#[***agressive rumbles in a corner***]

[lilacwineandthesinkingsun]

Castle of Sand ii.

N: watched Sand castle, thought of a story. writing this to my own entertainment, not aiming to offend anybody. ty

Pairing: Captain Syverson x reader

warning: war,angst,slowburn, death, injuries, weapons

Syverson didn't let you out of his room for the remainder of the week. And you were getting quite bored of laying around, reading the single book you brought with yourself.

-Sy, i appreciate your concern, but i am fine, and i need to do my job, otherwise why am i here? If you managed to get injured three times in the past week, how do the others look... Please let me do my work. - you pleaded earning a sigh.

-I ... theres a new doctor in the base for the time being. Until you get better.

-I am better...

-No you're not. - he looked at you.

-Look i get it, im a woman, we got closer, but you cant keep me from doing my job, and you can't keep me in your fucking room. - you said, heading for the door. you had enough.

When you arrived at the medbay, the substitute doctor wasn't there. The soldiers greeted you, glad that you're back. So you went and changed some bandages.

-Doc, you're an angel. That bastard took so long to take a bullet out, i thought i was shot again... - one rumbled.

-Do not worry guys, i am back and well. The substitute will be gone in a few days. - you smiled at them, putting a reassuring hand on one's shoulder, when there was a cough behind you.

-The substitute - he emphasized - will not be leaving. However Doctor (Y/L/N) will be heading for the main base for psychological evaluation. - he said behind you, voice way too familiar. You turned around and your face dropped, but you needed to collect yourself quickly.

-I do certainly not need that, i am perfectly capable of doing my job Tom. - you said turning to leave, when he agressively shoved a paper in your hands, a few of the soldiers perking up, stepping towards you if you needed help. Ocre and Harper saw this from not too far.

-What the fuck is his problem? I never saw a man treat (Y/n) like that..

-Me neither, better inform the captain before they beat him to pulp, you know how they can get if its (Y/n). - he said, turning for the captain's office.

Your room wasn't far, while Harper went to speak with the Captain, Ocre went to check on you cause you stormed in, running past them. He heard sniffling and noises from your room. You were angrily packing your duffelbag, trying to wipe away the tears with the sleeve of your scrubs.

-Doc.. what happened?

You just silently handed him the paper. He followed you. Nearly killing you wasn't enough, you leaving him wasn't enough, he had to come, and ruin your job here at the base, where you planned to stay for a long time.

-Psychological evaluation? Why on earth would a stranger... - thats when he remembered your story. - that's him out there isn't it?..

You just nodded. You were so tired of him ruining every good thing you ever had. You were exhausted from fighting.

-May i? - he asked, holding his hands out if you needed a hug. You just ran and let him hug you, crying into his chest. He was your first friend here. A good one at that. Your back was turned to the door, so you didn't realize Sy and Harper arrived, wanting to ask you about the other doc. You were crying shaking in Matt's hands, he just handed them the paper silently, mouting to Syverson - that's the ex-fiancé. Syverson saw red. He grabbed his gun, along with the paper, stomping out to the medbay, more and more soldiers following him if there's a problem or they are needed.

He cornered your ex to a table, fear clear in that bastards eyes. Gotta admit Syverson was a big bulky, scary man if you didn't know him. Traits of a Captain.

-I called the main base, telling them to assign you to a different base, since our(Y/n) here is perfectly fine now, and that i see no need for the evaluation. Then you can pack your bag and leave my base before i shoot you in the fucking head. - he fumed, face so close he didn't need to shout to be loud.

Tom scoffed and laughed when he heard your name.

-First name basis? not too professional Captain... Bet you want to keep her to fuck her some more, do ya? She's a good fuck, i admit that much. But you see, i am a better doctor, your men deserve a better doctor then her.

Before he could say anything a few soldiers lifted their guns pointing towards him, rumbling about how you are the best doctor they ever had, and how he cannot talk about you like that. A manic smirk settled on his lips now.

-Oh so you are all fucking her huh? I knew she was a whore.. but a whole military base... She overdid herself..

You heard it and you saw it all. You knew there was a tiny chance you can stop Syverson from killing him. You had to do it. Not for Tom but for Syverson.

-Noone did as much as even touch me here Tom. Even if any of them would, you have no right to judge that. - you said calmly, walking slowly towards him.

-That is where you're wrong sweetheart. I let you have your playtime out here, but it is time you come back to the states. I am still your fiancé.

A single tear left your eye at the word. You took the knife attached to Syverson's belt, holding it to Tom's neck, while spatting out the words, for everyone out here to hear.

-I stopped being your fiancé when you arranged the car wreck, nearly killing me out of spite that i was better at my job than you. I don't even give shit about that i nearly lost my leg OR my life, but i despise you for the way you have always treated me. So no i will not go back to the states, nor marry you, nor to that fucking evaluation even if they take my licence. And you know why? because these men here appreciate the work i do, how i do it, and you know what.. That is a hundred times better than having a person next to me as shitty as you.

Syverson carefully took the knife from your hands, as you nearly drew blood from Tom's neck, then put an arm around your shoulders, slowly making you step back.

-Harper, make sure Mr. Miller is out of this base in an hour, or we'll make sure that the men out there have him. - he said as he walked you to his room, offering a whiskey and a cigarette. You sat on his bed, and he sat on a chair next to you.

The silence was welcome.

He was looking at you concerned as you downed whiskey.. Probably a few glasses too much. By the time you said your first word, it was already after the base going pitch black. You two sat there in his room, in full darkness.

-You know captain... at first i ran away to Iraq. I figured if my life did not worth anything then i might as well lose it out here, helping men whose life does matter. I got countless opportunities to date. Ranks all around. And i just wasn't interested. Not even once. - if there were any light in the room, you could seen the hurt in his eyes. Perhaps a little pity too, but somewhere deep inside he hoped at least you would be interested in him. - and you know whats even more upsetting? He waltzes in here, trying to ruin everything again, and the only fucking thing that was on my mind the whole time was how fucking sexy it was that you stood up for me, and how did you do it. - you laughed, hearing him laughing a bit too.

-Please forget it.. I shouldn't have said that.. - you said hiding your face in your hands, as if he could see the blush that crept up on it.

-You know.. seeing you press a knife to his neck, talking to him like that... i had to hide the tent in my pants by helding you closer and taking you here.

-Captain.. - you said with a fake surprise - that is highly inappropriate.

He chuckled while you giggled as he took your hand, inviting you to stand between his legs.

-I just can't keep myself away from you doc. - he said, his voice is merely a low growl.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or the feeling that nothing even matters anymore.. You scooted forward, and gave a peck to his lips. He put his hand behind your neck, urging you to kiss him more, while his other hand helped you to straddle him in the chair. And you let him.

