#God I can’t do this job anymore my throat is killing me!

[whereismyhat5678]

*Ehem*

HEARYE HEARYE‼️‼️‼️ 🔔🗣️🔔🗣️🔔🗣️🔔🗣️

CALLING UPON DEAREST MUTUAL OUR BRILLIANCE OUR EXTRAVAGANT @marclef

THOU ARTIST HAT HAS BROUGHT THOU ART TRADE FOR YOU.

SHE ONLY WISHES YOU THE BEST AND HOPES YOU LIKE THOU DEAR TRADE.

NOW WE PROUDLY PRESENT:

*INTENSE COUGHING WHEEZING*

Fuck my throat- WE HOPE DEAR @marclef LIKES THOU TRADE. WE HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON AND HAVE THE MOST WONDERFUL OF DAYS.

-SINCERELY

whereismyhat5678 👁️💖👁️

[notafunkiller]

we found wonderland

Summary: You have a choice to make: you either set yourself free or continue to play the game.

Pairing: (fake) boyfriend’s brother!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 26, Bucky is 39), teasing, dirty talk, unprotected séx (but she is on the pill), pet names, daddy kínk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.4K

story masterlist

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this mini-series! Thank you for reading!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You had decided you should wait for a week before making your relationship public, using that time to try to convince your parents to change their mind while Bucky plays pretend with his. It’s not an ideal situation, but he understands, keeping the truth to himself.

What he can’t keep to himself is his hands. Not that you can… but as soon as he comes home, he’s all over you, not even caring you are in the living room sometimes.

Acting like you’re just friendly is very hard for you. You want to touch and kiss him like crazy. Having sex with him changed the game, and now you try your hardest to find a way out of this deal so you can be in this relationship completely.

You laugh at the way he pouts. “You’re really adorable for an old man.”

“Is it so crazy I want us together?”

You melt, leaning in to kiss his chin. “That’s not crazy, baby, but isn’t that a little fast?”

“We’ve been living together for months now. What’s the difference?”

You wish you could find the right words to explain it. It’s quite scary and exciting, but it feels strange. “We’ve been together for a couple of days. Maybe we don’t…”

“Are you thinking of a break up already?”

You jump immediately. “No! Maybe we don’t have things figured out enough yet. And by we I mean me. I won’t have a job anymore if my parents don’t change their minds. I won’t have a real home. I won’t have anything but you. And I love every moment I spend with you, but I want something of my own, and I definitely don’t want to feel like a burden even if you don’t make me feel like that. My life is a mess.”

“And I want to help. I am not trying to control you or suggest something you don’t want, but we are friends, too, not just a couple. I am here for you. You can stay with me as a friend if not as a boyfriend. I want you safe.”

You say nothing, only staring at him for a while. You don’t even know what to say because the mix of emotions you feel is confusing.

“You know what I want?”

“What?”

“I want to fuck you right now.” You don’t try to hide your neediness as you place your hands on his shorts. “Can I, baby? Can I ride you?”

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me before I turn forty. Is this your plan? Do you want me gone?” He’s already raising his ass so he can help you take off his shorts quicker.

“I want you with me always. Want you inside me so badly.”

He groans at your tone. “Then go for it, baby, take whatever you want. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.”

You smile eagerly seeing his hard cock, and lift his T-shirt. You cannot stand anything between your bodies right now. You just need to feel him. “God, we should go to the bedroom, but I can’t wait.”

You take off your underwear, unable to wait any longer. As if someone is holding a knife to your throat, and if you don’t get Bucky inside you in the next seconds, you’re gonna die.

“Anyone can walk in,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. He probably even enjoys it. “Can you imagine their faces?”

You snort, bringing his dick to your entrance without hesitation after spreading your legs further apart. “No, but I can imagine yours when you come.”

“You don’t need to imagine. You’re gonna see it up close if you hurry up.”

Neither of you even realize you’re not using a condom for the first time until it’s too late and you’re already sliding down.

Your grasp on his shoulders is so forceful, you’re sure it will leave a mark, as you moan his name.

“James…” You desperately look at him, wanting to see if he feels the same. “We’re not using anything.”

“I c-can feel that.”

“God damn it, James,” you sound like you’re scolding him, but in reality you are just overwhelmed.

“What did I… fucking hell, I am totally not getting to turn forty. I will die tonight.”

You ask with your eyes closed. “Do you want me to get a condom?”

“No, I want to die.” He groans, already in a different space. “Unless you want to… I am clean and you are, of course, and I can pull out, but like it’s not… I can go grab a condom right now.”

You immediately shake your head, placing your hand on his chest. He’s not gonna do that. He has to make you come.

“You are not going anywhere, you get out of me and I’ll die!”

“So you’re ovulating?” He asks casually, with a playful grin spread across his face.

You chuckle, hitting him in the shoulder. 

“Yes, I am, and you gotta take care of me.”

Bucky groans, grabbing your ass, unable to keep his hands off you. You’re so hot and warm. “You’re really, really wet, princess.”

“Ihm.” You slide down further, almost taking all of his cock. “Look how deep I took you now.” You moan proudly, feeeling so stretched like this. “Look at this, daddy.”

And when he lets his eyes drop to your entrance, he has no idea how he doesn’t com right then. The sight is incredible.

“Baby…”

“I’m your baby, daddy.” You quickly take off your T-shirt at the same time you move your hips. As soon as he’s naked, you grab your breasts, holding them together with a smirk. You know that is going to affect him, and it makes you feel powerful.

“Oh God,” he groans as you bring your breasts closer to his mouth.

“Come on, daddy, go ahead.”

It’s all he needs to hear before he takes your right nipple into his mouth and the left one between his fingers. Riding him like this is a little difficult, but it’s not impossible. You love getting your breasts played with, and he loves doing it.

There is also something really hot and thrilling about the possibility of getting caught. You have no idea why and how, but you’re going to enjoy this as much as you can.

“You feel so good like this, nothing between us. Nothing between your come and me,” you moan, not even thinking about what you say.

“You can’t say that and expect me to be strong.”

That makes you laugh. “I’m on the pill, though, you don’t have to be strong.”

“Fucking hell, you’re gonna drive me crazy.” He starts to thrust his hips back so he can meet you halfway. Riding him feels so, so good. You got him deeper, and the lack of a condom makes you properly feel his thickness.

“You feel so… Fuck, your cock is filling me just the way I need it.” You grab his shoulders so you can move faster. “You’re such a good daddy, let-letting me use you right here, where everyone could see us.”

“You love using daddy’s cock.” He looks so drunk, in so much pleasure. “Such a naughty girl.”

“I’m your naughty girl, James.”

“All mine.” His hands on your hips help you move faster indeed, and you’re already so close you can barely keep your eyes open.

“F-faster.”

Bucky stops thrusting his hips back, and you groan. You need more.

“If you want it faster, keep your eyes on me, pretty girl.”

“I c-can’t-” As much as you want to fight this, your eyes instinctively close again. “Ss-so close.”

He can hear your desperation and without hesitating, he brings his hand into your hair and pulls unexpectedly hard. That’s enough for you to come loud. So loud you can hear yourself as you let the pleasure consume every bit of you.

But Bucky doesn’t stop moving his hips, making your orgasm last longer. He’s saying things, probably dirty things, in your ear, but you can’t understand anything. Your ears are still ringing.

And just like that, Bucky comes too, with his right hand still wrapped around your hair while the left one is digging into the skin of your hip.

“Fuck, I’m coming inside you, baby, can you feel it? Can you feel me filling your pussy, baby?”

“Ihm,” you can barely whisper, too overwhelmed by everything.

“Whose come?”

“Y-yours.”

“Good girl.” He groans as soon as he finishes coming, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you. “This feels like heaven.”

“I don’t think I can go back to wearing a condom now. I mean if you want to…”

“Are you sure? We can still use one just to make sure we are safer.”

You peck him. “We can still use it, don’t worry, I get it. Looking out for me and stuff.”

He lets out a deep breath, thankful you understand what he means.

“Of course I am looking out for you, that’s my job.”

“Job? You are my daddy, not my mom or dad.”

“I am your partner and your friend. I will always look out for you.”

A sudden urge to fuck him again takes over your body, but before you can do it, your phone starts ringing.

Bucky gives you the phone without moving, and when you both see it’s his brother, you groan.

“Hi, William.” You try to sound as normal as possible, but your voice is so raspy it’s impossible.

“Hey, gonna be home in a few minutes. Are you okay? Is Bucky home yet?”

“Ihm, he came.” You wink at James. “All good here. See you.”

You don’t wait for him to answer before you’re hanging up.

“You came too.”

You giggle immediately. It’s hard not to be around Bucky; he is goofy at the right time. “We need to clean up, though, he’s close.”

“Alright.”

*

Your parents didn’t want to listen to you at all. You didn’t have the chance to talk at the party since they’re avoiding you at all costs, and you had to go outside not to cry in front of everyone. You don’t just feel alone and treated like shit, you feel humiliated.

You’re lucky Bucky went to pick up William because his car broke down halfway here, so he didn’t actually witness your breakdown. You know he’d have done something about it. Something you should.

At this point, what do you really have?

“Hey, are you well? Why are you outside, it’s freezing?”

Bucky’s voice makes you jump as he’s suddenly by your side, rubbing your arms. William is right behind him.

“Baby, why are you outside?”

You see Bucky rolling his eyes, and you sigh.

“I wanted some fresh air, William.” You turn toward Bucky before taking a step back. You don’t want him to think you reject his touch. You really need his hug, but it’s not about what you need. “We should go inside.”

He nods, and all three of you make your way close to the improvised stage in the main room.

It’s crazy how many people actually came; it almost feels suffocating.

Your parents have been talking for a while, you assume, because people were animated. You wonder what they promised them.

“And since we’re all here now, I have something to announce,” Bucky’s dad takes the microphone all of a sudden, and William sighs. You want to ask him what is going on since he looks nervous, but you don’t have time to. “I want to invite my son, William, on the stage with us.”

And then he calls your name.

You look at both of your parents, trying to understand why you’d be needed there, and Bucky is just as confused as you are. Everyone starts clapping, and you find yourself dragged on the stage before you can protest.

“Tonight marks a very special moment for us both: professionally and personally.” You freeze, looking at Bucky instantly, but he’s also shocked, shaking his head. “A partnership that will last for a long time, hopefully, passed to a real-life partnership that has developed over the last months.”

William smiles proudly when his dad pats him on the back, and you want to throw up right then.

You turn your head to your parents, who display the fakest smiles you’ve ever seen. They don’t care about what you want. About what you need. Either way, you’re alone, and you cannot continue to play their game. You can’t!

And before anyone can stop you, you’re basically running down the stairs, straight toward Bucky. You quickly wrap your hand around his neck and force him to lean in so you can properly kiss him. You sense his surprise, but you don’t stop, using the opportunity to shamelessly kiss him in front of the whole company, including your parents. He’s yours, and everyone should know it.

He cups your face when you break off the kiss to breathe, and you smile.

You finally did it! You’re free.

You don’t need to turn around to know how upset your families must be. Everyone around you is either gasping or whispering around. You know they’ll be talking about this for a solid week at least, but you’re not gonna be there to hear. You won’t explain anything to them, and they can consider you a cheater who fucked the other brother all they want. It is not your mess to fix. You just want to leave.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whisper, taking his hand. All you want is to eat something and suck him off. “I need to pack my stuff.”

“Are you sure?” He asks concerned as you start to walk toward the exit. Neither of you turns when William calls your names.

“I have never been more sure in my entire life.”

He says nothing as you reach his car, lifting the hand he’s been holding closer to his lips so he can brush a tender kiss against the back of it.

You’re going to be okay.

Tags:

@charmedbysarge @identity2212 @vicmc624  @cjand10  @mayusenpai666  @abitofblues @doveromanoff @buckyb-stan @igotmajordaddyissues

[sidekick-hero]

Cheesy

steddie | 1.2k | rated: teen | tags: modern AU, Eddie works at Surfer Boy Pizza, inappropriate humor, cheesy lines and bad puns, fluff and humor | AO3

"Steeeeeeve! Steven! I’m starving! You have to save me from the cruel clutches of death by buying us a pizza. But you must hurry—I don’t have much time left."

