#'just lose yourself to music and to the silence... you're in that moment all alone and it feels so nice'

[dxxdhood]

Okayyyyyy your sub!Wade Wilson fic literally destroyed me and I need like a million more consider yourself my new dealer

(If reqs are open can I get uhhhhh Wade Wilson where he's needy but has no idea what he wants so reader has to shut his brain off and figure it out for him pls and thanks)

hi anon, i love this idea so much omg! i may have played around with it a bit but i think i still kept the same core idea. i went with fem! reader on this, but if you want a similar request with gn! or male! reader, let me know! pls enjoy!!!

rough night

pairing: wade wilson x fem!reader

summary: wade needs your love and attention, and luckily, you're always there to help him out.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, dirty talk, praise kink, light bondage, grinding, clothed sex, oral (f receiving), exhibitionism, car sex

wc: 2.0k

“Okay, babe, hear me out: the ending to the stage version of Little Shop is leagues better than whatever deus ex machina crap they had to throw into the last two minutes of the movie. Cowardly movie-goer audiences can not handle true stage-level tragedy–”

“Wade!” You shout, nearly swerving the car as you double check the directions. Past midnight on the freeway after a long day, you barely had the concentration to drive in silence– much less in a car with your partner in it. “Can you help me get us home first before we start arguing over musical movies again. Please?”

Wade hums, tapping his scarred hand against the console, “That’s a big ask, I’m not so sure I can, to tell you the truth. You wanna talk about musical movies? Can we talk about how big The Greatest Showman got when the score is nothing but pop songs? Look, I get the lead actor looks like my crazy-hot new best friend, but the 2010s had way better stuff coming out.”

Turning his head so you could see the shit-eating grin plastered on his face, he whistles a note before speaking. “You missed our exit, by the way.”

“What?” You double check the GPS to make sure he’s not lying. Sure enough, he’s right. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Oh, you know. Typical Deadpool, just pissing off everyone around him all the time for no reason,” he chimes in again, and something about his tone sets you off. You speed across the next available ramp, and after the few seconds it takes for you to end up on a deserted road, you stop the car.

Taking a deep inhale, you make sure to hit the inside light so he can see you properly, and you grab the arm still fidgeting next to you. “Wade, what’s up with you?”

His eyes go large, and his expression loses all the mischief immediately. Shaking his head a little, he purses his lips. “Nothing. Nothing’s up.”

“Let’s just get home,” he says after an empty moment, almost like he’s booting up again. “You can yell at me the entire way back, okay? I was being a pain in the ass. I’ll take it lying down, promise.”

Seeing him in the dim, yellow lighting, he’s trying to retreat into his hoodie. He’s pulling away from you even as he speaks, and it makes your stomach turn.

“Let’s–” you start, unbuckling your seatbelt before gripping the door handle.  “Let’s just take a second first.”

You catch a wash of confusion on his face, but you exit the car and walk over to his side before he voices his thoughts out loud. Opening his door, you quickly envelope him in a hug before he can try to pull away again.

You swear you heard a whimper, but it was so quiet, you nearly missed it. Almost instantly, Wade buries his head in your neck, and his arms wrap around your middle tight. 

The two of you stay there, alone, with the gentle sound of crickets chirping in the background for what feels like a small eternity. You know it must have only been a few minutes, because shortly, your thighs burn from the angle you’re bending at, so you gently pull away. You decide not to mention the wetness left on your shirt.

“What do you need?” You ask.

He shakes his head again, but faster this time. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t even know why I was trying to piss you off.”

“Today was fine, right? I thought so, but all of sudden everything felt like it was going to shit. In my head, I just started going around in circles, going over all the little ways I kept fucking up, and – I don’t know – it got to me.” Wade brings a palm to his forehead. “It’s just one of those hate-yourself days, I guess.” 

You nod, taking one of his hands in yours as you stand on the dying grass surrounding the road. Rubbing his palm with your thumb, trying to transfer some of your warmth to him, you’re suddenly met with an idea so good, you can keep inside the chuckle. 

“Sorry, sorry!” You choke. “Not laughing at you, I just– I just think it’s funny where my brain goes.”

“What do you mean?” He looks up at you with pupils so big, you just want to go back to squeezing him. 

“Well, we’re all alone out here.”

You can almost see the loading screen in Wade’s mind when he breaks out in a laugh. “No way, I finally found someone worse than me.”

“Would you want to?”

He’s nodding before he can even process, but after a second a frown sets in. “You know I’m always down to clown around, but I’d just be a burden right now. I’m all sad and icky and touchy-feely. I don’t even know what I–”

“You want me to handle it?” you interrupt. “I’ll just do stuff we’ve liked doing in the past. You don’t have to worry about a thing, I’ll make it all good for you.”

Wade turns his head away, and for a terrifying moment, you believe you’ve made him uncomfortable. But a part of him wins whatever fight is going on eternally, and when he faces you again, a blush coats his cheeks.“You’d do that?”

“You think I’m offering ‘cause I like hearing myself talk?”

“You have the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard,” he smiles, and not having learned anything, you bend down again to kiss him. He responds fast, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek as he pulls you in closer. No matter how much of you he gets, he always finds himself needing more.

You push his hood down and you carefully run your hands across his scalp, cradling his head, as you deepen the kiss. Licking inside his mouth, you feel more than hear a rumble build in his chest.

Breaking away, you pull your sweater off before laying it on the ground in front of the passenger seat. Stepping to the side, you give Wade a second to process before you order him.

“Kneel.”

He definitely mumbles a soft “holy shit” as he slips out of the car and drops to his knees. Briefly, you run your hands across his shoulders, kneading at the intersection between his shoulders and neck, feeling the tense muscle there. Typical Wade to cause problems instead of talking about his own. Just how long was he carrying around all of this tension? Maybe when you’re both home later, at what will probably be the crack of dawn, you can run him a warm bath or give him a better massage.

For right now, you slip past him and sit in the car seat above him. Angled so your legs dangle out the car door opening, you place a hand around the back of Wade’s neck and urge him closer.

“You ready?” You whisper. “You want to eat me out, Wade?”

He buries his head into your thigh at your words as he lets out a groan, “Yes, please, oh my god.”

Grabbing both of your legs, he lifts them onto his shoulder and he already starts to move his head closer in between them.

“Hold on,” you grab one of his hands, interlocking your fingers. “Here, help me move one of my legs off your shoulder and against your dick.”

To his credit, he does, even as he shivers at your words. As he scooches around, trying to get comfortable or maybe just hungry for more sensation already, you feel his cock half hard.

“You’ve been wanting this, huh? Wanting me to boss you around a little,” you whisper, inching your head closer to his so you can whisper in his ear. “Wanting to hear dirty things in my voice?”

“Yes!’ he shouts. “Yes, please! Can I eat you out, babe? I’ll be good!”

“”Course you will be,” you smile. “You’re always so good for me.”

With a little maneuvering around your legs, you manage to slip your shorts and underwear off, accidentally tossing them into the darkness.

Wade frowns, his brow creasing, “No, I haven’t been very good lately–”

On command, you grab his chin and tilt it so his gaze rests on yours. There’s no hiding from your words now. “Don’t say that. Stop talking.”

“You don’t feel good?” you smirk. “Then prove to me right now how good you can really be.”

He needs no further encouragement as he buries his face between your thighs, already licking across you, teasing you even now. His pace is quick, desperate, but he’s still careful to avoid where you need him most.

With one hand perched at the top of his head, you scratch the other down his neck as a warning, but all it does is draw a moan from him. You can feel the vibrations through you, and it causes you to grind across his mouth.

Panting heavily, you decide to even the score. You press your calf up against his hard cock, inching it backwards and forwards, bit by bit, and that’s all it takes for Wade to remember his own needs. Wanting  you already, he slowly grinds against your leg, and though it feels harsh through his pants, from past experience as well as the wet groans filling the air, you’re sure Wade enjoys it.

Suddenly, he decides to circle your clit in earnest, and it draws a loud moan from you. You begin to grind yourself against his tongue, still somehow working you with coordinated movements despite how out-of-control he humps your leg.

His whimpers slip out of him, as if he’s been completely fucked dumb just by getting off on your leg. The power is heady, and you move your hands to his, wrapping them around his wrists and bringing them in front of him to settle right in front of his stomach. Once you’re sure you’ve got a secure grasp, you bring one of your hands away to tilt his face up to yours so you can kiss him again.

You taste yourself warm on his lips, and the thought causes even more heat to pool at your core. All too soon, you pull away from him and shove his head back between your thighs. 

“Fuck, Wade, so good. You’re so good for me.”

He’s whimpering right into your core and involuntarily, the hand restraining his wrists clenches. The harshness only turns him on further, and he continues rubbing himself along your leg so quick, you’re sure it must be starting to sting.

“Yeah? You like fucking my leg, Wade? I love seeing you grind on me, sweetheart, you’re so pretty.”

His pace increases, and he starts letting out frequent moans in between the warm breaths he exhales onto you. Your thighs are shaking – his speed for you has never faltered – and you shove his face towards you with the palm against his head.

“I’m gonna come. You wanna be my good boy and come with me, huh?”

At that, he releases a loud groan into your pussy, and you feel yourself coming, dripping onto his already soaked face. At your wetness, his grinding only increases, and after only a few more seconds, Wade finishes, cum seeping from his pants onto your leg. 

The two of you stay silent with only your breaths slowly returning to normal to fill the air. Wade’s eyes are large, gazing at you like you’re all he could ever want, and it’s almost too overwhelming for you to return.

Shakily, he pushes off the ground and makes it to his feet before he stumbles to the side. On instinct, you jump from the seat outside to catch him, your arms wrapped around his waist. You’re still afraid that he’ll fall, but Wade lets out a light giggle.

“If you couldn’t drive us home before, I’ve got no clue how we’re making it back now.”

You lightly slap his arm, “You could be nicer to me after I made you come, bitch.”

He lets out a groan that would sound exaggerated if it came from anyone else, “Shit, call me that next time!”

“Next time I wreck you in the middle of nowhere?” you smirk.

“Just name a time and place.”

[imbored1201]

Dumb Decisions

Happy birthday to my homie @sleekswosobession

Pairing: Barcelona Femeni x Reader (Sick fic)

Word Count: 1.1k

You cursed in your head as you were woken up by Alexia pulling your blankets off you. “Get up,” she said, grabbing your bag and throwing it on your bed to get you started. It took you a while to actually process what was going on, but all you knew was that your head hurt really bad and you felt like you were about to throw up. 

You were sick. You spent the next 10 minutes questioning if you should tell Alexia or not. 

You told yourself it was dumb to train and that you should tell Alexia, but there was the other part of you that didn’t care and just wanted to train. 

The second part won. You were able to take medicine without Alexia noticing before you left for training, but the nausea really hit you when you walked into the locker room. 

The loud conversations weren't helping with the headache. Especially with Patri blasting her music and running around poking everyone to get them excited for this very early training. 

“Aw, what’s wrong?” Frido cooed and pinched your cheek when she noticed your mood. “I'm just not feeling it today." She frowned and patted your head before leaving you alone. 

————

“Y/N, come here." You froze hearing Jonatans voice, quickly making your way to him. “Si?” You tried your best to make yourself look somewhat presentable, but you were barely able to stand straight at this point, just wanting to curl up on the grass and cry. 

“Go see the medics,” you said, giving him an odd look. “Why? I don’t feel any discomfort.” 

“You look pale; you're off your game today; even right now, you're struggling to even catch your breath. Get checked out.”

He waved you off, leaving you no room to argue back. You simply huffed and walked back to the lockers. 

————

You shuffled into the room, looking in between them. They stared back at you, inspecting you to see what was wrong. “Sit,” one of them said. “She’s all yours,” the other one said, and she walked out to go back onto the field to monitor. 

“Symptoms?” “I don’t feel anything,” she let out a sigh. “Do I have to get Alexia?” You looked at her, terrified. “No” 

“You know, when players are sick, they usually stay home,” you heard her mutter. You scowled, “I’m not sick; just tell Jonatan I’m fine.” You were silenced by her glare. 

“Do you want me to lose my job?” You quickly shook your head, thinking of any other ways to get out of this situation. 

“Can I at least change out of these clothes? I feel nasty.” She just nodded, desperately wanting to get a tiny break from you. 

————

There were 10 minutes left of practice, so you knew she was going to notice; you just hoped it was towards the last 5 minutes. 

“Here comes trouble." Cata commented as she watched you jog back to Jona to tell him you were "fine.”. 

He did look a bit worried, but he decided to just let you off and motioned for you to go on a team for a scrimmage. 

You didn’t know why, but you were tired before it even started. “You haven’t done anything,” Patri commented when she noticed how you were struggling to even stand. This drew the attention of everyone. 

“I need a moment," you said as you sat down, regretting even coming back on the pitch. 

“You okay?” Ingrid put a hand on your back, watching as you struggled to catch your breath. "Fine,” you wheezed out. 

After a couple more minutes, you finally recovered. “Why is everyone staring at me?” You whined to Ingrid, and everyone quickly went back to doing their drill. “Let's get you some water.” 

“Y/N!” You froze hearing the medic, everyone watched shocked as she started sprinting towards you. “Ah shit” as much as you wanted to run away, you just didn’t have any energy left and just sat on the grass, accepting your fate. 

“What is going on?!” Jona asked, frustrated; training had been interrupted way too much today, and he was sick of it. “She’s sick, and she lied to me,” Jona sighed and waved Alexia over. 

“Never a moment of peace with you around,” Alexia muttered, dragging you off the pitch. You made sure to stick your tongue out at the medic. 

————

“Sit down,” Alexia said sternly, for once you actually listened to her. “What are you feeling?” You were about to speak until she cut you off. “And be honest, no lies,” you rubbed your nose. 

“I’m not feeling good,” you admitted, and you watched as Irene entered the room again. Alexia held back a sarcastic comment, looking at her. Irene took that as a sign to take over and gently pushed Ale away to cool down. 

“Okay, let's do this quickly so we can get you home.'' You rubbed your eyes and nodded at her words. You watched as everyone entered the locker room again and took the water from Salma. 

“This is probably the dumbest thing you’ve done." You glared at Salma and watched as Patri and Pina laughed at you. “Alexia, tell them to leave me alone.” 

One look from Alexia, and they quickly went back to doing whatever they were before. 

————

Alexia was jealous watching as you listened to everything Irene told you to do. You even took the medicine without complaining. 

“Now all you need is rest; you’ll be better soon." Irene reassured you as she brushed your hair. 

"Gracias, Irene, you should get home to your family; I can take it from here." All Ale got was a look. “Please don’t go all captain on her, not until she fully feels better.” 

“That’s difficult for her,” you whispered, and with one last hug, Irene was out the door. Now it was just you and Alexia. 

“You're an idiot." You looked upset by that statement, making Alexia regret it. “Movie?” “My choice?” “You always choose.” That was true; no matter how many times Alexia told you she was going to choose the movie, it always ended up with you choosing. 

————

“You need to tell me when you're sick, Bebe." You tested your head on Alexia’s shoulder as you scrolled through to find a good movie. 

“Needed to train." “No, the number one thing you need to worry about is your health.” 

“Yes Ale” She wrapped a blanket over you and focused on the movie you chose.

[starless-nightz]

hello hello, can i request headcannons for Ashlyn comforting a S/O that gets easily overstimulated by a lot of loud sound or being around people for too long

Ashlyn comforting her S/O that gets easily overstimulated

note -> I love Ashlyn Banner shes so hdiebwoshwj.

warnings -> none.

content includes -> fluff, comfort, Ashlyn is a sweetheart.

Ashlyn will immediately noticed that you are starting to get overwhelmed before you even have to say anything. With her sharp observation, she should especially be good at picking up the more subtle signs—your clenched fists, for instance, or how your breathing quickens, or how your shoulders tense up.

If she feels you getting overwhelmed, she gently ushers you to a much quieter place. Whether it is something as simple as taking you further into a quiet corner or literally just outside for some air, she does whatever possible to take you away from the fray for a little while.

Ashlyn has this naturally soothing quality to her tone of voice; when she is whispering reassurances to you, it's almost like some balm on your frayed nerves. She never pushes but always allows you to set the pace for how you want to calm yourself down. If you need silence, she will simply sit beside you, being there without utterance of any word.

Ashlyn has a few tricks up her sleeve to help when you start to feel overwhelmed-guiding you through breathing exercises, asking you to describe things that you can see, hear, or touch. Her favorite method of doing this is offering you a small object dor you to focus on.

Physical comfort is her go-to, if you're comfortable with it. Ashlyn isn't big on grand gestures but will hold your hand or rest her head on your shoulder if she knows it grounds you. If you are someone more comfortable with distance, she respects that equally and offers comfort with her presence alone. She will always make sure to let you know she's there for you, no matter what.

Ashlyn is patient and understanding, she never makes you feel bad because you need space or want things quieter. She understands that you can't always control when you will be going into an overstimulated state and is more than happy to switch plans around or whatever else to make you better.

Ashlyn actually helps you forget the chaos around you. She tells little stories or stops at dry jokes, making you lose focus on what bugs you or causes disturbance in your mind. Her sense of humor could be a bit dark, but sometimes that is just what is needed-a slight distraction to make one smile when everything seems too much.

In more intense moments, Ashlyn isn't above stepping in and making it clear that you need space. If there is too much noise or too many people around her, she will politely-but-firmly ask people to give you a bit of room. It is her way of shielding you without making you an unnecessary burden.

Once away from whatever overstimulated you, it's all about getting comfortable for recovery. She'll offer you a weighted blanket, play quiet music, or even just sit with you outside under the night sky. She knows what small comforts mean the most for you and will readily provide those.

She listens when you want to talk about it. When you need to vent about what overwhelmed you, Ashlyn is all ears. She won't interrupt or try to problem-solve unless you ask her to; she just listens as you get everything out in the safe space. Her presence is a reminder that you're not alone in dealing with these feelings.

She never makes you feel like a burden for needing comfort. Ashlyn can be serious by nature, but the soft sincerity of her reassurance makes it okay to feel whatever it is you're going through. Remind yourself that she values your well-being, and your comfort concerns her just like everything else.

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Three nine five six

A/n: Eilish plunges headfirst into the maelstrom of the downside of his popularity when a crazed fan kidnaps you.