The kisses turned more and more feverish, his hands were all over you. He got up, hand under your ass, the other behind your neck, helding you close to him, as he went to lay down on his bed, you on top of him. He wanted to give you the reins, the opportunity to stop and pull away any time you wanted. However you didn't want to. He maybe just using you, but with Syverson, you didn't mind it. Again.. maybe just the alcohol.. Time will tell. You smiled into the kiss, hand going downwards to get rid of his t-shirt. He sat up a bit to help you. You saw him once in his underwear, but damn he felt good under your hands. His hand slowly started to unbutton your shirt, again leaving time for you to tell him to stop if you wanted. You both were in your underwears when his hand caressed your back, noticing the old scars, making you stop for a second.

-It's okay sweetheart.. Noone's gonna hurt you now. - he said between kisses.

-It's.. it's just.. I'm full of scars.. i'm permanently limping.. why would you want that?...

-He made you lie on his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead while holding you close. -Why wouldnt i want that? I want you (Y/n), i wanted you ever since you barged in hire without knocking and put me in my place, not even phased by the lack of clothes i was wearing..

-Oh i was phased by it.. - you giggled into his chest - i was afraid you'd notice me clenching my thighs together. MY fucking panties were ruined that day. I was upset at you for them.

-Oh i'll get you a new one. But does that mean that right now you...

You hide your face further into his chest as if he could see you.

-Hm.. let me see it then.. - He smirked while his hand inched towards your pants, undoing them. His movements were painfully slow. He Moved two fingers up and down your clothed core, humming as if satisfied, then he pulled your panties to the side to gather some slick and bring it to his lips, licking you off of them.

-Just as i thought.. You're the sweetest thing i ever saw. - he said kissing your neck, while his hand went back into your panties, slowly circling your aching bud.

-Tell me to stop doll.. Tell me to stop and i'll do it..

You couldn't stop the moan that crept up your throat, as your breathing became uneven. You knew you wont be able to form words, but you had to let him know somehow. You got up, and he was scared he did something wrong, but then he heard your clothes being dropped on the floor, and then there you were, laying next to him, naked. A thing he dreamt about countless times since that day. He turned to you, climbing on top, slowly kissing your lips, your neck, your collarbones, stopping to play with your nipples.. The torture was the sweetest but he was so close yet so far from where you wanted him to be. The bastard took his damn time. He just planted a kiss to the side of your pussy when you whimpered under him. A silent please leaving your lips. He smiled as he dove in like a starved man. You were trying so hard to not let any voice out, but damn it was hard when this literal god was down between your legs, eating oyu out like you were his last meal.

He added two fingers soon enough.

-C'mon sweetheart i can feel you're close.. - he whispered, pistoning in and out of your pussy. - let me hear your sweet voice..

-Bu-but the others.. - you whispered between whimpers.

-Those bastards figured you're mine by now.. let them hear just how much of that is true..

The moan that left your throat was almost sinful, and you were sure everybody in the base have heard it. But you couldn't help yourself. Him being posessive... and also just HIM... you basically flew over the edge, coming aroung his fingers, soaking his beard. He helped you ride out your high with small licks, before climbing up, and gathering you in his hands.

When you tried to get up and return the favor, he held you tighter.

-But don't you want to..? - You asked.

-Oh doll trust me i want nothing more.. But i also want to take my time with you.. I hope you know this isnt just for today... or a week.. - he said before kissing you slowly.

For the first time in your life you fell asleep in a man's arms happy and content. You only hoped this wasn't a dream.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning he got up sooner than you. The events of yesterday possibly took a toll on you, so he didn't want to wake you up. Also, something about you, sleeping in his bed naked made him happier than he ever was.

When you woke up you were alone in your room. Panic settling in. Maybe he thought this was a mistake, you shouldn't have done this.

Suddenly the door opened, and there he was. Breakfast and coffee in hand.

He saw the panic in your eyes, so he quickly set everything down on the table before rushing towards you.

He planted a kiss on your lips.

-I hope you didn't think i left cause it was a mistake.. I got you now.. I'm not planning to let this thing go sweetheart.. - he almost whispered on your lips before kissing you again..

[havenoffandoms]

Geralt of Rivia is, for lack of a better phrase, a complicated man. Jaskier knows as much - he's been at the receiving end of sharp, near cruel comments (the fillingless pie comes to mind), but every so often he gets a glimpse of Geralt's humanity; when the white wolf's frown softens into something nearly comforting when he sees a young widow burst into tears; or when he will refuse coin from a worried father who just wants his daughter to come home to him, safe and unharmed. Under the boorish and cantankerous exterior hides a sensitive man who coos at his horse and always has a kind word for children. Admittedly, Jaskier rarely got to see Geralt's softer side and often the white wolf will bristle when Jaskier pointed out Geralt's kindness. The bard has therefore resigned himself to the fact that Geralt would always remain that sour-faced and emotionally constipated witcher who refuses to let anyone into the fortress he built around his big heart.

Well anyone but Eskel that is, as Jaskier realised the day he met Eskel for the first time.

In a small Temerian village plagued by noonwraiths - yes, noonwraiths plural - Geralt told Jaskier that they were expecting company that evening. The contract was too consequent for only one witcher and the alderman agreed to split the reward between two professionals so long as they took care of the problem. Jaskier couldn't wait to meet this other witcher and find out if they all were as irascible as the famed white wolf.

When Eskel arrived at the inn, shoulders nearly too wide to fit through the door without slightly angling them sideways as he stepped inside, Geralt's face instantly lit up. Jaskier had never seen his friend's face so... well, relaxed. Devoid of his usual frown, Geralt looked about twenty years younger.

"Wolf," the mountain of a witcher greeted Geralt in that same low bartione voice, silk over water as opposed to silk over gravel. The valley of scars on the right side of his face did not take away from his beauty. Honey golden eyes appraised Jaskier warily. "Wolf, and friend."

"Well, hi there, name's Julian Alf-"

Jaskier could not finish his introduction before Geralt rose from his seat and stumbled over into the other witcher's arms so great was his enthusiasm. A warm rumbling chortle tumbled past Eskel's lips as he wound his arms around Geralt.

"Hell, wolf, I missed you too."

Jaskier gaped. Yes, as undignified as this sounds. He gaped, eyes wide and rendered speechless as his broody friend turned into a touch-starved pup in a matter of seconds. All of ten years spent walking the path with Geralt and not as much as a "good to see you, Jaskier" uttered, and now this?

Jaskier could really not be mad at Geralt, though. It was painfully obvious from the start that Eskel was different.

Contract done and dusted, the two witchers and the bard spent some coin on ale and food one evening. There Jaskier got to truly appreciate the bond between Eskel and Geralt. It was the little things Jaskier noticed. The way Geralt's eyes darted across the table where Eskel sat eating his stew quietly, or the soft smile tugging at the corner of Geralt's lips when Eskel told them about his most recent negotiation-gone-wrong with a rich lord near Vizima. Amber eyes so full of fondness they almost glowed, fingers constantly itching to reach out for Eskel across the table, the amused chuckles, the secret smiles when Geralt thought no one was looking. Geralt and Eskel, two drops of water, two bodies sharing a single mind.