"Oh no, what would I ever do without you?" Steve deadpans, barely suppressing a grin.

Robin dramatically flings herself onto him, knocking the wind out of him with a loud 'oumph.'

She jabs a finger into his ribs—surprisingly painful. "Crash and burn, Dingus. Crash. And. Burn."

Steve swats her poking fingers away, scowling at his platonic soulmate. "At least I’d have fewer bruises and a better bank account. This is the third time this week I’m buying you pizza, Buckley. How is that fair?"

He tries to sound stern, but as Robin squirms in his lap, looking up at him with big, pleading blue eyes, his resolve crumbles to dust.

"Because I’ve been your best friend since we both lost all dignity in those sailor outfits. It’s us against the world, oh platonic love of my life. Or... don’t you love me anymore?"

There it is—the killing blow. Game, set, match.

God, he’s so fucking easy, isn’t he?

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme my phone, jeez. You’re eating me out of house and home, I hope you know that."

Steve gets a sharp elbow in the stomach as Robin scrambles to grab his phone from the table.

"Ouch! God, why are your elbows so pointy?"

"They’re my secret weapon against the patriarchy," Robin says distractedly, shoving the phone in his face. "Pizza. Please. Hungry."

Robin’s monosyllables mean the situation is dire. Steve quickly dials their favorite pizza place. “Veggie?” he mouths, earning a thumbs-up from Robin.

“Surfer Boy Pizza, this is Eddie speaking. What’s your poison of choice?”

Huh. The deep, smooth voice on the other end of the line is new, throwing Steve off momentarily.

“Uhhhm… You’re not Argyle,” he blurts out, immediately wanting to slap himself. How pathetic does he sound right now?

An amused chuckle echoes through the tiny speaker.

“Keen observation skills, Sherlock. Argyle’s off today, so you’ve got the pleasure of my company. How can I make your day better, sweetheart?”

The flirty tone throws Steve further, but he can’t deny he’s enjoying it. So, he decides to match Eddie’s energy.

“I could think of a few things, but I’m not sure they’re on the menu,” Steve flirts back, relishing the chance to flex his long-dormant charm.

“Is that so?” Eddie’s smile is practically audible. “Who says they aren’t? Or that I wouldn’t make an exception if you ask real nice?”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Robin’s elbow digs into his side, knocking the breath out of him. She’s glaring at him, mouthing, ‘What the fuck?’

The sound must have been loud enough for Eddie to hear because he clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, was that… I mean, sorry if that was too forward, man. Please don’t tell my manager, I just got the job and—”

“No! No, no, no, don’t worry. My best friend’s just starving and shared her pain with me… via elbow to the ribs. It wasn’t too forward, I promise.”

A relieved sigh reaches his ear. “Okay, good. So, what kind of pizza can I get you two before your best friend starves to death? I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.”

A heavy weight settles in Steve’s stomach. He didn’t realize how much he missed being flirted with, even casually. Nancy was right—their relationship had been over long before they ended it. It’s been ages since he felt this kind of excitement.

“Yeah, no, we don’t want that,” Steve agrees, smiling despite himself. “One veggie, and one with meatballs—yes, I know how that sounds.”

Eddie’s flirtatious tone returns. “Wouldn’t dream of going for such an easy opening, big boy. I’m easy, not cheesy.”

“Oh. My. God.” Steve laughs. “That was terrible.”

“But you liked it.”

Steve grins. Yeah, he did. He’s a sucker for bad puns and dad jokes. But Eddie didn’t need to know that. “Pleading the fifth.”

Eddie hums, asking for his name and address before promising the pizza will be there in 20 minutes.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice softer than it should be.

“Anytime, Stevie. Enjoy your pizza!”

“Bye. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Deafening silence. Then, in a surprisingly calm voice, Eddie says, “I hope you’re not expecting a discount on the pizza now that we’ve confessed our undying love to each other. Because I’d do anything for love, but I won’t do that.”

And then he hangs up, leaving Steve to spiral in peace.

Love you.

Love you, too.

Fuck. Oh my God. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. What was he thinking? Nothing, apparently. It’s just… with Nancy on his mind, his brain switched to autopilot, saying the words he ended every call with her. Three years of habit.

“Steve? Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The worried look on Robin’s face lasts just long enough for Steve to explain what happened before she breaks into ringing laughter.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, barely able to catch her breath. “That’s… hahaha… I can’t… What is your life, Dingus?”

By then, Steve’s laughing too, Robin’s reaction helping him see the humor instead of drowning in embarrassment.

As promised, there’s a ring at the door about 20 minutes later, announcing the arrival of their pizza. The sound sends butterflies fluttering in his stomach, even though he knows the delivery guy won’t be Eddie.

Knowing that and seeing it for himself are two different things, though. He can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment when he opens the door to find a blonde, pimply teenager staring at him doubtfully.

“So, you’re the guy trying to lure Eddie into your sex dungeon?”

Steve sputters, completely thrown. “Uh… what?”

“Why else would you tell a total stranger—who’s also working for you, by the way, hence creating an imbalance of power—that you love him? Freak.”

The teenager shoves the pizza boxes into Steve’s hands, snatches the bills from his other hand, and walks away without another word.

Steve stands there, staring into the void, deeply regretting all his life choices. He’s snapped out of it only when Robin’s voice pierces through his thoughts, yelling for her pizza.

“Coming!” he shouts back, closing the door with his foot and carrying the boxes over to where Robin’s already making grabby hands.

He hands hers over before settling down next to her with his own.

“What took you so long?” she asks, mouth full of pizza.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he begins but stops when he notices the note stuck to the top of his pizza box.

Hey Stevie, I lied, because this is cheesy, but you are one supreme slice, and I’d love to give you meatballs for as long as you’d like. Yours truly, The guy you confessed your undying love to (aka Eddie) P.S. Please don’t mind Sam. He’s just jealous because no customer ever confesses their love to him.

Beneath the note, Steve finds a phone number.

Without thinking, he grabs his phone and quickly types out a message before finally digging into his pizza, suddenly starving.

‘Hey Eddie, if you put a sausage on top of the meatballs, we have a deal. xxx the guy you confessed your undying love to right back.’

Inspired by this ancient post I can no longer find:

[sgojoenthusiast]

needy.

✧.* miguel o’hara x reader

summary:

miguel is suffering with the side effects of his vampirism: the insatiable hunger. you, a doctor, will stop at nothing to help him, no matter what. it’s your job, afterall.

cw: smut, biting, lowkey vampire sex, rough, i didnt do amazing in my gcse spanish course so i’m sorry for the rough attempt at miguel speaking spanish LMAO, hardly proof read mb, bit of oral (f receiving), mentions of blood, pain and injury. fem reader.

word count: 2.1k

likes, comments and reposts are deeply appreciated! <3 enjoy.

-`♡´-

He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t resist. His brain felt like it was begging to break out of his skull. Everything hurt, but it wasn’t the kind of pain he could turn to you for help with.

It was the kind of pain that stemmed from the unfortunate bite all those years ago. A pain that derived from a never-ending hunger within him, resulting in constant hunger and sharpened fangs.

“Miguel, how many times do I have to say it? It’s my job. It’s what I'm paid to do! Just let me help you and we can-”

“No.” he cut you off sharply. When he had hired you after a particularly nasty fight that ended in a lot of spidermen injured but there was a lack of medics to help, he didn’t realise everything you did or said would have so much of an affect on him. If he had known, he would’ve never even looked in your direction because, god, you were intoxicating. “No puedo más, mierda. [i can’t anymore, fuck]. You can’t help me, okay? Just go home.” He seethed.

He wasn’t angry with you, never you. He was angry at how he had to turn your sweet words and caring touch away just because he couldn’t risk hurting you.

“You’re so frustrating, Miguel. you never let me help you.” He stood with his back to you, because he knew that if he looked behind him and saw you standing with your arms folded, a cute pout on your lips and the smooth skin of your neck on display, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back anymore.

If he ever came close to hurting you, even if somehow the domino effect of something he did led to you getting injured, he would never forgive himself for as long as he lived. You were only human, you weren’t a spider like the rest of them. You were fragile, and couldn’t protect yourself as well as you could save others. 

“You should know by now I won't stop until I get what I want.” you began walking up behind him. “You’re clearly struggling with something. your breathing is heavy, you haven’t been walking or talking properly since you came back from your mission.” a sudden realisation popped into your brain. “You didn’t hit your head on your mission today, did you? Miguel- you told me there wasn’t a scratch on you, I can’t help you if you’re lying to me.”

Finally, he turned around to face you, his head hung low but he could see every inch of your perfect body. No longer could he restrain himself from the all-consuming thirst he felt as he flashed his fangs and suddenly appeared in front of you, pinning you against the wall.  “No quiero ayuda. [I don't want your help]. I just want it to stop.”

You tilted your head up at him. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in your eyes despite your position and he felt his heart stop. “You aren’t scared?” He breathed out. His eyes were wide and red. His heart was beating increasingly fast and his throat was getting dry.

He was so used to being the one people would cower around. Yet with you, you always seemed to defy his expectations. He stood in front of you, restraining himself from killing you, and yet you had barely even blinked.

You moved your hair out of the way of your neck, causing him to try and push himself away from you but you grabbed his wrist before he could. “It’s my job to help you. That’s why I'm here. So let me help you.”

He found it so hard to disobey you when you looked up at him so gently. Yet it was that look that reminded him of his affection towards you and made him shake his head profusely in denial. He refused to hurt you, even when you asked him to.

You pulled him by his wrist, closer to you, tempting him in as he complied thoughtlessly. His mind was reeling with the thought that it was your hand touching his wrist. It was your hand that slowly traced up his back and it was your fingers that threaded through his hair at that moment. Slowly, you guided his head down towards your open neck as every doubt inside his mind froze against his will. All of his morals disappeared. Everything he stood by, his dedication to protecting you, gone within a minute of you delicately caressing him.

“Please, Miguel, let me help you.”

When you pleaded with him so innocently, when your words slipped so tenderly from your pretty lips, he could no longer hold himself back. The shackles he’d chained himself to for so long, the restraints he’d built with his bare hands, crumbled like castles.

His sharp fangs sunk themselves into the crook of your neck and you whimpered slightly in pain, biting your lip.

Miguel lost himself in the taste of you as he forced you up harder against the wall. Still, it wasn’t enough. He needed his entire body against yours. He grabbed your leg, wrapping it around his waist as he continued to slowly suck the blood from your neck.

His hands pawed against you and massaged your hips. You felt yourself growing increasingly more wet at the feeling of him pressed up so close against you with his lips against your neck.

Somehow, the pain faded as you got used to it and all you could feel was the sensation you got as he ground himself against you, overpowered with need and moaning into your neck.

His head was spinning as his blood pumped vigorously. He’d never experienced such a high, such an addictive drug that devoured him whole and swallowed him completely.

You could feel how much he needed this. The feeling of peace and pleasure overshadowed the one of pain, yet, as you felt yourself go faint, you began to shake yourself out of the trance his lips against your neck put you in. In an odd way, you’d let him drink from you forever if it meant the feeling of his skin against yours.

You tapped his waist, urging him off you as he withdrew.

You placed your hand against your neck as a sudden pang of soreness washed over you. However, the sight before you was one you’d never forget as you looked up to meet his eyes. His lips stained with your blood before he wiped it away sent a strange sensation down your back as you closed your legs.

“Thank you, mi dulce niña. [my sweet girl].” he took your face between his thumb and index finger. Your faces were unbearably close. The desire to taste your own blood on his lips consumed you as your eyes flickered between his and his lips.

You stood against the wall of the empty hallway to his room in silence, your bodies begging for each other yet your mouths too shy to make it known.

Instead, he opted for silently taking you down the dimly lit corridor to his room, his fingers intertwined with yours.

The second his door closed, your back was against it. His lips finally pressed against yours as you sighed in contentment. Once again, your leg was hiked up as he caressed the supple skin of your thigh.