Inspired by "THE DINER".

Warning: blood, kidnapping, moral suasion!

"Relax, Eilish, it's okay!" - is a kind of mantra that you say for nearly the hundredth time that day. Billie is frantic with worry, having been on alert all day, not realizing the truth of the reason herself, but her gut is churning and choking in panic attacks, causing you to repeat it again and again, scattering the letters in the air as many times as she needs.

"Really sure you don't need security? I still want to put some trustworthy guys on you."

Billie's voice twitches slightly on the other side of the tube, and you only let a slight, almost audible chuckle pass through your lips. Security? You're just her girlfriend, not a Hollywood celebrity like her or her brother, why would you want that? You hum to yourself and grip the steering wheel a little tighter with your hand, steering a little to the right along the highway markings.

"Is it just me, or did something happen?" - You glance in the rearview mirror, making sure there's no one behind you, and level off in the lane. Your eyes cling one last time to the red numbers on the dashboard before they stick to the windshield again. It's almost midnight. No wonder you're alone.

"No, it's just..." - Billie stumbles over the letters in confusion, hovering in silence for a couple seconds as you drive into the sprawling tunnel in front of you. - "Just some kind of bad feeling."

"Relax, Eilish," - you chant for the hundred and first time, which makes your phone exhaling heavily in your ear. You smile, imagining her rolling her blue skies slightly in a characteristic gesture. - "Yeah, yeah, I know I've been telling you that all day, honey."

"Where are you now?" - you hear the rustle of sheets in the background, which in the darkness of the tunnel seems very seductively intimate, making you want to cover your eyes in the moment and give in to your not-so-decent daydreams, but you can't. - "How much farther?"

"No, not much left," you reply, clasping the phone tighter in your left hand. - "About twelve and a half miles, I think."

"Call me as you pull up, I'll meet you," Billie purrs huskily, and pleasant goosebumps run up the back of your neck in a sly flock. - "And please be careful on the road."

You nod, but then you're immediately catching yourself, realizing she can't see you. You say yes with a warm tenderness under your heart, and then she's resets the call, leaving you alone with the silence of the salon car. You are too lazy to touch the media panel to let the music flow through the cabin, too well in the flow of your thoughts, from which you surface periodically, without losing sight of the rapid asphalt ribbon, located under the four wheels. And only a huge white SUV, suddenly appearing on your left side, makes you deafeningly confused, especially if you take into account the fact that it is stubbornly following you, not missing a single turn for ten minutes already. Maybe you're just getting yourself worked up for nothing. Is there any chance it's just Billie's mood transferring to you? You fumble for your cell phone in your jacket pocket, unmistakably dialing the numbers from memory: three one zero-eight zero seven-three nine five six. The green call button is like the final cherry on the creamy top of a cupcake of worry and suspicion.

You nod, but then you're immediately catching yourself, realizing she can't see you. You say yes with a warm tenderness under your heart, and then she's resets the call, leaving you alone with the silence of the salon car. You are too lazy to touch the media panel to let the music flow through the cabin, too well in the flow of your thoughts, from which you surface periodically, without losing sight of the rapid asphalt ribbon, located under the four wheels. And only a huge white SUV, suddenly appearing on your left side, makes you deafeningly confused, especially if you take into account the fact that it is stubbornly following you, not missing a single turn for ten minutes already. Maybe you're just getting yourself worked up for nothing. Is there any chance it's just Billie's mood transferring to you? You fumble for your cell phone in your jacket pocket, unmistakably dialing the numbers from memory: three one zero-eight zero seven-three nine five six. The green call button is like the final cherry on the creamy top of a cupcake of worry and suspicion.

"Wow, you're here already?" - Billie grins softly at you through the tube, and your heart, stuck in your very windpipe, settles a little, lulled by her voice. - "That was quick, I wasn't expecting that."

"I suspect I'm in a bind," you frown, running your eyes over the white metallic of the car in your rearview mirror again. Damn, you going to have to bother her after all. - "Your bad felling may have turned out to be extremely correct, Eilish."

Silence spreads through the tube like a spider cunningly weaving a beautiful web of webs. Eilish exhales raggedly and scowls seriously, like a proud eagle. You can't see her, but you're absolutely certain it is.

"What do you mean?"

"Some car has been following me for about ten minutes now," - you cling reflexively with your fingers to the metal knob of the lever from the gearbox, as if to fit all the experiences of three seconds in there. - "And he almost bumps his bumper into my ass from his own eagerness."

"Where are you now?" - you hear the stomping and rustling of fabric dissected by the seriousness of her voice. - "I'm on my way to meet you right now!"

"Chill out, Bils, this just might be you and I sharing a little paranoia," - you push the gas pedal a little harder, tilting it to the floor with the very tip of it. No one's going to ban you in an attempted breakaway, right? - "Just... memorize this asshole's number just in case, okay?"

And you dictate the number from the iron plate of the next car, and Billie obediently swallows digit after digit, drinking the rattling mixture with her own rushing excitement, which is like a hot geyser. She asks you to stay in touch and her voice is jarring, and she's not even going to hide it, because you're far more important than her own sense of cool and cool.

"I have something to tell you about, so don't you dare disappear now," - the chains around her neck jingle threateningly. - "Otherwise I'll go crazy."

You only have to open your lips in response, as everything blends into a continuous lump of actions, pictures and sounds: the engine of the Japanese SUV rumbles at the very exit of the tunnel, in a couple of seconds equal to you side by side, and you in one sharp movement find yourself as if between a hammer and anvil, when the car wiggles in your direction, clamping uncompromisingly your sedan between the concrete wall of the tunnel that knows no mercy and themself. By virtue of inertia, shards of left door glass fly loudly into the cabin, the word shrapnel, predatorily scratching your face and hands, and the body sags in an arc to the left. You smack the back of your head against the back of the seat and the world blurs a little, it is only nausea that comes from the very bowels to your throat. You feel the heat in your rib area and yelp, immediately placing your palm there.

"Y/n!" - Billie yells, wheezing with her marvelous vocal cords, and you squint, trying to piece together what happened. - "What happened? Don't be quiet!"

"Call the police," - you sluggishly move your tongue as the imaginary hoop closes around your head, manifesting as a throbbing pain. Your ears begin to buzz as if you were leaning expectantly against a shell, wanting to hear the sound of waves raging near the shore. Eilish is shouting something again uncontrollably, and you can't make it out behind the veil of sounds anymore. - "I'm sorry."

The light ahead of you cuts your eyes so hard that you cover your eyelids, exhaling, albeit with a dull ache, as blissfully as after confession. Your consciousness drifts somewhere through the darkness and the only thing you can make out in the cacophony of noise is the slamming of a Japanese car door.

×××

Billie is like a mentally ill person, shackled in a straitjacket. She sits in the back seat of one of the police cars, stiff and hunched over like an old woman, although inside she is tearing up and rushing, pulling out her own hair with her fingers. Maggie hugs her daughter as best she can because of the tension in her seatbelt, strokes her parentally on the shoulder, and Eilish sinks into the maelstrom of tics that has long since subsided in the last few years. She throws her head up, twitching as if she were a broken puppet in the hands of a puppeteer, her hands digging into her own knees: she wants to howl, like a devil rejected even by hell itself. From the understanding of her own guilt, tears flow stream after stream, outlining the salty "rivers" of tears that have just dried up and wiped away by the hurried hand again. She dials your number again, and in response only silent beeps and nothing more. Nothing that will calm her down even a little.

She'd noticed the tape recorder and note threateningly planted in the kitchen of her country house through the window a week ago and hadn't done a damn thing about it, writing you off as It's all up to chance. Without revealing anything so as not to scare you, she became extremely insistent on offering you a security escort, to which you responded with a clear refusal every time. She listened to you, believed like a foolish heretic your arguments about your relative obscurity to the public and is now paying the price. At that time the proceedings of an entire police force yielded no results and no answers, and now she's riding in that damned police car accompanied by three more.

"It's my fault, Mom," - her voice is hoarse and her gaze is like a solid blue abyss, so dead cold. - "It's my fault to her, so fucking guilty..."

Eilish babbled like a lunatic, but Maggie only snuggled closer to her, hugging her in a head-to-toe embrace. The seat belt has long since been sent to hell, and she frankly doesn't care when her child suffers. She says something comforting, and Billie doesn't hear much, because there's only one thing in her head, round and round, like expensive vinyl: "Relax, Eilish, it's okay."

"Relax, Eilish, it's okay," - the younger O'Connell sniffles, howling like a wolf cub, snuggling into her mother's neck and nose drawing out the pleasant scent of vintage floral perfume, as she used to do as a child. - "That's what she used to tell me, Mom."

When they arrive, Eilish's legs are shaky and she almost tends to collapse to the pavement like a downed bird in flight, if it weren't for her father's timely arrival. Maggie looks down at the side of the sedan and sighs, holding both her palms to her mouth, Finn's arms around her. The cops are quick and efficient in fencing off the car, stretching yellow ribbons around the perimeter, a color that makes Eilish grind her teeth, but they ask them to stay close, and the four of them walk on: Billie on her stiff legs, Meggie dropping tears quietly, and Finneas and Patrick, silent and as focused as they've ever been. The tall, like stern cane-wielding investigator asks for a statement, and Eilish notices the small specks of blood on the steering wheel, wanders with eyes maddened in their mute scream at the dents on the left side of the hull and wants to just disappear, to fall through the cold asphalt. Straight to where you are now, and she doesn't care what hell she's in. The man steps back and Billie - shaking hands in her pockets, an icy stare and not a hint of a smile. She doesn't cry anymore, just stares at the crumpled car for half an hour and waits. She has nothing else to do but berate herself every second, putting weights on her innocent heart, conscience and soul.

"She's alive, I can feel it." - Billie babbles as the small black van moves in their direction, and Finn throws the plaid over her fragile shoulders, and with it a new exorbitant weight that makes her heart nearly rip into scarlet shreds in her sternum from the excess weight.

The phone in her hand vibrates and hums a familiar tune that makes you forget how to breathe at all: your contact is flashing on the display. The officer standing next to the O'Connells immediately shouts loudly, summoning an equipment specialist before Eilish can even pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

×××

You close your eyelids over and over again, and the result is the same, no matter how much effort and faith you put into it - the coldness of the concrete walls of a small garage painted a hideous deep blue, the psychedelically blinding light from a light bulb hanging from above that lives only on a thin wire. Tied with a strong knot of rope, your hands become numb behind your back with the approach of time, which adds to the apathy of your position. You try one more time, shaking the possible nightmare from your tired eyes, but to no avail. This is reality.

"Fuck..." - You swallow tightly, kneading at least your shoulders as best you can. In other respects you're hindered by the chair you're also firmly tied to. It's just like the cliched, low-budget Hollywood movies you hate so much. - "Oh, shit."

The words in your head are still confused, while you are so mercilessly sick for the hundredth time. On the plus side, it's like your head hurts a little less, and you can finally hear something other than the maddening noise, and on the minus side, you can feel your rib flare off with every breath you take, sending swirls of pain through your body. You also hear footsteps clawing purposefully towards you. Fuck.

"Hey, you," - the wooden door slams shut, and you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to cover your ears with your palms. Immediately, however, you looking around full dazedly, feeling the guy roughly put your own cell phone to your ear. - "Say 'hi' to my girl!"

He smiles, and you frown your eyebrows, defensively hiding the burning fear burning through your insides behind the supposed steel in your gaze. He squeezes out that nasty grin, and you want to either spit in his face or laugh, babbling madly and throwing back your head as high as you can.

"Hello?" - you hear Eilish's infinitely nervous voice and all the steel falls to the floor, leaving you completely defenseless and helpless. - "Please tell me it's really you..."

"I'm sorry," it's so stupid and inappropriate, but you don't really know what else to say when silver rivers start to come to your eyes, stoically lodged in the very corners of your eyes. A frozen desperation that you will only show to her and no one else. - "I... yes, my dear, it's me."

And you are immediately struck on the cheek by a wiry palm, painful and whiplashing. You pull the steel mask back on, as if picking up the remnants of the metal from the floor with your hands. It doesn't matter if your palms trembling feverishly.

"Shut up! Don't call her that!" - A shout right in your face chips a spray of spit, and you frown your eyebrows again, remaining silent. The guy takes the phone back and the smile on his face returns, calm and dreamy enough to turn any notion of surrealism into sharp shards. You catch the rumbling notes of lingering madness in his eyes and you twitch. A chair leg creaks. - "I've done everything you asked, my love, now it's your turn."

"I'll be there, love." - Billie's voice echoes on the speakerphone, contributing to the illusion of your madness, which makes you almost jumping up in a chair, but all the fervor fades as soon as you catch the glint of a revolver across the room. - "I keep my promises, don't I, baby?"

"I saw you on the screens," the guy's hands lock on the massive grip, releasing the revolver from its holster, and you swallow your anxiety in barely cisterns. The smile on his smooth-shaven face is a schizophrenic spasm, a grimace of pure terror. - "I know we're meant to be, but please don't call the cops, they'll make me stop and I just wanna talk."

"Never." - Billie's voice is sweet and cloying enough that a other man would smell a catch a hundred thousand miles away, but your captor doesn't care so much, he's completely oblivious to it, stumbling into another raking wave of madness in his head. The pictures of events in your head add up, probing her idea: they take time to track the signal of your phone. - "Only if you promise not to do anything with my... toy, right?"

"You could be my wife..." - The skinny madman pulls the trigger, pacing back and forth from you, and you just stare, ducking your head to the floor like an innocent lamb. As long as you don't provoke him, you give police the time what it's needs. - "Could get into a fight I'll say you're right and you'll kiss me goodnight."

"Bet I could-"

The shot is an aggressive clapper bouncing off the walls with a pop. Billie fractures every unspoken letters and screams into the throat like a gargoyle offended by the fire of the Inquisition: nettlesome and hoarse, until his ligaments burst. Only then do you feel the heat in your knee, and the growing pain with every millisecond that paralyzes you almost entirely. You look down and gasp: a scarlet bud is blooming on your light-colored pant leg, spreading rapidly across the fabric. You sigh too loudly, biting your lower lip until it bleeds, and the pain irrodes copper-hot through your leg.

"Three nine five six." - The guy laughs gleefully, cranking the hot drum of his revolver with his thumb, and you howl wolfishly as you naively try to straighten your leg before everything turns back into a jumble of indistinct images: the door flies off its hinges, practically splintering into splinters, and like confetti for a show, reveals not a celebrity but a five-man SWAT team in full communication. One second, and your kidnapper is face-impressed into the floor to the measured murmur of men's voices. Another, and you realize that one of them is cutting the ropes knots restraining you with a knife.

"All clear, over."

×××

The paramedics carefully transfer you to the stretcher, and you only watch as space is blurred ahead by a swift, low figure. Eilish runs, no, practically flies, having previously sent any yells flying at her back far away.

"Alive, alive... My girl..." - And her arms wrapped gently around your shoulders are such hot, sensory-enhancing amulets.

And you cry, dropping silver snakes of fear on the sleeves of her voluminous sweater, bumping your nose with a howl of despair, but she only moves closer, giving you a breath puffed up in a hurry and hoarseness settled in the most secret place of your heart:

"Alive..."

[marchsfreakshow]

Knowing You're Losing [Warren Lipka]

Angst

You never should've fallen in love with Warren.

:) you're welcome.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

It was a mistake.

You knew it was a mistake.

That damned brunette.

He infected your mind. Never left alone in your thoughts. His stupid dark eyes. His stupid curls. His stupid shirts. His stupid demanour. Basically everything about him. God it was infuriating. That fucking smile. It was beautiful and you despised it.

Watching him worm his way into girls underwear every party he went to. Watching him have the time of his life like it was all going away the next morning.

You hated him so much you loved him. Everything about him annoyed the shit out of you, and you just fell. Fell into a fucking pit of heart wrenching smiles.

Spencer, being the guy he was, definitely knew your feelings. He let you linger on them since his best friend was a temperamental piece of...anyway.

"Hey guess what?"

"What?"

"I love you."

Whiplash. Straight into your heart. Staring out at the nighttime through your window. Tainted with rain and the occasional crash of thunder. Warren was drunk. You knew it. He didn't mean it. Should you have said it back? Yeah. Fuck it, say it back.

"I love you too Warren." Warren hummed in reply, smiling to himself. "You'd just call me to say that?" A stupid attempt to keep the conversation going after a few moments of unnerving silence.

"...yea pretty much."

"Right. Well try to get some sleep yeah?"

"totally." Then he hung up. He wasn't going to remember this in the morning, and you had made peace with that fact. Forever in limbo with a man who you shouldn't've really been hanging around anyway.

Like clockwork his calls came. He was either drunk and telling you some feelings that didn't matter. Or he was waking you up with another rant about the economy. You'd be a fool to stay loving him for so long. And you were that fool. Constantly the fool.

"you're the prettiest person I've ever had in my arms." That was a lie. Well, you thought it was a lie. You'd seen prettier. His arms were wrapped tightly around your front, your hands holding onto his arms. The lights around you buzzed around the edge of your vision, blinking occasionally to get rid of the buzzing for a few seconds at a time. Warren was swaying you slowly from side to side, barely in time with the music blasting through your ears and into your heart. The side of his face against your cheek, to get as close to you as possible. It was heartbreaking.

You loved him. And you had him. Finally. But it felt all for nought. No one warned you of just how, intense, loving Warren was...when he loved you back. His everything and nothing at the same time. Sure he'd drop everything if you asked, but if he fucked up and you were upset, he wouldn't come to your door with flowers and an apology. Well, he'd apologise eventually, but not the way you'd expect. He'd invite you out to a bar and you'd start talking about the issue while he stared hearts into your soul. A drink stuck to his lips.

"I love you."

"yeah, I love you too."

"No...Warren...I love you."

"I know. I love you too."

You should've expected that. He did love you, you knew that. But it just didn't feel like it. Like he was saying it back because he had to. Not because he wanted to. Great... another issue.

Cuddling onto his jacket, curling up on yourself. Half asleep, lonely again. Of course. You were an idiot for thinking you were different. Only letting yourself believe it because your relationship went the longest. 7 months. The best but worst 7 months. Longest 7 months of your life. Still friends. Still close as friends, you couldn't pry yourself away from Warren no matter how hard you'd try. He had infested your heart and your brain. Living in your cortex, keeping himself close to you even through your expected heartbreak.

