his gaze. He stared intensely at your chest. His eyes tore over your smooth skin now adorned with goosebumps. He studied the peaks and valley of your breasts, ingraining them into his memory. The small bumps around your nipple and the color of your areola, memorizing it all. He lowered his head to taste the familiar soft skin, salty from the day's toll. He licked the entire surface, savoring the flavor before making his way to the nubs. He lightly petted them with his tongue. They were delicate but they were too tantalizing and he couldn’t resist the urge to sink his teeth around them when they were so close to his mouth. You let out the most erotic whine he has ever heard and it’s enough to make precum soak through his briefs.

Pushing you down on the ground he rips off your panties and rids himself of his clothes. He needs you now. He attacked your chest with his mouth unable to restrain himself. Your breathy moans as he assaulted your sensitive skin were euphoric, ringing in his ears. He could’ve cum from your sound alone. You planted the soles of your feet into the floor as your hips bucked up, rutting your fluids all over his chest, one hand in his hair, while the other searched for fantom bedsheets to hold on to.

“Kashi, don’t stop.”

“‘Wasn’t planning on it.” he breathed as he broke your skin. Blood pooling in his mouth. He sucked on the copper taste, licking his lips before trailing down your body.

“So fucking wet for me. Always so wet. I could feed myself for the rest of my life down here.” he says as he dives in on your slippery folds. Bare feet still planted, now both hands search for something to grab onto as his tongue plays with your slit. Diving in and out, nose tickling your bundle of nerves, he was a ravenous wolf and your hips straining to free yourself from his jaws.

“Kashiiiii! Oh gods!” You raised your hand, grabbing a fistfull of his hair, pushing him into your heat as he happily lapped away licking and sucking on your lips and clit.

He kissed a trail of hickies up to your collarbone before licking along your clavicle and the column of you neck. He landed a wet sloppy kiss on your mouth while he aligned his tip with your slit. Prodding your clit as he rubbed your labia with his shaft.

Your mouth dropped into a sinful O as he pulled back and slid inside of you. You exhale with a broken breath, feeling the familiar stretch. You melted into a puddle under his strong figure. He could swear he saw stars in your eyes as you gazed up at him.

Establishing a slow rhythm, he savored the feeling of his veins catching each ridge in your gummy interior. Nothing felt more like home than being inside of your warm walls, having them hug his manhood tightly as you lost your breath with each stroke.

He holds his body close to yours, feeling your stiffened peaks rub against his chiseled chest while he glides in and out of you. You feel the tension build in your lower abdomen. Each sweet kiss of your cervix eliciting a soft sound from your lips directly into his ear. You could feel him twitch with each little noise.

One of your hands grabbed a firm hold of the back of his neck but the other wandered freely. Slowly exploring his arm, then his chest and gliding up to his back, feeling the scars of battles fought long ago. Thrusts continue to slide his girth in and out of you, still you aimlessly glide your hand along each indent of muscle overlapping with another, feeling up his spine and into his hair. He closed his eyes as you toyed with the silver strands. Focused on the feeling over his entire body, not just what your cunt was doing to his length but on every touch of your delicate hands.

He was brimming with love for you. It was taking over his entire body. Studying each stray strand of hair, each eyelash, each pore on your skin, lowering his gaze to your newly adorned chest, covered in fresh love bites. He started to snap up into you sharply, feeling himself ready to cum.

“I love you, Y/N” he whispers

“I love you too, Kakashi” you breathe back

And with your confession you feel the familiar wave of orgasmic warmth flood through your body reaching each finger and toe. Kakashi thrusts as he finishes, letting your needy walls milk him for all he’s worth. Once done he falls on top of you, tip still inside, catching his breath as his spend begins to leak out.

Grateful that he locked the door ahead of time, you and he fall asleep just as you are, on his tiny sleeping pad with only a wool blanket covering the Hokage’s bare behind, feeling the kind of peace of mind that had eluded you for months.

********************************************

Life sped past over the next few weeks. You took really well to your new role and all the teasing you used to receive for dating Kakashi finally slipped down the storm drain. You felt at peace but furthermore you felt a sense of smugness knowing that they now know how much they need what’s between your ears. They no longer care about who’s between your legs and the more you and Kakashi interact publicly, the less stares you receive. Everything is finally going according to plan.

You sit at your desk and start to think about lunch when you smell something wonderful waft down the hall. It smelled like someone was cooking something over a campfire. Suddenly craving whatever was being had in the break room, you decide to head down the hall so you can ask what it is. When you step into the break room you see none other than Obito standing there holding a bowl of chicken and sticky rice.

“Obito?”

“Hi Princess.”

You feel your chest tighten, your eyes closing at the sound of his voice saying your nickname.

“How-um-how…how was your mission?”

“Long, but it gave me plenty of time to think.”

You feel your stomach flip in anxiety. “Obito, I’m so sorry.”

“I know Princess I-”

“Oh my gods!”

You run to the trash can and throw up what was left of your breakfast.

“Princess, are you okay?”

“Sorry, I just ah-I guess I’m not feeling well.” You didn’t want to admit that the guilt of everything made you empty your stomach of its contents.

“Hmm, maybe you should go home.”

“I’ll be fine.” you say feeling incredibly embarrassed.

Obito gives you a questioning look.

“Really, I’ll be fine. Maybe just some rice and water for lunch and I’ll be fine.” you say with a shrug as you speed walk away from the break room. You turn towards Kakashi’s office hoping he had some water for you to rinse out your mouth when you realize the smell of ramen is getting stronger with each step in his direction. Sure enough, when you open the door to his office the smell hits you like a ton of bricks. You try to wave the smell away from your nose with your hand as you speak.

“Geez, Kashi, what’d they put in your ramen?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a bit strong, don’t you think?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your ramen. I can smell it down the hall.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Do you have water?”

“I think I have some over in that corner.” he says as he points “Why? Forget your tea?”

“No, I just threw up and I need to wash out my mouth.”

“You threw up?”

“Yeah. I smelled some delicious campfire smell and then I ran into Obito and felt sick all of a sudden. It was really embarrassing.”

“You smelled Obito?”

“What?! No! I smelled a campfire and…oh.”

“Angel, when was your last period?”

“Right before our date…”

“Angel, I think we need to get you checked.”

You zone out a bit as you consider what this means. You look over at Kakashi, “But I’m on birth control. You really think that we’re, that I’m...”

“Possibly.”

Kakashi rounds his desk and kisses your forehead before pulling you into a hug.

“Kashi…” you whisper, ‘I still haven’t rinsed my mouth out yet.”

He chuckles and lets you go to grab your water. “Here, make it quick cause I want to kiss you.”

You blush and take the water and swish. You chug the remainder of the bottle before Kakashi pulls you into him to kiss you as if it were your wedding day. When your lips disconnect he holds you close, eyes closed, foreheads touching.

“What was that for?”

“Marry me.”

“What?” Kakashi opens his eyes and stares at you through your lashes.

“Marry me.”

“Are you joking??”

“No. I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to marry you from the day you first saw my face.”

“Kakashi, we don’t even know if I’m pregnant.”

“It’s irrelevant. I love you and I want to marry you. What do you say?”

“Kakashi, are you seriously proposing after I just threw up?”

“I’ll give you a real proposal later. Just tell me yes.”

You swallow and nod your head, “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He squeezes you tight and spins you around the room.

“Kashiiii I’m gonna throw up again.”

“Right.” he says as he sets you down, “Let's get you to a doctor.”

Leaving his lunch behind, you and Kakashi interlace your fingers as you walk down the hallway and out the building towards the hospital. The medical staff set you up in a room with a paper gown, where the two of you wait for Sakura to join you.

You’re swinging your legs as you sit on the table when finally a head of pink hair comes breezing through the door.

“Kakashi sensei, do you mind explaining why my other appointments got bumped back fifteen minutes?”

“I needed you to check on Y/N.”

You wave your fingers, feeling a pink tint your cheeks. Sakura’s eyes scan you up and down and she understands. She pulls the sonogram cart from the corner and asks when your last period was.

“It was about 7 weeks ago.”

“And you’re just getting checked?”

“I didn’t really think about it. Time kinda slipped by plus I’m on birth control so I didn’t think-”

“Well things can still happen.” Sakura squirts jelly onto a probe and directs Kakashi to sit near your face. “This is gonna feel a little cold.”

“Okay” You nod before looking over at Kakashi and nervously grasping his hand. You feel the probe get inserted and soon after you hear a tiny fluttering pulse. You watch as Kakashi’s eyes widen with joy while looking at the screen. You peel your pupils off of him and turn to look.

“Yup, congratulations you two! You’re having a baby!”

Alternate Ending coming soon.

Masterlist

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argisthebulwark · 1 year

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Time Moves Slow - Vilkas

sfw, gn reader Summary: After returning from Sovngarde the Dragonborn finds that a handful of hours for them has been years for those in Tamriel and reunites with their loved one. Others Linked: Farkas, Brynjolf, Teldryn, Miraak, Cicero

All duties were forgotten as your boots touched ground once more. Vilkas was all that mattered. Bruises ached with every step but you hurried through Whiterun without thinking - it was quieter than you'd expected, shops closed and stalls unmanned. Maybe they'd anticipated another dragon attack. The Gildergreen's branches stood bare and a few unknown citizens cast wary looks when you hustled toward Jorrvaskr. Heart pounding you shoved the hair out of your face, grimacing at the layer of dirt coating your skin before entering Jorrvaskr. The hearth’s fire banished the nervous chill from your bones. Companions filled every chair around the hall, some engaged in conversation and others hunched dutifully over books. The friendly buzz of conversation halted when you entered. You didn't know these eyes. Some held questions while others seemed hostile. "Who are you?" One voice broke the silence and panic set in. You'd only been gone hours. There was no chance someone scrounged up this many recruits in that small matter of time. "Who are all of you?" You'd never felt so lost in your own home. One woman swung an axe over her shoulder when she stood from the table. "Where is Vilkas?" "You know the Harbinger?" The woman's brow quirked up and your stomach dropped. At least she extended a hand toward the living quarters. "He doesn't get visitors. You should see him." Numbly you let the woman lead you through Jorrvaskr. The weapons adorning the walls were polished, portraits you'd never seen hung down the hallway. You swallowed a scream when you saw an accurate depiction of your face after Kodlak's. "Sir, you have a visitor." "I don't get visitors." Vilkas' grunt sounded rougher than ever. Your hands shook when the Companion cracked open the door to the Harbinger's office - there hadn't been a door before. You stared in awe at the scarred wood hung to make the Harbinger's quarters more private. "She seems to know you. Didn't tell us a name." The silence was so harsh you swore everyone in the hall heard your heart. "It'll only take a moment, sir." "Fine." He sighed and the woman snuck you a quick grin. You tried to return it but you couldn't shake the horrible sensation that something was deeply wrong. "Send her in. If it's a new recruit have Jorlyn ready the training yard." "Good luck." With an encouraging pat on the shoulder she departed. You stared at the crack in the door and gathered the screaming mess of your thoughts - Vilkas was behind that door. Had you somehow altered life on Tamriel after slaying Alduin? The World-Eater was surely important to the fabric of time, had you changed something fundamental during a few hours in Sovngarde? "Are you going to stand there all day, or can we get this over with?" All rational words were banished when you shoved open the door. Vilkas' dark hair was shorter than before and streaked through with grey. He flipped through some book and his foot tapped against the leg of his chair. Tears stung at your eyes when you took in the scars you'd never seen before, a clearly aged tattoo on his forearm, a wedding band on his ring finger. This couldn't be Vilkas - but that scowl didn't lie, you'd heard the voice that had whispered sweet promises to you only that morning. "Vilkas." Your voice broke around his name. His black glare finally tore away from the book and for one terrifying moment he didn't seem to know you. His thick brows tightened, mouth in a tight line when he turned to you. "My love?" His gaze softened when he dropped his work. He stood slowly, moving as if he feared approaching you. You couldn't stop tears cascading down your cheeks when Vilkas' fingers finally traced up your jaw, tugging you closer and allowing you to clutch at his unfamiliar armor. His stubble tickled at your skin when he kissed your face, eager hands drawing your body to his. "Where have you been?" His voice shook with each word. Your face stung from tears and Vilkas' familiar fingers combed through the back of your hair, one nervous kiss placed atop your head. "We have so much to discuss."

#others will be tagged asap #skyrim #vilkas #vilkas x reader #vilkas x dragonborn #vilkas x ldb #writing

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anthotneystark · 4 months

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One taste of your life (And I own your soul)

So I heard it was @thefreakandthehair's birthday and then I finished writing this, so Lex this is basically just for you now!

The day starts like any other.

He wakes up screaming, shaking, a cold sweat trailing down his spine. He takes a few minutes to pull himself together, reminds himself it’s all over, ignores the feeling of heavy, dark air on his skin. He ignores the sound of screaming in his head, the tightness in his chest. Before he’s really ready, but after he should already have been moving, he pushes himself up and drags himself into his routine.

He showers, feels like he’s trying to scrub the fear and pain off of himself, and hopes that one day that will actually work. He catches himself looking around as he gets dressed, an uneasy feeling prickling at the back of his neck. It’s the feeling of being watched. But there’s no one in his room, so he shakes it off and moves on.

He has his morning phone call with Robin as they both make breakfast. His heart aches at the thought of her being so far away, just the same as he knows hers does, but he’d refused to let her put off school just because he wasn’t ready to leave yet. She comes back when she can, he’s made trips to visit her, but it’ll never feel right until they can live in the same place again. He won’t make her feel bad for getting out, not when he wanted her to, not when he’s so happy that she’s out there doing things she loves and having fun.

When it’s time, when he can leave too, they’ll get a place together and never have to be apart again.

For now though, instead of gossiping during a morning car ride, he tells her all the drama she’s missing out on and lies about how he’s definitely eating over the sink so his bagel crumbs are contained.

When she has to go, her classes beckoning, he lets her go and tells her he’ll update her with the next schedule his boss puts out. He’s on days right now, but he’s hoping he’ll be on nights soon.

With Robin gone, and Family Video destroyed back in March, he hasn’t bothered to go back into the rental business. He opted to follow a different career path, and with the amount of people who fled the town, the fire department had gladly taken him on. Turns out, for someone who likes to take care of people and is willing to take on tasks like herding a group of rambunctious pre-teens, being a paramedic has been the perfect fit.

He throws on his uniform, laces up his boots, and ignores that feeling pricking at the back of his neck as he walks to his car. He looks around, but it’s a calm day. There’s barely a breeze in the trees; the leaves are still, the world is quiet.

There’s no one there.

The drive is easy, navigating the new roads built from his house to the center of town. Once everything started being rebuilt, mostly by the people who were convinced it was worth it to stay, things settled down. With the cracks in the earth closed up, with homes rebuilt, it looked almost like nothing had happened.