A rough yet gentle hand made its way up to your face as he ran his thumb up and down against your cheek. “I need you so bad. You don’t know what you’ve done to me. Everyday, I think about you. Your lips, your voice, your smile, your hips. I can’t fucking get enough of you and it kills me that I cant physically be as close to you as I want to be.” he murmured against your lips whilst you breathed shaky breaths against his.

You didn’t know what to say, or how to put your feelings into words because he had already summed it up so perfectly for you. “I can’t get enough of you either.”

He carried you to the bed and placed you down, his touch never once leaving your skin except to take his suit off.

Your hand ran across the scars of his chest, some you had fixed up yourself, up to his neck where you pulled him against you once more. He struggled to get your uniform off quickly with the continuous kiss and lack of sense as the thought of you naked beneath him fogged up his mind.

Miguel broke the kiss, and the sight of you with your hair splayed out across the mattress, skin glistening and your eyes half-lidded with lust had him weak in the knees as his dick grew harder against your thigh.

The moonlight peaked out past the gaps of his curtains, highlighting your frame and making him desperate.

He began to kiss down your body, leaving marks across your collarbone where he would occasionally bite.

He sucked and licked your nipples gently as you writhed beneath his touch, desperately yearning for more of his rough touch.

“I need you, miguel.”

“Patient now, mi dulce niña. [my sweet girl]” he replied, looking up at you from between your legs as he slowly began kissing down towards where you needed him so badly. He stroked your thighs and nipped at them harshly, yet the pain merged so beautifully with the pleasure that it all became one big blur.

He asked you to be patient, but after so long of longing stares and discreet touches, being patient was the last thing on your mind as you bucked your hips up, itching for his touch.

“Niña mala [bad girl]. What did I just tell you?” he snarled.

“Please, Miguel, I'm begging you. I’ve waited so long- I can’t be patient anymore.” you pleaded with him. It seemed to be enough to convince him as he brought your hips up to his face and flicked his tongue skillfully against your pussy as you gasped surprisingly.

He moved his tongue rhythmically, snatching pleas and moans from your lips. It wasn’t too long before he slid in one of his fingers... then another. He thrusted them inside you relentlessly, praising you for taking what he was giving you without another complaint.

His tongue and his fingers combined clouded your senses and made you feel as though nothing - no one - would ever come close to satisfying you so well. However, just as you clenched around him, he pulled out. You whined and cried for him to stop playing around, but he simply ignored you.

Miguel needed to feel you come around his dick if you were going to come anywhere. He needed you both to finish together. He craved the feeling of your bodies merging together in that haze of relief and exhaustion before he pulled out.

He moved back up to your face and your eyes locked; a feeling rushed over you that made your heart swell. You don’t think you could ever get enough of him.

He grabbed his painfully hard dick, stroking it against your folds. You bucked against him hopelessly. Luckily, he took the hint and slid himself somewhat smoothly inside of you, though the pain of the stretch was inevitable.

Your hands immediately went to his back, gripping on as if it would save you. Miguel groaned at the pain as he pulled back slightly and thrusted harshly back in.

He noticed the bite marks on your neck, and the blood that still gradually fell from it due to the lack of treatment. He leaned down, licking the blood up and moaning as he pounded himself into you savagely.

Everything was overwhelming. The feeling of him licking and sucking the blood from your neck, the pain of your hands clawing down his back, the unrelenting pummelling inside of you and the sounds of skin against skin and voices intertwining in the air.

It sent you both spiralling.

“ ‘m g’nna- come, Miguel.” you heaved out.

His hand trailed down to your aching pussy as he slid a finger against your clit and began rubbing viciously. Your moans dominated the room at the extra pleasure as you began to slip from your control.

“Come with me.” he demanded as he hammered inside of you without any remorse.

It was everything you had both dreamed it would be and more. The feeling of letting go together shook you both as you clenched around him, sucking him in, and as he shot his load inside of you.

You both lay there for what felt like an eternity of comfort and serenity. Your bodies pressed up against each other with your eyes closed, just soaking up the moment without any anxieties or thoughts.

However, to your dismay, Miguel pulled back. He took your face in his palm again, marvelling at your vulnerable state. He would be the only one to see you like this.

He placed his forehead against yours as your breaths became synchronised along with your heartbeats, creating the sound of peace and belonging.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: read the extra here.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟsgojoenthusiast

[reminiscingtonight]

Meeting Morgan

Leah Williamson x Morgan!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Sisterly Love Masterlist

[WOSO Masterlist]

Collapsing onto your back, you can’t help but let out an exhausted groan. 

God are you sweaty. And sore. 

There’s always good sweatiness and soreness and bad sweatiness and soreness, but with the screams still echoing in your ears, this is definitely one of the good ones. Especially more so when you see the grinning face in front of you. 

Letting her pull you into her arms, you all but bury yourself against your sister’s neck. 

“You played great today, junior.”

“Thanks mom,” you snark back, punching her lightly in the arm when you hear her nickname for you.

Alex rolls her eyes. “It wouldn’t kill you to compliment me every once in a while too, you know. Even old ladies like me need a little bit of praise every now and then.”

Clearing your throat, you muster up a faux serious face. “Sorry. I meant to say you did a really great job getting put onto your ass by my girlfriend, ma’am!”

Your phrase is punctuated by a sharp salute, and you’re quick to duck away before Alex can put you into a headlock. 

The first time it happened, it was a pretty great tackle if you do say so yourself. Yes, you and Leah weren’t on the same team tonight, but the soccer connoisseur in yourself couldn’t help but admire great skill and form when you saw it. But then it happened again. And again. By the fourth time Leah tackled your sister, you had to physically put yourself between the two of them to stop Alex from getting herself a card. 

Though you wouldn’t have dared to say anything while the game was going on, now that it was over and you guys have secured yourselves a win, you know that you can tease Alex about it all you want. 

“You don’t even need to introduce the two of us anymore. I’d say Leah and I are quite acquainted now with the number of times she tackled me,” comes her retort. 

Despite the nonchalant way Alex says it, you can still see right through her. 

You couldn’t count on one hand the number of times Alex has bugged you about introducing her to Leah. And that’s not even counting the way she’s blown up your phone prior to the USWNT’s arrival in England. The second she caught sight of you, your sister has hung around like glue, every other word being about when you were planning on pulling your girlfriend out of hiding. 

A soft hand brushing against your back has you turning away from Alex. Your face breaks out into a grin when you see a familiar face. “Hey Keira.”

The midfielder is quick to return your hug, chuckling at the over-excited way you look over her shoulder in hopes of catching sight of your girlfriend. 

“You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?” The question’s directed towards Alex, but your sister shakes her head, knowing full well where you’re headed.

You’re more than happy to follow as the Lioness takes you to the other side of the field. From the looks of things, Leah’s deep in conversation with a couple of her teammates. About what you couldn’t be too sure, but you’re instantly coming up with a plan. 

Putting a finger up to your lip, you tilt your head towards the group. Keira instantly gets your drift, a devious look on her face as she gives you a nod in agreement. 

Georgia notices you first. She spots your approach from miles away, noting the way your eyes are gleaming with mischief. She only has time to roll her eyes at you before Leah’s following her gaze. 

Blue eyes light up with delight when she catches sight of you.

It’s a bit comedic how you and Keira instantly deflate. The two of you will just have to wait for another day to cause mayhem.

“Hi babe.”

“Don’t ‘hi babe’ me. I’m mad at you.”

Your pout is instantaneous. “Babe,” you repeat, winding your arms around Leah’s waist. You know you’ve already won when you see the hints of a smile on her lips. 

Leah still tries to act annoyed, scrunching up her nose at you. “You’re so sweaty.”

“Kettle meet pot,” you roll your eyes, wiping at her forehead with your sleeve.

Leah’s quick to tangle her fingers with yours when your hand drops away from her face. She pulls your intertwined hands back up to her lips, pressing a light kiss against the back of yours. You can’t stop the instantaneous flushing of your cheeks. 

Georgia lets out a hoot, teasing the two of you, but Keira’s quick to drag her away, providing you two a bit of privacy. You make a mental note to thank her later. 

“You know how much of a sore loser I am. You couldn’t let Lessi score a couple more goals or anything?”

You throw your head back, laughing at the pout that’s now present on Leah’s face. “I’m sure I’d get kicked off the team if I let all of the forwards get past me.”

“Well not all of them. Just Less.”

You laugh again, drawing Leah into your arms. She instantly sags against you, tightening her grip around your body. 

“I’ve missed you.” The words are spoken directly into your neck, but you still manage to hear them.

“You saw me last week.”

You can almost feel Leah rolling her eyes at you. Rather than answer, she presses a discreet kiss against your skin. It takes everything in you not to let it show how flustered you’re starting to get.

“I’m trying to sweet talk you and all you’re going to focus on is how wrong I am?”

“Sorry babe. I missed you too.” It’s spoken with a little laugh, but both of you can hear the truth behind your words. 

Ever since getting together, it’s rare to not go more than a couple days without seeing each other. Even when going away for your national team camps, the two of you always made sure to facetime each other whenever possible, whether that meant losing a couple hours of sleep just to catch the other. However, this time around neither of you have been able to sneak away much alone time. Leah’s been busy with her captaining duties while your national teammates have been trying to soak up as much time as they can with you before they inevitably leave across the ocean again.

“Just a couple more days.” Just a couple more days before you’ll finally finish your round of games. Just a couple more days until you can put back on the familiar red and white you’ve come to call home. Just a couple more days and you can curl up in your girlfriend’s arms, not having to worry about leaving them for at least a couple more months.

Leah hums but doesn’t say anything else. 

For the next couple moments the two of you just try to soak all of it in. 

Wembley is crazy. It’s huge, it’s beautiful, it’s what every soccer player could only dream of. But you’re here. And so is Leah. Though not on the same team, at least you get to experience this together. 

Pressing one last kiss against Leah’s hairline, you pull away. She’s instantly pouting your way, sad of the missing heat. 

“Go out to dinner with us tonight?”

Leah starts to say something before she stiffens, eyes looking a couple inches above your shoulder. 

You don’t have to turn around to know she’s made accidental eye contact with your sister.

“Us as in…”

“Alex wants to meet you,” you apologetically confirm. You could only put this off so long before Alex takes it into her own hands. At least this way you’re able to control when and where it’ll happen. 

Almost as if she can sense the discussion surrounding her, Alex materializes right by your side. Leah almost jumps by how quickly the forward does so, but you’re quick to glare at your sister. 

Your eyes tell her everything you want to voice. 

Be nice. 

Alex rolls her eyes in response. Placing her arms around your shoulder, she all but shoves you out of the way so she’s standing in front of Leah herself. 

Scowling at Alex, you brush yourself off. You know she definitely hears your grumbled curses as you carefully come to stand beside your girlfriend. 

“Five.”

“Pardon?” Leah blinks, a bit confused by what Alex is trying to say. You’re a bit confused yourself, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern. 

“I know five different ways to make you disappear without a trace. You know, just in case you break my sister’s heart.”

“Alex!” Your jaw drops as you turn red.

“And trust me when I say no one will ever be able to prove anything.”

“Alex!” you hiss, this time with more vigor. 

Leah is quick to give your side a squeeze. She meets Alex’s eyes evenly. “If I ever break her heart, you’re probably going to have to get behind all of our Arsenal teammates who would be more than happy to help you make me disappear.”

“Leah, don’t encourage her!” you groan, dropping your head against her shoulder. 

Alex’s lip quirks up, amused by Leah’s response. Her eyes narrow a bit before she’s letting out a hum. “I like you.”

Leah lets out an awkward chuckle. “Thank you?”

For the second time in mere minutes, Alex bodies you out of the way, sliding up beside Leah as she loops an arm around your girlfriend’s shoulder. Alex’s serious face has dropped, and you’re not sure you like what you see there as she starts leading Leah away from you. 

“Now that we’ve got the whole shovel talk out of the way, which embarrassing story do you want to hear first?”

“Alexandra!”