Every time, he told you he loved you. Like nothing happened.

You were a fool.

Back to watching him worm through different relationships every few months.

"you know I love you right?"

"I love you too Warren."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tags: @babygorewhore / @taintandviolent / @oceanblvd111 / @nahoyasboyfriend / @slutforgarlogan / @marchs-hummingbird @american-horror-whore /. @evanpeterspeter / @feefymo / @fear-is-truth / @lacucarachapisser / @saintlucretia / @jazz-berry / @t8-ak47 / @lemoniiiiiii / @xrag-dollx

[helloiamadrawer]

Caine Catching the Reader trying on his Suit + gender neutral reader confesses to having a crush on him❤️

A/n: I thought this would be a cute thing to write during the wait for what's to come so here's some Caine being a clueless bean, so fluff galore!

So you were scanning through your digital wardrobe and tbh you were getting really tired of wearing your same nauseating colors of your circus aesthetic why couldn't you ask him to switch it to something..different? That was when you reached the near end of your closet and saw a familiar metallic red garment of clothing

is that..?

no, no you're just having those so-called "digital hallucinations" but to your surprise you took the hanger out of the closet and lo' and behold, it WAS Caine's suit, your face was stuck in a awestruck expression of how you found it, how could that clueless set of dentures lose his fashionable suit? He would probably just make another one with just a snap of his fingers.

You were about to exit your room to return it until you took a good look at it only to notice it almost looked like it could fit you? Well, you were about to find out by trying it on yourself!

Moments later you slid to your mirror and..it was perfect fit..now this is getting weird how did he know your exact measurements?

But it felt so good to look as fly as he does, after all you can admit you got kind of a thing for him..okay a crush! You just never had the guts to tell him but he's probably already heard. Since he hears all, sees all. You just have been holding it in cause you can never get a moment with him alone cause..adventures and stuff.

Turning to see the back of you, a flash of light blinded your vision, only for your sight to return and see the image of Caine with a digital camera. (pun intended but let's say he has an actual digital camera)

"Ah! Caine! I told you nicely to knock before you come in!" you yelped as you jumped nearly out of your skin.

"Terribly sorry my dear! But I actually came in to check on you, but wow do you look stunning in that suit, it could stop traffic and heck, even me in my tracks!" he says clutching his chest dramatically as he pretends to faint.

your face=red from Caine's compliment "th-thanks i guess, I just found it and--''.

"found it? I added it your wardrobe cause..y'know..I couldn't help but overhear you talking to Ragatha about how you could rock a suit like mine! and boy, you were right!" he chirps as he happily floats over to the back of you, placing his hands on your shoulders, admiring how the tux fitted you, that's when it hit you..

Wait..he what?! Oh god, what else has he heard?? hopefully not your endless pining for him, you would metaphorically die!

As Caine faced the mirror, the both of you almost twinning in your matching suits, then he glances at you, a little puzzled of why your face was ablaze from embarrassment, unless..

"So I guess you heard, right?", you question, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Heard what my dear?" Caine asks confused. Well, there was no backing out now, you had to confess or you could go insane before anything else could in this digital hell. You turned to face the ringmaster and explained, "The reason I said I could wear your clothes, is that I have..a..gah! I like you Caine!"

His upper jaw jumps in surprise at your sudden response. A couple seconds of dead silence,his tone stayed ponderous as usual,"....oh. But I don't seem to understand my--"

''Caine, hear me out, I have an interest in you, you're funny, you have alot of personality, and not to mention stylish even if you do wear the same suit everyday, your voice is like music to me and i would listen to it every day. what I'm trying to say is..I want to go out and get to know you more." you confess, finally getting it off your chest as you desperately stare into his dual colored eyes that are now..sparkling?

The A.I took your hands and interlaced them with his as his voice took a softer tone as he asked,"Do you know how long I was waiting for you to say those very words?"

You started to smile brightly, that's one of his favorite features of you ever since he made that one adventure just for you (it was a ballroom that you two slow danced in *sighs lovingly*). "Too long?"

"I didn't know what was going on, at first I thought it was a missing binary code in my system but I realize what this feeling is now, every time I hear your voice, a single glance, your mere presence is but a blessing to me and I would sacrifice all the time in this digital world for you.." he swept one of his hands to push a section of your hair behind in your ear.

His sweet praises make your heart swell with warmth and only causing it to hammer against your chest halting your breathing pattern as you could feel yourself leaning closer and closer until he had to go back to his bombastic ringleader voice,"Now then! My darling, when would you like that date?"

reader.exe stopped working cause Caine called you darling.

"Wh-what about now?..", you stammer, shuffling your feet, "Since we are dressed..fancy."

"Excellent idea, my darling! although the NPC'S may mistake you for me, this should help!" he snaps his fingers as your tux now became a shiny blue with white leggings. It was always amazing of how powerful the A.I was.

Caine being the gentleman he is, links your arm with his as you two head off to the grounds at night laughing and chatting away..who knew a suit could benefit you in so many ways?

[mellohirust]

still can't stop thinking about just how unsettling gl!Ranboo's death was. we've seen so many die in gen loss by this point already. in more horrific cases, there's screams of terror. there's some sort of fight against it, an unwillingness. it drags on, and on, and on, and yet it's still played off as just part of this show. even in the more comedic instances, the show at the very least keeps going. you don't have time to linger on it. there's still life to be found. the music is still rolling. a mascot is still around to commentate such events. it's too late for the lives lost, but not for the rest, is what you want to tell yourself, despite how doomed you know they all are.

gl!ranboo, on the other hand, screams on behalf of his own demise, admitting defeat in their final moments, simply because if they were always destined to lose (they were) then they at least wish to do something on his own terms, even if it's finding peace in the worst way possible. it was the only choice, the only chance he saw left at freedom, and they were probably right about it. this is the instance in which the audience is given the decision to have blood on our hands, specifically (given the fact that in the midst of the carousel hostage scenario we could only ever 'save' one), and we listen. we give them the choice they can't make alone. we let him go. we watch him go.

it's a sudden action. it's so quiet. the music is gone. there's no struggle because it's too late for it. he's already detained. they've already cried out at the top of their lungs in anguish and struggled enough in far too many chains to ever dream of getting out of in time. it is hopeless, and it always was, but it's clearer in this instance now more than ever. for a moment, you want to think this can't truly be it. perhaps he'll be lucky, somehow survive a literal death trap. perhaps showfall is just putting this on, too, as part of their show. perhaps they'll let him go, the second this is all over, if he miraculously makes it out. we wished for their death, didn't we? could they really add him onto their cast, afterwards, going against our wishes? you know these are foolish ideas. you toy with them anyways. you are used to, by now, a show that keeps going. you want this show to keep going, even if not with gl!ranboo in turmoil.

and then the blood drips down. the credits roll. you sealed that fate yourself. there was never a good one that lied waiting for you. but you could have avoided any guilt you felt by simply never watching, like we'd been told from the start, and in the midst of that silence, you're never more aware of it.

holy shit.

[cherrycola27]

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to full smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

Specific Chapter Warning: mentions of rough/painful sex

...........................................

Chapter 12: Girl Like Me

Bradley tapped his foot nervously as he waited for his orthopedic doctor to come and tell him if he would be able to get his brace off and start flying again.

Normally, Bradley didn't mind being alone or the quiet it brought, but right now, he hated it. He hated being left alone with his thoughts.

Because now, when he was alone with his thoughts, he was thinking about what you said to him the other night about marriage. But more so, he was thinking about his reply, and how stupid it was.

Bradley was in love with you. He had been since the moment he met you.

Bradley remembers with totally clarity the first time he laid eyes on you. He'd heard the stories about you. How you seemed to cheat death on more than one occasion. You were the best.

He expected you to be cocky. When Maverick had told him that he was going to be your wingman, Bradley dreaded it. Thinking he'd be stuck with a worse version of Jake. Then he met you, his mind instantly changed.

Sure, you carried yourself with confidence. But there was something in your eyes, just behind your smile. It was a look that Bradley recognized because he'd seen it every time he looked at himself in the mirror.

Maybe the two of you weren't so different after all.

And as Bradley got to know you. He found out just how similar the two of you were.

He's broken from his flashback by the knock on the door.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he's given the good news. Bradley learns that he has healed extremely well and can get back in the cockpit on Monday.

He schedules a follow-up appointment for next month and then strolls out of the office and has the rest of his Wednesday afternoon free.

He gets his car and flexes his fingers around the steering wheel. It feels good to have both hands on it. He can't wait to start driving you around again. You'd been driving most of the time since his accident.

Maybe he'd drive the two of you up to Lookout Point this weekend. You could have another picnic on his tailgate like you did before.

The last time you were there was when Bradley had thought he'd lost you. After he kissed you in Jake's bathroom and called it a mistake and you'd iced him out for a month.

But he didn't lose you, and he's so thankful for that.

He still scolds himself for how he handled that situation too.

Bradley doesn't know what he'd do without you and the joy you bring to his life.

He loves how he gets to see the carefree side of you that wears his shirts on the weekend while you dance around the kitchen and sing when you cook breakfast. You flit around with your apron and messy bun swaying to the music, and it warms his heart.

He also sees the soft side of you that cries during movies and how you hide your face in the blanket while swearing that you aren't crying, but he knows better.

But Bradley's favorite side of you is the side of you that's fully at peace, that has totally let her guard down.

He sees it every time you lay your head in his lap and let him run his fingers through your hair. And normally, you're so tired, you fall asleep on him. Bradley always covers you with a blanket and leaves you alone. Then, in the silence, he takes that time to admire the peaceful, content look in your face.

Bradley is so thankful that you're in his life.

Maybe that's why, instead of driving home, he drove to the First National Bank of San Diego to get something from his safety deposit box.

And maybe that's why he found himself at a jewelry store getting his mother's ring cleaned. Or why when he was getting it cleaned, he found a band that matched it perfectly.

While he was waiting for the jeweler to box up the band, he found a gold one for himself that complimented the one he'd just purchased, and he decided to get it, too.

There was no logic behind Bradley's thought process. You'd made it very clear that he couldn't marry you.

But you didn't have to be married to act like you were married. And you didn't have to be married to wear wedding bands.

Bradley knew that he loved you, and when he looked at you, he thought about what his mom hand told him about love. And maybe he couldn't be your husband on paper, but it didn't matter.

Paper isn't forever, but his love for you certainly is.

............

You knew Bradley would be waiting for you when you got home. He had texted you after his appointment that everything had gone well and that he was running some errands afterwards and that he would meet you at home.

You were excited that Bradley would finally be able to return to flying and wouldn't be stuck in a brace. But now that he was free, you knew exactly what he would be itching to do when you were home.

It's not that you didn't want to sleep with Bradley. You did. You loved him. But—something in your head was holding you back.

Truth be told, he'd never seen you fully naked. He hadn't seen your hidden tattoo, and you hadn't had to explain it to him.

You sighed as you gripped your steering wheel. The real reason behind your apprehension wasn't that you didn't want to sleep with Bradley, but the fact that in all of your past relationships, after you had sex with your partner for the first time, the entire vibe of your relationship shifted. It changed—most of the time not for the better.

You didn't want that to happen with Bradley, but you couldn't keep putting it off with him forever.

He'd been patiently waiting with you. And if you didn't—well, he might get bored of you and move on.

You had to keep him interested in you

You took a deep breath before dialing his phone number and reversing out of your parking spot.

"Hello, Angel!" Bradley's voice chirped through your Bluetooth.

"Hello, Love. You sound like you're in a good mood." You called back to him, praying he didn't hear the worry in your voice.

"I am in a great mood, baby! I'm finally free of my brace, I can get back in a plane on Monday, and more than anything, I can give you a proper hug with both arms when you come home today." You could hear Bradley's smile through the phone.

"I'm so excited for you. Want me to get some takeout for dinner tonight? We can get Giovanni's?" You ask him. Dinner would be a welcome distraction. Maybe you could fill him up with carbs, and he'd been too tired for anything else tonight.

"That sounds great, Angel. I'll go ahead and call them. Do you want your usual?" Bradley asks you.

"Sounds great. I'll be home in about forty-five." You say as you hang up the phone.

You pick up your dinner and take the long way home. If your body wasn't so sore from flying today, you probably would have climbed the six flights of stairs between the parking garage and your floor, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

The minute you unlocked the door, you were greeted with Cerberus and Hydra running up to you. Bradley was close behind with a bouquet of poppies for you.

You smiled at him as you pushed your way in the door. He wrapped you in a tight hug as soon as you set everything down on the counter. You had to admit, it felt good to have both of his arms around you.

"I'm going to go take a quick shower, then we'll eat." You say as you peck him on the lips and slip from his grasp.

You shower in less than fifteen minutes, quickly scrubbing the day away. Then, you go to your drawers and pick out a nice pair of lacy black panties. You slip on one of the black silk nightgowns you have before looking over yourself in the mirror. If you were going to have sex with Bradley tonight, you were going to look good doing it.

You grabbed your silk robe off the back of the bathroom door and draped it over your shoulders before loosely tying the sash around your waist.

When you emerged from the bedroom, Bradley had already reheated and plated your food and poured you each a glass of wine.

His eyes widened when he saw you approaching.

"You look amazing." He breathed out as he pulled you against him for a hungry kiss. You reciprocated and let out a surprised squeak when Bradley squeezed your ass. He took that as his chance to slip his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss.

"Bradley, the food is going to get cold." You reminded him as you pulled away.

He grumbled but agreed.

After feasting on pasta and a few glasses of wine, you hoped that you'd be able to con Bradley into the living room for a movie or at least part of an episode of the documentary the two of you were watching.

But alas, he tucked Cerberus and Hydra away in their bedroom for the night before sweeping you off your feet and carrying you to the bedroom.

............

You tried to distract yourself from the sinking feeling in your gut by dancing your lips across his scars that you were so fond of. You threaded your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck and scratched his skin. Bradley hummed appreciatively as he brought his lips to yours.

You relaxed against him as Bradley gently set you on top of the sheets.

The two of you broke apart momentarily. Just long enough for Bradley to pull his soft t-shirt over his head before pushing the silk of your robe off your shoulders. Both garments pooled together at the foot of the bed.

You stood up and looped your arms around Bradley's neck and kissed him before turning him and gently pushing his chest, encouraging him to sit on the bed.

Instead, he climbed to the center and beckoned you to come sit in his lap. It was a familiar position for the two of you.

You obliged him, draping your bare thighs over the already tented gray material of his sweatpants.

You secure your arms around his neck once again and resumed kissing him. It feels good to kiss him.

Bradley brings both of his hands up to cup your face as his tongue dances with yours. He curls one of them in your hair while the other trails down your your neck and skims over your shoulder and down your arm, taking the thin strap of your nightgown with it.

Eventually, both of his hands come to rest against your hips, gently guiding your movements over him.

You can feel just how hard he is for you through the thin material of your underwear and his sweats.

He brings one hand between the two of you and swipes his knuckles over your lace covered cunt.

"You're soaked for me, Angel." He praises you.

And you were, you were always soaked and needy for him. How could you not be? You would normally preen at his words, but the dark thoughts began to cloud your mind again. You tried to will them away, but they weighed heavy on you.

Bradley's hands tugged at the black material covering your body. His fingers skimmed the hem of the smooth fabric before his large palms slowly glided over it.

No one that you'd ever been with appreciated the lingerie you wore like Bradley did. Most tried to get you out of it as quickly as possible, but not Bradley.

He drank in every piece you showed him. He took his time getting you out of it. He savored it like fine wine. Bradley always appreciated it and how you looked in the satin, or silk, or lace.

Tonight was no different. Bradley drank in the feeling of the satin beneath his calloused fingers as they skimmed your ribcage and headed north toward your peaked nipples that were straining against the midnight colored fabric.

And even though it felt good, you still couldn't relax in the moment.

You kissed him deeper, trying to ignore the warning bells that were flashing in your head. This was Bradley for crying out loud. You'd been waiting to bed him for months. It should feel right.

But something about it just felt—wrong. You couldn't push the thoughts from your head.

Bradley's hands skimmed up your sides towards your breasts, but before he could continue, you grabbed his hands and stopped him.

"Bradley, wait." You said to him. He pulled back and looked at you confused. "I'm sorry, Bradley. I can't."

You sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed and turned your back toward him. You couldn't look at him right now. You didn't want to see the hurt on his face, knowing that you were the one who caused it.

What's wrong with you?

You were angry at yourself.

You didn't know what was wrong. One minute, you were fine. But the next— something was off.

Bradley's hands didn't feel like his when touched you. The normally firm, strong grip of his calloused fingertip that you'd grown so used to suddenly felt—foreign.

His hands felt cold, clammy, icy—just like—like—

Stop it

Don't go there

You squeezed your eyes shut and felt hot tears gather in your lashes.

You hated yourself for comparing Bradley to her, because all he has ever done is show you how different he is.

You also hated the fact that no matter how hard you tried, you still felt like Persephone had her claws in you.

You couldn't help but let the intrusive thoughts that your first time with Bradley was going to be like your first time with her—the first time you'd ever laid with anyone.

When most people think about the day they lost their virginity, they recall how clumsy or awkward it was. Or how quickly they did or didn't finish, but not you.

You remember the morning after.

You remember how dirty you felt when you woke up in your bed.

You remember how sore you felt. More so than you should have been. You remember the bruises on your wrists and hips. You remember waking up with the taste of bile and pomegranate on your tongue and a pounding in your head.

You don't remember the act itself.

You also remember telling Persephone how sore you were, and she said it was always like that for virgins and that it would get better. Looking back at it now, it never did get better.

She was always so rough with you. She also had the need to overtake you—be more powerful than you— to dominate you.

And you let her because you thought that's what love was.

When you were banished to Earth, you were the same way with the lovers you took. Rougher than necessary. You used them, but it never brought you satisfaction.

It wasn't until Paris, in the spring of 1813, when you met Luciane. She was a beautiful woman with red hair and curls and freckles. You became friends and ultimately lovers. She was the first to show you what it meant to make love.

She helped you realize that Persephone used you.

Luci was the first person you really loved. You were going to tell her your secret, but her father found out about your relationship and sent her off to be with family in America.