He lost count of how many times he wished nothing had happened.

He let himself get lost in the boredom of no emergencies throughout the day, let himself be distracted by the adrenaline of people needing help. There’s a kitchen injury on Maple Street, a ladder incident on Avalon Court, even a legitimate kitten in a tree call just down from the high school. Being the youngest, and thus the one thrown into the grunt work more often than not, he’d been sent on up to get it. It wasn’t his first kitten rescue, not with more than a few displaced pets, but the kitten only scratched him a little as he pulled it into his arms.

Back on the ground, kitten back in the arms of its person, he’d made quick work of cleaning up the blood that welled up on his hand. His movements stilled as he went to bandage it, his eyes darting up, looking around but seeing no reason for the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. He brushed the feeling aside.

There was no reason to be on edge.

If anyone had asked him back in high school, he’d have said that 24 hours was a long time, plenty of time.

If anyone had asked him after he found out monsters were real, he’d have said 24 hours was an eternity when the chips were down.

If anyone had asked him today, he’d say 24 hours is a blink, a breath, it’s nothing, a blip of time that only carries meaning once it’s over, once you can feel the loss of it.

Loss or not, he’s more relieved when it’s over and he can go home again. The feeling has stuck with him, the hair on the back of his neck, the on edge, the vigilance. It happens, he’s aware, but he’s also aware that today he’s just being dramatic, just being paranoid. As he waits for his shift to end, his 24 hours nearly up, he watches the bats finish their hunt in the almost-dawn light. They’re a mix of swooping and flailing, graceful and clumsy, and not for the first time, he thinks of a boy who was the same.

He thinks of curly hair and a devilish smile, kind eyes and loud laughter. He thinks of rough hands and the gentle curl of smoke from his lips.

It’s not the first time he’s stolen his thoughts and made his heart ache, and it won’t be the last.

The sting lessens the fear that’s shadowed him all day, and he looks up at the approaching dawn with the phantom hand on his shoulder.

The alarm doesn’t ring in the time he’s got left. He shares the easy camaraderie he has with his team, familiar but not family, because even if he doesn’t love them like his kids, he has to love them enough to have his back when they’re out on the truck. Trusting them enough is easy, he’s used to relying on partnerships and love has always come too easily to him.

But that love isn’t the same as what he’s built through much more real dangers. They know him, but they don’t know him enough to see the struggle of pulling on a smile. They know how to read him in the smoke but they don’t know how to read the emotions he shoves down under bravado and jokes.

It’s fine, they don’t need to. But knowing they can’t does nothing to ease the ache and alarm under his skin.

His whole drive home, he sees shadows out of the corner of his eye. A fleeting movement there. A noise here. He doesn’t run from his car into the safety of his home, he knows better. He knows what lurks in the shadows.

As he steps through the door, the feeling fades, vanquished by the safety of a space that’s his. He slips out of his uniform, puts off doing laundry for later, and drops into the couch in nothing but his undershirt and boxers. He closes his eyes and flicks on the TV, the sound just loud enough to drown out the noise of a creature approaching.

Without warning, with only the briefest sense of alarm flaring up, a small weight comes out of nowhere and lands squarely on his chest.

He doesn’t flinch.

Instead, he lifts his head, lifts an eyebrow, and pulls on his most unimpressed look.

“If I was standing, I’d be doing the Mom Pose.”

The bat, fluffy and almost too dark, just chirps happily at him before crawling up to hide in the crook of his neck.

He doesn’t try to move it.

It doesn’t take much longer for that telltale poof-flash-pop of time and space and whatever else is involved in the transformation, and then he’s left not with a clingy flying rodent, but a clingy metalhead with too-sharp teeth and an unusual diet.

Eddie yawns and settles into his side, nosing at his neck until Steve sighs and tilts his head away.

“You didn’t get enough mosquitos this morning? Or throughout the day when you were following me around?”

“How did you know I was following you around?”

“Survival instinct, I felt you,” Steve retorts. He feels Eddie’s grin against his neck before the sharp sting of his fangs, the sticky-warm feeling of pleasure kicking in moments later. A moan escapes him, but he’s long since given up on being ashamed of enjoying this moment too. Eddie doesn’t take much before his tongue is sealing up the wounds, pulling off of him with a wet pop.

“I’ll have to work on being sneakier then,” Eddie says, using Steve’s blissful relaxation to turn his head toward him, stealing a kiss much the same as he’d stolen lunch; with zero complaints and Steve wholeheartedly on board.

“You do that,” Steve laughs, the words muffled against Eddie’s lips. His own yawn interrupts the next kiss, but he doesn’t need to worry about being too tired. It’s a perfect excuse for Eddie to scoop him up and carry him to bed. The curtains are pulled closed, the covers pulled back, and there, in a bed that felt hostile just 24 hours earlier, Steve sinks into the safety of a man who any sane person would be terrified of just by reputation alone.

There, in arms that are stronger than any human, looking up into eyes that are red when the light hits them just right, Steve lets himself surrender into the sleep that calls his name. There are no screams in his head now, just whispered words about hobbits and dwarves and an adventure that Steve never manages to stay awake to hear in full. That’s okay though, Eddie will read those words to him as many times as needed, with a devilish smile and the occasional curl of smoke from his lips, with rough hands so gently brushing through locks of chestnut hair.

All is right with his world, the weight in his heart has lightened, and there’s no need to be afraid.

Posted on Ao3 too!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #kat writes #stranger things #Happy birthday Lex!#mwah ilusm

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mimble-sparklepudding · 2 months

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A Little OC Ask List of Difficult to Describe Emotions.

Some emotions are difficult to explain clearly. Perhaps your OC has experienced one of these? Can they remember a specific example? If they haven't then can they imagine what it might be like to experience?

Sonder: The profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passing in the street, has a life as complex as one's own, which they are constantly living despite one's personal lack of awareness of it.

Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

Kenopsia: The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that's usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet.

Monachopsis: The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

Jouska: A hypothetical conversation you compulsively play out in your head.

Altschmerz: Weariness with the same old issues that you've always had - the same flaws and weaknesses that you've been gnawing on continuously for years.

Greng Jai: A feeling of unwillingess to accept help from someone, out of concern for the trouble it might cause them.

Liberosis: The desire to care less about things than one does.

Dolce Far Niente: A feeling of pleasure from doing absolutely nothing.

Mauerbauertraurigkeit: The inexplicable urge to push other people away, even close friends, lovers or those that you trust.

Enouement: The bittersweetness of having arrived in what was once the future, seeing how things turned out, but being unable to tell (or warn) your past self.

Kuebiko: A state of exhaustion inspired by exposure to acts of senseless violence.

Exulansis: The urge to give up trying to talk about an experience, because other people are unable to relate to it.

Adronitis: Frustration with how long it takes to get to know another person.

Attriage: The state of having lost all control over how you feel about someone.

Wildred: The feeling of haunting solitude in extremely remote places.

Mudita: A feeling of joy at another person's good fortune.

Aulasy: The sadness that there’s no way to convey a powerful memory to people who weren’t there at the time.

Ioia: The wish that you could see statistics overlaid on every person you encounter, perhaps to check the strength of their compatibility, measure their trustworthiness, or even just know for certain how they’re really feeling.

Yeorie: A certain scent that has the power to sweep you back into memories of childhood.

Thrapt: Being awed at the impact someone has had on your life, feeling intimidated by how profoundly they helped shape your identity.

Dolonia: A state of unease prompted by people who seem to like you too much, which makes you wonder if they must have you confused with someone else — and feeling vaguely disappointed that they’re unwilling to spend the time it takes getting to know the real you.

Antiophobia: A fear experienced while leaving a loved one, wondering if this will turn out to be the last time you’ll ever see them, and whatever good-bye you tossed their way might have to serve as your final farewell.

Harmonoia: An itchy sense of dread when life feels just a hint too peaceful.

Dolorifuge: Something which brings about a feeling which banishes or mitigates grief.

Compunctious: Feeling remorse or regret, but wishing to avoid actually apologising.

Callosity: A lack of feeling or capacity for emotion.

Mimeomia: The frustration of knowing how easily you fit into a stereotype, even if you never intended to do so.

Pronoia: A strange, creeping feeling that everyone’s out to help you...

Awumbuk: A feeling of emptiness or heaviness after someone else departs.

#OC asks #OC ask meme #OC ask list #oc meme #ffxiv oc #oc development #obscure emotions #unusual words #ff14 ffxiv #ffxiv

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capitalisticveins · 1 year

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my feelings are still hurt from hearing Milo scream in pain from the bone is his arm literally being crushed in half soo…

Angst headcannons on ANYONE but my baby❤️ because who knows how much I can take??

First request! These are Angst headcanons for nearly everyone...except Milo and Sweetheart (when I say nearly everyone I mean nearly everyone)

Some characters show up more than once, some only show up once, hope you enjoy! [also the format is really weird for some reason and idk how to fix it? im sorry :( ]

Precious is scared to think anything in fear of Regulus listening in.

Huxley and Damien haven’t seen Lovely since Inversion, and haven't seen them return to classes either. To them, Lovely is dead. (well i mean they are dead but y’know what I mean)

Lovely is resentful of Sam for how much of his power he recovered after being turned compared to them, and they hate that they feel that way.

When Elliott heard about Sunshine getting into the crash, he nearly had a panic attack when he heard that they were in critical condition. The person at the front desk could barely understand him when he demanded to see Sunshine.

It took Cutie 2 months to finally pursue therapy, but due to how much the price of therapy skyrocketed in Dahlia after Inversion, they had to look for help outside of town, and is having their friend house sit until they come back.

Both Anton’s and James’ listeners have forgotten what they look like. James’ listener doesn’t even know if he’s okay.

Tank didn’t fully hate Quinn after telling the Department what he did. They were angry, but they didn’t hate him. It wasn’t until he ambushed them and their friend while on a walk did they feel any disdain.

Vincent sees Alexis as a step-sister. The feeling isn’t mutual.

Asher claws at his scars constantly, which creates more scars which he also claws through. It’s a cycle not even Baaabe can end.

Ollie gets tired through all the work assigned to him at Vesta, but he’s never told Babe, or anyone. He just keeps taking the work with a smile and insists on helping people with their work. It’s gotten to the point where he has to slip out of Babe’s arms in their sleep to finish up.

Caelum wishes to have a seat at the double wedding, but he won’t.

Cam’s insomniac listener hasn’t had a visit from him in a while, and it’s gotten harder to fall asleep. Whenever they can’t fall asleep, they simply dim the lights, play calming music, and draw a mysterious man that is stuck in the back of their head, but they can’t recall where they’ve seen him from. They usually do this until 8am, and it messes with the rest of their day.

Guy and Honey have had only 1 major “argument”. Guy was constantly distracting Honey on purpose while they were studying for their finals, something they’ve been stressing over. Eventually they grew angry at him whining outside their door and yelled at him to leave them alone and “pester someone who can tolerate him” before slamming the door and returning to their studies. They didn’t apologize right away, they just both sort of acted casually after a week. It wasn’t until a year after they graduated that the event leaked into Honey’s mind, and they randomly apologized to him. Guy felt that he deserved the reprimand, and they had a talk before they decided to play Mortal Kombat together.

Tank acts tough and violent, but they are petrified of Quinn. They’ve been with him the longest, they know what he’s like, what he can do. They’ve planned out everything they’ll say and do when they encounter him, but if they see him, they’re practically frozen.

Sam has openly refused getting into a car if he sees Lovely in the driver’s seat. He expressed that he’d rather run around the Earth than get into a car with “the second coming of road Satan”. Lovely laughs at the memory but Sam was dead serious.

When they’re not being worked on, or in sleep mode, the Asset sort of just…stares at their hands, and tells anyone questioning that they’re simply recalibrating data. They’re not. They’re reflecting on what happened to them when the obsession code was inserted, and trying to recall what they were like before. They can’t remember.

Freelancer has had MANY “not so nice” thoughts before Caelum revealed himself, and they returned after Inversion.

Angel’s cat died a little while ago. They didn’t tell David, they just drove to Milo’s house under the guise of “going to the store”, and played with Aggro.

Lasko nearly turned down the offer of being a professor at D.A.M.N

The Asset used to go into sleep mode when getting worked on or have upgrades installed. Not anymore. They make sure to keep an eye on the person working on them, and question every code they write, scanning to see if their heart accelerates to catch them in a lie.

Cam has been the only person working at D.U.M.P who questions Warden’s whereabouts.

Fred and Brighteyes haven’t spoken since their argument. Both because Fred can hold a grudge, and because Bright refuses to leave their room if Fred is out there.

Geordi tried talking to Cutie again, but they wouldn’t respond to his texts, or look at them, so he had to visit the house. You can imagine his surprise when someone he remembers seeing from the Pool Party inside their home telling him Cutie is out of town, and you can imagine his surprise when he came back months later and was told the same thing.

Seer Obscura is incredibly superstitious. No walking under ladders, no umbrellas indoors, no stepping on cracks, no going around a pole, none of that. They’re terrified of being killed by some horrible luck

David didn’t consider getting into an official relationship with Angel at first. He thought they wouldn’t last for more than a month. Angel thought otherwise, so while David wasn’t giving it his all for the first few weeks of the relationship, Angel was.

Lasko hasn’t spoken to his mom since he abruptly ran away, and neither of his parents have made an attempt to contact him, despite him trying to contact them.

Warden has grown dependent on Vega in the month they’ve been with him, and becomes distraught when he’s not in the room.

Baaabe is usually hard-headed and speaks with passion, but after Inversion, they grew to be more soft-spoken, especially around Asher.

When Starlight was first released from Hell, they sneezed after about a minute, so Avior was stuck looking at them sneezing super slowly for a month and a half.

(last one isn't angst lmao)

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imagines--galore · 1 year

Text

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Three

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure. A little mention of blood and fighting.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two,

A/N: So I’m just working on building Orora up before everything. You know her personality, her appearance and stuff. I just think that developing an OC helps to connect them with the overall story. And yes, there will be romance along the way fear not! I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! Lemme know your thoughts!

I am now taking requests so go ahead and send me stuff. You can find my rules here. Please send me stuff to write!

She had parted ways with her tribe.

Not for good, Orora figured she would return someday, or at least run into someone who was from the Northern Water Tribe, still it was sad to see the last of her home sail away without her.

While the Aang and his friends had departed a day earlier to meet up with some General Fong, the small ship had made port to a nearby harbor, wanting to restock supplies. It was here, while wandering the village that Orora had decided that perhaps she should explore the world a little. Being on sea for days or even weeks sounded tedious and boring. And she had had enough of that to last a lifetime.

She wanted adventure and excitement and maybe get into a little trouble. Hopefully not too much though. She had no desired to be robbed or captured by the Fire Nation. She had enough trinkets she could pawn to get money along the way, and she was fairly decent when it came to her fighting skills. They were still mostly centered around using ice as a weapon, and despite the training Master Pakku and Katara had given her during their few short weeks on the boat, Orora had decided that she needed to test her skills in the real world.