Jaskier could never hope to compete with that kind of complicity. And he didn't want to. He had never seen Geralt so happy, so excited, so relaxed around another person. And this Eskel, kind and gentle Eskel, was everything Jaskier could hope for in a mate for his best friend. Two sides of the same coin, two opposing personalities gravitating towards each other. Eskel was friendlier and more outgoing, but Geralt basked in Eskel's warmth. Geralt the realist, the cynic, and Eskel the dreamer, the believer. Without Geralt, Eskel was likely to steer too close to the sun, but without Eskel Geralt would never have left the ground.

There was a ballad in there somewhere, a tale of how the moon fell in love with the sun. Two opposites who complement each other. Much like there was no day without the night, there was no Geralt without Eskel.

That night when they retreated to their respective rooms, Geralt refused to let Eskel pay for another room. "It makes no sense, Eskel, bed in my room's plenty big enough." Indeed, thought Jaskier, it would be a right shame for Eskel to sleep in a separate bed when he was so very clearly inclined to share Geralt's. Eskel, who was probably just on the right side of tipsy, leaned into Geralt's space and nuzzled at his cheek before pressing a sensual kiss on the spot where Geralt's chin met his neck. Geralt snapped at him, though there was a certain playfulness reflected in the seemingly agressive action, and Eskel merely retorted by licking a wet trail along Geralt's strong neck. So lost in each other that the two witchers failed to see Jaskier still standing in the corridor. So carefree. So comfortable around each other. Well, who was Jaskier to deny them that insouciance?

A ballad of a lifetime was in the works. Valdo Marx would never be able to top that.

[jxckspxcer]

good jack does not have the expressions to express how absolutely ENFLAMED IN ANGER I AM RIGHT NOW for no reason other than emotional dysregulation and rumination. I don’t know. How to stop being angry? So I’m going !! To take a break !!

[trixmissive]

who: trixabelle coreneo & adam beiste where: their apartment when: 21/04/21 what: one of their midterms scene  warnings: smut, slut shaming, degrading language, spanking.

Adam followed and came in close behind her, he picked her up and threw her down on the end of the bed, dragging her back down so her legs were off the end and he flipped her little pink skirt up. He slapped her ass and then moved across the patch of skin between her jumper and skirt “What do you think you’re doing showing this to everyone? Who’s are you.” He demanded she answer and smacked her other ass cheek. His voice was stern but in a playing stern tone and he knew she’d realise that.

Trixie could feel his presence behind her and it brought a blush to her cheeks, he always did. She landed on the bed with a giddy little noise. She could never quite anticipate what he was going to do, and she wiggled her ass just a little as he shoved her skirt up. “I’m yours Master.” She promised, enjoying the smacks. They stung, but that was half the pleasure in it. “I was just trying to look pretty for you.” She added, looking over her shoulder slightly to give him a doe eyed innocent look.

“You look like a slut Babygirl. A slut whore trying to get attention. Is that what you wanted? Did you want my attention because you got it.” He told her and slapped the wiggling booty. He smacked the same cheek twice to watch the red blossom against her pale skin. “ I don’t think little sluts are pretty- you know what I do think is pretty? Red little asses. Do you want me to give you one?”

She whimpers as he smacks her, still watching him over her shoulder. Small leg kicking a little. “I always want your attention Master.” She admits, watching his shoulders ripple as he smacked her with a soft moan. “If it would please you Master. I want to look pretty for you.” She begs, fluttering her eyelashes.

“My attention and the attention of every Dom on this island- showing yourself off, little slut. You’re mine.” He told her through his teeth and brought his hand down on the small of her back where it was exposed, the noise his hand made on her skin making the slap echo a little. “Red is pretty on little sluts, don’t you think?”

“Yours.” She whined, rubbing her hips against the bed slightly. Knowing she was already wet from the slaps. Squirming a little. She hadn’t been expecting the hand on her back. “Yes Master. I think it would be pretty. Thank you for making me a pretty slut.” Trixie said, trying to keep eye contact but instead having to drop her head.

Adam smacked her again for moving. “Can’t look at me, Babygirl? Keep your head down, you don’t deserve to look.“ "Thank me for giving you the smacks and tell me you deserve them.” He told her, alternating between her cheeks and leaving them red and supple, highly sensitive to his hand by now. 

Trixie whimpered loudly, squirming again the dull stinging building up into something bigger. Her wetness becoming pronounced through her silky panties. “Thank you for spanking me Master. I deserve them for being such a little slut.” The small girl managed to gasp out, hips grinding against the bed.

Adam lifted her hips up off the bed with ease to stop her from getting the friction from the sheets. Her upper body stayed pressed into the duvet. “What do you think you’re doing, little slut? Humping the bed? Did you ask your Master if you could hump the bed? Not good at all, I think you need punished for that.” He growled at her, his fingers marking her boney hips.

She flushed at having been caught, she had hoped to get away with her little need for friction. “I’m sorry Master.” She whimpered, not daring to move her face from it’s position against the sheets. “I know I should have asked, I’m sorry. Please don’t punish me.” She begged, half in play. Resisting the urge to shift her body to try and get her panties to give her a little friction.

“I don’t think I believe that you’re sorry. Showing yourself off and now not asking permission to rub yourself definitely deserves a punishment, so fucking disrespectful. And you know what” He dropped her hips to grab her hair and pulled her head up “No-one gave you any fucking permission for these either.” He hissed and pulled both of the bows from her hair. He tied her hands behind her back with them and told her “Get on your knees.”

There was always a certain excitement in this kind of play, in an everyday sense Trixie was terrified of being a bad girl. But in a play sense it was a little exhilarating. She squeaked in surprise when he pulled the bows from her hair. “Yes Master.” She replied, and then had to carefully stand down. Before getting to her knees on the floor, he always looked his biggest when she was kneeling for him like this.  With her arms behind her back she felt quite exposed despite still being clothed.

“If you’re going to act like a little slut then you should be dressed more like one.” He rumbled and went for her skirt first, pulling at the material until it gave way in his hands and throwing it to the side for it to form a puddle of material. It was now that he spotted her panties “Look at you, you’re soaked. Does your cunt need touched?” He asked and wrapped his hand in her hair, pulling sharply back so that she looked right up at him when he was speaking.

She blushed at his comment about her panties. “Please Master, please touch me. Please touch your little slut, I’m so wet for you. It’s all for you Master.” Trixie promised, lids heavy with desire. She wanted him, so badly. “I’m only a slut for you Master. Please. I’m so desperate for you. I’ll do anything for your attention.”