You’re left chasing after them, cursing at Alex as you try to stop your sister from spilling any secrets.

[bygoneboy]

okay fine. it was nivanfield day yesterday and they still have me by the throat (nsfw wip under the cut)

“Never do that again,” says Chris, the minute the office door closes behind them. He can hardly look at him, fists clenching and unclenching. He paces past the internal office windows, snaps the blinds down preemptively; he has a gut-sinking feeling that they’re going to fight, that he’s going to start it. Piers can get under his skin in a way that no one else seems to be able to. Everyone knows it. More than anything, Chris hates knowing that everyone knows.

Like the low roll of thunder before a storm— Piers seems to sense the incoming argument. He starts to shuck off the tactical vest, rolling up his sleeves, moving stiff. “I’m doing my job, Chris.”

“Your job,” says Chris, so unbelievably furious that his voice shakes, “is negotiation. Your job is defusing aggression, retaining control. Not charging in like you’re still one of mine.”

Piers scoffs, straight out, and chucks the vest over the back of one of the office chairs. “Like you’d ever let me forget that I’m not.”

“I’m serious, Piers.”

“Yeah? So am I—”

“You could’ve been killed!”

“As if you’d care?!”

Piers gets close, fast. Chin up, defiant, like he’s going to throw a punch or shove him, but Chris moves first. Moves without thinking— gripping him by the shoulders, pushing him back until he hits the desk. Pinning him there. Breathing hard, through his nose, holding his gaze.

“Never fucking do that again,” repeats Chris, roughly this time, his voice dark, meaning of course I’d care, I care so much it fucking scares me, and how do you not know that by now? “Promise me.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore,” says Piers. “I’m not one of yours, remember?”

They stand there, both of them seething, for a long moment. Breathing each other’s air. He’s close enough that Chris can smell him, sweat and faint cologne. He’s close enough that when Piers’ eyes drop to Chris’s mouth, Chris tracks it.

He doesn’t want to fight. It’s been years since they were in the same room like this, since there was this much between them. And Chris is still angry but it’s all mixed up, tangled with the receding terror of watching Piers step out in front of him and the abrupt and dizzying surge of affection that always accompanies everything that Piers does, or says— so much had changed, after China. So much had been different, transformed to an irreversible degree, but not Piers. Never Piers. Not in the ways that mattered.

“Chris,” Piers says, swallowing hard, sounding like the wind has been knocked out of him. “Please, God, will you just—”

Chris fists one hand in Piers’ hair, pulls him in, and kisses him.

Piers goes stiff, for a moment. Then he makes a faint sound against him— relieved, a little annoyed— and he’s tipping his head up, parting his lips to let Chris kiss him: open-mouthed, hungrily, then sweetly. There’s something almost sad about the way he feels under Chris’s hands. The way he clutches at Chris’s fatigues like he’s trying to hold onto something beyond him. There’s something strangely tender about it, too. Especially when Chris gets his hand down Piers’ pants and Piers starts whimpering softly into his neck, his breath hot and damp, rolling his hips up into Chris’s grip.

“Oh, God,” he says, sounding anything but angry now. “Oh, fuck, Chris, I didn’t know if you’d want— if you still wanted—”

“You can’t go running in like that,” says Chris, his face hot, watching Piers’ eyes flutter closed, watching the way he bites his lip and shudders when Chris thumbs along the tip of his dick. “You know I’m right.”

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t— fucking try to argue with me when we’re, when you’re— fuck, yes, like that—”

“You shouldn’t have come back. You weren’t ready.”

“Fuck you,” says Piers, panting. “I’m not— ah— like you, I don’t take on anything I can’t handle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing, nevermind, God— touch me, just keep touching me, please—”

He gets Piers on his back on the desk, shoves his own pants down around his knees. There’s still a bottle of lube in the drawer, half-empty and embarrassingly untouched since Piers was here last; they’d used to fuck in his office a lot, when they were together. Not that they’ve ever been together for very long. He tries not to think about it, pumping two fingers in and out of him as Piers bites down on his left wrist to muffle the sounds he makes, the prosthetic on his right hooked under Chris’s arm. By the time he’s pushing inside of him— slowly, slowly, petting at Piers’ hair and mumbling stupid endearments, his legs shaking with the restraint— Chris is lost again. Still as desperate for him as he’s always been. Still desperate to try and keep it for once, though it can’t possibly last. 

“Enough of the suicidal shit,” says Chris when he’s all the way in, sunk deep, their foreheads pressed together, his mouth brushing over Piers’ lips when he speaks. “I can’t— fucking lose you. You know that.”

“Your timing sucks,” says Piers, his voice high and breathy, his eyes closed again, screwed up like he’s in pain.

“Promise me.”

“You won’t lose me,” says Piers. He sounds close to begging. His hips are twitching in Chris’s grip, trying to find friction, relief. “You want a promise? Fine. I’ll promise not to die if you promise to quit smoking.”

“I’m not fucking negotiating with you.”

Piers laughs. Then groans, startled and loud, when Chris pulls out nearly all the way and drives back into him again, hard and deliberate. Fucking him into the desk thinking I love you, I love you, that sharp laugh and the tight perfect heat of his body, the mean slant of his eyes when he’s pissed off. How he drives Chris right up to the breaking point but never just leaves him there— always walking him back from the edge again, as long as Chris will let him.

[sankttealeaf]

putting rue's letters she wrote to gale and gortash under the cut because idk where else to post them but the world has to read them too

i doubt theres any way to include them in the main fic because a) gale wont read his because rue is alive and b) gortash thinks its another taunt from orin and also won't read his

stupid men.

Gale, my love.

Please know there is nothing you could have done to change my mind.

With each day that passes I feel worse and worse with myself and you deserve something better than I can give right now. I’ve not been honest with you and the guilt is eating me alive, though I know it will be nothing compared to the hatred you will feel for me. I tried, countless times, to speak to you about this in person but my words get tangled in my throat and I end up pretending everything’s okay.

Everything is awful.

Since arriving in the city, since meeting Gortash, since getting a place here at the Elfsong I have lied to you every single day. You may already know, in fact I think you’re smart enough to have found out somehow.

I’ve been meeting with Gortash in secret. It started as a desperate attempt to regain my past but as each night went by and he told me less and less I realised I was going to him for other reasons. We’ve kissed. That’s the furthest we ever went. I need you to know this.

I’m going to finish this. By the time you’ve read this, there’s a high chance I may be dead. I want to end Orin, to destroy the temple of Bhaal and renounce my blood but I know that I will most likely not survive the outcome.

I love you. I really do. I think you were the first person I’ve ever said those words to. Love doesn’t sit well within me but with you it’s as easy as breathing. You were the best part of all of this and I’m glad fate fucked me so we could meet. You were the kindest person to me despite everything wrong in my blood and I have never felt hope as strongly as I have when I’m with you. I wish things were different. I would have loved going to Waterdeep with you, to meet Tara properly, to meet your mother, to have a nice life away from all this. There’s no soft endings for people like me. I understand that now.

And I’m sorry it has to end this way.

All my love,

Rue.

Gortash.

One day, you will die. Not by my hand, but by someone else’s who deserves to get their vengeance on the cruelties you put them through. If I could I would throw you to the masses for them to rip and tear into you but even then I think that death is too kind.

I didn't plan on writing this, nor am I entirely sure what I’m supposed to say. What do you say to someone you can’t ever remember loving? I truly believe she loved you. Rumour, that is. We both know we aren’t the same person anymore and it’s easier to think about her as a separate entity. Maybe that’s how I cope with what I’ve done. What we’ve done.

I think she loved you in such a way that it hurts me to see you go. Which is why I won’t be there. The thought of you dying kills me but I know I’m not supposed to feel like that. We were to die in each other’s arms when the whole world took its last breath. I can’t see you die before then.

I’m confronting Orin. Part of me knows that whatever happens, one of us will die. Maybe it will be me. Maybe this time she’ll finish the job. Or maybe Bhaal despises us both so much he plucks the blood from our bodies and kills us both. I’m fine with either.

I’m fine with death. A world with such kindness in it isn’t made for cruel hands like mine. I think I understand that now. I can only be forgiven if I leave this plane and that’s what I’m doing.

If our gods allow it, I would like to wait for you. Perhaps we can reconnect after death. You said that we will always find each other and I hope that whatever comes next for me, I will find you again. Maybe I’ll be a bird that nests outside your window. Maybe then I’ll finally feel free.

Enver. You were her friend. She did love you. I need you to know that. I’m sorry it’s come down to this. There’s no other way.

Forgive me.

Rue.

[corrodedbisexual]

Love blooms, love hurts, love prevails

Steddie | M | angst (but the bittersweet kind) with a happy ending | ~5.5k

AO3 link

The flower sickness is ruthless; its seeds grow on love, and if love is locked away in secret, inside the cage of one's heart, nowhere to go, it will eventually kill its host. When Eddie starts coughing up blooms for Steve, he has no choice but to confess his feelings. He never expected his straight friend to reciprocate; but at least his worst fears don't come true, Steve still seems happy to have him around. And, with his feelings out in the open, Eddie's no longer at risk of choking to death on another flower, so there's that to be thankful for. After overcoming some initial awkwardness, Eddie finds joy in whatever closeness he can have, in Steve just letting him love him in small, seemingly insignificant ways. Their friendship grows, eventually blurring the edges between platonic love and something more.

So, uh. I read this post about hanahaki with a twist and immediately became obsessed. I mean. OBSESSED. Huge thanks to OP @lovedumbandbroke for this inspo. I am kissing their brain.

@sidekick-hero thanks for the encouragement my dear! 🧡

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

"Son, you can't go on like this."

Eddie's uncle sits next to him on his bed, rubbing his back gently as Eddie still wheezes, struggles to get his breathing back to normal. A giant, fist-size peony blossom lies on the floor in front of him, looking pretty and innocent, as if it hasn't just nearly choked him to death. 

“Whoever it is," Wayne insists. "You gotta tell him. I know it’s scary.” 

“Terrifying,” Eddie croaks, wincing. Using his vocal chords right after another… incident, always feels like sandpaper on the inside of his throat. 

“I know, buddy. Look,” Wayne pulls on his shoulder, makes him look up. “What’s the worst thing you think will happen? Can he hurt you?”

“No.” Eddie shakes his head, confident. At least there’s one thing he’s sure about. “No, he wouldn’t. I think…” He takes a breath that’s suddenly a little too deep for his lungs, and he coughs again; thankfully, no petals come out this time. He takes another careful sip of water from the glass his uncle brought. “I think he just wouldn’t wanna be around me anymore. And that would really, really suck.”

They sit in silence for a moment. 

“Promise me you’ll do something about this, Eddie,” Wayne finally asks. “I just… I can’t keep wondering if you’re gonna make it through the night.” 

Eddie lets out a sigh, is grateful for the lack of coughing to accompany it, despite the burning in his chest.

“Yeah. Okay. I will.” He nods, determined. “I’ll tell him. Tomorrow. M’sorry for worrying you.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s my job to worry.” Wayne squeezes his shoulder once more before standing up. “I’m gonna make some mint tea, should be good for your throat.”

When his uncle leaves the room, Eddie picks up the flower, absentmindedly starts tearing the petals off of it, one by one. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, his brain stupidly supplies, and oh no, he’s not doing that. He throws the tattered remains of the flower across the room, experiencing mild satisfaction when it lands right inside the trashcan. 

Eddie flops back on the mattress with a frustrated groan. Fuck, he was so careful. His whole teenage life, he stayed far away from all the straight pretty boys, precisely for this reason. They were dangerous. Getting close to anyone that way was dangerous, he knew he had the seeds of the disease in him; his mother died from it, too scared of his father to do something about the feelings she had for another person. 

And just as he was almost safe, has almost graduated, almost out of Hawkins and on his way to Indianapolis or Chicago or any other place he had a real shot of meeting someone he could be with… Steve goddamn Harrington had to barge into his life, literally save him from the brink of death, and then stick around, god knows why, maybe just to torture Eddie with his stupid doe eyes and sunshine smiles. 