That's how you ended up in the States, actually. You were looking for her.

But, you never found her.

She made you a better person, though, and a better lover.

You knew that Bradley would never use you or hurt you like Persephone did, but it was still hard to allow yourself to be in the moment. To give that final piece of your heart to him. Because each time you'd given it to someone before, it ended up trampled and broken.

You press the heels of your hand against your eyes as if you're trying to hold the tears that linger there at bay.

You feel the gentle warmth of Bradley's hand as he set it on your shoulder. "Angel? Are you okay?" He breathes out, just barely above a whisper.

"I'm—I'm fine—I just—I just need a minute." You lie. You're not fine, Bradley knows you're not fine, but you don't know how to explain what you're feeling to him.

"Baby, you are most definitely not fine. Just talk to me. Tell me what's going on in your head. Did—did I do something wrong?" Bradley asks you, afraid that he might have pushed you too far.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, Bradley, it's me. It's always me. It's always my fault! I just—I just need a minute to get out of my head, is all. I'm sorry." You sigh, you're frustrated with yourself. Bradley thinks he is the reason you're like this, and that couldn't be further from the truth.

"Hades," Bradley begins, using your real name so you know he is serious. "If you're not ready, we don't have to have sex. I don't want to make you do something you aren't comfortable with or don't want to do." He says as he tugs you closer to him and rubs a soothing hand up and down your back.

"I want to, Bradley, I really do. I love you so much, and I don't want you to get bored with me if I keep making you wait around for—" You don't get to finish your sentence because Bradley cuts you off.

"Get bored with you? Hades—Angel, honey, do you really think that I'd get bored with you because we aren't sleeping together? Do you think that's the only reason that I'm still with you? That I'm with you in the first place?" Bradley's tone is a mix of harsh and hurt.

"No, no, no. It's not that. I just—I just know that you have needs, and if I don't meet those, you'll find someone who will. I love you so much. I don't know what I would do if you left me. I don't want you to lose interest in me." Your voice is just above above a whisper.

The gears turn in Bradley's head, and he puts the pieces together. Bradley thinks back to the ugly details of your relationship with Persephone that you've shared with him and how she used you and made you feel like a possession instead of a person. He knows that you don't mean to compare him to Persephone, but that it's hard for you not to because of how much trauma she inflicted on you. Bradley doesn't hold it against you. He just wants to make you feel loved and treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

He cups your face and turns you to meet his eyes. "Hades, you're my Angel. I love you for who you are on the inside. Not your body. Do you understand that?"

You suck in a breath and stare deep into his honey-brown eyes. You can see the love, the adoration, the kindness in his heart staring back at you.

"I understand." You tell him. "Good." He smiles at you before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Bradley, there's something I'd like to show you." You tell him. He knits his brows and looks at you confused as you take a step back from him.

You grab the him of your nighty and pull it over your head and drop it to the floor along with Bradley's shirt and your robe. Then you slip off your panties and kick them to the side as you step out of them.

Bradley's eyes roam over your naked form. It's the first time he has seen all of it. He takes in all the lines and colors of the tattoos that adorn your body, but he pauses when he sees one that's new—well new to him.

You take a step closer to him, and he parts his knees. You stand in between them as he traces the black ink of the words that scroll across your hipbone. It's two lines of Greek writing.

"What does it mean?" He asks as he looks up at you.

"Those who worship here are never the same." You tell him. Bradley looks even more confused now.

"Most people think that it's easy being a God. I mean, it shouldn't be hard? Right? What could be so bad about having statues and paintings of your likeness and temples and alters built in your honor so people can worship you?" You laugh at how silly it sounds.

"I have had people throw themselves down at my feet to worship me. Down on their knees, looking straight forward, never looking me in the eyes, like the alter is my hips, begging for my favor." You tell him.

"But—somehow— I could never satisfy them. No matter what I did, it was never enough. I was never enough. And then—when I was with someone—any relationship we had always changed after we had sex. So that's what this tattoo stands for. It's a warning that if you choose to worship me or love me—you'll never be the same." You move to take a step away from Bradley, but he grabs your hips and pulls you down into his lap and kisses you passionately.

You return his, moaning into his mouth as he slips his tongue against yours.

Suddenly, he stands up and pushes his sweats down before pulling you on top of him as he spreads out on the center of the bed. He props his head up on a few pillows before he manhandles you into a seated position on his chest. Once you're upright, he turns you to face away from him before he grabs your hips and pulls them towards his face.

"Bradley—what are you doing?" You ask as you turn back to look at him over your shoulder.

There is a dark look in his eyes as he licks his lips before he responds. "You said your hips were an alter, and I intend to worship at them."

You don't get to ask him what he means by that before he physically pulls your core over his face and licks and eager stripe from your clit to your dripping opening.

You gasp as you lurch forward, the sensation of his mouth catching you off guard. You place your hands on his chest for balance and to ground yourself.

He sucks your sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth, and you try to pull away from him, but Bradley loops his strong arms around your thighs and pulls you flush against him.

You cry out his name in pleasure as his tongue moves from tracing figure eights across you clit to lapping at your opening.

Many a man had using their lips to worship you, but never like this.

The scrape of his mustache of over your sensitive lips had you trembling against him as Bradley buried his face deeper into your slit. You were worried that he wouldn't be able to breathe, but the sinful moans that left his lips as he ate you, like you were the most delicious meal on the planet, let you know that he was just fine.

You soon gave yourself over to the pleasure his amazing mouth was giving you, and you began to grind your hips over his face, circling them in time with his licks and sucks.

Bradley palmed your ass before grabbing a handful of each cheek to help guide your movement. He growled appreciatively as you sped up.

One of his hands left its perch to drag his thumb through your wetness. Once the digit was sufficiently coated, he moved it to run circles around the tight ring of muscle at your rear, applying just the slightest pressure.

The feeling sent shockwaves through your body, causing you to tumble forward and land on his chest. You squeezed your eyes shut as Bradley grazed your clit with his teeth before pressing his thumb into you.

When you opened them to suck in a breath, you were met with the sight of Bradley's glorious cock, standing proud before you. The head of him was red and angry. It was flushed and so heavy that it curved just a bit to the right. It had a delicious bead of precum right on the slit, as if it was put there to taunt you.

Before you could think twice, you leaned forward just enough to lick the head. Now it was Bradley's turn to be caught off guard as his hip jerked up.

Pleased with his recation, you let a generous amount of saliva fall from your mouth to coat him. You used one of your hands to spread it over his shaft before leaning back down and taking him in your mouth.

Bradley groaned into your cunt, before pulling away just enough to speak.

"Look how good my Angel is. Sucking my cock to show me just how much she appreciates how well I can eat her pussy." Bradley praised you before delivering a harsh smack to your ass as an encouragement.

You let out a pornographic moan around his dick and cupped his balls, rolling them in your hand.

That drives Bradley wild because the next thing you know, he is doubling down on his efforts, lapping at you like a starved man.

You can hear the absolutely filthy, wet sounds coming from between your legs as they mix with the sloppy sounds of you sucking Bradley's cock.

He plants his feet on the bed and slowly began to thrust up into your mouth. Soon, he's fucking his cock down your throat in time with how his fucking his tongue into you.

It's a completely overwhelming sensation as you feel the tightness of an impending orgasm curl deep in your belly. It's an intense feeling. More intense than any other time he has gotten you off.

Your thighs start to quiver as they grow tired and stiff from this position, but you're determined to get Bradley off before he gets you off. Bradley is determined to do the same thing.

He close—so close, but he wants to feel your legs lock around his head as you cum for him. He needs you there first. So, he pulls out all the stops.

His tongue traces wildly over your clit as he brings two fingers to your core and sinks them into you.

He curls them, finding your gspot with ease. He strokes the pads of his fingers over it again and again. It fans the growing flames in your belly, causing you to bob your head faster and faster over his length.

Your toes curl, and you can feel the band being pulled tight, so close to snapping. You pull off Bradley to take a breath before taking him fully down your throat.

He crooks his fingers over your spongy walls and gives one more harsh suck to your clitoris before you clamp down on his fingers and cum for him.

You let out an honest to gods scream around his cock as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you and suck your clit.

The pleasure overtakes you, and you let out a gush of wetness all over his face, which he laps up with vigor.

The excitement of your release, triggers Bradley's own, and soon, he shoots hot ropes of cum down your throat which you happily swallow down.

Bradley continues to drink in your nectar until it becomes too much, to the point where it over stimulates you.

You have to pry yourself from his grasp before rolling off of him onto the mattress.

It's quiet in your shared bedroom. The only thing disturbing the silence is the ringing in your ears and mixed sounds of yours and Bradley's heavy breathing.

"You tattoo was right." Bradley says after several moments. "What?" You ask him, still not having moved from your spot on the duvet.

"I will never be the same after that. That was one of the most amazing experiences of my life." Bradley chuckles.

You roll your eyes and sit up before flopping back down on top of him. You tip your head up, resting your chin on his newly exposed collarbone. You place a few kisses on the scar above it. It's still pink and fresh, unlike the others.

"I love you." You tell Bradley in earnest before leaning up to kiss him. You can taste yourself on him, and you're sure he can taste himself, but neither of you seem to care. You spend a few glorious minutes letting your releases and saliva mix together before Bradley breaks the kiss.

"I love you too." He smiles down at you.

"We should probably take another shower and change the sheets." You say as you become aware of how sticky your body is with sweat, amongst other things.

"Good idea. Why don't you go get it started and I'll strip the bed?" Bradley tells you.

You agree with him and climb off and prance towards the bathroom.

Bradley waits for the door to close, and you to turn on the shower before he sits up and opens his nightstand. He pulls out the small black velvet box from earlier in the day and opens it. He admires the three rings inside it, staring back at him. He just knows that his mother's engagement ring will look beautiful on your hand along with the new band he picked out to go with it. He slips the gold band he bought for himself on his left hand. It feels odd, but right at the same time. He twists it a few times and thinks that this is exactly where it's supposed to be.

He takes it off and places it back in the box before tucking it away again.

"Are you coming, Love?" You call to Bradley as you poke your head out the door, a few puffs of steam escaping into the room.

"Yes, Angel." Bradley calls back to you. A smile graces his lips as he look at the drawer one more time.

"Always."

Taglist: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @desert-fern @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @withahappyrefrain @lt-spork @multifandomlover4life @beccaanne814 @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @roosterisdaddy36 @itsdesiree86 @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @asshlyyyy @inkandarsenic @tomanybandstolove @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @sunlightmurdock

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Could you write a Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x f!student reader? Laurel starts working at Nevermore, while she starts planning her revenge on the outcasts Reader tries to make her feel welcome and Laurel is a bit surprised, they start spending time together and they bond, as time passes Laurel realizes that she cares about Reader and thinks that she might love her but pushes the thought aside because she can't love an outcast. More time passes and Laurel resurrects Crackstone, while he's destroying the school Reader attacks him but he defeats her, as he is about to k*ll her Laurel remembers all the times Reader has been nice to her and decides to protect her, they defeat Crackstone and it ends with Laurel and Reader kissing and running away so that Laurel doesn't go to jail

Thanks if you'll write it <3

Yesss!!! Here it is!!! I hope you like it, and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

I don't care

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill/Laurel Gates x Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: Bad decisions, unconditional love

Word count: 4,503

Summary: You love her, and you think she loves you… You don’t know how far you can go just for her…

 N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

You were sitting on a bench inside the school, as usual. Your Ipod played songs while you read the boring books that the literature teacher told you. You moved your head following the rhythm of the music. It was ideal for a rainy afternoon. You wanted to lose yourself in your thoughts. Your ice generating powers were dozing while your body enjoyed the relaxation that being like this provided you. You loved those quiet afternoons.

“You'll see how comfortable you'll be here, Marilyn. They don't look like it, but they're good, I promise.”

Principal Weems was walking with another woman, one you had never seen before. You normally didn't pay attention to strangers walking into Nevermore, but that innocent-looking redhead caught your eye from the first moment. She was carrying a suitcase and several potted plants in her arms.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Larissa,” the stranger said, nodding happily.

You watched the two women over the top of your book. You tried to go unnoticed, but Principal Weems knew all the students at Nevermore very well, and that included you.

“Oh, (Y/N), it's nice that you're here,” she told you, guiding the other woman towards you.

“Principal Weems,” you greeted politely.

“(Y/N), this is Marilyn Thornhill,” she said, pointing towards the redhead, who was staring at you. “She is your new botany teacher.”

Marilyn nodded in greeting and smiled, feeling unable to reach out to you.

“Oh, glad to meet you Miss Thornhill,” you said, getting up.

“She is (Y/N), one of our best students,” Larissa said, proud to boast of your good grades.

“I'm glad to meet you. I’m sorry I didn't shake your hand, I'm a bit... Loaded right now,” she said amused, moving things from one side to the other.

“Wait, let me help you,” you said, picking up one of the pots. She looked at you as if that gesture was something strange, but she nodded gratefully.

“Wow, thank you very much, you are very kind,” she said smiling.

There was a strange little moment of silence, as if time had stopped. Larissa cleared her throat to interrupt the curious tension that had built.

“Well, I'm afraid I have to go now. (Y/N), if you would be so kind as to accompany Ms. Thornhill…”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you said, nodding profusely. You were always this nice to everyone, but somehow you felt the need to be even nicer with your new teacher.

Larissa turned and walked away from her, leaving them alone.

“Well…” Marilyn said, a little nervous.

“Well…” You repeated. Suddenly you felt that words were unable to come out of your mouth. “Do you want me to show you Nevermore?”

“I would love to, but first I would like to leave all this stuff in my room. It weighs a little,” she answered you, putting on her glasses with an almost angelic gesture.

“Of course, of course…”

The two of you walked silently through the school. Your presence did not go unnoticed by your classmates, who whispered as you passed near them. Your cheeks flushed red as you understood what the conversation would surely be.

The week before, Larissa informed you that a new teacher would be coming. It wouldn't be strange news if she hadn't commented on a small detail. That woman, Marilyn, was a normie. All the students seemed very surprised, even disgusted to hear it.

Normies and outcasts had always been in constant struggle. The ones hated the others. It wasn't surprising that the situation was somehow awkward, but it didn't affect you personally at all. You didn't believe in generalities. There was good and evil on both sides, the yin and yang.

“Sorry for asking…” You said, when you reached the door of what would be her room. She turned and dropped some things on the ground. “But what is someone like you doing in a place like this?”

She sighed, understanding the meaning of that question. You began to regret having asked it.

“I see that you already found out,” she told you, pretending that she hadn't minded the question. “Do you read minds or something?”

“What? No. Larissa told us that... Well, you aren’t... I mean, you're...”

“Normi,” she said, finishing the sentence for you. Her look didn't evoke rancor or anger, but there was something in her voice that told you that somehow it hurt her to admit it.

“Yeah, well… Larissa told us, just in case,” you said, wanting to run out of there. She nodded and smiled.

“I see…” She said in a breath, putting the key in the lock.

She tried to turn it several times, but without success.

“What's wrong with this damn door?” She protested, a little nervous. You immediately snapped out of your pensive and stunned state and approached her.

“The same thing always happens. The lock has a trick. Allow me, please,” you said kindly, taking the key with your hand. In doing so, you brushed your hand against hers and that gave you the willies. Your feelings were going much faster than your thoughts and you didn't like where they were going.

With your other hand you lifted the door a little, adjusting it so that the key turned smoothly, opening at last.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” she told you, picking up some things and entering the room. Are you going to stay there?

You shook your head and reached down to get the rest of her things, going inside as well.

“I'd swear it's smaller than mine,” you commented, placing a box on top of the dusty desk. Marilyn looked at you curiously as she looked at one of her plants.

“I think I'll have to talk seriously with Larissa,” she said, joking. You laughed

“Good luck with that. Lately she's too busy with her scams with Mayor Walker,” you said, sitting on the bed.

“Did you say Walker?” The redhead asked suddenly. You stirred, a little scared of her reaction.

“Yes... The mayor of Jericho, do you know him?” You wanted to know. She relaxed her face and shook her head.

“Oh, no. I thought he was other person,” she said. You didn't know why, but it seemed to you that she was lying. “And answering your previous question, the truth is, I don't know what I'm doing here.”

The days passed and you had your first classes with her. Everyone in Nevermore seemed not to be as satisfied with her presence as you are. You noticed how the other teachers ignored her. She was always alone. She ate alone, she dined alone. Marilyn spent most of her time alone in the conservatory. You couldn't help but feel bad for her. Normi or not, she was a kind woman, and a good teacher. Gradually that opinion ceased to be completely objective.

You were one of those fools who believed in love at first sight. Of course, she was everything you wanted, and the small inconvenience that it was clearly an impossible love didn't matter to you at all. You didn't want to keep seeing how she was rejected by the majority of people in Nevermore, and you took advantage of the little trust you had after your first meeting to spend some time with her.

“That's why they say I'm too cold, do you get it? Too cold,” you said, giving another one of your ridiculous bad joke shows.

“I think so, I get it,” Marilyn answered you, amused, while she watered some of her plants. “Aren’t you tired of spending time with me?”

The question caught you by surprise. Her tone was serious and somewhat melancholic. You frowned and shook your head.

“No,” you answered. “Why?”

“Well, I'm sure your friends are having fun out there.”

“Bah, they can have fun alone. They only need me when they run out of ice,” you widened your eyes at that statement. She was kind of like your friend, but she was still your teacher. “For the soft drinks…” You tried to fix it.

“Careful, (Y/N), don't make me have to call Weems,” she told you, like a false threat. “You have not answered my question.”

“What question? Oh yeah. Well I… I'm fine here,” you said, shrugging. “I'm hopelessly in love with you and I want to spend as much time as I can by your side” didn't seem like the best answer.

“You seem to be the only one, (Y/N),” she said grimly, as she set the watering can down.

“Crap. Weems appreciates you a lot,” you said, feeling a little pang of jealousy in your chest.

“She is my boss,” she answered coldly. “In any case, forget it, I don't want to go around being sorry.”

“I think you're cool, you know. And many of my classmates agree with me,” you said, blushing at that direct confession. It wasn't a declaration of love, but it was an honest opinion.

And so the months passed.