Master Pakku had not been happy with her detour, saying she had a duty to their sister tribe to help, she had countered that how could she help them when she didn’t know the full potential of her water bending capabilities. He had tried to argue, but he knew it would be of no use. He had learned his lesson that when it came to stubborn teenage girls, they were hard to break.

He had given her his blessing, which had meant a lot more to Orora then she cared to admit. As a parting gift he had given her a smile white tile with a lotus, telling her that should she ever need help she should find someone with the similar emblem. It didn’t even have to be on a tile. Doorway, tattoo, carving, anything would do. So long as she showed them the tile, she would have help.

Orora had never before bowed so low to another elder as she had done the old yet wise Master.

Before she had parted he had told her a little story. Of how there had been a girl and a boy, both from the Northern Water Tribe. Engaged to be married despite not being soulmates, the boy had loved the girl, and he had thought the girl loved him too. And yet, she had wanted to find her soulmate and live her days with him. She did love the boy, but not enough.

The girl had left, leaving the boy heartbroken to pick up the pieces and rebuild his life without her. She had found her soulmate and had lived a happy life, but now? The boy, now an old man, was going to find the woman he had loved, and perhaps they could be together now?

“So, you loved her, despite her not being your soulmate?” Orora questioned as she stood in front of him. The rest of her tribe were loading everything back onto the boat while she spoke to Master Pakku.

The old man gave a sage nod. “Being a soulmate does not mean you will end up together. Just as Avatar Aang said, people do fall in love with someone else.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It is up to you who you want to love. The thread is just in place to help you find that someone if you do not have anyone else. We are all beings of free will Orora, and no one can force us to fall in love.” The girl tightened her hand on her strap before giving a small nod.

“Thank you for your words of wisdom Master Pakku.” She bowed in the fashion of her people. “I hope to become a Master waterbender just as you are.” He gave a small chuckle before patting her on the head. “My dear girl, no one can be as good as I.” He stated with a grin of faint arrogance that had her matching his posture. “Then I shall have to become better then you.” His loud laugh of fond amusement had echoed in her ears as she stood at the dock, waving farewell until the small boat disappeared from view.

————————–

Orora was absolutely amazed with what lay before her.

Land. Brown land. And trees. So so many trees. All green and bursting with life. The very air was alive. She had never once ventured outside of the Northern Water Tribe, and seeing the unfamiliar landscape around her was a little nerve-wracking sure, but it was also exhilarating.

And the scents! Every single thing had it’s own scent. The dirt. The leaves. The flowers. Oh she loved the flowers the best! Then there were the streams and ponds she would find. Small natural bodies of water. Everything at the Pole had been created by the Benders, and yet here was a little stream, carving its way across the land and traveling beyond her line of sight.

One thing was for sure. She definitely preferred the Earth Kingdom over the North Pole.

————————–

Her first run in with trouble came in the form of slavers.

In her excitement of going out to see the world, Orora had forgotten several significant details. One of which was that she was a girl. A young teenage girl who men would consider easy pickings. When she had been made aware of just how much attention she attracted, the girl had bought herself a nice long hooded cloak. For one it would keep her features hidden, and for another it kept her warm at night. She didn’t dare make a fire for fear of being noticed, and only ate her food cold. If she happened to pass through a village she would manage to grab a hot meal but that was it.

It didn’t seem to be enough since she had to evade her would-be-captors while passing through a small fishing village. It was ridiculous just how persistent they were. If she had been a boy, she mused angrily to herself afterwards, they wouldn’t have bothered her much.

Orora had managed to leave the village quickly, forgoing a hot meal and finding refuge by a small stream. The flowing water calmed her she had found earlier during her initial travel days, and she had stuck to it for as long as she could. Where there was water, it would always have people living nearby.

Reaching down she cupped some water in her palms and washed her face. She’d thrown her hood back, her hair was tied back with the comb she loved. It looked much too fine to belong to a simple traveling girl. Maybe she should take it out. But what would she tie her hair back with? Orora sighed, lifting a lock of hair where it had escaped from her bun. An idea flitted across her mind.

Why couldn’t she? Cut her hair! It was brilliant! People would dismiss her being a young boy. Her still developing figure was hidden under a cloak, under which she wore loose baggy water tribe clothes.

Pulling out the small dagger she had stolen from her brother’s room before leaving, Orora removed the comb, allowing her waist length hair to tumble down her back. With one last look at her thick gleaming locks, she lifted a huge chunk and began to cut.

A few minutes later she rose, dusting off the hair as she examined her reflection in the water. Well, her hair was sheared as close to her scalp as she could without cutting her skin. It stuck out at odd angles, giving her an even more rough look. Her tanned skin was tanner then ever from walking under the sun the past two weeks or so. The short hair and tanned skin allowed her ice blue eyes to stand out even more, but she didn’t mind. Easy to intimidate people with just a glance.

Orora smiled in satisfaction. She could easily pass as a boy.

————————–

Along the way she began to use her healing abilities to heal people. If she happened to come across anyone in need, she would try and help them however she could.

Orora had been aware of the devastation caused by the Fire Nation, yet seeing innocent people suffer first hand just made her hate them more.

“There, that should heal.” She muttered, keeping her voice a little deep so as to keep up her persona of being a smooth skinned young boy. Did boys even possess the ability to heal? The people weren’t complaining though. The merchant gave a small nod in thanks.

“My gratitude boy, blast these bandits. They seem to be everywhere today.” The old man groaned as he rummaged in his purse to take out a few coins and give it to her. “You’d do best to avoid the roads at night, boy. There is a Spirit lurking around, stealing from whoever it comes across.” The man warned her, already standing up and shuffling off after giving his warning.

Orora stared after him, biting her lower lip. She had been sleeping in the darkest and the remotest places she could find. Sometimes in a cave, if she were lucky. Humans she could avoid easily. But Spirits!

She hoped she never run into one.

————————–

It seemed luck wasn’t on her side. Or in a twist of fate, maybe it was?

She had been sound asleep underneath and old tree, huddled against the roots and nearly invisible. But the Spirit that approached her could see her perfectly. Another target. Someone it could steal from.

The Spirit crept forward, eyes on the prize, ignoring all other feeling.

Orora, however, was woken by a sudden yank. Her eyes snapped open, instantly falling on the her hand where the string was so tightly taut she was afraid her finger would be cut off.

A twig cracked, and the sound echoed in the clearing where she slept and chaos broke loose.

The Spirit attacked her by leaping into the air. She retaliated by throwing her arm out, water whipping out of her canteen and forming several icicles that flew towards her would-be attacker. Several of her ammunition managed to snag the black clad figure, cutting through fabric and skin in several place. The assaulter had not been expecting her to attack back and fumbled. As the figure fell to the ground, Orora wasted no time in creating a wall of water and threw her arms out. The figure flew through the air, slamming against a tree, a solid wall of ice forming all around, leaving only the head able to move.

Just then the moon came out from behind the crowd and Orora was able to see her attacker. A blue mask stared back at her, blank and looking even more horrifying in the shadows cast by the branches of the tree. She didn’t bother masking her voice as she pulled out her dagger, ready to attack the figure if need be. “Who are you!?” She demanded.

Suddenly the figure stilled, the mask covered face facing Orora, allowing her to to assess it quickly. It didn’t....look like a spirit as the merchant had claimed. She frowned a question forming on her lips when she suddenly felt that yanking feeling in her finger again.

“What?” She glanced down, just in time to see a string appear out of thin air, taut as it stretched across the distance between her and the.......Spirit. Her eyes widened, and her heart leaped in her throat and her gaze became fixed on her prisoner.

Her feet seemed to move on their own as she slowly walked to stand in front of the figure. They were almost eye to eye, given that she had pinned her attacker a little lower against the tree. The string shortened with each step she took, her heart picking up speed as she finally stood before the would be Spirit.

Fingers trembling, eyes still wide, she reached up, grasping the mask from around the edges and lifting it away from the skin. She paused, as if allowing them both a moment to gather prepare themselves before she slowly lowered the blue mask to reveal the face that lay underneath.

Bright gold, a color she had never seen in eyes before, stared back at her. They were intense and seemed to hold a fire within. There was something.....powerful behind the gaze. Though that power was subtle, almost as if it was hiding. It didn’t take long for her to break the intense stare and slowly begin to take in the rest of his face. He was just a boy. Perhaps a year or so older then her, but still. There was nothing much to see since half his face was marred by a scar. Her lips parted in silent horror.

Her Healer mind kicked in, informing her that this was a scar left after a severe burn of some kind. But who would do something so cruel?

Involuntarily, her hand lifted, fingers only barely brushing along the edge of the rough skin of the scar. Her gaze flitted to his eyes once more which had a sudden sheen in them that had her pulling her hand back, and tripping over her feet as she backpedaled. A sudden burst of light didn’t help her startled situation as the boy melted away her ice with a blast of fire and dropped to the ground.

Unfortunately, the fire blast was just powerful enough that she couldn’t manage to catch herself. Her ankle twisted and she fell.

A sharp pain bloomed at the back of her head.

And everything went dark.

————————–

He had his eyes on the prize. The figure was alone and would be easy to rob. Zuko had barely been able to see them given how cleverly they hid in the shadows, but the moon had decided to come out from behind a cloud just at that moment, allowing him to see the figure.

What had didn’t understand was, how had the figure been able to sense his presence. He had been careful with his every move and silent. His entire concentration had been focused, perhaps this was why he didn’t feel the insistent tugging at his finger.

But when he was pinned to the tree and was struggling against the ice that suddenly encapsulated him, he was able to see the error of his ways. For one his hand felt like his finger was being pulled off. For another he recognized the figure as she stood in front of him. His eyes widened behind his mask and he stopped struggling.

It was her!

The watertribe girl he had saved during the Seige. Sure she looked very different from their previous meeting, her long hair was completely gone and there was no blood on her. Yet he remembered her eyes. He had never forgotten them. They haunted him in his waking hours, and lurked in his dreams when he would sleep. And seeing her, standing in front of him, his body forgot to fight. Forgot to struggle and forgot to escape.

All he could focus on was her eyes.

She asked him a question, he barely heard her.

Zuko watched as her eyes trained at the thread that connected the two of them. Her entire demeanor changed as she came to the realization. He had no idea when she began to walk, but suddenly she stood in front of her, lifting his mask away from his face.

She stared at him, and he stared back.

He allowed himself to assess her as he hadn’t done so when he encountered her in the past. Her skin was brown, a stark contrast against his pale complexion. Her features were soft and her short hair seemed to make them stand out even more. Her eyes were a blue he had only ever encountered when he dealt with ice. They were blue yet they held a certain coldness in them. It wasn’t like Azula’s, no this was different. Calculated, suspicious yet...... understanding and kind.

But then he felt her fingers against his scar and whatever spell had been cast was broken. He grunted as he escaped her trap, dropping to the ground expertly and shaking out his hands and feet. It only took him a few seconds, but by the time he looked up, the girl was falling to the ground, followed by a dull thud before she fainted.

He strode over to her, wincing as he caught sight of the rock she had hit her head against. She wasn’t bleeding, a quick brush of his hand against the back of her head proved as much, which was a good sign. He should leave. Leave and not look back. He had managed to dodge her during the Seige, perhaps he could do the same now?

Nodding to himself he quickly retrieved the swords he had stashed near a tree and began to walk off. He had only taken a few steps when he paused. He glanced back. She laid there in the clearing, helpless and defenseless. His mind flashed back to just a month or so ago, when he had saved her from that Fire Nation soldier from......finishing her off. The more stubborn part of his mind urged her to leave and just go.

But the part that thought with his heart, that always seemed to speak to him in his Mother’s voice, gently reprimanded him for leaving her like this when it was his fault she was hurt. The thread had disappeared, yet he could still feel the tightness of it around his finger. Zuko didn’t know how long he stood there, raging inwardly.

Finally, he let out a small growl.

Quickly picking up her fallen dagger and pack, he pulled her up, securing her arms around his shoulders and with his arms under her legs, he managed to hoist her behind his back and began the trek back to where his Uncle was.

The small puffs of breath that fell from her lips was the only indication to him that she was alive.

#Zuko x OC #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko x y/n #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #avatar the last airbender imagine #the thread of fate

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caliawen · 7 months

Text

Haunted

Pairing = Glorfindel x Reader

Genre = Teen and up

General ratings = a twinge of angst, fluff, smut implied (?)

Content warnings = smut implied

Word count = 1,4k

Notes = ……hi 🫣 I haven’t posted in a month 🙃 Life has been really busy and I haven’t really had the time (nor the motivation, truthfully) to write. I had a more regular schedule before, but I think for now it will stay… ‘irregular’. I have no idea when or what I will post next. Hope you can understand!

Glorfindel was being haunted. Not by ghosts- no. By the memories of his past life. Of his mistakes. Of his friends. Of their deaths. Of his death. The searing pain of his scalp as he was tugged down and down and down by the Balrog. Of the heat he felt as he fought for his life, for the lives of Idril and Tuor and Eärendil and everyone. His mind replayed those moments over and over, never leaving him a second of peace.

The slight smile of Ecthelion, Rog’s boisterous laugh, Turgon’s exasperation with them, Elgalmoth’s mischievous eyes as he gossiped, Penlod’s hums as he pretended he was listening, Galdor’s excited chatter about the trees and plants he saw, Duilin’s whistles as he walked, Tuor’s love-struck expression as his eyes followed Idril and Maeglin’s shy smile when someone asked him about his work…

Oh, Maeglin… Glorfindel had hated him, for a time. Hated him for giving Gondolin away to Morgoth, giving away their lives.. But that time had passed. In the halls of Námo, Glorfindel had had plenty of time to think before he was reborn. And think he did : about how Maeglin had lost his mother and father. About how his only parental figure was Turgon, who was too busy to really spend time with his nephew. About how he mistook his love for Idril as romantic and not platonic, and how that strained his friendship with her and Tuor. About how rumors spread that Maeglin was a vile being. About how none of them did anything to defend him. About how lonely Maeglin must have been.. About what impossible horrors he felt at the hands of Morgoth and Sauron. About how they never saw how broken Maeglin had returned. About how he didn’t care if he died anymore.

Yes, Glorfindel had thought, Maeglin had done something wrong. And he forgave Maeglin for what he had done, because Maeglin had been a child. A child who needed to be guided and shown love, but no one had stepped up to take up the role.

He thought about you. About your smile, your eyes, your nose. About the way you moved, how you talked and your passions. And he ached. Because he didn’t know what happened to you. He didn’t know if you had died, if you had suffered or if you were still alive. If you had moved on from him.. And that haunted him. His every waking thought, his every dream and nightmare.