The rest on AO3

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Drive (6x02)

It ended just as it had begun: seeing red.

This morning she was cooking, just like she had every morning they’d been together, and then she got a nosebleed — the first nosebleed he’d ever seen her get in their twenty years of marriage. She tried to smile and reassure him that she was okay, but it was hard to take her word for it when the blood had seeped into her mouth and stained her teeth crimson. 

A few hours later, he was staring at her blood oozing down the side of a cop’s window.

Patrick didn’t initially realize that’s what he was looking at. It was like his mind turned the splatter into a Rorschach test out of pure self-preservation. Was it the reflection of the Nevada terrain on the window? Did he burst a blood vessel in his eye? He would have gladly accepted any explanation over the truth.

“Guns down! Guns down!” someone screamed.

“No one has discharged their weapon, sir!” another voice replied.

“Vicky?” he called out, swallowing harshly against the gritty dirt that mixed with the saliva in his mouth.

He found himself missing the cacophony of noise that had been following him for the past few hours. The sickening silence of no one knowing what to say was worse than anything he’d ever heard.

“Help her!” he screamed at the man staring inside the back seat.

The man gently opened the back door and quickly fell to his knees as he tried to keep Vicky’s slumped form from hitting the ground.

From his vantage point, he could see his favorite spot to kiss her was no longer there, only viscera, bone, and red.

So much red.

* * *

“So, want to tell us how this all began, O.J.?”

Patrick kept his gaze steady on the interrogation room table, but in his periphery, he saw the other agent elbow the comedian before clearing his throat.

“We just want to say we’re really sorry about your loss, Patrick.”

“Mr. Crump,” he replied. His voice was hoarse from screaming, but he’d be damned if he took a sip from the bottle of water they’d given him.

“I’m sorry?”

Raising his face to meet the stare of the rookie cop, he seethed, “It’s Mr. Crump to you.”

The kid had the decency to look chagrined and nodded politely. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Pointedly, the older cop added, “From the beginning.”

He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less, but he was too exhausted to fight anymore. “My wife wasn’t feeling good this morning. Got a nosebleed, then the worst headache I’ve ever seen.”

“What was wrong with her?” 

Patrick wrung his hands in frustration, only for it to serve as a reminder that they’d taken his wedding band from him as ‘evidence.’ “My neighbor, Lois, she suffers from these things called cluster headaches. Said it’s the worst pain a human being can experience. I thought that might be what Vicky had, but fifteen minutes after the nosebleed, she looked like she was just… screaming. I’ve never heard anything like that before, so I wanted to take her down the road to Lovelace Medical Center.”

Two sets of eyebrows shot up, but the younger one was the first to comment. “You realize you overshot Lovelace by nearly 100 miles?”

“Keep driving, Patrick! Oh my god, it’s killing me. You have to keep going!”

“I know,” he sighed.

“...why?” the older partner prodded before taking a swig from his thermos. The movement caused the fluorescent lights to cast a shine on the man’s golden wedding band, and Patrick felt the knife twist deeper. 

This oaf of a man got to come to work, fail to prevent another man’s wife from dying, and then go home and lay down with his own like nothing happened. Just another day on the job. Meanwhile, Vicky was dead. Last night they’d watched Leno, she gossiped about some of her coworkers, and he turned in early. He didn’t make last night special because he didn’t know it would be their last night. Then this morning, she died alone and in pain in the back of some pig’s car.

“Where’s my wife?” he seethed.

“We can’t-”

“Where’s my wife?!” he screamed, slamming his fist down on the table, ignoring how the cuffs bit into his wrists.

“The morgue. We need to investigate her death,” the younger cop explained, raising his hands as if he were trying to approach a wild animal.

Patrick bit the flesh of his inner cheek, trying to hold back tears as he imagined his wife. Vicky was so scared of the dark, and she was so claustrophobic. He didn’t want her to be in one of those metal boxes in the wall. He didn’t want her to be scared.

“Why did you keep driving?” the older man pushed, emphasizing each word pointedly.

“ I don’t want to die. Patrick, help me. I need you.”

“You act like this is the first weird thing to happen around here,” Patrick spat. He couldn’t explain the truth. They’d make a mockery of him. Worse, they’d make a mockery of her. 

They’d been normal yesterday. They’d done nothing wrong.

“Mr. Crump-”

“Don’t!” Patrick screamed. “You spray our food with poison. You pollute our water supply with chemicals. Don’t look at me like I should know what you did to her! I’ve seen it thousands of times over. You think we don’t matter, that we’re expendable. She mattered. Don’t you dare-”

“That’s enough,” the older officer shouted, standing up. He shook his head at the two-way mirror, and sighed “This isn’t going anywhere. Take him back to his cell, let the doctor check him out.”

Patrick didn’t know what they were expecting from him. He didn’t have the answers they were looking for. He didn’t know why she felt better when the car was headed west. He didn’t know why they couldn’t stop. 

All he knew was that his wife was dead.

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@gaycrouton

[edosianorchids901]

Freeze This Moment

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "how it ends"

The attack came out of nowhere. A shrieking laugh, sunlight glinting off a blade, and pain erupted in Aziraphale’s side.

The next strike slashed his leg. Gasping, Aziraphale tried to back up, to scramble away from the demon. His leg crumpled, damaged muscle unable to support him, and he fell. “Oh, stop that! That’s very rude. There’s no reason for this.”

The demon loomed over him, grinning, holding out a bloody sword. “Well, well. Little angel can’t defend itself, eh? Too weak to fight back?”

“Hardly,” Aziraphale said, weakly. “I-I’m just… giving you a chance to surrender.”

Unlike the bluff that he and Crawley had managed in so successfully in Job’s barn, this attempt only made the demon laugh again. “Oh, I won’t be surrendering, and neither will you. Time to die, featherbrain.”

Aziraphale ducked his head, shivering as he clutched at the wound in his side. He could perhaps attempt to miracle himself away, but he wasn’t able to focus very well. He’d be just as likely to miracle himself into a mountainside.

So he simply sat there, bleeding, gazing up in resignation as the demon conjured Hellfire on their fingertips. So, he thought. This is how it ends.

He simply closed his eyes as the Hellfire shot towards him. There was no sense in trying to fight anymore. God had a plan, after all, and it seemed that his part in that plan ended here.

He had accomplished some good, at least. Healed the sick, saved children, shown kindness to a lonely demon. It hadn’t been a wasted life.

It was a life that, inexplicably, hadn’t ended yet. Why wasn’t he on fire? It should have been over by now.

Confused, Aziraphale cracked one eye open. He yelped at the immediate sight of flames right in front of his face.

“Don’t touch that!” a very familiar voice snapped. “Angel, get back, now!”

Aziraphale scrambled back, then slumped to the sand as his head spun wildly. Agony tore through his wounds, and he couldn’t catch his breath. But while yes, he was hurt, he wasn’t dead.

“Crawley?” he asked, woozy. “What’re you doing?”

“Saving your damn life.” Crawley, dressed very similarly to their last encounter but with a slightly shorter beard, frowned at the other demon. The other demon wasn’t moving, and neither was the Hellfire. “How the deuce did you wind up tangling with Hastur, anyway?”

“Hastur? Oh, him?” Aziraphale struggled to understand, to make sense of this. “I-I don’t know. Bumped into him. Didn’t get my guard up in time. Why isn’t he killing me?”

“I said, I’m saving your life.” Crawley was breathing hard, jaw clenched as he stalked around the frozen demon. “Stopped time. Can’t hold it for long, though, not against a Duke. You have any holy water on you?”

“Um,” Aziraphale said, still reeling. “No?”

“Pity. Oh well.” Brow deeply furrowed, Crawley gnawed on his lip. Then, with a decisive nod, he tugged Hastur’s sword out of the clenched fist and slashed it across his throat.

“Oh!” Aziraphale flinched away as blood sprayed across the white sand. “Crawley, was that really necessary?”

“If you knew Hastur, you wouldn’t be asking that.” Lips pursed, Crawley brushed his fingers against the sparks of Hellfire. They extinguished. “Besides, he was about to light you up like… like something that gets lit up. You okay?”

“Oh, um…” Shivering, Aziraphale pressed harder against the gushing wound on his side. “Not exactly. Um. Crawley, what do we do now?”

Crawley dropped the sword in the sand by him. “You pick that up. Just hold it out for a second, like you’re slashing or stabbing or something.”

“Well, do you want me to look like I’m slashing or stabbing?”

“I dunno, whatever soldiers do?” Making a face again, Crawley shrugged. “You’re the expert. Principality and all that.”

Aziraphale did as he asked, head still spinning with confusion. But he’d trusted Crawley in Job’s barn, and their improvised scheme had fooled Archangels. They could certainly handle a Duke of Hell.

After ducking behind Hastur, Crawley winked. Then he snapped his fingers.

Time restarted, apparently, and Hastur let out a shriek that turned into a gurgle. His black eyes widened as he stared at Aziraphale, at the sword, at the blood gushing down his front. “You… you… how did…”

He fell over and went utterly still. Aziraphale let the sword drop, his muscles shaking too badly to hold it up. He thought he might pass out.

Crawley edged forward and kicked Hastur in the side, then grinned. “Nice work, angel. He’s discorporated.”

“Lovely,” Aziraphale said, and then fell over too.

Everything went a bit blurry for a bit, the world dimming. But there were gentle hands touching Aziraphale, so very gentle, and that soothed any fear.

When the world became less blurry, Aziraphale blinked and looked up in confusion. Crawley smiled, although he looked quite tired now. “Hi, angel. Think I got everything healed. Better?”

Aziraphale’s body still ached, but he didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore He managed a weak nod. “Much better, yes. You… you helped me. Why?”

Crawley shrugged. “Because I could.”

He said it quite casually, but Aziraphale knew better, and he would forever treasure this moment of kindness. Crawley had saved him because deep down, he really was quite a good person.

[imthetunnelunderoceanblvd]

Haii, it was awesome to read something dark with the recoms and human fem reader. Maybe a part 2 with the others, I'llgive some short ideas for each.

like Mansk blackmailing reader ( coughOnlyFanscough) to get what he wants. He's got that hacker look

Ja being a medic, so he's gotta hang out a lot at the lab right? So he may use some aphrodisiac drug on reader 'accidentally'

Lopez kiNda looks like a dangerous guy with all of his tattoos. Maybe he scares off the others by threatening them or bullying reader into dating him.

Prager seems like Im nice but not actually. He could be a manipulator type.

yes. i swear i was going to write for the others too but i’m busyyy n my brains not working anymore :( i also made the ja one x male reader cuz idk what happened to me cuz im missing the feeling of being a dude idk omg.

rape/non-con. with the recoms.

part 1 ft. recom. miles quaritch & recom. lyle wainfleet.

1. mansk x single mother!fem!reader. 2. ja/alexander x m!reader.

warnings: vaginal fingering, lactation kink, gay oral sex (m. rec.), pet names, blackmailing, kidnapping?, humiliating, mentions of killing, no proofreading

mansk: you both agreed that its a one night thing. it was too much and you couldn’t handle not being filled anymore. it went nice and smooth and you liked it, you did, really. mansk knew that it was a one night stand and he was fine with it, really, didn’t even care, but the whole thing with you, how small your wrists were, how your tits fit perfectly in his hands, how the way your tummy bulged when he was thrusting into you, he had to record it. and he did. he thought if he recorded it, he could use it against you. and that’s exactly what he did.

“you have no other choice,” you looked at him in disbelief, did he really record the entire thing... why would he even do that, the questions swam in your head as you stared at him with wide eyes, “no, no, no, no i can’t i can’t we can’t this is so wrong. oh god. please just forget about it we can’t do this. let’s both forget about it, please, mansk, let’s not talk about it ever again, okay? please...” he let out a low chuckle, “no, doll, listen, you either go there to the table, bend over and lift your pretty skirt up and let me do you, or else i’ll show general ardmore everything. you know how strict she is with the rules and shit, it’s up to you, really, in the end you’re the one who will lose a job, not me.” it was true. you will end up losing everything you’ve worked hard for. you won’t even have enough money to raise your kid, to provide him a good life and a good school. you bit your lip and looked up at him, your glossy eyes meeting his yellow ones before your hands went to the hem of your skirt, lifting it up exposing your lower body to him, “lose the shirt too,” it came out of his mouth more of a suggestion rather than a command, and like the good girl you are you unbuttoned all the buttons exposing your chest to his hungry gaze, you felt like a slice of meat for him to devour.