“You don’t deserve it. You’ll need to beg better than that, little slut because I’m not convinced.” "I know it’s for me, you’re mine. Do you understand?“ He pulled her hair harshly enough that she fell backwards and out of her kneel. “Stand up for me Babygirl so that I can get a better look at you. How do I know you’re not getting wet looking for other peoples attention?”

Trixie panted slightly at his words, plush lips parting to drink in his dominance over her. It took a small moment for her to be able to get to her feet, but he was right about how wet she was. Her arousal was more than a little evident. “I only get wet for you. I only ever wanted your attention.” She cooed. “It’s all for you, every outfit, every breath.” She promised. “Please. I’m only slutty for you.”

“How am I supposed to know that, little slut? How do I know you’re not getting your little panties soaked without me? I can’t read your dirty little mind and see your desires.” He pulled her roughly into his chest and looked right down at her, his grip tight and firm, “You’re mine. You don’t want to know what I’d do them if I found you looking at anyone else.“ His gaze on her was intense and his voice dangerous that left no room for doubt.

Trixie licked her lips as he watched her, tilting her head up. “Because there’s nobody like you Master. Nobody could make me like this. I’d do anything that you asked. Anything. Nobody else could make me a slut for them. I’ve only ever been touched by you, and you’re the only person who will ever have as their little whore.” She promised, his threat made her heart hammer with excitement.

“Desperate little slut, so eager to please.” He threw her back down on the bed, face first and lifted the elastic of her panties on one of her legs were it was wet. “Getting wetter and wetter, whore, who said you could ruin these?” And he tugged it roughly down her skin so they slid to her thighs. “Are you excited, little slut, do you want fucked?”

Trixie whimpered as he tossed her back on the bed, she wanted to raised her hips. To wiggle her ass to tempt him. But she felt like that wouldn’t help her in this case. “Please Master, please fuck me. I want to be filled so bad. Please. I’m so wet for you.” She begged, raising her hips off the bed.

Adam’s wide hand ghosted around her round ass and reached between her legs to find her pussy. He felt how wet she was and stroked by her clit, applying some pressure. “I know how much you’d like that, little slut.” But then h retracted his finger from her sensitivity and put her hand on her hips and shoved her down to the bed. “But it looks like you’re trying to fuck the bed again- what have I told you about that? So ten spanks it is, little slut. Count.” And hit her butt without any further warning.

Trixie moaned as he slipped a finger between her lips and rubbed at her clit, a tremor of pleasure passing over her body. She whimpered as he pulled his fingers away from her, small thighs shaking. “I wasn’t Master.” She promised. her small tied hands moved down over her ass despite her best effort. “One.” She whimpered.

Adam pushed her wrists further up her back- it was only going to hurt more now that he wasn’t holding her ass steady with the other hand. He clapped her skin again with agression and his hand circled back over the red mark, rubbing at it to take the sting. He then round up for another and another using the same style and watching her pale skin deepen in colour.

Trixie squirmed a little, but she counted. Though tears had started to prick in the corner of her eyes. Her small lip wobbling at the feeling. “Hurts Master.” She mewed, it did. But in the kind of way that only made her wetter between her legs.

He pinched her skin hard. “Does it hurt little slut? Should have thought about that before.” He told her and slapped the same deep red spot. He then turned his attention to the other cheek which was nowhere near the same colour and moved his hand around the curve “Maybe I should start somewhere else then, make sure everything hurts the same.” He could feel her body ripple as he hit her ass cheek every time and slapped this particular cheek three times too- his hand coming down on her roughly.

Trixie whimpered again. Mewling loudly when he slapped at the same spot as before. She counted the slaps out with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Thank you Master.” She added. “For punishing me, I deserve them all.” She choked out, squirming  little. As he slapped all over her ass.

He liked hearing her beg for it. "Question is; do you deserve it?“ He rumbled and put a finger back in her wetness, finding it increasingly damp to the touch, and he rubbed her clit. He knew she was aware that she couldn’t come without permission- permission that he hadn’t given yet. “Is that good, little slut? Do you like being touched like that? Like you deserve it?” His finger circled the sensitive folds and put pressure on her clit, rubbing and stroking, and building her up.

Trixie gasped as he rubbed her clit, keeping still. Not willing to make the same mistake as before. “It feel so good Master.” She whimpered, hands gripping the ribbon that bound her. “Love being touched by you so much, I deserve it if you want to give it to me. I want it so badly Master, I want to serve you.” She begged, biting down on her lip hard as he placed pressure in the area where she wanted him most. “Please Master, I want to deserve it. I want to be a good little slut for you. Fall apart for you.”

He rubbed her quicker and harder, seeing if she would fall over the edge without his permission. She was his, after all, and he could do whatever he wanted with her. His property and his little slut. She wanted to badly to be fucked by him but he wouldn’t make that easy for her, wouldn’t give her what she wanted yet for she wasn’t ready for it- hadn’t earned it according to him and she hadn’t writhed enough at his touch. He wouldn’t dream of giving it to her until she was a writhing dripping mess beneath him, with a quivering cunt and pleading eyes. Not until she twitched with desire and her thighs constricted to foce friction.

Trixie mewed, her hips arching up. Her curls were out of place, sticking to her forehead as she panted. Eyes wide and pleading, as she squirmed against his hand. Desperate. She held off the orgasm only by counting, chest heaving underneath her bra. Arching up, hands trying to escape from their binds. She wanted to pull his body to her, to feel his weight. She parted her thighs wider, centre clenching around his hand a little. Lip bleeding as she bit down hard on it to hold off her pleasure. “Please Master, how can I please you?”

She was a mess and he took a pleasure in seeing how red her cheeks were, and her eyes blown wide. “Spreading your legs- little slut.  Who do you spread for?” He growled and tugged her- just to move her body and prove how easy it was for him to throw her about. “Begging like the slut you are.” He snorted and undid his own pants. “Don’t you dare cum until I tell you to- I’m going to fuck the words out of you.” He told her and replaced his fingers with his cock which was hard and ready for her already soaked centre.

Trixie could barely form words as she panted. “You Master. I only spread for you.” She managed, so desperate for him. She mewed as he pulled her down the bed, hands clasping at her binds again. “I won’t.. I..” She started to speak but she could only whine, as he pushed inside of her. She shifted her hips a little, getting used to him. Small whimpers escaping her lips, at the sensation. Trixie wanted to clasp at his shoulders, instead she tangled her bound hands in the sheets.

He thrust into her, letting his own moans tangle with hers- the play had excited him and made him ready for this. He reached behind her back and pulled out the ribbons, his hips pounding hers on the bed- her body rippling with his force as he rocked her, having her take it hard and rough like most of the past hour. “Mine.” He told the room as he fucked her. His plaything. And only his.