Your relationship grew, and you barely hung out with your friends from the Nightshades. You only had time for her, and she for you. The insipid and trivial talks you had in the conservatory turned into deep and philosophical conversations. Marilyn confessed to you how difficult it had been for her to fit in somewhere, that the world of the normies didn't want her, and neither did the world of the outcasts. You felt so identified. You had a lot of friends, yes, but you never felt strong enough to be completely honest with them. Only your roommate, Divina, knew about your preference for girls. Society still retained old prejudices.

“Hey, this is nightshade, right?” You said, looking at a plant you didn't think you'd seen before there. Marilyn walked up to you and nodded.

“You're good, (Y/N),” she whispered to you. You smiled, and your cheeks no longer returned to their normal color, they stayed a constant red.

“Wow, this could kill us all,” you commented, looking at the sinister plant.

“Precisely for this reason it is important that you know it, even if you don't need to,” she told you, winking at you and moving away a bit.

“Sure, academic interests,” you said, making a gesture of quotation marks with your fingers.

“I thought you would have a secret meeting tonight,” she told you in a slightly ironic tone. You turned around, surprised that she had any idea about your little student society.

“How do you know?” You asked. She just shrugged. You snorted at her mysterious and mocking attitude.

In that time some strange things had happened in Nevermore. A new student, Wednesday Addams joined the academy. A strange, quiet and sinister girl. Soon after, a rumor began to spread that a bear was on the loose. Divina told you that this bear was not a bear, but a monster. A student had apparently disappeared.

“Do you think we're in danger?” You asked, thinking how terrible it was to have a monster stalking the school grounds.

“Why do you say that?” Marilyn asked, leaning next to you and tilting her head.

“Well, the rumors about a monster... The thing about that boy... Rowan,” you said, finally showing some humility with her, some of the fear you really felt.

“(Y/N), you don't have to worry. Nothing is wrong. Also remember that Nevermore is well protected, you know, by people like you.”

While she was talking she did something you wished would last forever. Gently, she brushed her hand over your cheek. Silence fell suddenly, while her hand caressed you. You couldn't find words, or anything you could think of. Everything was calm, peaceful. You were confident, but she had never done anything like this.

“And… And don't forget the nightshade,” you said stupidly, interrupting the best moment of your life. She smiled, but she didn't take her hand away, she even seemed to get closer to you.

“Yeah, the nightshade too,” she whispered, too close.

It seemed like one of those moments when lovers kiss. You felt her breathing, your eyelids closed slowly, just like hers. You noticed her lips on yours, fleetingly, like a light touch, not like a kiss. Her breathing quickened but she didn't move. You didn't do anything, you just stood there still, finally wishing that that contact would intensify.

Marilyn sighed and moved away from you, pretending nothing had happened.

You were blocked. You opened your eyes to see that she was now turning her back on you, moving some things on her desk. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. You were afraid to hear words of regret.

“(Y/N), it's late, you better go back inside. Weems will get angry if she sees you around at this time,” she said with a very different tone than her voice used to have. It was a cold, distant tone. You nodded, knowing that she couldn't see you.

You left the place with your head down, feeling bewildered and disappointed. She was going to kiss you, you were sure. Not even the winter cold could take away the feeling of her lips touching yours. You looked back. Marilyn was with her head buried in her arms, apparently crying over something.

You were about to return, but something, or rather someone, interrupted your path.

“(Y/N)! May I know what you are doing wandering around the school at this time of the night?”

Principal Weems appeared, obviously upset. She was more concerned than annoyed, apparently.

“I… I was helping Miss Thornhill and I was leaving just right now,” you said, running your hands over your arms, beginning to feel the cold. Larissa seemed relieved to hear your excuse, and she put her arm around your shoulders.

“You scared me. I don't like you guys going out alone at night. You leave me calmer knowing that you were with Marilyn.”

The weeks passed and your relationship with the redhead cooled. You didn't talk about that night. She was obviously avoiding the subject. You didn't say anything either. Now it was clear to you that the chemistry was mutual. That was much worse. Knowing that she might have feelings for you but not want to show it was much harder than dreaming of the impossible.

After many terrifying events and companions being attacked by that mysterious monster, things didn't get any better. You were scared. You no longer went out at night to see Marilyn. She didn't seem to bother about that too much either, she barely talked to you.

That day they had expelled Wednesday from Nevermore. It seemed that she had tried to kill someone, or something.

You were lying on your bed, face up, daydreaming about that kiss that never happened, when your roommate suddenly walked into your room.

“(Y/N)! Wake up! You have to come, something has happened,” Divina said, shaking you roughly.

“My God, Div, what's wrong with you?” You said annoyed. Her face was truly terrified.

“It's Thornhill, she was behind all of this.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

“Behind what? What are you talking about?” You asked, getting up immediately.

“The monster, the murders. Thornhill is the murderer. She wasn't even called that, she's Laurel Gates, remember the family that wanted to murder all the outcasts?”

You were hallucinating. You would never believe that was possible. You had a cold mind and you did remember the stories that spoke of the Gates family. You nodded, feeling your heart begin to pound.

“She is the little daughter. She wants to kill us all!”

“Have you gone crazy, Divina?” You asked annoyed in case it was some kind of practical joke. You thought so because the close relationship you had with Marilyn did not go unnoticed by your friends.

“There is no time! You have to come!” She said, grabbing your wrist.

Marilyn wasn't Marilyn, she was… Laurel Gates? A murderer? Impossible. It was simply impossible for you to believe. She would never hurt anyone. You replayed it in your head over and over again as you walked down the stairs. It wasn't possible, it had to be a joke, a misunderstanding.

It was obvious that something was happening in Nevermore. Students and teachers were running through the corridors, running from something.

-Come on, we have to get out of here.- Your friend told you when you arrived at the door. You looked at the sky. In what appeared to be the courtyard, a kind of sinister glow had arisen, as if something was on fire. You couldn't help it, you had to go see what was happening, you had to make sure that it was all a lie, that Marilyn was Marilyn, not a murderer, that she wasn't Laurel Gates. “(Y/N)!”

You ran against the current, without looking back. There was no one there when you got to the patio, just two figures that it took you a while to make out. Wednesday, she was recognizable. She seemed to be wrestling with some kind of pilgrim, a demon. You had spent enough time in Jericho to guess who it was, Joseph Crackstone. You didn't bother to wonder why he lived. The fight they were waging seemed to come to an end, and Wednesday seemed to lose.

The young woman fell to the ground and you ran to her aid, without thinking about the possible consequences.

“Wednesday!” You yelled, crouching down next to her. She seemed hurt. She looked at you strange and scared, a very rare feeling for her.

“On his heart… You have to stick it on his heart,” she told you, hissing in pain, bringing an old sword closer to you.

“What?”

“Great, more witches to burn in hell!” The pilgrim screeched behind you. You turned and brandished the sword at him. You don't know how, but you managed to dodge his blows. He carried some kind of staff that seemed much stronger than that cracked sword.

“Fuck, fuck...” You muttered, finding yourself unable to dodge his attacks any longer.

Finally, your sword collided with the staff, breaking as you feared, into a thousand pieces.

“You can't do anything, damn witch. I'll send you all to Satan,” He told you, pointing that object towards you, sending you away just by shaking it.

You landed with a crash, doing terrible damage to your arm. Crackstone approached you, slowly, enjoying his victory.

“Pray if you still can, you monster,” he whispered. You could barely move. The fall did you a lot of damage. You tried to drag yourself across the ground, but it only served to have his foot slam into your hand hard, making you cry out in pain.

It was your time. Everything had happened very quickly. You didn't even think of Marilyn as the culprit for all of this. You were going to die, and you preferred to do it believing that she was good, and that she... loved you. You closed your eyes, waiting for your sad end.

“Stop! Leave her alone!”

A shout stopped the pilgrim. You recognized that voice. Marilyn.

You opened your eyes to see a woman completely unknown to you. It was her, your beloved, but she didn't have that tender and innocent look. The absence of her glasses only emphasized the evil that ran across her face. Your subconscious came to the horrible conclusion that your friend was right. She wasn't Marilyn, that woman was Laurel Gates.

“You!” Crackstone yelled, turning on her. “I thought I told you to get out of my sight, or I'd tear your tongue out.”

You managed to support yourself on one of your elbows, looking horrified at a scene of two people who seemed to have some confidence.

“She's not in your plans,” Laurel said, darkening her gaze.

That horrible demon laughed evilly. The redhead looked scared and she looked at you in a panic.

“Please! Let her go,” she begged, getting to her knees. “Please.”

“I have a better idea…” Crackstone whispered. “I was wrong about you… You are a dishonor to my lineage. You will die too... But first I want you to enjoy the views...”

“Please…” The redhead insisted, crying desperately.

The pilgrim turned to you and smiled, his eyes wide.

“Die, witch!” He yelled, raising his cane towards you again.

You managed to put your arms in front of your head and closed your eyes again. There was no blow, an explosion sounded suddenly. You opened your eyes to see that it had not been an explosion, but a shot.

Laurel was no longer on her knees, she was on her feet, gun in hand. The bullet hit Crackstone, causing him to stop.

“I told you to leave her alone,” she hissed, inching closer.

“Marilyn…” You whispered, still shaking from being about to die.

Crackstone snarled in anger and made a swing at her, but she kept firing. Unfortunately her progress only slowed.

You had to do something as soon as possible. You preferred to be you, you preferred not to see the woman you loved die. Yes, you loved her, whoever she was. Despite everything, you loved her and she loved you, she had shown it by saving your life.

A click told you that there were no more bullets left.

“On his heart…” You whispered to yourself, getting up from the ground. The pain you felt was comparable to thousands of blades digging into your body, but you didn't care. You took a breath and concentrated. The familiar chill your powers caused passed through your hand.

A fine frozen icicle formed in your hand. It was your last chance. You ran towards that monster, just when it seemed that the redhead had accepted her fate, dropping the weapon to the ground.

“Go to hell!” He yelled, raising the staff at her. “Ahhhh!”

A horrible cry of pain filled the courtyard. That makeshift ice stake pierced through his chest, causing a black mist to begin to surround him.

A shock wave hit the place, causing you to fall back to the ground. Then came the calm. The flames that devoured the place vanished together with that demon. It's over.

Laurel moved toward you and knelt down, helping you to sit up.

“Marilyn… Why?” You said, already unable to hold back the tears. “Why?”

“My love... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry. I didn't want anything to happen to you,” she told you. You didn't even notice the way she called you. You were broken with physical and emotional pain, but still, you couldn't help but hug her.

“Why did you do it?... I... I...” You sobbed, embracing that horrible woman, the culprit of everything, a murderer, a murderer you felt unable to stop loving.

“Forgive me, please…” She said, sobbing too. “You are the only one who has always been with me… I started to feel things for you and… And… I didn't know what to do… My God, please forgive me… I love you…”

Those words caused your heart to stop. She had just told you, she had said that she loved you. You no longer had a choice.

“Laurel… That's your name, right?” You said. She nodded. “I love you too…”

After that strange confession, you kissed in the most romantic way you could do under those circumstances. It was a deep, passionate, sincere kiss. Your conscience was screaming for you to come to your senses, for you to remember all the horrible things that had happened, that she did. You didn't hear its call, you could only hear your heart.

“Please... Forgive me,” she whispered while she kept kissing you.

“Stop.”

Wednesday's dark voice interrupted your statement. She was behind you, and she wasn't alone, Principal Weems was next to her, putting a hand on her neck for some unknown reason.

“Laurel Gates…” Larissa whispered. “I've notified the sheriff, he won't be long in arriving,” she said, serious, more serious than you've ever seen her. The redhead kissed you once more and got up. You did the same, without thinking that the Nevermore’s Principal had seen you do what you were doing. “You will pay for everything you have done.”

Laurel nodded, resigned, taking your hand.

“It's the right thing,” she said, not letting you go for a second.

You looked at her scared. She was going to give herself up. If half the things they said she did were true, you'd never see her again.

You weren't going to allow it. Not now that you knew she had feelings for you. You squeezed her hand hard, causing her to frown at you.

“Calm down, honey… Everything will be fine,” she told you. No one seemed to want to get in the way, but both Larissa and Wednesday couldn't hide their faces of disgust at seeing both of you in that romantic attitude. It was normal, it should be prohibited.

“Turn yourself in right now,” Larissa demanded. “Taking advantage of a student like that will only worsen your sentence.”

Your eyes burned furiously. She hadn't taken advantage of you, she even hesitated to kiss you that night. You didn't know if it was because you were an outcast, or because it was immoral for her to kiss you as your teacher. Any of the reasons was worth it to you. She never asked you for anything, she never used you for anything. She loved you sincerely, despite the terrible internal struggle she had to go through in doing so.

“That's not true…” You hissed, earning the attention of everyone present.

“(Y/N), what did you say?” Larissa asked, looking at you with concern.

“I won't let you lock her up!” you yelled, grabbing the redhead tightly. “Run! Let's go!”

Laurel seemed to doubt her, but she followed you, partly also because you were dragging her.

“Hey, (Y/N)! Come back here immediately!”  Larissa shouted, following you along with Wednesday.

“Are you crazy?” The redhead asked, not knowing where to go, just like you.

“I'm not going to let them take you away from me. Not now that I know you love me,” you said panting.

They were chasing you and your forces were beginning to fail you. You decided to use more radical methods. You stopped suddenly and crouched down, resting your hand on the ground.

Quickly, the ground under your hand began to freeze, causing your pursuers to slip and fall to the ground.

“Dammit, (Y/N)! Reconsider!” Weems yelled on the ground.

You didn't answer, you just smiled and kept running.

The redhead turned on her car and soon you were leaving Nevermore behind, and Jericho.

“I can't believe what I've done,” you said, scared, but not sorry.

“You're crazy, (Y/N). Running away with me is not what is best for you…. I want the best for you.”

“Don't keep talking, I want to.”

“It will be dangerous, (Y/N),” she told you, constantly looking in the rearview mirror, in case the police were after you.

“I don't care.”

“I've done horrible things...”

“I don't care,” you answered.

“I wish I had told you earlier how much I love you, (Y/N).”

[transpoettryinghisbest]

“It's getting late, I should really get home. But this was lots of fun, we should do this again some time, Mitri. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” I feel a shot of nerves, but I realise it's now or never. “Claire, wait.”

“Hm?”

“Before you go. I have something I need to ask you.”

She's looking at me. I can't look at her, I'm too anxious.

“Go on, Mitri.”

“Will you…will you be my girlfriend?”

Her face falls.

For a moment, she doesn't say anything. She doesn't have to. I know instantly that this was a mistake.

“I'm sorry, Dimitri.” They're the first words out of her mouth. “I love you, but…not in that way. I just don't see you like that.”

Something inside me cracks and crumbles. I try to say something but nothing comes out. I just want to curl up and die.

“Was that…what this all was about?” she asks. “The museum and the restaurant?”

I nod.

“Oh.”

There's silence. She fidgets, unable to look at me. People pass by, the world goes on, unaware that my world has just come to an abrupt end.

“We can still be friends,” she says.

“I have to go,” I find myself saying.

“Mitri, wait. I do still care about you. I don't want anything to happen to us. I've known you forever, I really enjoy your company. Just tell me we can still be friends?”

I glance back at her. She's such a beautiful soul, inside and out, I couldn't bear to lose her from my life either. I nod. And she breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thank you for tonight,” she says. “I had a really nice time. Genuinely.”

She goes to hug me, then hesitates and instead awkwardly pats my arm.

“Goodnight, Mitri.”

“Goodnight, Claire. Get home safe.”

I walk home in a daze and just collapse into bed. But I don't sleep. I think. About her. About everything. I think about everything I love about Claire. How she lights up when she's passionate. The sound of her laugh. How much she cares about people. How pretty she is.

I feel tears well up inside me and I just let them out, burying my face into my pillow as I sob. I almost want to be angry at her, but I can't. It's not her fault. I can't blame her for not wanting this pathetic, snivelling, socially awkward, nerdy emo boy. She's truly beautiful and smart and funny and everything you could ask for in a person. I want so badly to hold and kiss her. To make her smile. To be hers and for her to be mine. But I'm just not good enough.

I put on my playlist of emo songs, and just lie there as the familiar beats fill the air. The songs are angry, vengeful, full of hate, but I just feel empty. I just feel hurt. But I can hear the hurt in the music and it brings me a small piece of comfort to know I'm not alone as tears drip down my face.

I lie there for about an hour or so until I hear a knock at the door. Assuming it's a noise complaint, I shout at them to go away. The door creaks open.

“Mitri, it's me.”

I roll over and there at the door is Claire. I scramble to turn the music off and then there's just silence.

“Your roommate let me in,” she says, eventually. “I can go if you want me to.”

I don't know what I want, so I just make a vague gesture. I'm suddenly aware that she can see me with tears and snot all over my face. That alone makes me want to start crying again. I wipe my face with my sleeve.

“I just…I wanted to check that you were alright. I was a bit worried you might hurt yourself.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, don't be sorry, it's alright.” She kneels by the bed so that we're at eyeline with each other. “You know I still care about you. I don't want you to be hurt. I just couldn't say yes.”

“Why not?” I didn't mean to say that out loud, but it's too late to take it back.

“If I did…it would've hurt you more when it didn't work out long term. I wish it could work, but…there's nothing I can do. It's just how I feel.”

I sniff.

“It's not your fault, Mitri. Someone will love you one day. And even if they don't, you'll still make an amazing fulfilling life, I see that for you.”

I say nothing. There's nothing I can say. She's made her mind up, and there's nothing I can do to change it. But even if I could, she's right, grovelling wouldn't get me something I want. A relationship with someone unwilling would be painful. I don't want Claire if she doesn't want me. She deserves better than that.

She loves me as a friend. And I love her as a friend too, but also as more. I don't know where my feelings of platonic care stop and my feelings of romantic attraction start. In my head they're all kind of muddled together. All I know is that I'm hurt, but I don't want the hurt to drive her away.

“Can we still be lab partners?” she asks me, eventually.

I nod without hesitation and she smiles.

“I don't want you to think that I only wanted you around to be my girlfriend,” I say. “You do genuinely mean a lot to me. You're my best friend. I'm just…I just need some time to figure myself out.”

“I understand. I can give you space if you'd like,” she says. “But I'll always be here for you.”