Sometimes, Glorfindel dreamed of you. He dreamed that you were laying in his bed, in Gondolin, smiling at him. That you carded your fingers through his hair and told him that you loved him. And when he woke up, his heart ached and he did not know whether to thank or curse Irmo.

Glorfindel had a mission. He was going back to Arda Marred. And he found himself dreading going back. Dreading seeing how everything had changed and how the language had evolved. Dreading how no one he knew would be there. How he would be alone. At least in Valinor, he saw his mother and father. He found himself crying when he realized he did not remember what being embraced by his parents felt like. They took care of him and he couldn’t be more grateful to have them.

When Glorfindel departed, he stood looking at Valinor until it had been long since out of view. He stood still, wondering if he was dreaming. He thought, how ironic, for he was going back. Not anyone else. Him. Laurëfindelë Glorfindel, an emissary of the Valar, granted powers nearly as strong as that of the Maiar. And he didn’t want to go back. Nienna wept for him, for his sacrifice, for his fear and for his love. He found himself appreciating her understanding. She visited him, before he departed. He listened to her words, without understanding : “Dear Child, your heart is being haunted. Your mind is playing tricks on you, and your heart is rendered blind by your pain. But your gut, your gut is still there and strong. Follow it, follow what it tells you. But do not silence your heart and mind for it, listen to them. Listen, but do not follow.”

~~~

When Glorfindel arrived in Middle Earth, he did not know where to begin. He was tired, but could not sleep. He thought about you. About your lips on his, about your laugh, about your hands in his, about the ring he had passed on your finger. He thought and thought and thought. And his heart ached. He walked on paths and in forests, stopping to wash himself in rivers. And he despaired.

It was later that he found Lindon. Days later. Or weeks, he did not know. He met Elrond, someone who would confuse and amuse him for the rest of their lives. Part man, part elf, part maia. He wore the insignias of Fingolfin and Fëanor with pride, daring anyone to confront him about it. He was a gentle soul with a heart of gold and the patience of the wise. He was as kind as summer and Glorfindel found himself basking in his presence, like a flower who had grown up in shadow feeling the sun on itself for the first time.

Círdan was surprisingly mischievous. Subtle jokes, sarcasm and deadpan looks were all things he threw at others, uncaring if they understood or not. He was calm, but could easily terrorize anyone with his anger, like the sea. Board games were his favorite and Glorfindel spent time playing with him, thinking of strategies to beat the older elf.

Gil-Galad was as confusing as he was funny. His father was unknown and he liked to joke around about it. Glorfindel spent time with him when they could, talking about everything and nothing. When Gil-Galad felt Glorfindel starting to lose himself in memories, he would randomly tell a stupid joke. They made Glorfindel laugh each time.

Celebrimbor had been a bit weary at first. Glorfindel almost laughed at the memory of a small Curufinwë Tyelpërinquar staring at him with the exact same look. It wasn’t long until they became great friends. Celebrimbor understood : he, too, was haunted by his past actions and words. Maybe for different reasons than Glorfindel, but the important thing was that he related to how Glorfindel felt. Having his feelings validated was something that alleviated the pain in Glorfindel’s heart.

~~~

Glorfindel walked around Lindon aimlessly and leisurely, taking his time to look around. You haunted him. Everything he saw reminded him of you. From pretty rocks you would have collected, passing by a stand selling your favorite fruit, to someone wearing clothes the exact color of your eyes. His mind played tricks on him, making him imagine hearing your laugh or seeing your beautiful hair swaying in the wind.

He stopped walking at a bookstore, a feeling bubbling up inside him. He looked at the door, curious. His gut screamed at him to enter that store, for some reason. His mind dismissed the feeling, but his heart held hope. They warred against each other. And then, Glorfindel was reminded of Nienna’s words to him. And he went inside the store.

Inside the store, which was cozy and homey, he felt pulled towards a particular bookshelf. His breath hitched as his mind reeled to a stop, his heart pumping wildly. There you stood, browsing the shelf while smiling. Feeling observed, you turned your head, your eyes widening as you saw Glorfindel, your husband, your soulmate, standing there. Glorfindel was frozen, his mind scrambling and heart singing with joy. You were the one to make the first move, throwing yourself in his arms, ecstatic. Glorfindel hugged you back, a sense of wholeness overtaking his mind and body as he kissed you long and passionately.

The two of you spent hours upon hours talking, laughing, crying and hugging. This long-awaited reunion was a balm on Glorfindel’s bruised and battered heart. That night, under the stars, in a magnificent glade full of flowers, you rekindled your fëas. Glorfindel made love to you slowly and passionately, kissing every piece of skin revealed as he undressed you, worshiping your body with his hands and mouth. That night, in your arms, Glorfindel had no nightmares. He woke up to your sweet voice and felt free. Free of the thing that haunted him. And he smiled.

End notes : Hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, comments & likes are extremely appreciated 🫶

@theladyvanya

#the silmarillion #glorfindel #laurëfindelë #laurefindele #glorfindel x reader #laurëfindelë x reader #laurefindele x reader #fluff #love #angst #mourning/grieving (?)#elrond #celebrimbor #tyelperinquar #tyelpërinquar #círdan #cirdan #nienna #Haunted

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guav · 2 years

Text

ᥫ᭡ for mikey, kazutora, and shinichiro,

WHY NOT ME?

tokyo revengers characters + unrequited love

⚠︎ angst! and really really depressing thoughts in some! please proceed with caution. also, they're all set in bonten timeline except for shinichiro bc. :skull:

⠀◉⠀SANO MANJIRO

the love he can't have

it’s quiet in the entirety of bonten’s headquarters for once.

the brothers had long-since left to check on one of their clubs, more to find someone to warm their bed than to oversee transactions. mochi clocked out soon after, followed by sanzu with a glock in his hand and his car’s keys in the other. naturally, takeomi trailed after his narcotic brother, a wave for goodnight as he departed. lastly, kakucho called it a night following mikey’s permission, ever the subordinate offering his boss a ride home.

only the treasurer and number one remained in the building.

a simple glance at his calendar made mikey’s stomach churn. out of nervousness? dread? he’ll never know. the date ridiculed him from its place on the wall, february twenty-ninth. it’s a leap year, meaning at around three in the morning, when everyone’s left, kokonoi knocks on his door four times.

laptop and manila folder tucked under one arm, a bottle of wine on the other.

mikey doesn’t bother to greet his executive. he never does on nights like these. nights where phantoms dig around his ribcage for whatever semblance of a heart he’s got left. february twenty-ninth, the date on which kokonoi and manjiro do a little digging into their past regrets.

“seems ryuguji owns the bike shop now, they both work with him now.” kokonoi takes a seat, busying himself with opening the bottle of liquor. “would’ve never guessed they were interested in working as a mechanic.”

you never were. in fact, mikey can recall endless afternoons where you’d whine over whatever the fuck a muffler was. the only time your interest aligned with tuning his bike was to brand the manji symbol on it.

artistic doesn’t line up with engineer, but neither do his past aspirations and the tattoo on the back of his head. you reap what you sow.

mikey turned to face kokonoi, exhausted stare settling on the folder. a brief thought crosses his mind, something about cats and their unfortunate deaths when indulging in curiosity. too bad he cared too little. manjiro made a move to open the folder, but was stopped by another hand. hajime slid him a glass of wine—maybe curiosity killed the cat, maybe the cat just needed a drink.

“inupi’s name is on the lease along with ryuguji’s,” had he had a heart, mikey would empathize with the burning ache seishu’s name left on koko’s mouth. one finger taps the pictures inside the folder. it's you, dash of grease adorning your cheek. “they aren’t formally employed though, i checked the records.”

mikey stared at the close-up images inside the folder, golden ring on your finger blinding him enough to drown out the treasurer's words.

twelve years ago, mikey made an oath to himself. a promise to safeguard the future of everyone he’s ever loved and cared for. twelve years ago, mikey also gave up on the only person who’s managed to quell the murk lurking within. around a hundred and forty-four months have passed since sano manjiro gave up on his other half.

shinichiro would ruffle his hair, of all people he would know there’s always more fish in the sea. emma would call the eldest sano stupid. true love is prized—meant to be, despite the hardships.

both of his siblings could argue endlessly over love and whether it’s best to chase after it or move on. yet, surprisingly, it was manjiro who knew the best out of the three.

he couldn’t be selfish, not when he chose to pave this path himself. not when you cried, screamed in absolute terror the day he pummeled every single ex-toman member. not when that fateful evening, mikey saw you flinch away from him, in fear you were next.

be as it may, it hurts. twists his organs and drowns his trachea with a knot of flowers. it hurts because he has tokyo within his palm (probably a few other cities in his wallet, too), and yet he can’t have who he truly desires.

why can’t he just have one thing?

sano manjiro was a wretched criminal with a bleeding heart. daffodil chokehold, never-ending february.

the next picture in the folder made his void of a mind stop for a moment. subsequent, mikey finally nursed the glass to his lips, sipping domaine romanée conti’s finest glasses of wine. once, twice, thrice, until the bottle was no more.

he can’t be selfish to allow himself to love, he reflects while closing the folder. and it’s okay, because you and kenchin had cute kids anyway.

⠀◉⠀HANEMIYA KAZUTORA

the love he allows to wither and shrivel

"you're unbelievable, way to ditch last minute.” he doesn’t miss the whispered asshole that slips past your lips when you end the call. kazutora flicks ash off his cigarette, wide gaze lost on your figure.

observing, scrutinizing, analyzing—it’s all in the syllabus of his day-to-day. every little gesture of yours is a buoy kazutora holds dear. months of pining have granted him enough knowledge to know you’re not actually mad at chifuyu, dead man who just skipped on movie night with the two of you. he knows you’re anxious, if the fiddling with your phone case is anything to go by. breathing patterns, foot taps—there’s something on your mind.

“sometimes i get the feeling chifuyu does this on purpose,” as you speak, kazutora wonders if your voice is anything but a symphony. “leaving us alone ‘n that.”

he knows that’s always been chifuyu’s intention. so do you.

truthfully, hanemiya kazutora is madly in love with you. the shine you exude when there’s a new kitten to nurse, the grin that stretches your face when you’re drunk and telling an awful joke. infatuation, obsession, no word will ever truly capture how he feels.

you’re oxygen for a man who’s been breathing methane his entire life. forbidden fruit, temptation in the flesh.

“‘tora,” god, he wants nothing more than to be the only man who gets to hear his name reverb in your voice. “we can still watch those shitty blockbusters, it’d just be us though.” alone, you purposely forget to add.

when your eyes meet his, kazutora’s breathing pauses. his smoke keeps burning, time doesn’t halt. “sounds like a plan?”

the cigarette meets his lips for a long drag. kazutora is madly in love with you, and for that same reason, he swore to never tell you.

everything about yourself equals heaven on earth; lips that can express so much with a simple twist and grin, touch so familiar and comforting you might as well be his home; gaze ever-so loving.

… but he can see his reflection in your eyes. inevitably, every single time you grip his arm for balance, or tuck stray hair behind his ears, everything you encompass becomes corrupt. hanemiya kazutora is evil, poison for your soul.

his hands weigh two lives, yours are eros incarnate. whatever salvation you have to offer isn't something he deserves. not now, not ever.

so kazutora does what he knows best. eternal solitude tastes salty, like sumberging into the very trenches of the ocean each time the bad thoughts win. bound by chains of sano ichor, cuffs of baji. evil forever sealed to not hurt anyone else ever again. an apologetic smile is the best he can offer without overstepping his own punishment. “sorry, forgot i had plans with hanagaki.”

you visibly deflate. kazutora is a liar. “have fun third wheeling his dinner date, today’s his anniversary with tachibana.”

sharpened diction barely nick kazutora’s heart. he can live with you hating him as long as there’s a happy ending for you. between white and gray lies, the cost of preserving your innocence is worth every trial; every frown he wants to wipe to save you from early wrinkles; every pout he can only wish to kiss away.

ash gathers on his smoke again. it’s okay to break your heart mercilessly than to subject you to losing it entirely by his side. he flicks it away, nescient for the flares it sends flying.

a stray spark landing on your skin is collateral damage you’re too familiar with. no longer is there a need to hiss in pain, or even let kazutora know he’s hurting you in more ways than one. you’ve played this game.

not an admission of guilt, nor an apology. simply silence. years of putting up with the dual-colored enigma have taught you better than to blow up and light the sky with endless quarrel. rather, you burn, slowly. smolder the same way a long-forgotten candle can’t go out without a final blow. it hurts.

it hurts because when it’s just the two of you, hanemiya kazutora treats you like a stranger. eats away at your soul, burns the endless cigarette that’s become your friendship.

you turn to look at kazutora, wondering for a moment how fate could be ever-so cruel to hand someone like him your devotion, heart, and unrequited affection. do you not deserve love, too?

“whatever.”

he doesn’t protest when you rip the smoke from his fingers, or when you take it with you. he doesn’t lament when you walk away in silence, leaving only the tragedy that’s become of his mind to fend for itself in the dead of night.

kazutora can only hope, in his next life, he finds you before his torment finds him again.

⠀◉⠀SANO SHINICHIRO

the love that gets turned down

“shin-nii, are you a loser?” izana grimaced at the wrench barely missing his older brother’s foot. it’s pure curiosity which formulates the question. izana would never think anything ill of shinichiro, but word has it sano shinichiro is a hopeless lovefool.

word spread by you, ever the loving instigator. “look at him ‘zana, take a good look and tell me he isn't.”

the fact his own sibling laughs at your joke stabs a knife on his back. betrayed by both people he holds impossibly dear in his heart, such a tragedy. shinichiro scoffs, “i’m not, don’t let this asshole fill your head with lies.”

his poor excuse of a defense only sends the duo into another spiral of giggles, mocking both his stuttering and pink shade of embarrassment. it’s a domestic scene; you’re putting together screws and bolts for some repair shinichiro asked for your help with, and izana is sitting on some stray tire inside the shop. sure, you’re both pointing fingers at every one of his mishaps, but it’s still a nice evening in the repair shop.

(there’s no such thing he needs your help with, he just wants your presence next to him—each piece you assemble will be extra work to disassemble when you’re gone.)

both your careless smiles are gifts he’d fight tooth and nail for. shinichiro takes one last drag from his smoke before putting it out. “y’know, it’s a little unfair to poke fun at something you could very well fix.”

your giggles briefly simmer to make way for his remark. “what are you even talking about?”

with his signature grin, shinichiro turns to you. there’s an inevitable sense of dread when you see it. back when he’d still bear the cross as captain of the black dragons, the smile would only mean one of two things: one, he was about to charge in without a second thought of his inept battle skills, or two, shinichiro sano was about to say the most stupid of things.