Trixie wrapped her legs around him, so that he could take her deeper. Little hands grasping at his back as he let her free. Wanting to thank him, for freeing her. But unable to form any kind of sound that wasn’t her cries of pleasure, she nodded at his pronouncement. Her curls a tangled mess, her breathing coming in pants. “P-please.” She whined.

He thrust and leaned back- her body peeling away from the sheets and he slapped her raw ass hard. Threw her back down to tell her “Cum then, Babygirl.” He allowed her and slammed into her as he felt himself building to a climax- her cunt so tight for him.

She whined loudly as he slapped her ass, her thighs trembling. Cunt clenching around his cock, as she came. Tears leaking from the corner of her eyes as she rode out her pleasure. Gasping for breath, a another mewl of satisfaction leaving her lips.

Feeling her internally squeeze as she came inspired his own orgasm and he continued thrusting desperately until he was done, which was when he pulled out. He stood back for a second to let her catch her breath and told her “Good girl. My good Babygirl, you did so well for me.” And reached for the lotion before sitting back down on the bed and pulling her to him, petting her hair gently.

She reached for him, as he pulled out of her. Still whimpering a little, feeling slightly empty without him. Glad when he pulled her back against him. “Thank you Master.” She murmured, clinging to him. Sticky little forehead resting against his chest.

He pushed the hair from where it was stuck to her face and rubbed her back, mumbling sweet encouragements to her about how good she’d been and how proud he was at how many instructions she’d followed so well. At one point he shifted her a little so he could rub her butt with lotion, gently over the blossoming bruises. “Do you want to take a nap, babygirl, and when we wake up we can have a warm bath?” He asked, slightly enjoying the idea of sleeping sticky for an hour.

Trixie allowed herself to relax into his touch, reaching to pull the little woolen bralet off since it was now sticking to her hot skin. She curled into his body, and despite her usual insistence on cleanliness she felt like she could nap and she nodded. “Yes Master.” She agreed, ducking her head back against his chest.

[mrs-falcon]

She’s not only missing [SotRW] - storytelling

*WARNING - following text contains slight cursing and mention of blood*

         The heavy stone fell from the older wolf's heart after the cat woke up. But after few days the wolf's enthusiasm slowely disappeared. The cat was not answering, not talking nor eating. She only sat on the bed and stared blankly into the dark. Whenever the wolf got closer, she glanced away, not meeting his gaze. Vincent was worried about her - the cat was still weak and she needed some food. Vincent was glad he had more of the chinese soups, but that wasn't enough to stabilize the cat's digestion. Whenever she swallowed few spoons, she almost threw everything up. Poor girl, thought the wolf, she must've starved for long time...

         Few days later, the wolf still didn't know who to call, who were her parents or how to contact them. The wolf stepped into the room, where the she-cat was sitting, with cup of soup.

         "Hello, there," started the wolf easily. "I brought you some food." The cat turned her head away.

         "Oh, c'mon... You have to eat something." The wolf drew closer a smaller wooden table to the bed where he laid the cup of soup. The she-cat didn't react. Vincent wasn't even surprised.

         "Fine, it will be just waiting for you here," he sighed and pulled away the wooden table back to its place. Then the wolf sat next to the girl.

         "Let's see how the scars are doing," he gently took off the bandages from her head, layer by layer. The scars finally stopped bleeding and started healing normally, there was no infection.

          "Good news, it's getting much better!" the wolf smiled at the cat but she didn't change her face.

         "Can you see on that eye?" asked the wolf, hoping the cat will finally speak. She touched her new scars, a bit surprised after she could feel them. She opened her mouth to say something but quickly shut it. The cat glanced at the wolf and knew he won't stop asking.

         "I see only shapes..." breathed the girl finally. Vincent smiled in his mind. Finally... the wolf relieved.

         "It's good you're not completely blind," said the wolf with soft voice. "You should eat that soup," pointed the wolf to the table. But the girl went silent and moveless again. The wolf noticed the cat was shivering. It's autumn, after all, thought the wolf. This old building wasn't equipped by new seal and most parts were leaky. The wolf stood up and left the room. He went to another room where some old pieces of clothes were hiding. The wolf opened one of the old closet chests and took out a green jacket. This should fit her. When the wolf returned to the other room, he was surprised. The girl was finally eating by herself.

         "I'm glad you finally found your appetite,"said the wolf while carrying the biker jacket. The cat jumped in surprise, wide eyes in shock.

         "Calm down, I'm not mad," reassured her. Vincent understood her situation - being in a strange place with someone you don't know. Vincent hoped Raven will tell him about her parents soon.

         "Here," Vincent handed over the jacket. "Couldn't find anything better." The cat slowly grabbed the jacket and stared at it for a while.

         "Thank you," the cat whispered and smiled a bit at the wolf, putting on the jacket. The cat's face informed how grateful she was.

         "So, Raven," started the wolf. "Not to scare you or anything, but you were here... about two weeks. By how you're skinny I conclude you are missing for at least a whole month." The girl didn't say anything, not even looking at Vincent's eyes. "I need you to tell me where are your parents, who they are and how can I contact them." Raven only twitched her ear.

         "If I can contact them, you'll be safe again," promised the wolf. Even though how much he wanted to find her parents, Vincent felt a little bit of fear how the parents would react. An old wolf keeping their child locked somewhere at rotting place, what a great title would that be for newspapers...

         But the girl didn't say anything, nothing. "You don't have to," said Raven.

         "What are you talking about? They must be terrified you're missing!" the wolf raised his voice. Raven seemd to break into a cry in any second.

         "I won't reach them..." Raven said quietly and sniffed. Vincent knew it would be better to leave her alone for now. He stood up and left the room.

          "We'll talk later," informed her before he left. I don't have time for this. If I miss my work, I can be as well on streets, again.

                                              *    *     *    *    *    *    *    *

          Another day in work - another day in hell. Vincent's work this day was really fucked up. Not only he came late but also his fellow co-workers left him extra work to do. The new generations hated ancestors such as Vincent was - whenever some mistake happened, Vincent was the first person to suspect. Nowadays people see ancestors, like woves or tigers, as primitive dangerous monsters who still live by the law of the jungle. Vincent was sick of these people, but his job was the only thing that kept him in "luxury", not talking about his agressive brother.

         "Gosh, look at this!" pointed out one of the employees.

         "A car accident from a family trip took teenager's life! That's terrible!" Vincent alerted his ears. A kid died? Vincent kept on cleaning the floor while listening to his co-workers.

         "They write here she was only fifteen years! That girl deserved longer life."

         "Nah, it's a cat afterall. These animals spread like a plague!"

