#I HOPE ITS OKAY BUT MY BRAIN IS FULL OF NIGHTMARES

[tothesolarium]

Looking at art/magic lil me was desperately trying to make happen, all for a safe home.

now safely at home with my kitties and old people who love me. With the coolest lil sisters and a lil brother I love even if I can’t meet him. It happened, it worked, not in the way you thought it would but it did

[safety-writes-noms]

Ok, so firstly, I absolutely LOVE the dynamic between Callisto and Oliver. Just, Oliver trusting his big bro so much, and Callisto caring and protecting his little bro is just *mwa*.

Second (the actual question, lol), does Callisto ever figure out that he wasn't gonna hurt Oliver when he nomed him? And if he does, does it come up again? Like - does Oliver get in more trouble, and Callistos just like - "agh gotta save my baby bro!!" Nom.

Just overall, any info about them you're willing to give me I would absolutely die for. I love them and their dynamic so fricking much, and the fact that its platonic, tbh just makes it better. So many people focus on the romance part of vore, that I just get so excited when I see something like this!! So so lovely!!!

YES!! While i do think that the romance part of vore is pretty cool i find that there’s not a whole bunch of platonic stuff out there either.

While cal is dealing with the existential dread of knowing the full extent of his inhumanness, he’s also trying to figure out why there’s an increased number of reported attacks. theyre dismissed as bear attacks, crazy accidents, etc, and he’s getting suspicious as to why they’re all getting written off so quickly.

Also, despite promising oliver that he’ll stay, cal still keeps his distance because his instincts start acting up around oli and he has no idea what to make of them. He’s terrified of himself and what he could possibly do to his family.

Ethel comes up with family counseling, which is basically just one on one Cal and Oliver. It’s horribly awkward and it feels weird for both of them because they used to be super close and now neither know what to say.

it takes a while and they try to mend their relationship although there's setbacks and some misunderstandings that need to be cleared up. Callisto also is reluctantly convinced to delve deeper into his not so human parts of himself if only to find out if he's genuinely a threat to his loved ones.

surprise surprise, he manages to find out that 1. he doesn't really want to murder his little brother or his family (yay!) and 2. now that his brain has finally caught up with the rest of his biological instincts, he's slightly more open to exploring the rest of what he can do. slightly. he's not overly enthusiastic but its a start, at least.

meanwhile Oliver is struggling with nightmares and though he knows that Cal really wasn't trying to kill him (he was informed immediately after Cal figured it out) its kinds hard to get rid of the fear. it's weird for him since he desperately wants his brother to stay and he wants to spend time with him like he used to, he just can't get over it and it's so frustrating. he's struggling and while he is getting better slowly, it's still impacting him. his trust has been shaken though. on bad days he can't take being in enclosed, dark spaces and he hates the warmth of his blankets twisted around him at night.

(I got sidetracked sorry :v)

in the future, Cal will become secure enough with his identity to accept the fact that he gets weird urges every now and then and they're not the murderous sort. Oliver gets frustrated with his slow improvement and just decides to confront his fears head on, hoping that it'll just solve the problem all together and just asks Cal to nom him.

Cal is incredibly hesistant, but agrees nonetheless since Oliver says it'll help him. plus his instincts are going nuts in his head and while he has the will to ignore them, he can't deny how content he'd be with finally satisfying them. it goes okay, but a definite improvement from last time and Oliver manages to overcome some of his more irrational fears. still some setbacks but overall, not the worst. they're still improving :)

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Had a weird nightmare about a cult

It was in a church, just an average protestant midsized church, you would expect boy scout meetings in the backroom kind of a place. I was there with some anonymous friend/ acquaintance, the pretty older girl from high-school who was popular and yet genuinely nice, her mom is friends with your mom, her family is well known and well liked, offending her would be social suicide not because of anything she would do but because everyone you know would take her side and grant her victim status because she's just so nice.

She had invited me to some function and I was going out of curiosity and obligation, which is the only reason I'm ever in a church anyways. I was guaranteed to know people there, in the same roundabout, you-know-people-I-know kinda way.