“what are you waiting for?” mansk said, slightly annoyed, he wanted to feel your soft skin, wanted to kiss your plump lips, wanted to feel the soft texture of your hair, he wanted you. he couldnt take it anymore. couldn’t bare not being able to touch you, his face dropped when he saw you looking at your feet with a shade of pink tinting your cheek, he lifted you face up look at him using his index and thumb, “what is it what’s wrong pretty girl?” your eyes met his sharp ones, you swallowed the lump in your throat before replying, “i can’t bend i - i’m -” he just gave you a low ‘oh’ realizing what you were trying to say “it’s okay, baby, you’ll just lay down nd look pretty for me, okay?” you nodded your head and went to your bed and layed down on your bed, mansk was towering over you, his long legs spread on each side of your body as his hand fondling with your left breast, his mouth already kissing and sucking on your right breast, giving teasy licks to your already hard nipple before taking it in his mouth, his hand started massaging the skin as he sucked, you let out a high pitched moan as you his knee between your legs rubbing your heat as his mouth sucked harder and harder, it was too much. the way he was fondling with your sore tits, sucking and biting at the sensetive bud, your hand went to his face trying to push him off of your chest but you stopped when you felt the liquid gush out of your nipple and into his mouth, his hand started kneading your other breast.

mask let out a low growl at the feeling of your warm milk oozing out of your hard nipple and landing on your hand as he drank your pearly white milk still squeezing your tits, “s-stop please c-can’t do this nymore please,” his eyes met your glossy ones while your mascara was running down your bambi eyes.

you didnt even notice when he flipped you so he was laying on the bed and you were on top of him, didn’t even notice when his dick started running up and down your slit stopping at youe enterance just to tease you for a bit before sliding it inside of your warm gummy walls, the moan he let out made you even wetter knowing that you are the one who is making an alien feel that good, could you even deny that it made you feel good inside? made you feel warm? could you deny that you like the feeling of a big cock thrusting in and out of you?

the friction on your clit from his pubic bone along with the brutal thrusting of his cock was enough to make a knot form in your lower belly, you couldn’t even tell how long it’s been it sure was longer than 40 minutes from the way he was covered in sweat. he was close, you knew it from the way his chest was rapidly rising and falling a few more long and deep thrusts made you release all over him, coating him with a sticky clear liquid, his hands went from your hips to your waist, wrapping his arms around you as he brought you down to his chest, hearing his heart beat was calming and sad. knowing that hes doing this to you, oh how you wanted to tear his skin apart and rip his heart out of his body, but you couldn’t do anything, why would you anyway? after a few strokes you flet a warm liquid being pumped inside you, his hand petting your head, stroking your hair as he kissed your hair line, “let’s stay like this forever, y/n, just you and me and your child, i’ll protect you, sweetheart,” you sobbed at his words, how could he say that? how could he be in your and your sons life? “i hate you. i hate you. i hate you.” you yelled clawing at his chest as he kissed your head more making a few shh noises. you closed your eyes for a second and opened them again when you heard a loud cry, “let me go. my son needs me.”

ja: the first time he saw you was in the lab, opening his eyes to someone like you was a heavenly thing, he loved the way your hair would fall down on your face, the way your skillful hands touched his body, it was amazing, it was as if he was being electric shocked. oh how happy he was when you told him he’s doing a good job when he first opened his eyes, touching finger, feeling the rough skin of his fingertips, wriggling his toes, he wanted you to praise him more, it was not enough.

on one rainy night, you were protected in the warmth of your blankets, eyes closed, you groaned when you heard a knock on your door followed by ja’s voice, you hurridly got up and looked for your sweatpants, pulling them up to legs before slightly opening the door, “alexander. what brings you here?” you peeked out the door asking with a hint of annoyance in your tone, ja swallowed a bit already nervous, his hands sweating as he spoke “i, uh, i was out with the others, and we got attacked by nasty wolves, and they kind of, hurt my back and i can’t really reach the area, i was thinking maybe you could land me a hand?” you looked at him and opened the door for him, he towered and walked through the door and sat on your bed, “i’m sorry i didn’t have enough time to throw a shirt on, i’ll put one on right now if it’s bothering you,” “no no it’s okay i don’t - i don’t mind,” it was true. he didn’t mind, it was lovely to watch your chest, your toned abs, your tight chest, pink nipples, it was a heavenly sight, just like you.

“so you got attacked by a nantang?” you hummed and walked to your closet opening it and reaching for the first aid kit and walked back to him “imma gonna need you to take your shirt off,” he nodded his head and took off his shirt, you walked closer and sat behind him on the bed, your hands went to his back your fingers caressing the the wound on his back, “doesn’t look that bad, i’ll just disinfect it, it’s a tiny scratch,” you chuckled and dipped into the tiny bag and reached for a tiny neatly packaged stach of disinfectant wipes, tearing the paper and running the tiny cloth on the wound.

ja let out a hiss, “it hurts?”

“no. it does not,” you hummed and put the tiny cloth on the bed next to you, “all finished looks as good as a new,” you chuckeled and kissed the wound, how could a very innocent act turn him on? pathetic, he turned around and looked at you, “y/n, i,” his hand went to yours and putting it on his chest, “here - can you feel that? feel how my heart is beating, it is beating for you, y/n i want to kiss you, want to hold you, want you all for myself, please y/n, please, say yes, be with me, we can have a really nice live together. i’ll love you forever,” he smiled a little but his smile quickly dropped when you shook your head, “i’m sorry i can’t - i’m not a - i’m not into guys. i do appreciate your feelings though, and i won’t look at you in a different way, i’m your friend, ja,” you said and placed your hand on his shoulder giving a few gentle squeezes.

his heart was shattered, and all he was seeings was red maybe if he showed you a good time you’d give in and be with him, maybe you’re not sure of your sexuality! yes! that must be it, that was only alexanders mind playing jokes on him, cause everytime you touched him, smiled his way, or even laughed at his cheesy jokes it was friendly. all of it. he mistook the signs, he was uncapable of withdrawing his hand as it went to your throat, squeezing, making the air run out of your lungs, his lips crashed to yours, your eyes wide with tears, your face red, you couldn’t breath, you clawed at arms, slapped him on his head to no avail, his free hand was fondling with his belts, undoing his buttons and unzipping them and pulling his dick out, the way you were helpessly and patheticly squirming turned him even more.

his lips left your after what felt like forever for you and his hand went to your hair now, pulling you up to your as you let out a pained whimper, his hand stroking his hard member, with your mouth open letting out pained moans, with his left hand cupping you chin je maneuvered the head of my cock between his lips and you closed around it, unsure abd surprised of what he had put inside your mouth, immediately he pushed forward and sank a good seven inches into your mouth and down your throat, you gagged briefly, then settled, and didn’t pull away.

curiousity took over you and the tip of your tongue danced on his slit and he let our a groan.

“good boy, my good boy,” ja said and started rougly thrusting his cock in and out.

a lot of saliva was running down his shaft and his balls, he kept thrusting in and out, his big balls slapping on your chin as he towered over you, biting his lips, “that’s it, take it all - fuck yes - don-don’t stop, you like that, princess, don’t you?” it was humiliating and embarrassing how a few words made your face burn up, one: due to the lack of oxygen, two: due to the way he was spitting words at you.

with both of his hands on your head he pushed you all the way down, your nose burried in black wirey pubes, your hands went to his abs scratching and throwing punches, it started really strong and then it became weak punches, tears were filling your eyes, making your vision blurry and foggy, his cock pulsed a few times inside your throat before your eyes closed, your feet gave up and you sank to your knees, your hands went to your sides, unable to move anymore you were in a black like void.

he didn’t stop tho, still thrusting into you before pulling out and cumming on your face, his seed landing on your eyes, forehead, cheeks, and nose, even your hair didn’t survive the semen rain.

“you’re comin’ back with me.” ja said as he succuried you in his arms.

@tieflingteeth

[writingfanficsfan]

Sherstrade wip.

“What are you doing?” 

“Evening, Lestrade.” 

“What are you doing in my bed, Sherlock?” Greg asks, his stomach doing a flip when Sherlock shifts and his naked chest is exposed for a moment. Sherlock reaches for the sheets, Greg’s sheets, to cover himself before giving Greg a bored look. 

“Resting.” 

“Resting?” 

“Yes. It’s been a long day. For both of us, I imagine.” Sherlock says, eyes going over Greg and Greg instantly straitens, shoulders pulling back, sucking in his stomach. It’s almost on autopilot now, not wanting to show Sherlock how tired he is or how old he feels. Not that Sherlock would comment on either of those things but still, it’s hard not to think about it when a gorgeous man like Sherlock is looking at him. Looking at him from inside his bed, clearly without a shirt on. 

Greg clears his throat, pulling off his tie and placing it on the dresser, very aware of Sherlock’s eyes on him. 

“You’re not wrong about that. The paperwork is going to be hell. How is-” Greg gestures to Sherlock’s cheek, seeing a faint blue shimmer to it. 

“It’s manageable. I’ve had worse.” Sherlock answers, touching his cheek, shrugging a shoulder, and making one side of the sheet fall down again. 

“It was stupid. Going after him like that.” Greg says, ignoring Sherlock’s naked shoulder as best he can. Irritation builds up again as he remembers that moment. Sherlock running after one suspect without backup. Greg worried half out of his mind because he couldn’t go after him. Snapping at Sally when she finally was there so he could hand his suspect over and then rush after Sherlock. Angry with himself when he started to run and his legs began to ache, another reminder that he was getting older. His near heart attack when he heard the gunshot and feared the worst for a moment. before Sherlock called out his name. The grin on Sherlock’s face when Greg finally reached him, the suspect unconscious by his feet, gun a little further away. 

“He was trying to escape.” Sherlock says, a hint of defiance in his voice that makes Greg clench his hands into fists. Sherlock looks at him with his jaw set tight but Greg just crosses his arms. 

“Tell me I’m wrong, Sherlock. Tell me what you did was perfectly logical.” Greg counters, raising his chin and Sherlock shifts in bed, eyes going down for just a second and Greg snorts, uncrossing his arms and stepping closer to the bed. 

“That’s what I thought. You could have been killed. You do know that right?” Greg asks, seeing the eye roll and letting out a soft growl. Sherlock’s eyes snap to his, so wide it’s almost comical and Greg sighs, running his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling tired all over again. 

 “Now, that still doesn’t explain why you’re here, in my bed.” Greg says after he rubs his forehead, finally taking off his suit jacket and hanging it up. He turns back around, raising an eyebrow and Sherlock shifts, finding a more comfortable position. 

“Like I said, I’m resting.” 

“You can rest at home. In your own bed.” 

“But my bed is cold. This one isn’t.” 

“Sherlock- I swear to god, I don’t have the patience for this.” Greg says, pinching the bridge of his nose, one hand clenching into a fist. He’s tired. He’s soar. He feels old and somewhat useless. Just running those few minutes had made him gasp for breath, knees protesting and muscles aching. Maybe he wasn’t fit enough for the job anymore? Maybe he was getting too old. He certainly felt too old tonight. 

Too old and too fat. 

“Seriously, I just want to go to sleep. I don’t have the patience to deal with whatever this is, Sherlock.” Greg says again, meeting Sherlock’s gaze, a little startled by the expression on his face. Sherlock regards him, eyes going up and down his body and Greg’s stomach muscles contract again. Sherlock moves, the sheet falling off of him again and Greg can’t help but stare at his naked chest, his long neck and shoulders. There are freckles and molds there and Greg swallows, suddenly feeling less tired but more on edge. There’s a little smile starting at Sherlock’s mouth, something in his eyes that makes Greg’s heart skip a couple of beats. 