         "Watch your tongue, dude." The guy pointed at Vincent. The two men mumbled something and left. Vincent waited few seconds, then went to the place where the guys were talking. The wolf took out the newspapers from trash can and looked up the information. He almost fell on the ground when he saw a fifteen years old she-cat whoms name was Raven. That Raven! Vincent read the following article:

         "A car accident happened after the two Wintson's sisters, well known in Europe, were driving home from a trip in USA. A landslide blocked their way throught the mountain road. The older sister made it out with only few scratches. To the other sister's bad luck, the car disappeared under the massive rocks and never was found."

         There were much more informations about the accident, also dialoges with the family members. A wealthy family, thought Vincent for himself, and an accident in in Europe. Vincent didn't like what came up to his mind. Wealthy people can do anything... This sentence always devoured him. Why would they..? It's their child! The wolf swinged his tail in confusion and anger. No, this can't be... Maybe it's just her doppelganger. Vincent couldn't believe the thought of abandoning their own child. He kept the newspapers and continued with his work.

                              *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

          Raven's energy returned and now she wasn't sleeping all days, all nights. The cat would love to explore but she was still too scared of the stranger who helped her. Why is he helping me, though? thought Raven for herself. All people she's met so far were disappointed in her. Even her own parents. But why not this wolf? A rumble in her stomach jerked her out of the thoughts. She could smell some food. Probably soup, again. Raven stood up from the bed but immediately fell on it back. Raven hadn't been on her own legs for almost two weeks and now it really shows. She twitched her tip of tail with annoyance and tried again. Yes! Raven was still shaking but she could stand her ground. The cat walked out of the room and saw the metal hall for the first time. The walls felt cold as she touched them, the darkness was lit by bulbs from time to time. It wasn't working properly. This must be really old building, thought Raven. So far, she'd never walked in such hovel. Her family was always living in luxury, now Raven was glad for basic things such as chinese soups. The cat followed the scent of food, leading her to a room which was supposed to be a kitchen. She stopped at the door.

         There he is - a wolf who always came late at night and always cooked the soups. There was the man who saved Raven's life. The wolf twitched one of his ears and looked her direction. Raven hid behind the corner, still scared of the ancestor.

         "It's good you finally stood up, come in," said the wolf tiredly while putting cups of soups on a desk which used to be a very nice looking dinner table. Raven popped out and stepped closer. She didn't mind the wolf was giving her the same food all the time - her stomach couldn't handle anything else, anyway.

         "Thanks," said Raven as she sat on chair. The wolf was still washing some dishes.

         "Are you feeling better today?" asked Vincent, not turning to face her.

         "Is your birth country Russia?" Raven asked. She couldn't help herself, the accent was well heard. The wolf stopped washing and turned to her.

         "The-the accent, I mean!" panicked Raven. The wolf was surprised how fitting her guess was.

         "Yes... You're right," said the wolf finally.

         "And you must be from England," Vincent watched how the cat will react.

         "Oh, yes. I am. I noticed many people laugh over our accent here," she added, then giggled falsely. She bowed her head and swallowed few spoons of soup. The wolf took place in from of her by the table.

        "So, the thing about your parents..." As Vincent started, Raven froze.

         "I don't have any. Not anymore," she added quickly. Vincent took deep breath.

         "I can't heep you here. You need real home equipped with basic everyday - life things. And a proper food, too." Vincent noticed how Raven couldn't listen to this. He stood up and was about to leave.

         I'll look up some orphanage, they'll help you get on your own." As Vincent left the room, Raven was alone again. She feared meeting and living with new kids, she didn't want to meet another bullies like that time in Austria, when she and her parents moved from England. When Raven finished her soup, she noticed some newspapers on the ground. Her curiosity was bigger and she stepped closer. A shock made her freeze when she recognized her photo on the front page.

         "A car accident," she gasped and twisted her nose in disgust. How could they write such lies?! Raven was more and more confused. The biggest shock was the dialoge of her "destroyed" parents. She threw the newspapers angrily on the ground and ran to the room where she was sleeping. Raven curled up under the blanket and broke into a cry.

          Vincent came few moment after, talking to the girl in a low voice.

         "Found something for you, kid. This should be just for cats." He waited few seconds. No reply. The wolf sat on the bed and uncovered the blanket from her.

         "Hey, you'll have some stable home," he shook with her, the cat shook her head in response.

         "Why would they take care of someone who doesn't exist?" The wolf was supposed to ask her why she thinks so. But everything was clear. His terrible thought was real. What with you, now?

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**NOTE:

(likns will lead you to DA, don’t worry about it)

Previous "chapter" - First talk Next "chapter" - Rozaline, are you back?

------------------------------

Re-write this and make the pictures took me around... 4 hours? And if you find mistakes in the text, I'm really sorry - lately I have a problem with writing and finding the mistakes, I'm probably just overwhelmed... Vincent finds out the street girl is... no longer officialy signed as living? Exactly. So... what now? Tbh I really enjoyed doing these sketchy illustrations - all of them took me only not even 1 hour... Can't say about the text  :’D Not sure but do you like these little illustrations interrupting the text instead of one colourful pic? Lemme know.

Story, characters, artwork(illustrations) & Shadows of the Real World (universe) © me

[amoristt]

Among the Inbetweens | Nathan x Reader

disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.

thank you.

moody-patootie asked: I would please like to request a nathan x reader songfic with the song Findlay by Landon Tewers (angsty perhaps?). If it is possible and interests you of course. I think it fits rather well with nathan since he was so unloved.  sure thing!! i love song requests so much :3 also thanks for recommending me this song, i love it and i now have a new artist to look into :D in this fic i really wanted to explore the ‘bad parts’ of being in a relationship with nathan prescott, namely his breakdowns. in my fics i mostly portray him in his better, more loving lights, so when you suggest angst i realized now would be a perfect time to show his sides that are harder to deal with. thanks for giving me the opportunity <3 hope you like it!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Among the Inbetweens

Upon the very instant you walking into his room, unaware of what you were about to throw yourself into, you realized you really should have called Nathan before just barging in.

The tenacity in the air was almost palpable and it set off alarms that rang in your head like bells, warning you of the situation you were about to have to deal with. Nathan, sitting at his desk with his back faced to you, his shoulders squared and his head ducked down to his shoulders. He was angry.

“Nathan?”

He lifted his head, turned and he glared at you from the corners of his eyes. You felt your stomach drop.

Not mad. Pissed.

“What.” He deadpanned, his voice a rumbling hiss, and you debated just turning around and leaving right then and there.

You swallowed and shut his door behind you, shuffling into the room but staying close to the wall. “What’s wrong?”

The course, airy laugh he forced out made you cringe. 

“Same shit every fucking day,” He laughed viciously. “Day in, day out.”

“What happened?”

In an impulsive, fury induced movement, he shoved all the papers off his desk and turned his swivel chair to face you. You jumped at the movement, taking note of his aggression only increasing. His features were stone cold, eyes narrowed and chilling. His phone was gripped almost devastatingly tight in his right hand. This was bad. Very bad.