A few weeks after that, she met someone. A very average, slightly awkward archaeologist by the name of Hershel Layton. Claire introduced me to him and privately asked me if I'd be okay with her dating someone else. I said yes. Though it was never really up to me.

Hershel and I shared a class or two, but we'd never really spoken to each other before Claire introduced us. I have no idea what she saw in him, but even I can't deny that those two were happy together. They weren't too overt with their relationship, but they didn't hide it either. And I wanted her to be happy, despite it slicing my heart up every time I saw them together.

I don't want to recount what happened after that. Everyone knows the story from the news. I've spent so many sleepless nights recalling it. Trying not to recall it. Feeling angry. Feeling betrayed. Feeling despair.

The night she died, I didn't put any music on. I didn't have anyone visit me. I couldn't cling to the idea that this was for the best or that she was happier this way. She's just gone. My already aching wound had been ripped open and all I could do was bleed out and sob.

[laneywrld]

Lose Your Faith In Me | Austin!Elvis

part two , masterlist

Warnings : no warnings just heartbreaking angst.

sorry in advance, for the sadness and the horrible writing!

enjoy my first ever writing :)

Based on the song, The Gold by Phoebe Bridgers. (I guarantee that listening to it as you read makes it 10x better)

Listen while you read:

Apple Music , Spotify

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when these changes in Elvis started. He wasn’t always so angry, so mean, so well, scary. As much as you hate to admit it, Elvis scared you now. Years ago, ceilings were hard to imagine with Elvis, nothing had a limit and anything was possible. Today, you feel trapped.

Trapped between the four walls of the International Hotel watching your husband shout so loudly at anyone who so much as breathed the wrong way. For that very reason, you kept a great distance away, comfortable in your makeshift seat on the steps of the stage, just listening to the harsh words escaping his mouth. 

You remember when he’d laugh and cry tears of joy after his shows. So proud of how far he’d come and what he’d accomplished. Nowadays it seems as though something’s always wrong. Nothing is ever enough or good enough. Including you.

You had such confidence in yourself before Elvis. Before Elvis, you knew your worth. Knew exactly what you’d tolerate and how little you would take, especially in relationships. But things were different with Elvis, and you know it’s only because you love him so much that you let him treat you and everyone around you like shit. 

You sat on the abandoned steps for so long contemplating everything, especially the way your relationship with Elvis has gone downhill so fast. So long, that you’d failed to realize you were alone until the last light flickered off and there was no one present except you and the lonesome darkness. 

With a sigh, you lifted yourself from the surface and begrudgingly began your walk to the elevators. After a show like this, you knew tonight was bound to be hell. You didn't want to blame Elvis or be upset with him. You knew exactly why he behaved how he did, but you wished he wouldn't. God did you wish he would go back to himself. And on the long ride to the very top floor, you reminisced. You thought back to all of the sweet moments with your love and how times like these seemed so impossible.

I believed you were crazy, 

you believed you loved me.

“I love you, darling, y’know that, right? I don’t think I ever loved anything or anyone like I love you satnin.” Elvis muttered head turned up to the sky as you both rested on the blanket in the middle of the field at Graceland. Whilst he sat head held high, your head lay gently in his lap, his hand caressing the side of your face. 

Startled by your silence, his head slowly tilted downward where he met your lovestruck eyes. Suddenly aware of the eye contact between you two you spoke up, “you talking to me Elvis?” With a soft chuckle, he ran fingers from their comfortable place of fidgeting with your earlobe to cupping your jaw in a soft embrace, “yea, I’m talking to you, mama. I love ya.”

You couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your cheeks or the smile that found its way onto your face. “I think you’re crazy, baby.” you giggled. “Crazy in love with ya!” he cackled, dropping his hand from your face and lifting your body entirely onto his lap. “I’m crazy in love with you, I swear it. I got faith that you're it for me, you hear?”.  

you can’t open your eyes for awhile

you just breathe 

that moment down

“I love you, Elvis Presley. I love you more than life, bewbie.” And he held you so close and tight whilst you laughed at the nickname. At that moment, nothing mattered, with closed eyes and uncontrollable laughter you held each other and thought about your life together and how you wanted to spend it together forever. 

Oh, how the times have changed. 

The second the ‘ding’ of the elevator freed you from your thoughts, you were instantly met with the eyes of your star, and were they anything but shining.

You hadn’t seen Elvis for months since he began touring with Hank Snow, so when you met his eyes as he arrived in front of his mama's apartment building, you felt like you would die from excitement. “Baby!” You heard his voice shout as he jumped out of the passenger side of the car. In seconds the car door was slammed and you were high in the sky, being twirled around by the love of your life.

“I don’t ever wanna be apart from you again sweetheart, can’t breathe without ya” he muttered into your neck as he finally let you down and embraced you in a crushing hug. “I don’t ever wanna be without you either baby,” you whispered back before placing your lips onto his in the most gentle kiss. You swore his lips were what love tasted like.

Elvis was always so soft and gentle with you, even when he carried you upstairs and made love to you in his bed and held you to his chest afterward. 

“How did it feel being a star baby?” you asked, tracing random shapes onto his abdomen. “I thought you said I been a star?” He grinned, angling his head to look down at you. “Not that way baby! A Superstar!” You grinned right back up at him. “It felt incredible, darling like I was flying to the rock of eternity y’know?” 

“Yea, I got a feeling.” you smiled still staring deep into his eyes. The look of love in both of your eyes was enough for you both to lose your breath. With his rosy cheeks and shy smile, he placed a soft kiss on your hair and rubbed your back ever so gently. 

you just breathe 

that moment down

It’s such a shame, now looking back at how this relationship has managed to turn to shit. 

I don’t wanna bark here anymore,

what the hell are we gonna do a 

black mile to the surface

“Where the hell you been ?” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “I was still downstairs Elvis, I didn’t realize y’all left.” You muttered walking through the living area to your shared room. You could hear him muttering nonsense as he followed behind you. 

“What was that you called yourself doing with that man out there!” he called out slamming the room door. 

“It was nothing, baby, he was asking about the set,” you spoke calmly, slowly removing your shoes and earrings. “Now I ain’t the smartest but I sure ain’t a damn idiot y/n,” he grunted sitting on the edge of the bed watching you prepare yourself for bed. “Now tell me what the hell you got planned huh you thinkin’ you can just plot without me knowin’.” He spoke slowly in a threatening voice. And when you shook your head and exhaled a breath, choosing to ignore him. He grabbed your arm roughly pulling you towards him. 

“What the hell Elvis!” You shouted, yanking your arm back, “That hurt!”

From the look on his face, you could tell he regretted grabbing you that way the second he did it. “I’m sorry baby I just- I”

“Go to bed! God dammit can we go to bed please!” you begged tossing on your robe and pulling back the covers. 

“Yea, we can go to bed, let’s just lie together, yeah?” He was rambling, a low-down mess he was. Rushing to the other side he did the same and quickly slid in behind you. With your back turned to him you could hear his ragged breathing and you knew he had something to say. 

“I ain’t mean to do that mama, swear I didn’t. Dr. Nick I- he-” and he struggled to speak for a while with a grunt he continued. “He gave me some more medicine, I’m just a little irritated is all, I swear, I couldn’t control it, I ain’t wanna do that to ya, I don’t ever wanna hurt you doll.”

You didn’t reply, instead opting to pretend you were sleeping. 

Our cave’s collapsing, I don't wanna be me anymore.

“I love you, darling, I swear I ain’t crazy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I know I love ya, and I still got faith in us, okay always gonna be me and you. Imma forever be your star I promise you baby, imma hold on to you forever, you’re it for me, my rock of eternity ya hear? I love you.” 

With no response, he leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss to your face. Unbeknownst to you, he lay awake for a while as well. Taking a trip to the bathroom and running the shower, he sat against the door wiping his tears. The truth was he didn’t know why he was so angry all the time. He knew it wasn’t you and he hated the way he’d project his anger onto you. So he cried and held his knuckles to his mouth to muffle his unstable breathing and he wiped his tears, turned off the shower, and made his way to you again with one final kiss and one final whisper “I love you”, he opted to find his way to sleep as well. Not before praying to god, his mama, and the moon, that you’d be able to have the same faith in him that he has in you to love him all the same.

you don’t open your eyes for a while,

just breathe that moment down.

You waited until his breathing evened out before you slipped out of bed and into the bathroom where you stared at yourself in the mirror thinking about Elvis and your relationship and how everything has changed. You couldn’t even recognize yourself in the reflection and you knew what you had to do.

couldn’t really love you anymore,

you’ve become my ceiling.

I don’t think I love you anymore,

that gold mine changed you,

you don’t have to hold me anymore,

With a speed you’ve never had before you rushed to collect your belongings from around the suite, not bothering to be quiet. You knew with the drugs Dr. Nick had given your poor star that he’d sleep through anything. Waiting at the elevator you felt the need to go lie back down beside your heart but you couldn’t and you knew that. But you couldn't deny how hard this was and how bad you’d miss that man. 

So with slow feet, you ended up by his side pressing one last gentle kiss to his lips and wiping away the tear that had dropped onto his face. It didn’t taste like love, maybe that’s what you were hoping for, and maybe you would have stayed. But you had spent half of your life with this man and you couldn’t spend the rest of it feeling the way he’s learned to treat you. 

It all tastes like poison

Lose your faith in me.

You believed he was crazy, he believed he loved you, maybe he was indeed crazy in love. But there was no doubt that you both had faith in each other and the faith that you’d be it for each other, always. 

With a shaky breath you pulled the ring from your finger and placed it on his nightstand.

So lose your faith in me.

part two

If you enjoyed this work, try White Dress :)

[charliedawn]

Slasher with a s/o who ignores them to do work?

Five :

Five wouldn't mind. He knows that your job is important and wouldn't want to disturb you. However, he will wait for you outside the door and walk back and forth, waiting for you to finish. But, if he thinks that you're working too much ? He would just kick down the door and take your hand to walk with him. He knows that you have work, but he hates being ignored.

Freddy :

"Look at me. Look at me. I said, LOOK AT ME !"

Freddy hates being ignored and would annoy the hell out of you until he's got your full attention. Nothing is more annoying than a bored Freddy. He would stare at you and use your deep concentration to his advantage to..let's say, cause mayhem. If you don't give him attention, there is nothing that he wouldn't do. You'll find Jason's mask glued to his face, or Arthur coming out of the bathroom with pink hair..Freddy is work on his own.

Brahms :

He's a good boy. He wouldn't disturb you and only look at you from afar, happy to just watch you work. He finds it soothing, a moment of silence where he can just stay with you. Also, sometimes, he would sit you on his lap so he can cuddle you while you work. (or, if you're strong enough, sit on your lap) He's a big distraction. But, he wouldn't be as annoying as some of the other slashers.

Arthur :

"I'm bored."

He wouldn't be afraid to tell you straight away. Also, it depends on his mood. If he is in an understanding mood ? He will leave you be to get your work done. If he is in a playful mood ? He'll try to make you lose your concentration by tickling you or blow softly behind your ear. This is why you should probably make sure he is not bored before starting to work.

Hedwig :

Never. And I mean, NEVER let Hedwig in the room when you work. He will do everything to get your attention. Literally everything. He will put his music full blast, tickle you to death, dance and even set fire to your papers if you aren't careful. Out of all the personalities, he is the energetic one and also the most stubborn. He will not leave you be and will continue to act badly until he finally has your undivided attention. This is why, when you want to be left alone ? Lock yourself in. And, even then ? I doubt it'll stop him.

Jason :

Poor baby is too shy to ask for anything. He would just stay there and fidget nervously, trying to find a way to tell you that he wants to spend time with you. He knows that your work is important, and he doesn't want to disturb you, but..He doesn't like to be ignored either. In extreme circumstances, he would simply pick you up and run away with you in his arms, just so he can spend some time with you. But, as I said, it's only in extreme circumstances. Most of the time, he'll just wait patiently for you to finish.

Michael :

Never bored. He is patience incarnate. The man would just settle comfortably on his sofa and read a book, waiting patiently for you to finish. He understands that you need time alone to take care of your responsibilities. He's actually the only slasher that would actually be able to help ? Or, at least try.

Penny :

"PLAY WITH ME !"

Needy Penny is naughty Penny. He hates being ignored, even more than any of the other slashers. He could even become violent and uncontrollable sometimes. Don't forget that he is still a very impulsive being that doesn't take no for an answer. He also has the temperament of a child. This is why there's Pennywise. Pennywise usually senses when he's going full beast mode and is the one that stops him.

"Jeez Penny ! Get a hold of yourself, stupid !"

Penny always listens to him, even when he's mad. But, Penny is not going to act in such a way if he's in water. This is why you usually try to do most of the paperwork when he's in the swimming pool.

Pennywise :

Are you really leaving him unsupervised ? Nah..If you do, you would end up with chaos and a lot more work than you originally had. Little advice ? Never leave him alone with Freddy..Actually, it makes me think of something I heard on the internet at some point:

"In my defense, you left me unsupervised."

"You're a grown a** adult !"

"And you left me unsupervised !"

That would absolutely fit Pennywise's reaction if you..let's say..find the walls covered in blood and most of the members of staff floating in the air.

[bccky]

If It Isn't Love

Part 2/2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: Bucky acting without thinking first is what messed everything up in the first place, but it somehow makes everything right again

Words: 4K+

Warnings: angsty af, implied smut, jealous and hesitant Bucky, break up, walking on eggshells, sad reader, fluff at end

@buckybingo square: roommates

A/N: repost of my own // but this time it's with extra added feels plus it's beta'd by @navybrat817! Thank you sooo much 💕 but all mistakes are my own // dividers by @firefly-graphics // Hope you like it Xx

If It Isn't Love Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist • Marvel Masterlist

Part 1

A frown is imminent on his lips, because although he can't see you or clearly understand what you're saying, the tone of your voice going a pitch higher with every sentence tells him that John isn't consoling you, but instead is aggravating.

Bucky is alone in his room, sitting against the headboard of his bed as he hears you arguing with your boyfriend, John Walker.

It is times like this when he wishes he had super hearing so that he could hear what was going on.

Your voice cracks, an indication that you're on the verge of tears that he is unfortunately very familiar with. His hands unconsciously form into fists as he imagines confronting John with a solid punch or two. Breaking his nose would only be an added bonus to make sure he treats his girl right.

And that girl, currently - is you, his aching heart reminds him.

He calms himself down enough for the violent thoughts to go away, which makes the depressing ones settle in to fill the vacuum. His jaw ticks and he sighs, wanting nothing more than to comfort you with a hug and watch a random rom-com to cheer you up, just like old times.

But he can't, he knows that. His brain wouldn't let him accept the situation as it is.

It’s his fault for losing that privilege, after all.

For losing you.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore,” he catches you saying. He grits his teeth at the frustration and desperation that's evident, letting his head lean against the wall.

There’s a moment of silence, and then John faintly says something which Bucky tries to comprehend, but is unable to. Ears strained, he then hears you mutter, "Yeah, that will be for the best."

The front door of your apartment shuts with a loud thud, followed by the characteristic pitter-patter of your feet trudging down the hallway while John's heavy footfalls are absent, letting Bucky know that the latter had probably left.

When he hears the soft creak of your bedroom door closing, he fights every atom of his body that is screaming at him to go check on you, his mind deep in conflict.

Bucky doesn't remember walking out of his room and up to your door, but he's here now, his knuckles poised to knock.

There is just that second of hesitation that causes him to overthink everything, shake his head and take a step back.

He contemplates his next action - should he go back and lock himself in again so you don't have to worry about seeing him?

But then a dull sound, muffled music perhaps, starts playing. His eyebrows stitch together when he recognizes the song to be the one you had once called too sappy and pathetic for your taste.

The reluctance disappears as if snapped to dust, and so he knocks once, then twice, a couple more with small intervals to allow you reaction time, but there's no answer from your side nor an acknowledgement comprising something like "Go away!" which he had been anticipating.

His worry increases with each passing moment so he tries the handle, which thankfully isn't locked and opens without any trouble.

Though, his gratitude is short lived, because the sight he encounters tugs painfully at his heart.

Bucky’s feet work on their own accord as he approaches your form lying in the centre of your bed with used tissues littered all around you. You've curled into yourself as if to make yourself smaller.

"Y/N," He whispers, "You okay?" The moment the words leave his mouth, he wants to hit himself for asking the stupidest question on the entire planet.

It's obvious that you’re not okay.

If it had been a normal day with you in your usual spirits, you would've snorted and berated him for asking that, but now, you just flinch and then slowly rise to look at him. Your watery eyes and trembling chin make him instinctively sit beside you and wrap you in his arms, a silent promise of not letting anything else harm you ever again.

Bucky waits for you to push him away, building up walls around himself so that he doesn't collapse at the rejection, but it never happens. Instead, your hands grab the back of his t-shirt as a choked sob escapes your lips. His hold tightens as his walls crumble with every tear that escapes your eyes.

A little while later, your body slackens and so he slowly puts you down, lying you on your back in a comfortable position for sleeping so that your neck doesn't hurt tomorrow. It's then that he finally looks at you. The skin under your eyes is swollen while your cheeks are stained red and it crushes him that you fell asleep while crying and he couldn't do anything about it.

When his hands let go of you, it's like the bubble he had been in pops, and there's yet another break up song playing. So he finally pauses the god-awful playlist on your phone through the lockscreen, but now - now the silence is deafening, which only your sniffles break every now and then.

Bucky tries to reach for a fresh tissue from your nightstand, but your grip on his t-shirt is much stronger than he thought and there's a chance that you'll wake. And so, he stills his movements, and within a few seconds is lulled to sleep.

He feels disoriented when he wakes up the next morning, bewildered when he realizes that he's in your room and shoots up with his eyes wide with anxiety. A quick glance at you both confirms that you're still in your clothes and he sighs while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

His slightly wet shoulder reminds him of what had transpired yesterday. Though he doesn't know every detail, his gut tells him that you're heartbroken and he doesn't want to hurt you anymore.

Swallowing the lump that suddenly forms in his dry throat, he gently removes himself from your clutch and lets his legs hang from the side of your bed, looking at the digital clock that's hung over your writing desk flash 07:09 am.