“You want to have sex with me.”

Just the beginning of the new fic, with help from some not used parts of older fics. @chained-to-the-mirror

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Bleeding Heart (Part 2)

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: After you sacrificed yourself to save him, Rick hasn't been able to move on. But as his self-destructive behavior reaches an all-time high, a visit from the most unlikely of people may be able to set him straight.

Word Count: 2456

TW: Ghost Reader (?), Reader Death (again), Excessive Drinking, Depression

Part 1, Part 2

Series Masterlist

Rick stared up at the water-stained ceiling above his head. The cheap motel bed offered little more comfort than the floor, but he was too wasted to really notice. And another long drag from his nearly empty bottle didn’t help things. But he couldn’t care less. In the span of a few hours, he had lost everything. His job, his military career, his respect for the country he had sworn to protect, Ace…. A final chug finished the bottle.

Of course, it had now been over a week since all that occurred. Corto Maltese was little more than a memory at this point. And so was she. Rick ran his hand down his bare chest until his fingers found the puckered scar that lay just above his heart. The scar that you hadn’t been able to completely erase before your strength gave out. The only proof he still had that you were once real.

But as much as he loved to run his fingers over that evidence of your existence, he also hated it with every fiber of his being. It was a constant reminder of why you were gone. What had been sacrificed for him to still be here. How he had failed you. And he hadn’t even been able to properly avenge your death. Rick had been beyond furious to find out DuBois had already killed Peacemaker by the time he found them. He had wanted the joy of watching the life slip from his eyes just as he had been forced to watch it slip from yours. But that was just another thing that had been taken from him.

Rick’s phone buzzed on the table next to the bed, but he ignored it. It was either Harley or DuBois, and he didn’t want to talk to either of them. He knew they were worried about him, but he didn’t care. He just didn’t care about anything anymore. What was the point? He had lost everything, and he didn’t have the will to keep trying, to keep going. All he wanted now was another bottle.

“Hey, Rick.”

Slowly lifting his head, Rick’s eyes grew wide as he recognized the figure standing at the foot of the bed. He knew it was impossible, yet there you were. In the same dirt and blood splattered clothes you had been wearing the last time he saw you. Your skin was translucent, shimmering as you moved but he could see it was solid and had substance to it. And your face…. a sad smile across your lips, but your eyes shone with light and life. Ace? How?....Oh God, I should not have had that last bottle.

You chuckled softly, the sound catching Rick’s breath in his throat. “No, you shouldn’t have. But that’s not how I’m here.”

You can hear me? My thoughts? How…

“I don’t fully understand it either, but I think it has to do with the fact I gave all of me to save you. Some piece got stuck within you, I guess.”

But then why am I just seeing you now? Why didn’t you show up days ago?

“I was trying to spare you the pain of seeing me like this. Of seeing me at all. I thought it would be easier for you to move on without me hanging around.”

What changed?

“You did, Rick. Look at you! The last three nights you have ended up passed out drunk, alone, in this gross motel room. And if I hadn’t shown up now, you would have been reaching for another one of those bottles in a few minutes. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Baby….this isn’t you.”

Maybe it is now. I don’t know who I am anymore. I lost everything that day. I lost you…and I lost me. And this is the only way I can forget, even for just a little while.

“You don’t have to forget. Forgetting never fixed anything. You need to try to find a way to move on, start your new life, figure out who you want to be now. You are finally free to do whatever you want without Waller breathing down your neck.”

But what I want is you. You should have just let me die instead of you.

“And if I did, what would have happened to me? Even if Waller let me go with everyone else, someone would have taken her place. Found out what I could do and forced me to help them. I told you before, this was inevitable. Isn’t it better that I got to choose? That I got to give everything to save the man I love instead of a random stranger?”

No, not when it was me. Not when I’m the reason you’re gone. How do I live with that?

“How do you not? How do you keep laying here, killing yourself with alcohol night after night? How do you just keep throwing away the life I gave you? How do you keep wasting my sacrifice like this?”

Because…. there is no life worth livin’ without you in it.

“Bullshit! That’s just the whiskey and beers talking. Rick, I love you and I know you loved me, but come on! We only knew each other for a little more than a year. I am not worth throwing your life away for!”

But apparently, I was worth throwing yours away for.

“That’s not fair and you know it! I didn’t have a life to live, you do! Why can’t you just suck it up and live it!”

“Because I still feel you with me! Every day! Every moment! Every beat of this damn heart! How do I move on when every breath I take is just a reminder of you! Of what I took from you!” It was the first time that Rick had actually spoken out loud, his voice filling the small room. As the sound slowly faded, he hung his head in shame.

Slowly, you moved from the foot of the bed, stopping when you were standing just a few inches away from him. “Rick, you didn’t take anything from me. I gave it to you of my own free will. In fact, you tried to stop me. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

I promised you I would get you out, that I would keep you safe, that I would have your back.

“And I promised the same thing. One of us was going to eventually have to break that promise. We both knew, deep down, how this story was going to end.”

Fine, say that’s true. But if you want me to move on so badly, why are you showing up? Why didn’t you just leave me alone? Why don’t you just move on?

“I would if I could. I know what this is doing to you, and I’m so sorry. But I told you, my heart was always yours. I guess by giving you a part of my physical heart as well, a part of me still lives in you.”

But that’s not possible.

“Rick, the team just defeated a thousand-foot-tall pink-and-blue space starfish who asexually reproduced thousands of babies which then mind controlled their victims. Yet it’s crazy to think a small piece of my soul could have been transferred to you when I healed you?”

But what does that even mean? If you’re really still here, if a part of you is still alive…. Can I bring you back?

You shook your head sadly. “No, I don’t think so. And I’m afraid what it may do to you if we tried.”

So once again, you can sacrifice yourself for me but I’m not allowed to do the same for you.

“I know, my sweet boy, it doesn’t seem fair. But…”

But nothin’! I saved your body from the wreckage of the building and it’s still in the morgue. We can try something! Anything! I can’t let this be how things end. I need you, Ace. Please.

You whispered a single word. When he stared at you in confusion, you said, "It's my real name."

And at that moment, Rick knew. Up until then, he thought this might all just be a dream brought on by the grief, the alcohol, or some combination of the two. But, hearing your actual name, he knew. This was real. You truly were still with him. And some tiny rational part of his mind nagged at him that it might not be your real name. It might just be something his brain selected to fill in the blank. But deep down, he could feel it. Even as it passed like a whisper from his lips, he could feel it in his bones that it was true. That name was yours. Which meant this ghost, spirit, echo, memory, whatever you were, was also really you too.

He reached out a hand, hesitating just before it made contact, but then pressed it to your cheek. With a weighty sigh, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. Your skin gave off only the slightest warmth and the consistency of your form felt more like touching a shadow than an actual person, but it was still you.

He pulled your face in, lips ready to crush against yours, but your hushed voice gave him pause. “Rick…. don’t. Don’t do this.”

He rested his forehead gently against yours, the sensation no more than a brush against his skin. “Why? You’re here. We can still be what we were. We can still be us.”

You licked your lips while you gazed longingly at his. “Because it’s not us. Because it’s not real. We can’t be what we were, and this will just make the heartbreak that much harder when the time comes. So, I’m asking you, please don’t do this.”

“Darlin’, I don’t care. The heartbreak is already bad enough, this can only make it better. I thought I had lost all of you. And if this…. remnant, this ghost of your soul is all I have left, I’ll take it. And if it’s gone tomorrow…I don’t want to have wasted the time we could have had together.” He could see you hesitating, defenses slowly breaking down. “At least give us the chance to say goodbye.”

You paused for just a second longer before smashing your lips into his, knocking Rick onto his back on the bed. Even with the force behind it, he only felt a slight weight wherever you made contact with him, but he didn’t care. It was more than he thought he would ever have again. He wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you tighter against his strong frame. He could feel a slight dampness on his cheeks as they brushed against your face, wiping away your tears. With your bodies pressed so closely together, he could feel each of your hearts beat in perfect synchronicity.

He rolled over, taking you with him so that you now lay beneath his massive form. Burying his face into your neck, he gently trailed kisses down your throat and across your collarbone. Your hand brushed across his chest, and you suddenly stiffened, inhaling sharply. “Oh!”

Rick pulled away to glance at your stunned face. “What? What is it?”

You blinked a few times before a small smile spread across your face. “I-I understand now. I know what I have to do. I know how to give us both the peace we need.”

“No, darlin’, no. Just don’t do it. Just stay here with me. We’ll find a way to make this work. Together.”

“Oh, Rick. We already got more time than we were supposed to. This moment was a gift, but it’s time to move on.” You took his face in your hands. “But you have to promise me something. Promise me you’ll live your life. That you won’t stay holed up in these sleezy motels, drowning yourself in liquor. Not over me. Please, baby.”

Rick squeezed his eyes together tightly, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall. “I’ll try. I can’t guarantee the results, but I promise to try.”

You kissed his forehead. “That is all anyone can ask.” Pulling back, you placed one hand gently over his heart once again. “I love you. I will always love you. And even when I’m gone, know you still carry my love with you wherever you go.”

He felt the familiar pull across his chest as his remaining injuries began to stitch themselves together. His gaze never left your face as your eyes fluttered closed and the most peaceful smile Rick had ever seen bloomed across your lips. Then, in a brilliant flash of gold light, you were gone. Rick collapsed into the empty space below his body and let the tears he had been holding back flow into the sheets below.

The next morning, Rick woke with a groan, his hangover induced headache causing pain to surge through his body with every small movement. Finally gathering enough strength, he staggered out of bed. His dream from the night before kept running through his head. He swore he could still almost feel your lips on his, your breath across his cheek, your hands across his scar. He rubbed his chest at the memory, only to freeze the moment his hand touched smooth skin. Stumbling to the bathroom, he turned on the light as he looked in the mirror. The long, jagged scar that had marred the area above his heart the night before was gone. Instead, all he saw was the unblemished skin that now resided there. The only proof he had that last night had been real. That and….. your name.

He placed one hand over his heart. But whereas last night this action only brought him the cold stabbing pain of loss and regret, he now felt the warm soothing caress of love and devotion. He brought his other hand to rest over his heart as well and he was rewarded with a flash of your last smile. So beautiful and peaceful, nothing like your blank, dead eyed stare that had haunted him since Jötunheim.

Rick let out a small chuckle, glancing around the room. Everything looked exactly the same as it had the night before, but he could sense that something had shifted. He walked over and picked up the empty bottles that littered the floor. Once he had disposed of them, he pulled out the unopened bottles from inside the small refrigerator and tossed them out as well. Gathering the rest of his belongings, he headed to the door. With one final look around, he walked out into the daylight.

He might not know where he was heading or what he was going to do next, but for you, he was going to try.

[dreamingsushi]

Till the End of the Moon - Episode 39

Second to last episode. Already. It’s been a while since I watched quite consistently one drama so it almost feels like an achievement to have reached that far, so fast. I’m completely in the dark as to what might happened next. Cang Jiumin got all of the artifacts back. Susu came to ask him for the truth. We still don’t know if Ye Qingyu has become or not the king of Jing. I don’t know if I’m the only one still wondering about that? Like, they implied there was someone who knew about Tantai Jin behind that mask and they haven’t used that info yet and I kind of need closure on that. That’s the only think I haven’t seen reused so far and yeah. It needs to be used. Thank you.

He’s upset she came, but he still kills the demon that came to try and kill her. Then he tells her he did this because he hates her and can’t forgive her for what she did to him. She doesn’t want to believe it. But then the demon god take possession of Cang Jiumin and reaches for Susu’s throat, strangling her. More yelling. I was thinking that Luo Yunxi did a pretty good job in this part, like you can see him being torn while completely embracing trying to be the villain. But I don’t know why they ask them to scream all the time they’re fighting. It looks so stupid and kind of breaks any intense moment. Even though the demon god tries to convince Cang Jiumin that no one ever loved him, he manages to break free and release Susu. He tries to kill the demon god, but it doesn’t work, obviously and the demon god uses the demonic weapons to try and force him into becoming the demon god. It kind of backfires because the weapons don’t obey anymore the original demon god and Cang Jiumin uses them to absorb the demon god. Or something like that. It was weird.