“seriously, what's stopped us this entire time?” sweat and elbow grease frame his face until his arm comes to wipe them off. he’s dumb, you think, now his arm clads the very same stains. “let me take you on a date and prove i’m not just some loser.”

the knot in your throat recoils. your movements halt.

endless nights you’ve spent by his side. not in bed or merging into the other, but driving, extending your arms as if the stars would come closer and kiss your fingertips—existing in each other’s company. shinichiro is a great friend, from the way his heart always has spare room for everyone he meets, to the smell of tobacco that has long-since burnt the word love in your mind. it makes your stomach turn and coil in itself. makes you sick.

“say, izana,” your movements return to their previous pace. assembling mindlessly, over and over again. it’s a vicious cycle. “why dontcha fetch us some of those buns you like so much?”

both sano brothers stare as if a second head had sprouted from your shoulder. izana is the first to question your sudden craving, “like, right now?”

you waste no time tossing the kid your motorcycle’s keys, “knock yourself out.”

there’s no missing the stars in izana’s eyes as he bolts out the shop. once upon a time he would ask shinichiro for permission before going out, especially when you’d ask him for something. now you hold the same authority as his older brother—as if you’re already part of his small family. silence overtakes everything within the walls as izana’s footsteps patter further away.

shinichiro feels small under your eyes. “what’s wrong?”

how quickly your mood turns sour. the power this man has over you is a little concerning. you don’t stare in anger or disgust—crestfallen, heart gutted while still beating. “did you mean it?”

shinichiro is grateful his mind worked faster than his tongue this time around. a question of what you’re referring to quickly dies before it’s voiced. he retraces steps, movements, words, any clue as to what could have disrupted the haven within the shop. “the date thing?”

your silence answers his question. shinichiro takes a deep breath, “yeah, yeah i did.”

he hates the way your shoulders slump. he absolutely despises the ragged sigh that slips past your mouth.

had he done something wrong?

“i thought we had a good thing, shin.” memories of shibuya at its most vulnerable hours, empty streets, distant lights blurring into comets from shinichiro’s bike. the way one hand would sneak to caress yours during red lights. “why’d you have to go ruin it?”

shinichiro can feel the strings tugging at his heart. it’s a familiar sensation when it comes to rejection, but never had they been so harsh. shinichiro stays silent.

“come,” you ask of him, and he obeys like you’re holding his heart in your very own hand. in a way you are. shinichiro walks the tightrope, pulse quickening under your unforgiving stare. “closer.”

for a brief moment warmth equals love. your hand cups his cheek and it’s the most comforting heat he’s felt in his life. white noise fills his ears at each of your breaths, he’s close enough to feel their warmth, too. it’s not long until it evolves into an uncomfortable burning, nothing about your frown equals love.

“nineteen times i’ve mended my heart watching you run from girl to girl, today makes the twentieth.” you trace figures on his face, no longer able to meet his coal eyes. not when they’re looking for answers, not when there’s heartbreak and confusion in them. “you swing and miss, then forget the next week.”

shinichiro wants to protest. they’re not the same as you. it’s different, he swears it’s different. a finger to his lips hush every thought he wants to voice. any defense is repealed.

“shinichiro, how long until you tire of me, too?”

“i won't-” he feels helpless as everything falls apart. “it’s not like that, i really do like you.”

you hum. shinichiro is a hopeless fool when it comes to love, and it hurts you’re next on his list. from strangers, to companions, to friends who hold hands and whisper secrets under the stars, to a faceless crush.

“i think i loved you yesterday,” you breathe the words, only for his ears to hear like a confession. “i don’t know about today, or tomorrow.” or ever again.

his eyebrows furrow. shinichiro can’t fight when you slip away, cheek already missing your touch. everything crumbles, all from a mindless declaration. he wonders how it all went wrong, wonders how something so mundane in his head could equal such anguish for you.

sano shinichiro wonders if he loved you the same way you loved him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀navi.⠀＆⠀m.list⠀＆⠀send me an ask!

#i heard a sad song and made it all of their problems #mikey x reader #kazutora x reader #shinichiro x reader #manjiro x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #manjiro sano #kazutora hanemiya #shinichiro sano #mikey #ROGUEL1KE #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader

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semisgroupie · 1 year

Text

off my chest

gojo satoru x fem. reader

wc: 1.4k

warnings: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, lots of l bombs, unprotected sex, creampie, just loving soft sex, alcohol, so kinda slight dubcon since reader and satoru were drinking

synopsis: a typical Valentine’s Day tradition turns into a night you’ll never forget

a/n: this is for dom @yofumi for snow’s @suyacho server valentines gift exchange! happy valentine’s day dom, i hope you have a wonderful day and most of all, i hope you enjoy this

You and Satoru have known each other for years and throughout the years, you two have developed a little tradition.

That being, whenever it was Valentine’s Day, you two would just spend the night together eating whatever garbage you two could afford, normally pizza, and drinking whatever cheap booze you two could get your hands on. The tradition started when you both were college students, the combination of being very broke and very single on the day of love gave birth to the tradition you two have today.

Now, you two had more money since starting your careers but there wasn’t much luck in the love department for either of you. You didn’t really put yourself out there often because there was this invisible force that just held you back. You couldn’t put your finger on it at first but the more time you spent with Satoru, you slowly started understanding it. You buried your feelings for him in fear or ruining your friendship but they constantly threatened to breach the surface whenever you tried to open your heart to new possibilities. Your mind would scream at you to move on, find someone new to love but your heart kept the hope that one day you could find the courage to speak on your feelings.

You weren’t sure why Satoru hadn’t dated anyone since you two have known each other. You knew tons of people that have been interested in him and have wanted to pursue a relationship with him but he ended up turning them down for some unknown reason. Maybe he had a specific type that no one fit, maybe he didn’t want to be in a relationship, deep down you hoped that he was facing the same struggle you were but you wouldn’t linger on that hope for too long.

You two sat on the couch in his apartment, the pizza box sat on the coffee table with a few slices still inside, the wine and bottles of beer sat on the table long forgotten as you two watched the movie playing on the screen. Well, you were watching the movie and Satoru was watching you, his eyes tracing along your features as you focused on the screen.

After feeling his eyes on you, you turned to look over at him. “Everything alright, Satoru?” You leaned over to grab the remote and pause the movie so you could keep your full attention on him. He chuckled and nodded, not realizing how intense and how long he was staring at you. “Yeah, I know it’s probably the weirdest time to say this but I love you. I’ve always had the feeling, whenever I’m away from you I yearn to be with you, whenever I’m near you I feel all nervous. But I think now is when I can positively say it, I love you.”

Your eyes widened at his words and you were slightly taken aback. “What? You’re just saying that because of how much you drank.” It hurt you to even say that but that was the only explanation you could come up with. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to say it back but you didn’t want it to end up being one sided. “Actually, you drank more than I did but if you don’t believe me I can just show you.”

Before you could really process his words he moved closer to you, closing the distance until he was right next to you. He lifted his hands to cup your face and pulled you close, pressing his lips against yours in a soft kiss. Your heart pounded in your chest as you kissed him back, you couldn’t believe this was happening. Not once would you have thought tonight would end like this.

The kiss was slow at first, your lips molded against each others perfectly and every movement was experimental, not taking it too far just in case either one of you snapped to your senses. But that didn’t happen, it wasn’t going to happen, not tonight and not ever. Wanting each other for so long just turned into insatiable need and now that you two finally had each other, it was only time to act on all your emotions.

He moved his hands down from your face and gripped your waist to pull you onto his lap. You pulled back slightly to catch your breath and rested your hands on his shoulders. “I love you too, Satoru.” Your words came out between heavy breaths and a smile grew on his face. “I can’t describe how happy I am to hear that from you.” He pulled you back in for another kiss and his hands moved along your body. He wished he was able to grow more hands so he could feel all of you at once but he had to settle for what his two hands could hold onto.

His hands moved slightly underneath the shirt you were wearing to touch your bare skin while the kiss grew more heated. Instinctively you started grinding your hips against his, humping him as his tongue explored your mouth. As the kiss continued, clothes soon hit the floor until you were both completely naked.

Satoru’s eyes scanned your body while his hands moved up and down your sides. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect. Even better than my wildest dreams.” His hands grazed the undersides of your breasts before taking them into his hands, gently massaging them while your hand moved down to his cock, slowly stroking it. “Wanna feel you inside me Satoru, wanna ride you so badly.” Your tone was needier than you wanted it to be but you could care less.

“Then come on and ride me, I’m not stopping you.” He moved his hands back to your hips and guided you as you gripped his cock and slowly sank down. Your head rolled back as his cock invaded your gummy walls, stretching them to fit him inside you completely. A gasp left your lips as you sank your hips down completely. “Take your time baby, there’s no rush.” You rested your hands on his shoulders and pressed your forehead against his as you grinded down against him. “So big, you feel so big inside me, Toru.”

Your moans sounded like the perfect song to his ears, all the nights he fantasized about what you’d sound like couldn’t compare to the real thing. Nothing he imagined couldn’t compare to this moment now. You started bouncing and he squeezed your hips before wrapping his arms around you to keep you close to him. “‘M gonna take control here okay, baby? I need this and I know how bad you need this too. Gonna love you the way I should have been all this time.”

He kept a tight grip on you as he started thrusting up, starting off slow at first before picking up the pace. His heavy balls smacked against the curve of your ass each time his hips met yours and your back arched beautifully, pressing your chest to his and making your perky nipples rub against his chest to provide the perfect amount of added stimulation.

“Right there, keep going right there Toru.” He kept his hips angled so he could hit your sweet spot over and over. You both knew that neither of you wouldn’t last long, all the pent up lust and need had been brewing for far too long. He moved one of his hands from around you and snaked to your clit, rubbing the swollen bud quickly with each of his heavy thrusts.

Your moans of his name grew louder and your nails dug into his shoulders. “Cumming! I’m cumming!” He helped you ride out your orgasm as your body shook against his and after a few more thrusts his cock throbbed and soon filled you with his sticky seed. He slammed you down against his hips and held you there as his cock twitched and his balls clenched.

You dropped your head onto his shoulder as you both caught your breath. “I love you, Satoru.” You pressed an open mouthed kiss to his slightly sweaty skin and he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you more, baby. Now, we have a long night and a lot of time to make up so catch your breath. I’m going to show my love to you all night and most likely all morning long.”

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk gojo smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #tw:unprotected sex #tw:creampie #tw:alcohol #tw:dubcon

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holewithinahole · 9 months

Text

The Spirit’s in It | Egon Spengler x nb!reader [2/3]

Summary: “I didn’t know psychology doctors also specialized in particle physics, is all.”

What you meant as a light joke to relax him did quite the opposite. He straightens, righting up his glasses one more pointless time. “I have a degree in nuclear engineering,” he states before walking out, leaving you confused and feeling like you’ve spent the entire time offending him unintentionally.

Warnings: dubious science, non-native writer, non-beta’d

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

And here's part 2! I'll probably post part 3 tomorrow so I can upload everything on Ao3. I realised this work is super underwelming compared to what I've been releasing lately haha But well, if one person like it that's all I'm asking!

I also love write all the different dialogues I have in mind for the Ghostbusters. It's like I can hear the voices of the actors in my head! It's all very amusing.

EDIT: I hate the third part so I'm rewriting it lmao

Fall, 1984

“What are they doing?” You mutter under your breath as you step into the psychology aisle of Columbia University. It’s the most animated you’ve ever witnessed Weaver Hall be.

Clutching your latest research papers, you stride to the paranormal studies labs, almost running into a green-shirted man in the process. You mutter a quick apology without looking back. Inside the lab, a few men are busy getting boxes on trolleys and carrying them out of the room. You clear your throat as you stand close to one of them.

“Excuse me, do you know where Dr. Spengler is?”

The man arches an eyebrow and shrugs. “No idea who that is.”

Putting down a box labeled ‘Electronics’ on his trolley with a loud crashing noise – which makes you wince, he starts making his way out of the room, smacking your flank in the process.

“You do know those items partially belong to the researchers working here,” you argue, clutching your side and standing in front of him. “You can’t just take them without permission.”

“Listen, I’ve been asked to remove this stuff, ok? So move out of the way.”

You swallow back your irritation, ready to conjure up every ounce of antagonism, but you’re halted in your need for confrontation by a giddy tone.

“Ah, Professor.”

You turn back to face an uncharacteristically smirking Dean Yaeger: a self-satisfied smug that would deserve to be wiped right out of his face. It makes you fear the worst.

“I’m sorry to announce to you that Dr. Stanz, Dr. Venkman, and Dr. Spengler have departed our university,” he declares, voice devoid of any empathy.

“Departed?” you ask. “Did they quit?”

“Oh no,” he laughs. “We’ve terminated their contracts. The psychology pole deserves better than three frauds ridiculing our university.”

It is, indeed, the worst that could happen. Baffled, you watch as the dean gives directions to the workers with a large smile. You’ve never wanted to hit someone more.

“Frauds?” you scoff, trailing behind him. “Dr. Stantz has a doctorate in parapsychology, so does Dr. Venkman. Dr. Spengler graduated from this very university and possesses several diplomas notably in nuclear engineering and psychology. What makes you possibly think they don’t deserve their places here?”

Another worker almost bumps into you. You glare at them.

“While I admire your lovely attempt at defending the undefendable, the decision is taken. This room will be emptied and used by actual scientists.”

The dean has started making his way out of the room, radiating self-satisfaction and throwing prideful looks at everything his eyes come across. You run after him, pushed forward by this revolting sight.

“Those files are their own research! You can’t take them away without consulting with them first! Yes, they were working for this university, but it’s still years of their work that you’re just confiscating.”

The smirk he gives you makes you regret your words instantly. “Since you’re so willing to maintain your questionable relationship with the three of them, you won’t see any problem with being entrusted with those files? I’m sure you can return them in person.”

“Questiona–” you stutter, but Dean Yaeger claps his hands obnoxiously.

“It’s settled then.”

Shit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Accepting to take care of Dr. Venkman, Dr. Stantz, and Dr. Spengler’s stuff had been both your good deed of the month and a middle finger at the face of Dean Yaeger. Stuffing piles of boxes in your tiny car hadn’t been easy. Especially since the dean had decided to dump everything in front of the university, grinning all along, savoring his cruel little prank. It says a lot about the actual interest Columbia University has in the work of its researchers.

There were at least over thirty different boxes, filled to the brim with research papers, littered all around your apartment. Obviously, Yaeger had made sure to take back all equipment – broken or not, leaving you with pounds of paper stored in their cardboard containers.

That is to say, after a month, you're starting to regret it.

The cluster of your home is slowly but surely disrupting your peace of mind. It’s almost as if the air has been saturated by dust and cardboard specks, the lack of luminosity not helping. Browsing through research papers and ordering everything has been fun at first, your curiosity satisfied, but you couldn’t decently keep digging through personal stuff. Therefore, you stopped, and now you loathe the view of these boxes.