His mind is in overdrive as he rushes out, taking the precaution to close your door with as little noise as possible and then goes to take a shower in an attempt to clear his thoughts out - something he has been doing a lot lately.

Bucky decides to work from home for the day, a perk of working for his best friend who's kind enough to allow his employees this benefit twice a week.

He switches the coffee machine on, his train of thoughts running mainly in the direction of different ways to apologize to you. Last night was him clearly taking advantage of your vulnerable state when you had shown no interest in friendship with him again since you had gotten with John.

Because, even if you're still living in the same apartment, you two are walking on eggshells with each other. You haven't exchanged a single word with him except for the random 'hm' in reply.

This isn't how it was supposed to be.

Bucky had always thought that you'd always be friends, if not more one day, and this aloofness is killing him.

He needs to do something to make it right, and fast, too, because a quick phone check tells him that it's Wednesday and you'll probably wake up in half an hour to get ready for work.

Will it be overstepping his boundaries if he asks you to take a day off and get some rest? Most likely.

He has lost the right to coerce you into taking care of yourself and he needs to stop forgetting that.

It's five past 8 when Bucky hears the tap running in the bathroom as he is going through his emails on his phone while leaning against the kitchen counter.

His heart starts palpitating and he curses at himself for drinking caffeine even though he knows it isn't the real cause of it.

Oh, wait, that can be the olive branch - coffee!

You sigh loudly as you walk out of the bathroom, probably thinking that he had left. He takes a deep breath, pouring the beverage into your favorite mug when you enter the kitchen, freezing when you realize that he's still here.

Your face is still swollen and dull from crying last night and he finds himself missing the spark that he could see only in your eyes.

Bucky struggles about what to say, though he should've gotten used to it now considering the amount of times he had found himself in a situation not different to this.

"'S that for me?" You ask, breaking the tension as you muster a small smile.

He promptly hands the mug to you, not knowing how to reply as a simple 'yeah' feels heavy on his tongue.

"Thank you," you hum contentedly at the first sip. "You remember the way I like it."

Bucky can feel warmth creep up his neck and he knows the tips of his ears must have turned red, something you used to tease him a lot about.

"Of course I do. Would never even think of forgetting anything about you." He's proud of how suave that came out, especially when a soft chuckle escapes your lips.

His blush deepens, so he turns around to do the dishes from last night in an attempt to hide from you.

Leaning against the counter beside him, you audibly exhale, capturing his attention once again… or it would at least if he wasn't already hypersensitive to your every movement.

"I'm here if you wanna talk." He says, trying to offer as much support as he can.

But you shake your head as you down the rest of your coffee, and so, he focuses on a really stubborn stain on the microwave bowl, taking your silence as a cue to not pry into matters he wasn't welcome in.

"I just… I just don't get it." Frustration is profound in your voice when you finally speak a few minutes later, placing your mug on the counter and starting to dry the dishes he has washed. "Why do I fall for people who are bound to hurt me?"

This.

This right here was what Bucky was scared of, not wanting you to think low of yourself for not being able to somehow know that a person wasn't the good-hearted soul you thought they were.

Wordlessly, he straightens his back, quickly washing the suds off before he takes hold of the rag and dish in your hands and places them down. He gently tugs you to the living room, making you sit on the couch before he plops down beside you.

Silent tears start streaming down your cheeks and he makes a quick trip to the kitchen once more and gets a box of tissues and a few water bottles.

"What do you mean by that?" Bucky inquires with concern as he hands a tissue to you, wanting to hit himself since he knew he was one of those people too.

"I always go after the people who are either not right for me, or," you sigh, lowering your voice as you play with the frayed ends of the sleeves of your sweater, "they aren't interested in me. I end up hurting anyway."

He doesn’t have to be a genius to know that the last part alludes to him, even if you try to conceal it by saying it quietly.

"Natasha, Steve, Sam… they ask were warning me from the beginning, trying to show me how toxic John was, but I couldn't see it-" Your sentence is interrupted by a sob and Bucky's arms instinctively reach over your shoulders to pull you into a hug, his fingers making small patterns to try to calm you down.

"He was so good at the beginning, the perfect gentleman and I thought I could finally find happiness. And then - then I would smell a different perfume every other night… fuck, I was so stupid."

"He cheated on you?" You chuckle humorlessly, confirming it, which makes Bucky so angry at John that he's almost seeing red.

"It was the lipstick marks on the back of his collar next, shades I've never bought or worn. Then came all those stories and excuses and red flags which I feel like I chose to ignore and still decided to stick around him."

You slump, pulling your knees up to your chest and place your chin on your folded hands. Bucky recognises these signs - you're building walls around your heart again.

And he hates that you don't know what you're worth.

Bucky reels himself in before his mouth acts without consulting him once more andsays dumb things that can further deteriorate whatever is left hanging on the thread between you two.

So he does the one thing that's a surefire way of cheering you up, even if temporarily.

"Wanna have ice cream?"

Bucky smiles to himself as he watches you slowly heal through the week, having taken the days off to spend time with yourself.

Your friendship with him repairs bit by bit, too, as he supports you through your breakup.

His mind is constantly reminding himself to not mess it up again.

Yours is reminding you about why you fell for him in the first place.

You should've known that your relationship with John was doomed to fail. Rebounds never work do they?

John didn't relent either during your argument yesterday, metaphorically punching a low blow by saying that cheating on you was justified since your heart belonged to another.

Everything considered, the breakup was a really good wake-up call.

It helped you to understand that you have to come first for your own mental health and you need to learn that before dating anyone again.

What John had said was correct, even if it doesn't totally warrant his cheating. It isn't fair to you or anyone else if you are still hung up on him.

On Bucky.

So, you force a smile on your face everyday, block John's number and all of his social media accounts that you know, and replace your dumb breakup playlist with a nice instrumental one that soothes you and start anew.

Bucky finds himself falling deeper and harder as you start becoming yourself again. He is so proud of you and makes sure to tell you that whenever possible.

You've distanced yourself a bit from him, something only he is to blame for and he knows not to expect to go back to how close you used to be. So he's okay with whatever you are comfortable with.

It's a couple of months later when 4th of July nears, and you and your friends have all decided to meet up at Steve's to surprise him on his birthday.

Only two days are left and you have been assigned the task of bringing chocolate chip cookies. You take it upon yourself to bake them, not wanting to get store-bought cookies for the kind blond.

Bucky is just about to enter the kitchen to get a glass of water, his eyes focused on his mobile so he doesn't notice that you're in there. It's the smell of something sweet fresh from the oven that makes him look up to a sight that makes his heart skip a beat.

You're on the tips of your toes, trying to reach for the extra bag of flour you keep on a high shelf. He smiles at how adorable you look, cursing to himself, and folds his hands and leans against the doorframe to watch you.

"Need a hand, doll?"

He's surprised but impressed when you don't jump half a foot in the air, but only plant your legs down firmly and glare at him. "Gosh, Bucky! You scared me. I never heard you coming."

The innuendos that come up in his mind are immediately forced down, no matter how much he wants to say them out loud. It isn't easier when he's used to spout them out which earned him a grin and a flick on his head if he was closer.

He smiles as he walks to you, taking short strides in case you don't want him too near. "What do you want me to do?"

You point up to where the flour sits mocking you both, "Give me a boost?"

He picks you up by your waist like a cheerleader, and you quickly swipe the bag before he gently puts you down again.

A few minutes later, he's wearing the apron Sam had gifted him as a gag with 'Caution: Extremely Hot' printed on it cause you took the cute one with the pandas. You're trying to hide the fact that you're giggling while he mixes the ingredients for the next batch.

You relent when he pouts and changes the subject to Steve's party and how Natasha is gonna gift him something really thoughtful. While talking, you reach over to take some batter between the pads of your thumb and finger to taste, Bucky following every minute movement of yours with his eyes as you somehow manage to get some on your nose, and that's all he can focus on - because otherwise, his gaze will then be locked on your lips.

"You got some batter on here," He points to his own nose.

"Did I get it?" You ask while trying to swipe it off, but instead, end up messing it more.

He frowns at his hands which are dirty as well, so, without a second thought, he just closes the gap and licks the dough off your nose, all while looking directly in your eyes which widen, causing him to realize what he did.

Bucky immediately backs up, his hands now up in the air as a form of surrender. "I'm really sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have done that."

But you don't answer. You just stare at him, mouth open in surprise as you try to make sense of what just happened and Bucky knows he has overstepped.

He's already listing off the apartments in his mind that he had checked out months ago, seeing no other outcome to the situation other than him not showing his face to you ever again. He can see that your lips are moving, that you're saying something, but he just can't make sense of it.

“What?”

“If you’re gonna start something, finish it.”

Bucky hurries to finish mixing the batter so that it doesn't have pits in it, understanding your sentence as a cue to get out as soon as he gets the job done.

Then, he freezes when something clicks, cause you're not talking about the cookies, are you?

He keeps all the stuff in his hands down, concentrating on breathing through his nose as he looks at you to confirm that you actually mean what he thinks, only to see you looking coyly at him with a smirk.

You have your hands folded as if to accentuate your chest, and very successful in doing so as your thin pajama t-shirt comes to your aid.

He finds himself stalking towards you like he's about to prey on you, and you bite your lip, enticing him more as you walk backwards until you hit the counter.

Bucky doesn't hesitate now.

This might be the only time that he gets to make up for everything with the small tiny flame of hope that you still have feelings for him so he actually can't hesitate.

He doesn't break eye contact to ensure that you're still okay with what's happening, caging you between his arms on the counter on either side of you as he leans in. "Are you sure about this?"

You answer with a simple nod and your hands snaking up to the back of his head to pull him in, capturing his lips with hunger and passion.

His hands leave the counter to rest on your hips as he returns the kiss with equal fervor, teeth clashing with each moment as you both try to pull the other closer.

Your tongue coaxes him to open his lips and to allow you to explore his mouth, submitting to you, giving you the authority to take him however you want.

A few minutes later, you break apart for air, too quick for his liking, but he doesn't complain. Your foreheads are touching as you pant while murmuring the other's name.

Your fingers travel down to trace the muscles of his chest, then his abdomen before finally going lower where he needs you the most. His breath hitches when you palm him through his sweatpants.

"Wanna take this further?"

Bucky loses all of his control when you ask him the question, attacking your neck with bites and licks which are sure to bruise your skin with purple marks, but it's your moans which turn him on more.

He picks you up, earning a yelp. "Your room or mine?"

"Yours," You say, balancing yourself in his hold. "You have comfier sheets."

He doesn't need more incentive to take you to his bed and drop you with a laugh before pulling you to the edge with a smirk, eyes blown with lust.

Bucky falls on his back, careful not to crush you.

The sex was just… amazing, more than he would've ever imagined in his fantasies.

Pleasure still courses through his veins due to his climax and he doesn't want to open his eyes in fear of the last few hours being just a dream.

It would be a lie if he doesn't admit to himself that there's something else he's more scared of, that all of this meant nothing more than a hookup or rebound sex to you.

That it didn't mean as much to you as it did to him.

"Was this a one-time thing?" He asks hesitantly. It's too late to walk on eggshells and he's tired of second-guessing your every move.

"Do you want it to be?" You say in reply, making him open his eyes and turn to look at you. If you hadn't just uttered the words, he would've thought that you are sleeping with your eyes closed and breathing deeply.

He props his head on an elbow, taking your hand in his and rubbing small circles on the back of it, making you stare at him questioningly.

"No," Bucky says definitively.

The sincerity and fierceness in his voice surprises you. "I thought you didn't like me?"

"No," He repeats, this time while shaking his head vehemently as he continues. "I don't like you, I love you. I still regret destroying what we had and what we could have by being an idiot."

You mirror his posture, looking directly in his eyes as if to figure out if he's being genuine and he hopes that you can see that he is.

"Let me love you, Y/N. Let me be the one to try to give you everything you deserve and to make you happy."

You giggle and his heart shatters in that moment, realizing that you could be making fun of him before rejecting him.

"You are definitely an idiot." you squeeze his hand comfortingly with a smile. "But who knew you could be such a sap, Bucky."

"Oh, shut up." He scoffs, about to head out but you pull him back down. He can't hold it against you if you wanna take revenge by making him feel what you did.

"I love you."

Stop. That wasn't supposed to happen.

Those three words that he was dying to hear weren't supposed to come tumbling out of your lips like that. So sinful and just so, so real.

Which makes them escape out of his lips breathily. Like he hasn't thought of a thousand scenarios where he confesses.

"Wait. You aren't kidding, right?"

"Nope." You chuckle. "It's been way too long since I wanted to hear you say that to me to even think of making fun of you right now."

You push him down so that he's laying on his back again before you straddle him, leaning down as your body touches fully against him, causing him to shiver.

You sensually lick his earlobe. "Now, do you think you have enough stamina for another round or two?"

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

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[eirikaanemo]

Can You Keep A Secret?

Warnings: imprisonment, mentions of starvation and sickness

Note: I haven't actually played Dvalin's quest but I tried to keep it as close to canon as possible. Feel free to leave a comment or message me if you see something wrong.

Venti x GN!Reader

1.9k Words

Your soulmate is secretly Barbatos... now what?

Everyone has a soulmate. And everyone is born knowing your soulmate's biggest secret. For most people it’s really unhelpful, but for some people it helps them find their soulmate. You’re in the latter group, because yours gives you a name.

You've known your whole life that your soulmate is secretly Barbatos. It's… interesting, to say the least. Of course you'd never dare to tell anyone. Thankfully, asking someone what their soulmate’s secret is isn’t very common. It’s considered to be very rude, so no one asks you what your secret is. They'd think you're crazy!

Barbatos hasn't been around for centuries and you're a mortal. This is the sort of thing you would read about in trashy romance novels! But even though it’s crazy and kind of overwhelming, you know it's true. You don't know if he'd ever accept you or want to be with you, in fact, you’re pretty sure he won’t, but you want to try.

Once that’s settled, you just have to find him. If he's anywhere, it's probably the city of Mondstadt. That’s where he seems to have shown up the most in the past, after all. So you move to Mondstadt. It’s a nice place and the people are friendly. Finding a job with the Knights of Favonius was fairly easy and it paid pretty well.

Unfortunately, the 'Storm-terror' problem starts shortly after you move. He throws the whole city into chaos the first time, and then proceeds to keep doing it regularly. The fear is all encompassing, but that's fine, you try to convince yourself. It will all be worth it when you find him. ‘If you find him’, your traitorous mind whispers.

It's been months, a year even, and you're starting to lose hope. How were you expecting to find Barbatos anyway? Shout from the rooftops for him to reveal himself and whisk you away? He hasn't been around for a long time and you knew that. And to be honest, at this point you've given up.

Going home is the logical thing to do, it’s where your family is after all. But you stay because you made yourself a home here. You have friends: Jean, Lisa, and Kaeya. You have come to love the city: music, freedom, and camaraderie. Well, you love the city except for the 'Storm-terror' attacks. Those aren't very lovable.

What concerns you the most though is that 'Storm-terror' is a dragon. And dragons trend to be important (like, archon important). But no one seems to remember this one. So you research. You visit the cathedral and speak with some nuns. You dedicate some time to listening to bard’s tales, asking them if they know any songs about dragons. One does, and it's surprisingly informational. You spend time at the library, pouring through book after book. And after all this investigation, you've come to the conclusion that 'Storm-terror' is actually Dvalin of the Four Winds. Not that anyone actually believes you

It didn't stop you from telling people your theory though, and being more respectful in how you refer to him, despite all the damage he's caused. Eventually they do start considering it and the city starts catching on. If you keep doing this, you may be able to change the city's perspective of and reaction to Dvalin.

The abyss mage catches on to this, and he just can't let that happen. It could compromise the whole plan. So one day he has Dvalin abduct you and locks you up. And true to your luck, this happens out of the blue while you’re taking a walk that you’d finally convinced Jean to go on with you. Which, of course, reverses all your progress and makes the situation even worse than it was before. Incidentally, this also does the exact opposite of what you’d been trying to do by stressing out poor Jean more.

The abyss mage doesn’t care about anything other than making sure you’re not able to go back to Mondstadt. The mage does not care about human necessities. Who cares if you die? Not him. He hates humans. It's kind of part of his job description.

Your prison is where Dvalin retreats to when not attacking. And the mage has to go report to someone else sometimes, giving you opportunities to speak with Dvalin. He never responds to you, but you can tell he eventually starts listening. You start by rambling about various subjects; then talking about how you know he's Dvalin, and that you're sorry he was being treated like he was, once you know he is listening. Because while you don’t know the whole situation, you know that he feels hurt by how humans have treated him.

After several days of talking to him, he slowly starts warming up to you. It’s a strange sort of bond that grows stronger as time goes on. He starts responding and the two of you actually have conversations instead of just you talking. Eventually you even mention how you know your soulmate is actually Barbatos and that you've kind of given up finding him.

He gives a thoughtful hum, lets you vent out your feelings, tries to think of an appropriate response, then allows you to drop the subject once you’ve worn yourself out emotionally. It’s becoming obvious that your health, physical, mental, and emotional, is degrading faster as time goes on.

One day Dvalin and the mage both disappear for longer than usual. After the mage makes sure you won’t be able to escape, of course. It’s not like you would’ve been able to leave anyway. At that point you’re not able to do much at all.

Little did you know that only Dvalin would be returning. They ended up facing the traveler and their companions in battle, and Dvalin was freed from the mage’s influence. The first thing Dvalin does is take them to help "the one decent human, that he actually cares about". You're in bad shape at this point, starving, sick, and weak. But you’re aware enough to hear Jean call your name and feel someone gather you in their arms before blacking out.

When you wake up you're at the cathedral and are feeling much better. Certainly you are not fully recovered, that will take weeks. That one bard who was able to play you a song about Dvalin is always there. You vaguely remember him being there when you were found. He doesn’t really interact with you much, he’s just kind of there, but he does play peaceful music that helps you fall asleep when you’re struggling to rest.

Then the day comes for you to go home. They’ve done all they can for you and you’re past the worst of it. But you’re well enough to be out and about. “Now you take care of yourself,” Barbara lectures you. “Don’t push yourself, get plenty of rest, drink lots of water, and eat three square meals a day, got it?”