He figures out that since only a true god can kill the demon god, it has to be Susu killing him, as she’s the daughter of Chu Huang and suitable to follow the Heartless way to become a god. So he tells the demons to announce to the different sects that he’s going to marry her in three days and they are invited to the wedding if they want to come and congratulate him.

Gongye Jiwu decides to let himself get contaminated by demonic energy, even though he’s going to become a demon because of that because he’s not strong enough to fight Cang Jiumin as he is now. That character makes me really sad. In all of his lives, he ends up being a puppet to others’ plan. He ended up dying miserably because of his stupid father as Xiao Lin. Then he’s manipulated by Dimian. He had kind of everything to succeed, but then... he’s so upright that it’s kind of his downfall. It’s so sad really.

Cang Jiumin prepared a dream like world like the one Mingye left behind for Susu to remember him after everything’s over. She wonders why he would love a simple mortal life, but he doesn’t explain much. In the end, she kisses him and they spend the night together as a farewell I guess. Then he takes her back for the wedding.

Pang Yizhi gave Gongye Jiwu a charm about the demonic punishment the gods tried to use against the first demon god. He plans on using it on the day of the wedding to kill Cang Jiumin. The other sects’ disciple agree to follow him in doing so.

I have to say once more though... The costumes in this drama. I love them. There was only the grass cape Tantai Jin wore for his wedding which was really bad (but still kind of grew on me anyways). Everything else... the head pieces, the capes, the details. The costume designers did a very good job. I mean, there’s so many of them so I’m not sure of the quality up close but on my tiny screen it’s gorgeous.

And as the wedding is about to begin, end of the episode. Only one left and it’s over. I have no idea how things are going to turn out, how it will be resolved. But none of the main characters died yet. So I expect that some of them will tragically perish during next episode, if not all of them.

[vaultureculture]

the wasteland

772 words|| little written piece on my two MC’s, Elvia and Phlomis, dynamics. 

Its old wooden boards creak as the wagon advances through the wastes. The outside grows darker; it has been hours since a dense curtain of fog descended around the caravan. 

Thousands of glowing eyes stare amidst the brume, waiting, anticipating the error of some distractible wanderer to bring them something to eat. The air, warm and thick, infected by the putrid smell of marshland gasses, condenses in the throats of the travelers crowded together inside each coach. 

It's quiet. 

Somewhere around the middle of the procession, two people make feeble attempts at falling asleep. They lie beside each other, face to face, poorly illuminated by the flame of the singular candle near their heads.  

"After you heal your curse...what will you do?"  one of them whispers. Their voice is clear and fresh, like spring water. They're somewhat squeezed into a fetal position, unable to lie straight in the busy wagon due to their impressive height. White hair cascades around their face, abundant and untamed, but not enough to hide the shine of the golden eyes that look directly at their companion from behind the fringe. 

Even among the grime and melancholy, they gleam in their own light. 

"I dunno", the other responds. Her orange eyes are fixed on her travel partner's bandaged hands, resting delicately in the space between them. Bandaged, hidden hands, like her own. Hers do not seek the same closeness; they're busy playing with the rim of the wide-brimmed hat she'd taken off before lying down. "I'd probably still be a bitch. Make some money on errands and dirty jobs...get good liquor. Keep you by my side."

"I'd want to travel the world", they smile, whimsy leaking through their words. Their covered index finger traces patterns on the wooden floor, and their eyes follow it intently as if they, with their golden hue, were carving stars, pools, and forests on the planks directly from their imagination. "To see what we can find. We'd have such a lovely house somewhere, far away, with a flowery garden that blossoms all year round. We'd see the ocean and the sky without fog. Every morning I'd have our helpers brew tea for us."

"Helpers? You're kidding", she laughs. It's hoarse and low, like a smoker's.  Or a raven's call.  "That world does not even exist anymore. We're heading to the largest remaining bastion of humankind, and Eridia is a shit river town infested with Soulless. Not paradise, Elvia."

Elvia's smile is not discouraged by her words. It still glows in the dark, faithful, unwavering. Their words resonate in the silence with a fervent ardor that rivals the sun in intensity. "Then I'll find a way to make paradise, Phlomis."

Phlomis stares at the ceiling, pondering Elvia's words. Whatever burned brightly deep within that little Oracle's chest, whether it was natural or just a characteristic acquired through their former priesthood and status, she could not understand. 

"I'm not a good person", Phlomis states. 

"Pardon?", Elvia mutters, eyes widening in surprise. 

"I've willingly used my curse against others before. I've killed, robbed, and scammed. I've looked gods in the eyes; I've pulled the trigger. My hubris is another affliction I can't rid myself of."

Elvia shakes his head slightly, his perfect, radiant visage turning sour with a frown. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I need you to know it before you tell me that I'm good." 

Phlomis turns her head towards Elvia, one hand leaving the smooth touch of their leather hat to rest beneath theirs. Their pinkies brush against each other. 

"I need you to know that even curseless, I will still be condemned. I'm a traitor, a motherfucker, and a blight." She takes a shaky breath, eyes darting around Elvia's face. "But I want to be good. In your silly little flower garden, with you, drinking tea with helpers and what's-its I've never had. I need that. I need you to tell me that I'm good. And I wouldn't believe you if it wasn't sincere."

Silence follows her words, feeling emptier than before they had spoken at all. The hesitation characteristic in his touch is no longer present when Elvia takes her hand into his. Phlomis's eyes widen as she tries to instinctively recoil, but they squeeze her into staying. 

"You're good to me.", Elvia whispers, voice aflame in full conviction. After a brief silence, a smile starts to crack Phlomis' face. Her harsh laughter resonates in their wagon, losing itself amidst the creaking of wood and squelching of mud under the wheels. 

There were no more words said that night. Just two hands, holding each other, unafraid. Bandaged. Together. 

[stellar-waves]

staring down the sun [30] *

⏯ chapter index

. . .

but i wanted to stay

. . .

Her mother had warned her of evil in the world and hoped Elena would never encounter such atrocities. But after her mother died, Elena had no one left, and a life of espionage became easier. 

Being alone is what she’s good at. Always has been. 

Elena looks down at her hands, rubbing her thumb over the healed scar on her palm from that night her life changed forever. The instant that she killed those two men in her apartment and the instant Connor and Murphy showed up, all made the decision to go rogue that much easier and that much faster. But in that moment when Connor held her hand to sew up her wound, Elena realized she wasn’t alone anymore. 

The small window slides open, casting a glow through the intricate screen and diffusing the man on the other side as Elena crosses herself. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been…” she stalls, frantically searching her memory. “It’s been a very long time since my last confession.”

“It’s alright, my child,” the priest assures softly through the screen, his old voice sounding like an American version of the boys’ Uncle Sibeal. “Go on.”

She rubs her scarred palm again. She can’t confess all of her sins…not yet. Surely God will understand, right? She still needs to protect Connor and Murphy, and everyone else involved.

She inhales slowly. “I lied to someone. Well…I just…I didn’t want to tell him yet.”

“Why is that?”

“I thought I could protect him. If he knew the truth…he wouldn’t be able to do his job.” How she can be so vague about something so big is nauseating. “But now he knows the truth, and I know he’ll never forgive me.”

“Why can’t you give him a chance?” The question seems unfair, but the priest clarifies. “Why can’t you give him a chance to forgive you?”

“Because I don’t deserve it. I pretended to be someone else early on, thinking I wouldn’t stick around, but…everything changed. I should have left a long time ago. I shouldn’t have stayed. I shouldn’t have fallen…” Still, she cannot bring herself to say the words aloud. Yet here she is, finally doing what Bloom told her to do—talk to someone. 

A tear falls down her cheek as she realizes she can finally let go of everything now. She can finally let go of how she feels. “I fell in love with him.” The sudden relief Elena feels in her shoulders and in her soul feels strange and almost frightening. “I knew I shouldn’t have, but it just…happened.”

“Have you told this young man how you feel?”

She swallows the bile of regret in the back of her throat. “No.” But the moments crash into her, like the flickering grain of a movie as she replays them in her mind. Each and every single moment she was connected to Connor, emotionally and physically. They never said the words aloud, but they never needed to. 

The priest’s voice filters through the confessional with a soft hum. “Actions speak louder than words. But words can underscore your actions.” 

She closes her eyes, another tear spilling out.

Don’t do that again.

Don’t. 

Elena cries, the weight of everything breaking around her as she silently begs God to tell her something. 

She wipes her eyes with a deep breath, and the air around her seems to settle. Maybe this is all she can have, a glimmer of peace while her heart climbs out of hell. Another deep breath, and she closes her eyes.

“What do you want, my dear?” the priest asks kindly. And the memory of Elena asking Connor the very same question pushes into focus.

Her cheeks flush as she smiles weakly, seeing the look in Connor’s eyes as he searched for his answer. She feels the guilt smear across her lips, admitting weakly, “I wanted to stay. I just…I can’t.”

“Perhaps not in the physical sense, but your soul is still with him, just as his soul is still with you.”

Her breath hitches in her chest, her green eyes widening with the sudden awareness. “Anam cara…” she exhales.

“Pardon?”

Elena shakes her head, looking at the priest through the decorative screen. “Sorry, it’s uh…it’s Irish for soul friend.”

“Ah, you’re Irish then?”

“My mother was. And so is Conn—” She stops herself, afraid that saying his name is too risky. 

The priest chuckles gently, though, clearly understanding what she means. “He’s Irish, too, this man you love?”

“Aye,” Elena answers with an Irish accent, a more relaxed smile curling up her face. 

“He’s your—how do you say it again?”

“Ann-am kara,” she enunciates each syllable as requested. The priest repeats it happily, and Elena lets her shoulders drop. “He is my anam cara.” 

“Your soulmate.”

She bites her lip. “It’s deeper than that, beyond friendship and romance…it’s an awakening between two souls, a sense of truly knowing someone without pretention.” She had read about that in a book once, how an anam cara transforms your way of being in the world. It sounded so wonderful, but every friendship and relationship she attempted to have came nowhere close to that. So she had long accepted she would never get to experience such a feeling…because she was good at being alone. She was alone for the greater good.

And then Connor looked at her that way. Without explanation, without expectation. 

He stared at her as the question hung in the air between them. What do you want? He couldn’t answer her, not only because they ran out of time, but because he truly did not know. Elena knew that much, because she couldn’t answer the question herself. 

But that night in the motel room when the brothers assured her she wasn’t alone anymore, Elena realized she wanted something she’d been fighting for so long. She didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Elena takes a breath all the way out, and the pain in her heart starts to fade as the insight becomes clearer and sharper. “You look and see and understand differently...” Closing her eyes, she sees Connor again, and that look. “Why didn’t I realize this sooner?” she chokes out, the pain fading back in, ready to gut her entire being. 

“The Lord works in mysterious ways, little bird.” 

Fear rushes under Elena’s skin, threatening to coat her voice as she searches for a way to leave immediately. She hopes she misheard him, that her mind is twisting reality as punishment for letting her guard down. “I-I, uh…” she stutters, adrenaline now flooding her veins. “I should go.”

“Dear, are you alright?” the priest asks with what sounds like genuine concern. 

Sweat beads up along Elena’s forehead, and she shakes her head. “Thank you, but I just…I need to go,” her voice quivers as she stands up quickly, already opening the door.

“But, child!” 

“I’m sorry, Father,” she blurts out, grabbing her bag and rushing out of the confessional. She hears the other door open behind her, yet she refuses to turn around and stop. She walks fast toward the church’s doors, tears pooling under her lashes because she’s alone, again, naturally. And she feels like a God damn fool.

As long as she keeps walking, as long as she finds somewhere to hide, she’ll be okay. And then she can burn everything she has, everything that reminds her of the Saints. 

She slips into an alley to catch her breath when a low voice hums behind her. “I know who you are.”

. . .

. . .

⏮ [29]

[31] ⏭