The problem is that you have absolutely no idea where the three men went, and even on your deathbed, no one would witness you ask the dean for information. You simply can’t believe they would just switch universities, despite it being the ‘logical’ course of action. Mainly because Yaeger would behave like a goddamn leech and talk shit about them ‘till all universities in the country know about their turbulent history. You hoped for one of them to drop by your department but no one ever showed up.

Opening the door to your apartment and immediately feeling dejected at the view of the stacked boxes, you let out a sigh, getting rid of your work clothes and falling head first on your couch. You grab the TV remote, zapping mindlessly before deciding to let the device run in the background as you stand up to prepare something to eat.

During the small amount of time you’ve spent with the doctors this month, you’ve learned more about spooky theories and proton cages than about their actual life stories. Well, sort of. Dr. Stantz was certainly the most open of them all.

“Have you ever experienced a paranormal experience before?” he had asked, one morning, as he leaned conspiratorially towards you.

“I don’t think so?” you replied.

He had then talked extensively about a plethora of incidents, most notably a sponge migration which he’d assured was clear proof of paranormal activity. You had simply nodded, not wanting to question nor deter his enthusiasm. You quickly noticed – despite Dr. Spengler’s eclectic choices of study which could testify about his interest in science in general, Dr. Stantz remained the most passionate of the two; his obsessions towards specific subjects going further than a simple craving for knowledge on a Sunday afternoon. He kept lending you books on the supernatural which you had to decline after a fifth one joined the pile on your bedside table. It made wonder if the man didn’t own a secret bookshop somewhere. It left you with a sour aftertaste, knowing you had some of his prized possessions in your bedroom but couldn’t return them.

Dr. Venkman was– well… he was something else entirely. If Dr. Stantz was eager to share clever insights, Venkman was eager to share made-up stories. The diplomas on the wall did attest to his title of ‘Doctor’ but he couldn’t be more detached from it. Oh, he was researching psychological phenomena alright, but never knowledge for knowledge’s sake or even out of pure professionalism as you could expect from a researcher. If psychology books were leafed through, it was for manipulation tactics and to weaponize the uses of sugary words. In that, he was talented.

“Is it my time to interview the case subject?”

It was your third time in Weaver Hall. Both Dr. Stantz and Dr. Spengler had looked up from their ‘ghost trap’ schematics as Venkman took place in the chair in front of you.

“You never do interviews,” Dr. Stantz had said, deadpan.

“I feel magnanimous today.”

Venkman was a case study on its own, a study you weren’t willing to commit to. You had trouble understanding his true intentions most of the time. In the end, he remained the most enigmatic of the three, despite a boastful, overly dramatic persona (All the world’s a stage!). In the end, you couldn’t genuinely despise the man when he was driving away nosy students and even nosier teachers with phlegm, or when, during his rare excursions in the lab, he would bring sweet treats and coffee.

As for Dr. Spengler, well… he was brilliant and devoted to his work. Alike Dr. Stantz, although sporadically, he would sometimes get caught in a tirade of explanations and postulates. Every day, you resented the apprehension that staved off your second meeting for he could make your neurons flare and burst into ideas that’d spin in your head fast enough to weave entirely new conceptions. You were somewhat drunk on the feeling, making you distracted which even your colleagues noticed, embarrassingly enough. It all ended up in a self-deprecating mantra that led you away from Weaver Hall and back to the arms of your students and lab partners.

Now, they are gone, and you have no idea how to reach out.

“Are you troubled by strange noises in the middle of the night?”

You know Dr. Spengler has spent his entire life either studying for new degrees or researching. Universities are probably all he has ever known, and that makes you wonder how he’s managing the whole thing. Maybe he was hired by another university; with his degrees, it shouldn’t be too hard, despite what happened. Damn it, you should have given either of them your number. What if he’s already halfway across the country by now?

“Do you experience feelings of dread in your basement or attic?”

What the–

You glide out of your kitchen, spatula in hand, almost falling as your sock-clad feet slide on the wooden floor.

“If you or any of your family ever seen a spook, specter–”

“You’re fucking with me.”

As the three of them stand inside your TV offering ghost-hunting services, it makes you wonder if they didn’t take things a tad too far – or too seriously, this time.

“Call the Ghostbusters! We’re ready to believe you!”

Well, you certainly don’t believe it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phoning the place has been like stepping into another dimension. You’ve been bombarded with words you’ve never heard in any discussion, except in Dr Stantz and Dr Spengler’s endless chatter about compendia and other mystical publications.

“Is your haunting an apparition, poltergeist, phantasm, wraith, banshee, demon, specter, tortured soul, or–”

“Excuse me but–”

“For your information, we do not summon dead family members.”

“I’m not calling for that–”

“Wait, hold, please. No Dr. Venkman I haven’t–”

And that was the end of the conversation. It left you with a strong puzzling sensation and a definitive confirmation of your aversion to discussions happening over the phone. The secretary never called back and you were secretly glad, leaving you time to summon all of your courage and go there directly. Which you did… eventually.

Funny how when you’re not searching for something, it comes to you from every angle. After discovering the strange choice of reconversion the doctors took, you were bombarded by advertisements, radio talks and covers of magazines. The men have managed to put all of New York in their pocket, and half if not as many ghosts in their traps. You’ve never been a firm believer in specters but Dr. Spengler and Dr. Stantz had talked extensively about them and their prototype to finally be able to catch one. You’ve been more interested in the physics aspect of it all; Dr. Spengler has been more than willing to explain and you’ve been more than willing to add your own theories.

You now stand in front of their headquarters, preparing to face them. And once again–

“Hey, it’s you!”

–it’s Dr. Stantz who nudges you in the right direction. The man smiles widely, face darkened by car oil and dirt, a crooked cigarette hanging from his lip. His uniform is equally as dirty, and he looks more like a mechanic than a ghost hunter… but no one has ever been a ghost hunter before so, what do you know?

“Hi, Dr. Stantz.” You smile. “It’s been a while.”

You can see he’s struggling to not pat your shoulder in a welcoming gesture. “Man, we thought we’d never get to see you again! Spengs’ gonna be so happy to see you!”

Somehow, you have trouble imagining Dr. Spengler overjoyed or overexcited. It’s not in his character.

“Come on!” He gestures for you to follow him. You’re barely inside that he has already strode through half the hall. “Sorry for the mess! It’s so hectic these days.”

“I saw the articles,” you say, taking in your surroundings.

At the front desk sits a fashionable lady whom you guess to be the secretary. She’s busy answering the phone, munching at her pencil and looking exhausted. She barely acknowledges your presence as you follow Dr. Stantz up the stairs.

The man never stopped talking. “Venkman is out right now; he wanted to check on one of our clients. The woman had blood dripping from her chimney, can you believe that?”

You clearly have trouble to. The blood part, not the seducing clients part.

Upstairs is as messy as the hall if not worse. It rivals the state of Weaver Hall. Dr. Stantz throws his extinguished cigarette in a nearby bin before grabbing a paper napkin to wipe his oily hands.

“Egon!”

Dr. Spengler appears from behind a desk, light on his forehead, and invested in organizing a large number of electric cables. “Ray, I found the problem with the Aura-Analyzer–”

He pauses when he sees you, which you can’t say that you did, blinded by the light of his lamp. “Hi,” you say, smiling while protecting your eyes.

“Oh,” he answers, turning it off. “Hello.”

The uneasy silence that follows throws you all the way back to your first meeting as if a month of socializing had suddenly vanished in the span of four tiny weeks.

“Do you have issues with a ghost?” he ends up asking, putting down his torch.

Your eyes widen in surprise, unsure of how to react. Dr. Stantz, however, lets out a strong laugh so you chuckle awkwardly to echo him. “No, no ghost.”

“It’s crazy that you came in today,” Dr. Stantz says, throwing away the dirtied napkins. “We have to improve the storage facility and we need to be able to boost the grid while saving as much power–”

As he speaks, he disappears behind a wall, the sound of running water overlapping his words. You stay silent, watching Dr. Spengler rearrange electric cables until his friend emerges from the bathroom, clean-faced.

“But anyway, Spengs can give you the big tour,” he declares, grinning. “I have a check-up to do at Tai Hong Lau! If we’re lucky, I’ll come back with dinner as well.”

This time, he gives you a clap on the shoulder before running to the stairs but turning back at the last minute. “You’re staying to eat with us right? The owner has the best Peking duck in town, I’m sure you’ll love it! See you later!”

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with Dr. Spengler. The distance separating you makes the room feels even bigger. You clear your throat. “I see you were able to create your ghost trap after all.”

He nods. “The day we were… dismissed, we managed to have enough readings on our first supernatural encounter to finalize the prototype.”

“Incredible,” you praise before realizing how uncaring you might sound. “I mean, I’m sorry about the whole Dean Yaeger situation.”

Dr. Spengler shrugs, stepping out of the corner of the room he crammed himself in. “There’s nothing you could have done to change the outcome.”

You decide not to comment. There’s a certain tension behind his words that makes you think he might truly have been upset about the situation.

“So, what’s up with the… grid?” you ask, looking at the different types of equipment stacked in the room.

He does sound relieved by the change of subject. “The Containment System is the storage facility we use for paranormal entities. Lately, the growing number of stored entities has put a strain on the main chamber.” As he explains, he searches in a pile of paper, extracting a large sheet. “The simplest course of action would be to enlarge the room but in case of an exponential increase in psychokinetic energy, it wouldn’t be possible to expand indefinitely and I’m not even addressing the energy consumption problem.”

You saunter closer to him. Half of your brain is focused on how easily he slipped back into his rambling habits. Perhaps not all socialization has been lost, you muse delightfully.

“What’s the worst that could happen? An explosion?” you joke, hands on your hips.

There’s a moment of hesitation. You stare at him in disbelief. “Don’t tell me–”

“The system has a high-voltage laser grid.”

You gape at him for a second before clearing your throat. “Uh, you’ll have to tell me more I’m afraid.”

On the table, he puts down what seems to be the blueprint of the storage chamber. You study it from the side.

“PKE bounds together the negatively charged particles composing a ghost. Our two laser grids…“ He ignores your bewildered expression. “…prevent the entities from escaping.”

He continues, “But we’re completely dependent on the city’s power grid.”

“No redundancies?” you ask, starting to see the problem.

He shakes his head. “We had no way to generate our own power supply when we moved in – we still don’t, and we weren’t planning on a strong surge in PKE.” There’s a tremor at the corner of his eye, perhaps from tiredness. “It makes us vulnerable in case of a power outage.”

It all sounds very hazardous. “I’m surprised you still haven’t had Public Services knocking at your door, with you powering high-voltage grids and…” You throw another look at the blueprint. “…a penning trap of this size.”

Dr. Spengler looks up solemnly. “We have been drawing attention.”

That’s one way to put it, you think. “Won’t you also have problems with your… residents in there?”

“It’s complicated to assess the level of ionization inside the chamber,” he explains, lost in his musings. “I do daily samplings to monitor psychokinetic energy but it’s a time-consuming process and as minimum as it is, there’s still a risk of slippage. Stronger entities could attack the grid from the inside, despite the threat of–”

He comes to a sudden stop. “...perhaps I can just show you. If you’re willing to.”

Blinking away the feeling that is suspiciously looking like infatuation, you smile, trying to convey what you hope is a convincing agreement. “Of course.”

Dr. Spengler nods, putting away the scheme of the Containment System as you stare, unable to stop yourself. Funny how history repeats itself, you think, already picturing how you’re going to neglect your work just to hear him talk more. You can’t bring yourself to care the right amount. The concretization of it all – this whole Ghostbusters thing – is exhilarating. It was fascinating when it was mere speculations but now it’s all real. Right here, in an old firehouse in the middle of New York, are new forms of life; new not in age but in terms of discovery. Your work has always been focused on the future, so this is just another step toward it. It’s – funnily enough, all thanks to the past: the dead, the undead and the spiritual.

“Say, Dr. Spengler.” He turns back. “Have you been able to learn more about that psychokinetic energy?”

“Ghost energy can take various forms. I don’t have a clear idea of what it could be yet.” He frowns. “Which makes the improvement of the unit even more complex.”

“If you and Dr. Stantz are ok with the idea,” you say, heart beating faster. “I’d like to study this matter further. Apart from the effect on the valences, there could be laser-nuclei reactions that are worth looking into, as well as interactions between the entities themselves. Perhaps, it’s too soon to theorize about potential ‘ghost particles’ though...”

Dr. Spengler looks pensive for a minute, and you’re afraid he’ll chastity you – gently, but he just walks closer, extending an arm. “I’ll show you the unit, and we can talk about a new schematic.”

The ‘we’ is a heartwarming promise. “Lead the way, Dr. Spengler.”

As you approach the stairs, he has a small smile on his face. “Egon, please.”

You’ll have to tell him about his stuff at your place someday.

#egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #ghostbusters #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters reader insert #non binary reader

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ladythornofrivia · 11 months

Text

wounded echo

Wounds and words cannot heal on their own. With the reader’s last hope of dimmed light painfully shattered by those who hurt and forsaken her, who knew her weakest moments, yet did nothing but just watch. With a wounded echo, Shinichiro can hear and see her through the silent prayers, of wanting to be taken away from the her mercy—the imprisonment of cruel family.

Pair: Shinichiro x Reader

Warning: mentions of depression and anxiety. Mentions of self-harm and self-hatred. Minors DO NOT interact.

Author’s Note: Hi. Thanks for waiting on me to write a new fic. It’s been a while.

Parts: 5 chapters

(Please report if anyone decides to steal/plagiarize my work and notify me. Thank you.)

Please listen to this song while reading this series. I'll be posting this link every time I made a new upload.

youtube

Chapter I: Upon The Surface

Next Chapter

Someone,

Please take me away from here. Save me. Someone please save me.

Is what you often said every night before you go to sleep. Tears dried, eyelids ached and swollen. Your lips trembled in the shadows of fear and confusion. You had nowhere to go, you have no power left for a capacity of defending yourself against those who have wronged you, over and over and over again.

You are tired, yet restless. You didn’t give up just yet. You dreamed—dreamt of a different life. In your eyes, and in the soul of your mind, you dreamt of parting yourself from the familiar crowd without a departed farewell.

In the life under the deep, dark ocean, you are trapped, yearning for a second chance of adventure and happiness. Your life has surrounded with coldness and dreary state. You loved your life now and then, but as of late, in this dreary hour became drearier.

You rarely spoke to your family. Not a single inch of your mouth protruded the sound of laughter and antics. Your lidded eyes casted down, empty and dull. Though your family didn’t notice this, except they assumed that you’re furious on most occasions.

Deep down, your troubles within the sea, as a mermaid, you felt something was missing in your life.

Your sisters are the golden children of the five children. The rest were neglected, but not as forgettable and ignorable as your situation.

Everyone was laughing, forgetting one thing. Your birthday. Your plans were to get away from them, but from the looks of it, you’ve been forced into a gathering. Not a single merfolk ever mention your birthday.