“Got it,” you confirm. “Thank you for taking care of me, I really appreciate your help.” She smiles, wishes you well, and returns to the cathedral. You take a moment to breathe and just appreciate being back home, free of your prison and the small cathedral room they’d kept you in while treating you.

Taking a deep breathe you start on your way home. “Hey!” You hear someone exclaim behind you. “Could you hold on a second?” Turning around, you see the bard quickly excusing himself from a street performance before running to catch up to you. Once he’s caught up, he gives you a smile.

“Hi! I’m Venti the bard! Would you be willing to speak with me about something? It’s kind of private so we would need to go to windrise or something, but you’ll want to hear this, I promise.” He says. “Alright,” you agree, “but I can’t make it all the way to windrise. Would my home do? I live alone so we’ll have privacy.” He nods, “that’ll work great!”

The walk home is quiet but comfortable. The bard’s content to hum a tune as he follows you through the streets. Soon you’re home, unlocking the door to let you and your guest in. You lead him over to the couch where you both sit down. “So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

“Well, I was talking with Dvalin a day or so after we freed both of you and he said you mentioned you came to Mondstadt searching for your soulmate. And that you said your soulmate’s biggest secret, the one that you know, is that they’re Barbatos,” he explains. You feel a pang of betrayal at Dvalin’s actions and some guilt for sharing your soulmate’s secret in the first place.

It probably showed on your face because he quickly spoke up again. “He didn’t just tell me for no reason though. You see, I am Barbatos. I’m your soulmate.” Your head, which had been drooping with the weight of your emotions suddenly shot up as you fumbled for a response.

Apparently that showed too because he continued, “And I’m sorry I made it so hard for you to find me. I’m sorry I almost made you give up on me. Most of my waking time is spent incognito so I can watch over everyone while not being put in a position of authority. I didn’t anticipate meeting you ”

There’s a moment or two of silence as you gather your thoughts. “It’s okay,” you assure him. “I understand why you did what you did and I’ll never hold it against you. How were you supposed to know I was even born yet, not to mention that I’ve been in the area searching for you.”

You take another moment or two to gather your wits. “I will also understand if you don’t want to do anything about this,” you state. “I don’t want you to feel forced into having a relationship with me if you don’t want to. The last thing I’d want to do is be responsible for making you miserable. And that’s not to mention how you’re an archon and I’m just a mortal.”

Your talking speeds up as you start rambling, losing control of the conversation as you feel more and more nervous. Once you realize you’re rambling you shut your mouth with a click. “Sorry about that,” you mutter. “I do that sometimes when I’m nervous.”

When you chance a glance at him, he honestly looks a little offended but mostly just really sad. “Is- is that really what you think I think about this?” He asks softly. “Because it’s not. I absolutely want this. I absolutely want you. I’ve been looking forward to this moment for millenia and I wouldn’t give this up for the world.”

He reaches over and slowly, hesitantly, so as to give you time to escape if you want, gathers you into his arms. You realize that he’s the one who picked you up to bring you home. Your ear rests against his chest as lean against him, and his heart skips a beat as you gently grab one of his hands and kiss it. “I’m glad,” you breathe. “I’m glad too,” he voices softly.

You yawn, feeling the exhaustion from your journey home and the rest of the day hit you. He pulls you close and whispers in your ear, “Sleep well, my cecilia, I’ll be here when the sun comes up and when you wake up.” You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

[holden-caulfield]

s...ongbird (any songs a person sings will get stuck in their soulmate’s head for the duration they decide to sing it). Hii! Hope you're doing well! If it's ok can I get a S with Draco Malfoy? If not, its ok! Thanks anyways!

Hi lovely, thank you so much for your request, really hope you like it!!🥰

(I did write this with the song 'Love Of My Life' by Queen in mind but i think it can work with any sad song really, just ignore the three verses i put at some point!)

Just A Song Away

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: soulmate au in which one can hear the song the other is singing in their head.

Prompt from this list.

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 1711

//

It was strange, really. Draco never heard that song before. It was a rather sorrowful melody and he was sure he had never heard it if not in his head, in that precise moment.

It was melancholic at most, the notes alternating slowly in his mind but he didn't know how they did, the melody completely new to him and nevertheless it was as if he had heard it a thousand times already. Fragile words resounded softly as he desperately tried to think of the origin of the song.

His efforts were all in vain because the song ended just as quickly as it started in his head. The words were always the same, repeating like a tedious lullaby, but never boring.

Oh how he longed to know to whom those words, or better those thoughts, belonged to. He knew that the one singing those doleful verses was his soulmate, that one person that should have been his true love, that one individual that could have accepted him without any judgement, the one that should have loved him unconditionally.

He didn't actually believe in that, he believed those were all lies. At least, that's what he told his friends whenever the topic was brought up: simple disgust evident on his face when dreamy looks were exchanged about soulmates.

He was skeptical and he had his reasons. Who would have loved Draco Malfoy if they knew who he was? The terrible things he had done in the past? And the terrible things he would have done in the future?

No, a soulmate was not possible for someone like him. But he liked to believe. He liked to believe in the eventuality of it, when no one was looking, hope only existing in his deepest thoughts.

The scorn he exhibited towards those who actually, fervently believed in the romantic concept might have been the reason why he didn't even look for his one and only.

The real reason, however, was that he was content this way. Hearing the delicate words in his head was enough for him, the impending prospect of his soulmate actually discovering him was enough to keep him from searching his person.

What made him change his mind, what made him think that maybe, just maybe, he should have begun his research was the sudden change in the periodical words that invaded his head. There were no longer cheerful tunes, instead desolate lines that repeated themselves almost obsessively.

He was worried, worried for someone with no name and no face, only a few sentences that somehow meant more to Draco than anything else. He was worried and he reckoned he could have ended the suffering that was weighing down on his unknown soulmate, but he always chased away those thoughts.

Unlike Draco Malfoy, you very much wanted to find your soulmate and everyone in the whole school had your same idea in mind.

Many tried singing out loud throughout the corridors, hoping that that certain special someone would notice them and finally stop the frantic search.

Others were too shy to actually do that and instead sang to themselves when alone and hoped their soulmate would have been smart enough to figure out who they were.

You weren't so hopeful. No song had been stuck in your head, no melodies, no silly tunes, not even a curt note. The upsetting suspicion you didn't have a soulmate often made his way in your mind, a mind that should have been occupied by songs and not by forlorn ideas.

It was perhaps the growing frequency of those thoughts that made you change musical tastes or maybe your break up. Maybe the latter had lead to the former and, together, they had made you feel undeserving of love.

You knew the guy you were dating wasn't your soulmate, you didn't hear his songs and he didn't hear yours, but a tiny part of you still hoped it was just a mistake, a stupid, silly, sad mistake.

It wasn't. It was inevitable and yet your heart was broken. The only solace you deemed possible was found in music, a new-found low-spirited music.

Wretched, you started listening and frequently humming to your new consolation. No one would have heard it either way.

Your sadness was only amplified by the constant reminder that other students were finding their true love, in the hallways, in classes, even in your dorm since two of your best friends eventually realized they were made for each other.

You felt alone, alone like you never felt before. Your new favourite place quickly became the astronomy tower: it was quiet and reserved, no one actually went there if not for classes since it was the highest place in all hogwarts and no one had the will to go all the way up.

Anyone but you because you had a lot of free time, not having yet found your soulmate to spend some moments with. You often sang in the tower, leaning against the railing with the gentle breeze surrounding you and providing some kind of much needed comfort.

The words you sang were becoming repetitive, particular verses stuck in your head that flowed freely from your lips, coated in honey and tears as they lost themselves in the wind.

Love of my life, you've hurt me

You've broken my heart and now you leave me

Love of my life, can't you see?

Only those words reverberated in your head because your soulmate's surely didn't. If you even had one. Maybe you really didn't, it wasn't as unusual as many thought. However this didn't soothe you in the slightest bit.

How heartbreaking, to know that a person that could love you so deeply, so genuinely didn't exist. For you.

Draco Malfoy felt like you, possibly even worse. He knew this person existed but he knew this person couldn't have loved him for who he was. He was so sure of it and yet he loved this person, whoever it was.

He, too, found solace in the astronomy tower, one of his ever favourite places in all hogwarts. From there, he felt insignificant but it was weirdly comforting to him, knowing that he wasn't that important, no one was in such a vast world.

He liked to sit under the light of the moon and of the starts, listening to the tunes that played in his head. He sometimes thought of repeating them himself, of singing them along with his soulmate, pretending they were together, but always stopped himself before he could.

You were beginning to lose hope, completely. You were resigning yourself to the ineluctable truth. Your heart felt at the same time heavy and light as a feather at the sudden realization, but the desolation that pervaded it never faded.

You strolled along the corridors, it was late and you could have been caught but you couldn't care less at the moment. You began singing, not caring about who might have heard you, maybe the paintings or maybe Filch, earning yourself a detention.

Slowly making your way to the beloved tower, you kept on repeating the same verses of your favourite song of the past few weeks, as if it was a prayer, a tender message you were sure no one would have ever duly appreciated.

Draco was perched on the railing of the tower, head on his arms that were crossed on the cold metal. His gaze lost in the depths of the sky, his head full of the lovely yet dejected sound that he had learned to love and despise.

You kept on making your way towards the stairs of the tower, your steps slow and steady just like your voice, and started ascending them.

Draco listened intently to the tune even though he was very much acquainted with it, the desire to feel close to the person singing it almost unbearable.

You were now halfway up the long flight of stairs and the softest of sounds became audible, a sob perhaps, you couldn't be sure, you had to get closer.

You stopped your singing, climbing the steps so carefully you unconsciously held your breath, but the voice stopped and, with it, you.

You began singing again tentatively, keeping your voice low as you kept climbing the stairs, getting closer and closer to the top. And now you heard something new, something unexpected.

A voice, low, grave and incredibly gentle filled your ears and your head. It was your tune but it was so different. The words were the same, but they sounded so much unalike. They were new just like the sensation you were currently experiencing.

You climbed, ran up the last steps, your singing stopping abruptly and the figure that was once slouched onto the railing turning around alarmed.

Silence filled the space, no words, no songs, no tunes, not even the wind was daring to make a sound, afraid to break the tension that had created.

You didn't dare say a word. What if it wasn't him? But he had to be.

Draco didn't speak, petrified under your gaze. What if it was her? But she couldn't be.

Whispers made their way out of your mouth, delicate, almost inaudible whispers in the form of music.

But Draco heard them. Not with his ears, despite the silence it would have been impossible to hear you, but in his head.

He repeated them louder, but with that gentleness that characterized the voice you had heard moments ago.

Your ears catching the sound that was already playing in your head, sweet and slightly more cheerful than it had ever been.

You could have sworn he had the voice of an angel, that kind of voice that makes you fall in love at the first syllable. His eyes were piercing right through you, showing you that love did in fact exist and that it could be found in those silvery blue orbs.

He could have sworn you were an angel, standing in front of him was the girl he had only imagined for all of this time, your eyes staring at him and burning inside of him, making him forget all of the reasons why he didn't look for you in the first place.

"It's you."

And it was indeed him.

//

This came out slightly longer than i expected and I'll admit I initially planned a rather angsty final, but in the end i went with the fluffy one because who am i to deny draco his true love?

Taglist <3

@turn-to-page-394-please @gwlvr @dracosaccount @astoria-malfcy @dracomalfoys-wh0re @eunoniaa @cherie-draco @oeuryale @wh0re4blaise @90smalfoy @sanctimoniousslytherpuff @maybesandohnos @dracoswhore007 @macheregrace @paulina1998 @bungunz @malfoysbiitch @dreamy-clousds @malfoyxxdraco23

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[chosonore]

summary: choso always takes good care of you, whether you're sick or not. even when you're sick and slightly delirious, your opinion could never be swayed - you loved choso with all your heart.

a/n: honestly, this is purely self-indulgent because i'm sick and i want a choso to take care of me until i know what's wrong and get better 🥺 it's inspired by the naoya fic i've written a while ago but uh this just really reads like a love letter to choso lol. i love him so much i'm not even kidding, no one could ever compare to him

if you were to describe the relationship between choso and you, it would be comfortable silence. choso didn't speak a lot, rarely starting a conversation on his own unless he was overcome by sudden curiosity. truthfully, you didn't mind as you were a quiet person yourself. and somehow, the communication was effortless, a silent and mutual understanding of your needs. he made you feel comfortable and safe, cared for as he always seemed to sense what you needed. falling in love with choso was easy and so natural, as if you'd been lovers in your previous lives. you'd been a couple for a long time now, but it wasn't until recently that you moved in with him. almost instantaneously, a routine was established - while you were busy with your studies, choso spent most of his time at the tattoo studio he recently opened with his friends. you didn't mind because still, he always made time for you. with no shadow of a doubt, he would always prioritize you before anything. so, every bit of time that you could get was spent together.

as any other day, you woke up alone in your bed, the scent of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. choso sometimes left early in the morning to work on administrative tasks or tidying the studio but never failed to prepare you a little breakfast beforehand. as you sat up, a wave of nausea overcame you, quickly forcing you to lie down again. it was only then that you noticed you felt strangely cold and your nose was stuffed, shuddering uncomfortably in your clothes. it was rare that you got sick, so everytime it did happen, it drained you rapidly. blindly reaching for your phone, you texted choso, blinking at the bright screen.

me: i think i got sick :( can you pick up some medicine on your way home?

almost instantly, your screen lit up.

choso 💉: ?

"hello?" you croaked as you accepted choso's call and sniffled quietly.

"are you okay? do you want me to come home early?" choso might have sounded indifferent but you knew better. he would never show his concern to you, always wanting to keep his strong and protective persona. he was just that kind of person, he lived to be a good example to others.

"no it's okay, choso. i think it might be a really bad cold, that's all. i'll be fine if i get enough rest."

a hum. choso didn't sound convinced.

"then get some rest, yeah? make sure to have some tea. i'll wrap things up here and come home in a bit. call me if you need anything."

you hummed in agreement, making a weak kissy noise as you said goodbye to him and chucked your phone on the night table. no matter how much you wanted to convince him to continue his work, he would come home regardless. it didn't sit well with him to not care for you while you were sick. a small smile found its way onto your lips, how lucky you were to have found a lover like him. as you drifted off to sleep, choso was quickly finishing his paperwork, earning some amused glances from his friends. it was evident that this had to do with his girlfriend - choso would never let anyone tell him what to do nor do them any favours if it wasn't someone he deeply cared for.

"you're really speedrunning through everything to get back home to y/n, huh? you only got here," geto teased him, looking up from the sketches he was preparing for display.

"she got sick this morning. wanna be there for her in case it gets worse. i don't have any appointments for today anyways so you'll be fine," choso curtly explained, not picking up on geto's teasing undertone. even though they liked to joke about how whipped he was for you, they never questioned him - you were his love, his light. if anything, they envied him for the relationship, a relationship that flowed so effortlessly and easily like a spring working its way through bottlenecks and rocky river beds, silent and yet strong. geto pat choso's shoulder and shot him a knowing look, reassuring him that they could run the studio just fine.

even if you didn't sound like your afflictions were severe, choso still felt uneasy. he wanted to make sure you were okay, wanted to care for you. maybe it was moreso his fear of losing people he loved, but he couldn't deny his caring nature. on his way home, he'd picked up some ingredients to make soup as well as some medicine. music was sounding through the apartment as he entered and placed the bags on the counter, keeping an eye out for you. were you still in bed? he padded towards your shared bedroom, quietly nudging the door open as he squeezed his way in. you were laying on the bed, giggling at a book you were reading, not having noticed him yet.

the bed dipped next to you, making you drop the book you were holding. choso's twin tails came into your vision until you could see the entirety of him hovering above you, scrutinizing your figure in thought. "hi baby," he greeted you with a gentle smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "how are you feeling?"

"kinda achy and cold," you described with a pout, leaning into choso's touch as he brushed your hair with his fingers. "did you bring me some medicine?"

choso nodded, explaining that he'd be making you some soup as it was better not to take the medicine on an empty stomach. he wrapped you in the blanket before disappearing in the kitchen. you listened to the sounds in the kitchen, feeling more at ease now that he was home. you must have fallen asleep as the soup was done, its savoury scent rousing you from your slumber. as the primary cook in this household, choso's cooking skills were excellent and never failed to amaze you. sometimes you couldn't believe he was real. choso kept an eye on you as you munched away, handing you the medicine once you were done. he joined you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you towards him. you were placed on his lap like a baby, making you giggle as you leaned against his chest.

"will you play with my hair?" you requested with a small yawn. choso obliged, weaving his fingers through your hair as he worked through the knots and massaged your scalp. you hummed in relaxation, struggling to keep your eyes open. instead, you focused on the tattoos on his arm that was placed around your waist, tracing the patterns with your fingers. when you first met, the skin on his arm was sparsely filled, he'd only started on completing his sleeve tattoos. it was a slow and gradual process. you were always the first person he'd proudly showed a new addition to, and in a way, the tattoos marked the journey of your relationship. you were thankful for him, thankful to have found someone who silently understood you.

he was too hesitant to ask you just yet as you'd told him years prior that you weren't sure about getting tattoos but you knew he wanted to be the one to give you your first tattoo. maybe you were delirious from your sickness, maybe it was then in that moment that you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, maybe it was your overwhelming love- "choso? i think it's time i get a tattoo soon."

choso's hand came to a halt and he made an incredulous noise. "y/n, i don't think- it might be better if we discuss this when you feel better again."

"no, i'm serious. it's just... i trust you so much. you always take good care of me and you're just always there. i'm uh- i honestly can't imagine my life without you, i just love you so much," you confessed with embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands as you finished talking. choso chuckled as he pried your hands away, pecking your lips in adoration. he looked gleeful, as if hearing your admission of love for the first time - the feeling was mutual, you just couldn't believe he was yours.

"we'll talk about this again when you've fully recovered. but i'm happy that you trust me with this."

"i'll be fine soon, i just need a lot of vitamin c," you giggled hysterically. "vitamin choso."

choso groaned but couldn't stop the laughter tumbling from his lips either, opting to tickle your sides and blowing raspberries into your shoulder. you squealed, trying to push him off you before being pulled back into his arms again. choso buried his head in the crook of your neck, placing a kiss on it. he didn't show you his face, not wanting you to see his teary eyes.

"i love you a lot, you know?"

"i love you more."