“What happened?” He asked as though you were dumb. You frowned.

“Yes, what happened?”

He suddenly stood, sending his chair back and hitting his desk, shaking it and tipping over the small jar of pencils he had sitting on top of it. They spilled and rolled over the edge, clattering on the floor.

“What do you think happened?”

Try as you might to not take his words personally, you still knit your brows at his crudeness. He’s just mad, you told yourself. He’s so fucking mad but it’s not at you.

“I’m so fucking-” he gripped his hair and stumbling back. “Sick of it, everything- I don’t even fucking live with them and they still- Ugh!” He kicked some of the pencils that laid near his feet. “I hate it!”

Of course you knew the minute you saw his anger it likely had something to do with his family, but this wasn’t just his normal agressions. He was blind right now, not thinking clearly as he sent another pencil skittering over the floor. You remained silent, unsure of way to say, and you guessed maybe it was best you didn’t say anything at all. Right now was not the time to console him.

A storm was coming and you could see it in his eyes, his stature.

“They don’t care!” He snarled, and you realized he was more venting out his anger to himself rather than saying it directly to you. A pit formed in the center of your stomach as you realized what was to come any second now. He turned his back on you, body trembling with fiery rage. For just a second he looked down at the phone still in his hand, then he store his gaze away, and the next thing that happened you almost didn’t register.

The phone came less than a foot from your head, clashing against the wall with what sounded like a fatal crack. It happened so fast, you’d barely even seen him whip his arm to launch the device, and you flinched seconds after it smashed into pieces. The pieces gathered in a pile on the floor, the phone now absolutely destroyed and covered with it’s own screens shards. The wall sported an inch long hole.

Nathan did not come out of his rage even after you cried out sharply, jerking away from your spot and swearing you had felt some of the glass fling against your arms. If anything he seemed even more tense and furious than before, his bony hands balling and un-balling dangerously. He wanted to swing at something, break something, hurt something and even though he’d never once gone so far as you injure you this time you wondered if it would be a first. There wasn’t one clear thing in his mind right now, it probably all felt like a mush, or maybe static. He wasn’t even close to being in his right mind. Maybe tonight was his breaking point.

With him standing menacingly in the center of the room you made your way along the wall, finding his bed and soundlessly settling yourself on top of it. You tried to make yourself smaller upon it, your legs tucking themselves to your chest. Knowing him and his triggers, you did not look directly at him. Instead you watched from the corners of your eyes, head turned incase he looked up at you so you could quickly turn away and pretend to not see the hate in his eyes.

“Bullshit,” he seethed, and hissing ferocity made you shiver. “It’s all fucking bullshit.”

You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to tell him it was okay to be upset, to be hurt, to hate, but you couldn’t. Surely if you dared to speak up to him directly right now he’d yell at you, and then you’d end feeling hurt and that wouldn’t help anyone. Right now Nathan needed silence. He needed space and solitude. He could get none of these things.

So much was gathering up inside of him, like a pit of snakes or something far worse. They coiled and writhed inside of him, made their way up to his heart and choked the life out whatever was left of it, and he was left facing the consequence of having your entire chest busted and tied. Without an outlet all of it manifested at the very base of his throat, behind his eyes, in the palms of his shaking fists that would do anything for a face to target. You’d never seen him this way, with such a spark that made you feel like everything around you was suddenly so flammable, you included. You stared at him like you imaged a rabbit would stare at a fox: terrified and frozen with apprehensive tension. At any moment you felt like he’d lunge at you, but he didn’t, and it only made the trepidation grow within you until you almost imaged him making his move.

Only, it wasn’t your imagination.

He did make his move, but you were not the paper he lit on fire. Instead it was he himself, his fingers tracing their way down his face, nails biting into his pale skin and dragging along the way. A sharp painful cry left his lips but you felt as though the agony wasn’t from the physical wounds he was dealing onto himself. When he was done with his first path he did it again, harder this time, eyes squeezed shut and his mouth a tight grimace. Without even thinking you sprang into action and made a move for his hands, gripping tight to his skinny wrists and all too easily prying them from his marked up face. At the sudden contact he tried to yank away but you held fast, tugging him with you as you took a step back to try and keep himself from trying again.

“Stop!” You begged, heart leaping and your breath billowing in your throat. He was still trying to rip away from you, stumbling backwards and jerking back his elbows. When he looked up at you, you did not recognize even a single part of those eyes. He was more akin to a wild animal, frightened and frantic, than he was human. His eyes were dark and afraid, and at that moment they were afraid of you.

You felt like you were wrestling with him but you didn’t give in, holding fast and unwavering even as he started giving into it. His will was draining now, that fury that had once been eating him alive beginning to combust inside of him. The compressions of his heart and chest started to loosen and you hoped he felt like he could breathe again.

“Nathan,” try as you might to reach him, he still limply tried to pull away from you. His actions were half hearted and tired but still consistent, so you didn’t lighten your grip until the last of his anguished tugs were replaced with tortured breaths. You carefully led him to the bed where you had been sitting, and although he was sluggish and lagged behind your movements, he still followed you and did not fight when you urged him to sit down beside you.

Countless marks ran down his face, angry and red. The nails on his shaking hands were short but apparently dangerous, able to work as claws if he was enraged enough. Luckily they weren’t sharp or uneven enough to draw any blood but the marks were still very radiant, running down from his brows, over his eyelids, to his sharp cheekbones like a ugly streamers. His split lip still bled from how hard his teeth had sank into the flesh, and his tongue still darted out to subconsciously try and soothe the stinging.

At least he was letting you touch him. Even if his state of breaking, all his walls starting to crumble down and crush him, he was allowing you the grace of sitting next to him and silently offering whatever support you could. There was so many words swimming in your head, so much you wanted to say that you could almost physically feel it bubbling up in your chest, threatening to burst at any moment.

Nathan, leaning forward with his face in his hands, was both silent and deafening. No longer did his shoulders tense up, fists ready to crack on any surface they could find. He was quiet and still, but there was also a part of him that roared like thunder. His cries.

They were soft, barely noticeable unless you were to see his state, but to you they were all you could hear. Loud, unforgiving, piercing. Your chest ached with every angry sob, every harsh intake of his uneven breaths. Before you had been afraid he was too far gone during his act of rage but it always came back down to this, both soundless yet thunderous. He was the calm of his own storm, and he was a rain that licked away it’s wounds afterwards. He was both the ferocious river, dragging everything along with it, and the gentle trickle that followed close behind.

Your hand met the expensive fabric of his jacket and he didn’t respond, so you let it wander past his shoulder to his upper back. Up, down, gently rubbing over his clothed skin. Not only was the repetitive movements hopefully helping him, but they were also helping you. You timed your breathing to the movements, your thudding heart starting to come down from your previous fears. You should have known it would come down to this. Nathan could be the scariest person you’d ever met, but even he got tired eventually. The only thing that presented a problem afterwards was everything bounding in your head, from the things he’d blindly said to you to the things he’d blindly thrown at you. His phone still laid demolished on the floor a few feet away, that new crack in the wall taunting you.