Everyone kept praising your two golden children—sisters’s accomplishments. Saving the other merfolk from debt and ruination, saving the sea animals trapped underneath the shipwrecks and boulders. They’re the new heroes of the new century. When it was actually you who saw the conflict and took action first.

All you could do is stay silent.

“With your heroic acts, I can bend the rules of you two going up to the surface at the age of 20 instead of 21,” your father announced.

Your hands slammed against the table.

“I was supposed to go! It’s my birthday today!”

“No it isn’t,” your mother said. “Stop banging your hands on the table. They’re delicate.”

“Today IS my birthday,” you insisted. “Besides, you can’t just change the laws all of a sudden. Merfolk has to go up on the surface when they’re 21, not 20.”

“What the hell is your point,” your mom seethed.

Your hands clenched into fists. “My point is, today is my birthday today. I’m 21 years old already.”

“Not with your father’s rule change. I’m afraid you’re still going to stay down here for another years.”

Your breath couldn’t hold anymore.

“You guys never cared about me,” you said, voice shaking. “Or what I want. Or the fact it’s my birthday today.”

One of your sisters scoffed. “Since it’s your “birthday”, we are celebrating.”

“We’re celebrating your accomplishments, the accomplishments that I noticed first!”

“Watch your tone, (y/n),” your father said with an accusing finger pointing towards you. “You should just be quiet and eat the food your sisters prepared. The food’s delicious and that it shows that their skills are far better off without you.”

“Your existence is only nothing but a hinderance,” another sister stated with a smirk, one that you notice that everyone disregards.

“Ugly, too.”

“And your sisters are going to get married. Their mermen are eligible and mature. Your sisters made great accomplishments these years.”

“Yes, all because of me,” you snapped.

“Aren’t you a selfish dictator today?” your sister said.

“I told you to watch your tone,” your mother said.

“What are you talking about,” your sister said with an innocent tone. “We did everything without your help.”

“Did you really wanted to get your spotlight back,” another sister accused, putting the narrative in your mouth when you haven’t said a word yet.

“Well—”

“I knew it. You’re just a despicable girl.”

Your fists clenched harder.

“Get that girl out of my sight, she ruined everyone’s celebration,” your father said.

The guilt overtook you. “I’m sorry.”

Your father flicked his hand in a dismissal wave. “Go, I can’t even look at your disgusting face. If you are human, I’d kill you on the spot for crossing us. You’re weak—you’re not an underdog, you’re just useless damsel to this household. If anything, find a proper assistance or get a merman to calm your outrageous accusations. Your mother gave birth to you, and this is how you repay her? You’re a disgrace to us all.”

The sisters did nothing but watched you leave, their snickering never faded, even after you left. All those years, you were left out.

Instead of a birthday song to serenate on your day, you ended up with an empty stomach and a heavy-burdened heart. As a mermaid, soul of whirlwind emotions are rare. You felt no shedded tears in your eyes, but your heart said, otherwise.

You feel used, you feel terrified and ugly—overshadowed by them. Whether you did something or not, nothing came good to you anymore. Devaluing your existence, your beautiful silver iridescent tail and your long raven-haired locks are rivaled with your sister’s blonde locks.

The clear night sky shone upon the ocean, without looking back, you went up to the surface, and caught a glimpse of fireworks, splashing colorful sparks across the starless skies. It was beautiful.

Going near across the shore, you heard a roaring noise, but it wasn’t produced from a human noise. Rather from the path on land. And so, you investigated it further. And all the roads are packed with men with long black coats, ridden in funny vehicles, hollering.

As exciting as it was, you followed them where they’re headed. And by the time you followed them, they stopped at the cliff of the road.

The men got down and all of them waited for the last man to dismount. All of their black coats have a name on their backs. Black Dragons.

The man who dismounted, was a funny looking one. His hairstyle was bizarre, but it was rather cute. He was shirtless, but wear an open coat. His face wore a smile as his shadow-colored eyes veered towards his companions with a smile.

“Come on, let’s celebrate—for our victory against the rival gang!”

All the men cheered.

“Brother, can we go get taiyaki,” a boy with a golden blond hair said to a tall man.

“You already have one, Mikey,” he said with a soft smile.

“But I’m hungry again,” Mikey replied.

The tall man chuckled, ruffling Mikey’s hair. “Alright, we’ll get one, since it’s your birthday today.”

“Thank you, Shinichiro!” Mikey lunged at Shinichiro with a hug. “You still stink and you suck at getting girls.”

“Aw now you just ruined the moment.”

Shinichiro.

Your lips parted. But your heart felt alive again. Your prayers aligned to your shimmering innocence.

Shinichiro.

It comes to a time where you have to make your own choice.

You’re going to get away from your family and live on a precious land.

Taglist: @colored-tr-panels @f1yh1gh @galactict3a @goldenbeskar @penguinlovestowrite @akemiixx01 @sehunnies-hunnie96 @mrsharuchiyo @tojishugetiddies

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beauty-in-negative-spaces · 1 year

Text

Dewey Riley NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You can expect to be absolutely pampered by Dewey after you're both done. He'll go the full nine yards: cleaning you up with a damp washcloth, getting you a glass of water, putting on TV or music as background noise, and holding onto you until one of you passes out.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

If you asked Dewey he'd say he's into personality but he does have a weak spot for a nice pair of thighs to put his head between. As for himself he's fond of his hands, or more so the way you react to them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He has a small thing for cumming on you, whether it be your chest or your face, it always gets him going for round 2.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Although it'd take some time before he admits it, he loves when you take the reins and wouldn't mind getting dominated. He'll never say it outside of the bedroom for fear that word would get back to the guys at the station,

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's probably had a small handful of flings and past relationships that didn't work out. He's well versed in the vanilla but wouldn't mind someone to teach him new tricks.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Dewey is a little bit of a sap, he likes missionary mostly because he likes to look into your eyes and hold you as you both come undone. Other than that he'd be up for you riding him every now and then.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He'll goof around with you all throughout foreplay but as soon as the pants come off he's dead serious with you, man switches into the most hopeless romantic and turns into putty in your hands.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Much like his face Dewey does carry some hair down there as well. While it's a little wild he at least has the decency to trim the bush every now and then.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As stated above Dewey is a complete and total hopeless romantic. Everything he does is to please you, both in bed and out of. Because of this it's no surprise how many times he'll tell you he loves you during and afterwards.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dewey is about average in the masturbation department. Whenever he's away from you and needs you he'll take care of himself as discreetly as possible. It's hard when you're his main outlet of blowing off some stress from work.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This man for sure has a praise kink on both sides. Tell him how good he is and he'll simply melt. On the flip side he'll be praising you on anything and everything in the seconds up to him cumming.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dewey is a very private person when it comes to his sex life. He'll be hesitant to do anything outside the bedroom. However once you guys get a place together he'll be more open to activities in other places.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing his partner in any sort of domestic situation sends his heart into a frenzy. After all this time and things he's been through, nothing gets him going more than seeing his partner safe and happy. Put on an old shirt of his and make some breakfast in the morning and you'll be pushed against the kitchen counter in no time. That and a little sexy lingerie never hurt.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that hurts his partner. Dewey would be hesitant to try anything bdsm related outside of maybe some handcuffs and some (light) spanking.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He doesn't mind receiving, especially after a long day at the station, but his favorite has to be giving. He's a little lacking in the skill department at first but once he get the hang of things he'll be getting your hips bucking.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depending on the situation and how hard work's been on him Dewey could do either. While be prefers it slow and sensual, sometimes sitting at the station thinking of coming home to you can roughen things up a bit.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Dewey isn't too fond of quickies. When you guys do have sex he wants to take you slowly and make sure you're both satisfied. However, when he's working a more serious case and isn't home for very long, quickies become a must to keep him sane.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dewey is often nervous about trying new things. If it's something that he knows you'll enjoy or have been fantasizing about for a while he'll always give it a shot.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last a good 30-45 minutes per round when he's getting sensual with it. When given breaks between he can go for around 3 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Dewey doesn't have any toys for himself but he wouldn't be opposed to cuffing him or you to the bed for a round if you brought it up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can defiantly be a little bit of a tease during foreplay or when giving oral but once he gets down to business he can't stand the thought of making you wait.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The SOUNDS this man makes are absolutely divine. You probably won't hear much the first couple of times you guys do it, but after he grows more comfortable and secure with you he'll grunt and whine, especially between praises when you're riding him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dewey has a small (giant) thing for marking you up. Once he gets more confidant he'll be leaving hickeys all over your neck and thighs.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's around 5.9" when fully erect, uncut.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's pretty average but when work gets stressful he'll definitely need you a little more.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He's out as soon as he knows you're satisfied and safe.

#dewey riley #dewey riley x reader #dewey riley imagine #scream #scream franchise #writing memes

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hold-on-a-little-longer-whump · 3 months

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If you're still accepting asks about whump tropes...

What about Parting Words Regret trope? That's when two characters get into an argument, one leaves, only for something terrible happen to them (did they get killed? Kidnapped? Disappeared without a trace???) and the other character feels guilty over their last words. If only they hadn't said such harsh things to their friend... then they would still be here.

Makes me cry every time. Such a good trope.

-- @whumperofworlds

Ahh @whumperofworlds the emotional whump. You've gotta love it. A whump story simply isn't complete without it! I can personally relate to this trope, and maybe that's why I like it?? As with all tropes, there's so many different ways it could go. Normally, I'd refer to the characters as Victim and Survivor, but the characters could really be interpreted either way.

Were the words the result of an explosive argument? Were they muttered in complete seriousness, cold eyes locked with surprised, glassy ones? Was it over something petty or mundane that could have been an easy fix?

This is only punctuated further when we see the other character's reaction because oh - oh, that cut deep. When one leaves, is it a quiet, defeated retreat? All slumped shoulders and biting a quivering lip? Are the both of them still yelling as they depart? Does one person snatch up their coat and slam the door? Is one of them frozen, stunned silent by the harsh words, and the other just leaves them there? Do they have family, allies, or friends that witness this exchange? Are sides taken? Is one character completely abandoned as everyone else sides with the other?

Maybe they go for a walk to soothe their frayed nerves. Maybe they immediately try calling their phone, sending texts, leaving voicemails, only to be ignored. Then... then it really sinks in. Was it the Survivor that ignored the calls, or was it the Victim? Either way, it hurts. See, this part is important to me. We, as readers/viewers, need to see how profoundly this exchange affected the Victim before the Event takes place. The deeper the wound, the more agonized the Survivor's regret and guilt is. The readers/viewers can shake their heads in disappointment and can still feel sympathy for the Survivor.

And then it happens. Poof. The Victim is gone. Kidnapped, killed, missing - whatever it was, it happened. Where was the Survivor when they found out? What were they doing? Were they eating (they can't stand the taste of that specific food now) or were they in the middle of an important conversation/task? Were they safely tucked away, sleeping in a comfortable bed, only to be ripped from sleep by someone alerting them to the news? Do they leap into action, all arguments forgotten? Do they freeze up? Do they demand answers?

Give me a normally calm, level-headed Survivor turning into a terrifyingly silent, angry Survivor that launches into a personal mission to avenge/rescue the Victim by any means necessary.

Give me a confident, hothead Survivor turned into a useless, crumpled mess of tears and cries of anguish.

Let's not forget the biggest part though; that part you referred to. The regret. The guilt. The constant stream of whywhywhy's and what if's and if only's in their mind. It's crippling. It nearly breaks them. Maybe it does break them. Unspoken apologies haunt them. Maybe their allies/friends lay blame on them for what happened, or maybe they try to convince the Survivor that it wasn't their fault, that there's nothing anyone could have done - but that doesn't matter because they still said those horrible, horrible things. The last impression they left on the Victim was negative and demeaning and hate-filled and so so so not true. The last memory they have of the Victim is a flushed face and clenched fists and hitched breaths and it's not fair!

Maybe this guilt is the only thing that drives them onward, because they can't let this happen again. They refuse. Never again. No more Victims. They won't make the same mistake twice.

Because it's their fault. Their words drove off the Victim. Words really do hold the most profound power in the world. It's just a pity how easy it is to use them the wrong way.

Also, have this quote that this made me think of. I couldn't find the author's name, but here's a link to the source material :)

"Sometimes, when people leave, I'm seized by a sudden fear that they'll die while they're out, and I'll never forget the last thing I said to them."

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ficjoelispunk · 5 months

Text

Ch 10 - DO YOUR JOB

You can find all the chapters available here

<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>

A/N: Well guys, here we are going to start having a different Javier. It’s a toxic couple, I hope you know that. And, if you’re enjoying it, send me DM’s, talk to me, I love knowing what you’re thinking. And I also apologize for the grammatical errors, as you know I am translating, but soon I will have help, and this problem will be solved. Starting next week, I will post one chapter per week. We’re almost over... thank you all.

After the conversation that you are Javier had in the file room. Both you and Javi have avoided each other, even more so, if it was possible. It was ridiculous. But that's what was happening. You greeted each other with just a nod professionally. No words. Whenever they needed to talk, it was Murphy who came to you.

You found yourself sad a few times. Ugh! Many feelings have passed through you. Especially disappointment with yourself, for thinking that with you it was different. Never was. But you missed it. Your miss Javier, who is attentive, careful and protective.

Why did he do this to you?

He gave you a taste of how good he could be, only to later remind you how he could be extremely bad. Reckless and irresponsible. It seemed like he was controlled by two extremes. Either he was pulling you to him, or he was pushing you away from him.

It's okay that the goal of both of you was to catch Pablo Escobar. But unfortunately in this environment you got involved, and now you needed to deal with it.

Javier was right. You needed to stop being innocent. But you didn't have to stop being cautious. And you feared for him, where would it end up taking you both.

***

Christmas was coming. Another year is ending. As you were in the middle of Medellin, with no family, friends, or anything else. Your plan was to update the records, organize the agenda, catalog wiretapping, check possible connections and clues... and ignore Christmas.

Apparently someone had the same plans as you, about ignoring the Christmas spirit.

Another attack took place in the midst of Christmas ornaments, where children would be seeing the bodies of cruelly mutilated dead men.

"Feliz Navidad, Pablo" The sign said.

Javier looked at you on the other side of the table when he received the complaint. You shook your head coming out of the room a little bewildered. Just imagining that Javier could be involved with such violence, you wanted to vomit. Out, of course, the excess of details you had access to. That made you dream for weeks about the possibility of being you or him there. Or anyone in the department. Anyway.

These attacks were fomented by Los Pepes. You knew who had given that freedom. Him. And now there was no more control.

And Javier knew you were right. But now he couldn't go back. Javier created his own monster, which he would have to defeat.

And so followed the deaths, and the deaths that took over the media. Pepes were reported on all channels. And something had to be done.