“Nathan,” you whispered, and he didn’t answer. “Nathan?”

He still didn’t answer. His muffled sobs continued on, adding weight after weight to your chest and making your own eyes sting. You gently scratched against the top of his jacket before rubbing in small circles.

“Can you hear me?”

Thankfully Nathan did seem to be able to hear you. He nodded and then sniffed, then let his hands fall limply to his lap. The sight of his face, still littered with claw marks but now glistening with tears, made you have to look away for a minute.

Now that you had his attention your mouth ran dry, unsure of what to say next. You’d wanted his attention to make sure he was lucid in some ways, but now that he was waiting for you to say something you had no idea what you could possibly tell him to make this situation any more bearable. Actually, you didn’t even know the situation, how could you possibly help him?

Still though, his eyes reached yours, longing and expectant. He wanted you to say something, anything. As always it made you wonder how someone as mountainous as Nathan could appear so small at times, like a small child asking you for help; needy, afraid. The worst possible thing you could do right now was not say anything, so you wracked your brain for literally anything to say.

“Are you okay?” You’d blurted, and the second those words left your mouth you wanted to smack it. ‘Are you okay?’ The question was so painfully obvious, so ludicrous and dense, but he went on to answer it anyways, looking down at his lap.

“No.”

His voice was much… Softer than you’d anticipated. Then it struck you that no, his voice did not sound soft, it sounded broken. Soft was kind and gentle, warm to the ears and touch, but his was none of those things. His answer was blunt and simple, cold, and raw with scratches on his throat. The walls that which buried him had yet to disappear, so instead of fighting them he gave in. Nathan was tired, exhausted from his previous outburst that he’d likely be replaying in his head for the rest of the week. Every little thing would set him off in the worst ways.

Your hand found it’s way to his lower back, but this time he tensed beneath your palm, so you slid it right back up to the spot he’d been compliant with. “Is there anything I can do?” Once again your words felt dumb. After what you’d seen simple minded questions were likely the last thing you should be asking him about. But, you didn’t want to ask him what had happened. Of course you were curious but you didn’t want to trigger him into another melt down, especially not when he was already so jaded and worn out.

For a moment he looked at you, turning his head just enough to get his peak before once again covering his face and shaking his head. “No.” He mumbled, and you frowned in defeat. There wasn’t anything you could truly do for him other than stay at his side, offer some sort of grounding and peace for him to come back to when he’s released with his post-meltdown exhaustion.

“You should go.”

At first words didn’t register with you. You blinked at him a few times, processing, understanding, until you finally realized what he had said. “What?” you asked softly, leaning forward and trying to get a look into his eyes past his shielding hands. Never once had he asked you to leave him during a time like this. Usually it was the opposite, him calling for your aid during even his worst times of needs, but this time he didn’t want you to be there with him.

Once again he let his hands fall to his knees, his fingers toying with the fabric of his jeans. “You should go.” He repeated himself and didn’t meet your gaze, staring straight down. Your throat felt like it had been punched.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

“Yeah.” He answered.

You hated the way it made you feel. It made you feel an entire combination of things, but the most prevalent were useless and… Hurt. He didn’t want you to be around him, and though part of you understood it was because he was likely tired and wanted isolation, you still couldn’t help but take that blow to your ego.

Still, you nodded aimlessly, and swallowed down the rock forming at the center of your throat.

“Okay.” Your voice wavered and you knew he heard it with how he squeezed his eyes shut, almost in pain at hearing the sound.

As you got up, feeling like an animal with it’s tail in between it’s legs, you gazed down at him and took in the sight. Him just sitting there in silence, his entire body still slumped but not of relaxation, his face stinging with self inflicted scratches and his eyes still full of humiliating tears. There wasn’t a single thing you could do for him, and you finally understood what years of this had been doing to Nathan. In this moment you could see everything on him: the years of abuse, the pressure, the way he felt so unloved. The childhood trauma. Though you knew he beared these scars and marks you’d never seen them until this point, and it left you breathless. You so desperately wanted to stay, but you knew he wouldn’t let you even if you begged.

Nathan seemed to have read your mind. “I’ll call you.” was all he offered, a subtle way of telling you it was time to leave. You nodded again and thanked him softly, though you didn’t know exactly what you were thanking him for. Turning your back and leaving him felt entire levels of wrong but you did so anyways, and as you opened his dorm door you caught sight of that damn phone again and for some reason that was the one thing that finally let your tears take shape and leave a burning trail down your cheek. You shut the door softly behind you as you left and leaned against it on the other side, holding your sobs in with the palm of your hand.

The entire way home those tears still rolled down your face, from the moment you stepped out of the dorm room to the instant you stepped back into your own. They felt like scratch marks of their own and thankfully you didn’t run into anyone. All you wanted to do, you found, was lay down and sleep. You were tired too, and welcomed your mattress with a loud thud. Silence took it’s place and hung uneasily heavy over your room, cloaked your mind and body with fog.

You didn’t want to move from your place. You didn’t even want to roll over, not having the energy to even breathe evenly it seemed. With a whole lot of urging you managed to force yourself onto your back, staring up at your ceiling through blurry eyes. Things like this had happened so many times before, you’d think you’d have gotten used to it, but this time it felt… Different. You felt so unnaturally lonely.

Roughly you wiped at your eyes and sniffed, laying there on top of your blankets and pillows, wondering about Nathan as usual. After you’d left, what did he do? Did he cry, have another fit, break more things in his room? Or, worst of all, did he do nothing?

You felt selfish to be hurt at the idea of him doing nothing when you left, but you couldn’t help it. Something about the way he sounded, the way he looked at you, felt entirely new and you didn’t like it. His expression didn’t have any substance, his eyes almost entirely empty towards you. Perhaps tonight was his breaking point, but not nearly in the way that you had imagined it would be.

Sitting at your side your phone sat like a brick, unalerting and silent. ‘I’ll call you’, he’d said, but there wasn’t a thing in his voice that led you to believe he actually would.

The entire night felt strange and alien. It felt wrong, like it shouldn’t have happened, or should have happened a different way. You wondered what it was you could have done to change things even though it meant nothing now that it had all happened. You couldn’t go back in time, you couldn’t change the course of your actions, what little ones you had done.

Your ceiling, white and simple, served as a holder for your eyes to unfocus on. Though tired, anxious, and hurt, you just sat there in silence and waited to hear that obvious and obtrusive ringtone of yours. You waited until you finally fell asleep, eyes heavy with tears and uncertainty.

Your phone still sat beside you the entire night.

There was nothing.