Colonel Martinez called a meeting.

"We intercepted a call from an Escobar sicario, and we will monitor, and keep them informed. I also want to say that we know that there is another group acting in the same goal as ours, Los Pepes, we should not match them at all. The difference must be clear between them and us."

Javier didn't take his eyes off you. You didn't take your eyes off him. Knowing exactly that this information would come out of there directly to God knows to whom he would provide it. And you didn't have the courage to submit this information to the superintendence.

You became who you feared most in your work. All because of who you hated and avoided the most all this time, and now I couldn't stop thinking. You dug your own grave, and your biggest sin was lust.

You left the room behind Agents Peña and Murphy, tried not to listen to the conversation, but you listened.

"Los Pepes is an interesting unfolding," Murphy commented.

"Escobar has many enemies," Peña observed.

"I heard from Messina that a lot of people are watching them and us," Murphy looked back in his direction.

Javier looked over his shoulders.

You pretended not to notice.

"Are you secretly working for Los Pepes?" Javier asked Murphy relaxed.

"No," he laughed.

"So there's nothing to worry about"

But Javier was. And he had to worry. And you worried about him. Since he didn't have a shred of judgment in that hollow head.

***

The search group went out in an operation looking for the sicario who intercepted the call. But guess what? When they found the house. He had already been caught.

Murphy became suspicious. Late, you recognize it. But he connected the dots.

"When we finally confirmed that it was Jairo, Martinez gave the search order and when we arrived Los Pepes had already caught him"

"So?"

"And how did Los Pepes get here first?"

"He may have been followed. Or he said shit and someone heard it"

"Hm, is that all you have to say?"

Javier shrugged.

"I have a theory"

"And what would it be?" Javier asked while lighting a cigarette.

"I think someone is leaking information"

Javier shrugged again.

"And I think someone who may have reasons for that. You know... someone who stayed out long enough and went through terrible situations that may be being used from the inside..."

Javier stiffened. How could Murphy make an assumption like this about you and not him?

"Don't put her in the middle of it," Javier murmured. And walked away from Murphy, "if you're worried, investigate!" He raised a tone of voice as he walked.

***

You have received new information from the Embassy. You didn't want to pass it on to the Agents. Peña wasn't being careful at all. He didn't filter the information, he dumped everything to Los Pepes.

But it was your job.

You walked to the duo's table.

"We received new information from the Embassy"

Javier reached out to access the envelope, but you handed it to Steve, leaving him in a vacuum.

"Centra Spike give us a Christmas present?" Javier asked anxiously.

"Blackie is receiving phone calls from Envigado," you explained.

"The son of a bitch has a girlfriend," Murphy added.

Javier took the envelope from Steve's hand.

You and Steve looked at each other. You arched your eyebrows. Steve kept watching. Looking at Javier and you.

You reached out to Javier asking for the envelope back.

"I'll take it to Colonel Martinez to investigate"

Javier did not return it, until he read until the last line of the transcript.

"Yes, of course, as you wish," he then returned it to Murphy, and Murphy passed it on to you.

You rolled your eyes.

He left a few minutes later.

You went after it.

Murphy watched.

You picked up Javier on the phone.

"You don't waste time" you interrupted.

He turned to look at you.

"If you're going to keep doing this, even with everything that..."

"Shut up"

Javier sticks to your arm, and drags you to the cleaning room.

"Let me go"

"Be quiet" Javier squeezes your arm.

"You're hurting me" your voice fails, your breathing starts to get irregular "please."

Javier looks at you. He knows that his attitude awakens triggers in you. He lets go of your arm abruptly.

"Stop following me"

"Why? Are you afraid that they will find out that you are the fucking informant of a paramilitary faction?"

He advances on you, you smash your eyes, retreating until you touch the wall. Javier leaves you cornered, putting his hands next to your shoulder. Staring at you. The eyes running down your face, while your breath is heavy. Javier feels your body stiffen. He see the fear in your eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" You murmur, your voice failing.

He deflects his face quickly. Your stomach is turning.

"You're scaring me," you whisper.

"Stop acting like a child" Javier growls to you.

"You may lose your position" you try to find his look.

"It's working, isn't it?" He speaks rudely to you "we are leaving Pablo cornered, never before have we managed to catch so many sicaires, the siege is closing and tomorrow it could be him"

You sort the air through your mouth.

"This is not right, you are a Federal Agent, your work is against drug trafficking does not join him"

"I'm not joining anyone," he leans over you.

"I should report you"

Javier holds your jaw, without strength, but firm.

"Do your fucking job, and stay away from me," he says looking into your eyes.

You push him.

"Why did you rescue me? It would be much easier for you to let me die in that place. It would save you so much regret"

"Stop playing the poor thing, you're better than that..."

You took a step past it, but retreated side by side, to talk more.

"Don't worry Agent Peña, I already understood the message, I understood that you regretted taking me to your bed, and preferred to pretend that you didn't know me when the day dawned, I understood that you feel responsible, rest assured, you have no obligation to me"

"I wouldn't pretend if you slept with me every night"

WHAT? Jesus...

Javier grabs you, running his hand over your waist, pulling your body to his, kissing your lips.

You struggle in the tightness of your body against his chest. But he kisses you without caring about your slaps. Urgent. Messy. Raising you on his lap. Putting you on the table of cleaning material. Dropping the products on the floor. No worries if someone listened to you two in that tiny room. And before you reasoned, you were kissing him back.

Javier's hands squeezed your leg and waist, pulling your body against his, pressing on you. While you were pulling his hair. Your erratic breathing in a desperate kiss.

Javier goes down his lips around your neck, inhaling your perfume.

"I missed you," he murmured close to your ear.

"You'll get over it"

You tilt your head back. While Javier's hands unbutton your shirt frantically.

The other hand snakes under your skirt, you moan. Javier's fingers find the lace of your panties.

Your shirt already unbuttoned, Javier goes down his lips to your bra. Leaning you back to almost lie down on the table. He pulls the lace of the bra down releasing your nipple. That goes straight to his mouth.

You try not to make noise. Javier's fingers, pulling the fabric of your already damp panties to the side, his finger sliding over your middle. You spread your legs for him.

"I think you missed it too," he says with his lips on your skin.

He slides two fingers inside you. You pull the air through your open mouth with pleasure. Trying not to moan.

Your hands go down to his pants, where he is rigid, hard and needy. The touch makes Javier gasp.

"I don't think more than you" you say, touching his cock, disarming him completely.

You straighten the posture, and he establishes himself with his feet on the ground, while you pass your hand through his greeting pressing, massaging. Big and thick, in your small hand.

Javier stretches his hand back to turn the door lock.

You faded his pants and pulled the zipper. Javier leans over to kiss you.

He fucked you there. Against the wall. With his hands in your mouth, to drown out your needy moans, while he slid his cock inside you, strong, aggressive. As if he wanted to punish you. As if that were his punishment.

"I like how your mouth is silent when I'm inside you," he growled gravely in your ear.

You came while Javier held one of your legs next to his hip, giving him a perfect position inside you, leaving him the deepest you've ever felt.

"Javi" you sighed throwing your head back.

"Fuck!" He let out an animalistic sound with his head tilted back, when you started pulsing around his cock, with your body being pressed against the wall, your head hitting against the wall as he sinks violently inside you, with you having spasms of pleasure. Javier couldn't take it for another second, and you felt him fill you with the thick jets painting the walls of your pussy.

It was hard to think and avoid desire. It was difficult to control your body that longed for Javier, when your head couldn't find the strength to simply give you the coordinates to get away from that man.

"I won't keep doing this" you closed the buttons on your shirt.

"What? Sex?" He asks in a fun tone.

You face him.

"It's a little late for you to think about celibacy," Javier mocks.

You fake a fake smile.

"I'm not someone you can come and get what you need when you want, and how you want and then go out acting like I'm nobody, pretending I'm invisible. You don't have to pay me to fuck me, but unfortunately I have feelings"

Javier looked at you seriously.

"I'm not the one you want, it's the feeling, so have fun with others. You don't even want me near you, I don't understand what you think Javier"

"Are you going to have fun with others?" There was an anticipation in Javier's tone of voice.

"Maybe. Maybe I should. Maybe I should have fun with someone who really wants to have fun with me, someone who really cares about me, and it's not just an obligation."

Javier grinded his jaw.

"This won't happen anymore..." you repeated.

You had your hand on the door, turning the key, to get out.

You hesitated for a moment. You waited for an answer, you waited for Javier to say something. But Javier didn't say anything. He just leaned on the table, watching you go out with his head down.

You shook your head. And you left.

Javier tilted his head back, running his hands over his face. Alone in the living room, still with a foggy head about the sex they just had.

He couldn't say anything to you. How to explain that he thinks of you every single day, every fucking moment. That the fucking smell of your body moisturizer sticks to his skin, and it's like a drug that turns off his senses. That nothing compares to when he is inside you, feeling your warmth, as if they were one thing. That he never felt that way.

How could he say that, when he was Javier Peña. When he was leaking information from inside the department to other drug traffickers. You were very involved. He was very involved. That had no chance of ending well. But he didn't want to drag you with him into this hole.

How could he tell you that you mean a lot to him. When his mouth said something and his head said another, and his heart said something even more different.

But Javier was mostly inconsequential. And his inconsistency always ended up speaking louder.

***

At least, the time Javier spent fucking you from the cleaning room, Murphy managed to pass on the information to Colonel Martinez about the listening you gave them earlier about Blackie.

They organized the search group to surround the area. But he did it without Javier. Agent Peña only knew when the search team was leaving the base.

"Fucking Christmas miracle" Peña murmured to himself.

Peña was worried. A whole tactical team positioned to make a blockade, and intercept Blackie, when he knew that from the information he leaked, at any moment, Los Pepes would be there too.

He tried to warn Don Berna. But it was too late.

Los Pepes were already close to the address. And Colonel Martínez ordered a blitz through the region. And they fell on the street where the cars were being stop.

It turns out that the officer responsible for the blitz was the son of Colonel Martínez, and when the Castaño brothers' car was stopped, and asked to present documents. Fidel offered money to the officer.

The integrity of Martinez's son equal to or superior to that of his father. And trying to bribe him triggered exactly what Javier tried to avoid.

When Martinez relocated the units to sector 20 which was where his son was, Murphy passed on the information to Javier, and an icy hollow invaded his stomach, already wondering what it could be.

Carlos Castaño tried to inform the officer that they were on the same side. But in a desperate attitude, the officer pointed the gun at him. All the other paramilitaries in the cars behind came down from the cars, heavily armed, with semi-automatics, and machine guns.

Javier and Murphy arrived and witnessed the conflict. Immediately Murphy got out of the car almost in motion.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" He despaired when he saw all the weapons pointed at the colonel's son "Calma! ¡Calma! Deja ir el arma” Murphy’s horrible Spanish.

Javier didn't get out of the car. Prosecuting. The shit that was going on.

They started yelling at each other. Threatening each other.

“¡Bravo! ¡Bravo! ¡Bravo! ¡Qué hombres! Bravo” he got out of the car, and clapped his hands "Sí, lo sabemos, todos queremos a Pablo" he was walking to Carlos Castaño "Pero tienes que dejarnos hacer nuestro puto trabajo, ¿de acuerdo?"

Javier was panting. The breathing failed. The tension hovered in the air. He knew everyone there was crazy. And that anyone could start a slaughter.

He approached Carlos Castaño's ear.

"¿Qué? ¿Nos vamos a matar en una puta barrera?" Javier turned to Fidel, right behind his brother "¡Deja caer el arma! ¡Babajo el arma!"

Carlos Castaño handed the gun to Javier.

Javier turned to the officer.

"They think they're helping us" Javier hands the gun to the officer, and holds his face "Okay? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, sir," the officer replies.

"Let's go back home alive" Javier smiles panting "Right?"

"Right"

"Déjalos pasar"

"Ok"

And so it was. They went through the blockade.

And Murphy understood there, what was happening.

"What? I know I was avoiding a bloodbath" Javier shrugged.

Murphy smiled ironically. Understanding everything perfectly now.

In short, they didn't catch Blackie that day. The girlfriend didn't deliver it, of course. And they lost the operation.

Javier had surrendered there. Colonel Martinez also had a moment of lucidity just like Murphy.

You saw Javier pass by your table with big steps, he stared at you for a brief moment, his eyes worried, disappointed. You understood that the situation was not good.

Murphy passed right behind him following his trail. You stretched out on the table to see them talk. Agent Murphy almost stuck to Javier.

"When would you intend to tell me about your new friend Carlos Castaño?"

Javier looked at you over his shoulders. Hesitant.

"He's not my friend. We have a common interest"

Murphy shook his head.

"My God Javi, I hope you know what you're doing"

"Don't worry, I won't involve you"

Murphy looked at you, pointing with his chin in your direction.

"And her?"

Javier stays still.

"What about her?"

"Do she know?"

Javier doesn't answer.

"I'll imagine that she doesn't know and that's why you're not being suspended, since she would report you at the first opportunity, right?"

Javier knew where Steve wanted to go. If you knew and didn't file the complaint, you would be an accomplice of Javier. And if you didn't know, you would be the worst assistant ever seen in the United States of America.

"Right," Javier replied.

"I'm not worried about myself..."

"I know how to take care of myself"

"With this kind of guys you shouldn’t get involved, Javi”

Javier hesitates. He looks at you sitting behind your desk, hold it now after being kidnapped, you've already warned him about it. And he already knew.

"You're going to drag her into the middle of this madness"

"She's very big to take care of her life, Murphy"

"I thought you liked her..."

Javier stared at Murphy.

"If you are interested..." Javier raises an eyebrow.

"Go to hell Peña, if she knows something, and doesn't talk, know that she's taking a risk for you. I'm telling you because you're stupid enough not to recognize"

"They will do this, with or without my help. At least this way, I'm in the middle, and I have control" Javier hesitates "not to cross the limit"

"So as not to cross the limit?" Steve frowned "did they take the girl, pointed a fucking gun at an officer's head and the bandits come out unharmed?"

"Who are the good guys Steve? That’s us?"

The two face each other in silence. Javi walked by leaps and bounds, you accompanied him passing by you with your eyes.

***

The Castaño brothers were being efficient, but Pablo Escobar was Pablo Escobar, he had eyes and ears throughout the city of Medellin.

Escobar managed to find out who were the faces that personified Los Pepes. And he knew that the Castaño brothers would only act like this moved by money. And he knew that Judy Moncada wouldn't have enough money to move them. Following the line of reasoning after Judy, it turns the Cali cartel.

Pablo orchestrated an attack on the wedding day of Gilberto Rodriguez's daughter, blowing up all the millionaire wedding decoration, with the bomb that exploded in the middle of the event.

And it was at this point in history that things went off the rails for good.

#javier pena x y/n #javier pena fluff #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal #narcos #narcos fanfiction

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