Because its about to be relevant, I'm wearing skinny jeans and a sort of blousey black tank top. I've also got black nail polish and thats a fully normal irl outfit for me. Maybe a bit casual for a Sunday-best style church function, but I was not under the impression that's what I was going to.

I show up and am promptly ushered into the coat closet because what I am wearing is completely unacceptable. (I'm calling it a coat closet because that's what it is, but the churches in my area all have a full sized room set aside for outerwear storage because for half the year everyone shows up in a full down parka and that takes up a ton of space)

Anyway, I'm like, "oh shit I didn't realize this was formal, I can run home and change if its okay that I'm a few minutes late, or if someone has a spare dress I'll wear that" which is also something I have done irl. No one ever tells me anything but I'm small and can cinch down big waistlines and make it look intentional that I'm wearing wildly misfit clothing. So like, the dream is getting weird but in the same way that my real actual life gets wierd.

So then she hands me what is fundamental the same thing I'm already wearing, a pair of slightly darker wash skinny jeans that are slightly higher waisted and with more spandex and buttons, and a black polyester/lycra cropped tank top, which is a shirt I've been looking for irl. And she's apologetic about it, as in, "sorry 😞, hope these fit, 😔 might be a little small"

It's a transparent body shaming attempt, because everything is a xs or a size zero, and meant to make you feel uncomfortable and ungainly in too small clothes, but its so badly executed that I just kinda roll with it, like, okay 🤨. Also I like the tank top.

So I change, and she's finding me a bag to stash my clothes in, and some dude sticks his head in the coat closet as I've got one leg in the new pants. And the whole thing feels so very staged, like I'm supposed to be embarrassed about squeezing into too tight pants in front of some acquaintances hot older brother. Either that or my brain is trying to set up some bad porno wet dream and none of the options are working.

Because the pants fit fine and if you have somehow reached adulthood and are scandalized by the sight of a thigh you're the wierd one for being raised under a rock by blind snakes. So I'm figuring out how to fit my phone and wallet into my waistband because these pants don't have pockets and trying to remember whats-his-faces name, I'm almost certain it starts with a j and I've definitely heard it before but I can probably get away with claiming I mixed him up with someone else and not be considered rude, Jacob? Jason? Jeremy? Jed? Oh wait, is he somebody's boyfriend rather than somebody's brother?

But now he's holding my hand and tut-tuting over my nails because I absolutely cannot have black nails, and wouldn't I prefer a nice dusty pink?

At which point I think I kinda woke myself up because the no rice on Tuesdays tactic of high control groups popped into my head, by name, as that specific phrase, and I went "hmm, yep, this is weird, gimme my shit I'm leaving"

But that only conjured up the first girls mom, complete with a really nice travel duffle with my clothes in it. So I'm yanking my clothes out of the bag, because if I take the bag and leave they're going to want it back and that gives them another opening for things they think you owe them. Anyways shes dissapointed in me, in that performative manipulation kinda way. She says something like if I wanted her daughters shirt I can just have it, heavily implying that I'm causing a scene and being an unreasonable bitch, at which point it occurs to me that it's fucking wierd that they have clothes this small at all because everyone in the building is at least 6 inches taller than I am.

Whats-his-face is still hovering and now he's got a hand on my shoulder thats meant to be reassurance and all I can think is wow you guys are really bad at this. I can hear people in the next room and I know they're people like, my grandparents friends and prospective employers and other important social connections and I need to get out of here without making a scene, which isn't gonna happen.

At some point I said Jesus Christ in the context of a frustrated curse word, which they all jumped on and said I needed to let the lord into my heart or some shit. To which sleepytime subconscious responded to with CAUSE A SCENE AND CONTROL THE NARRATIVE!!!

So I raised my voice loud enough to be heard in the other room and told the guy to get his hands off me or I would punch him in the dick. And because no one believes you when you tell them you're going to punch them in the dick he did not take his hands off me and was calmly and rationally requesting that I calm down and be civil so I followed through and punched him in the dick.

Committing physical violence in a dream always wakes me up, pretty much immediately, but I did get a few glimpses of storming out through a crowd, yelling about entitled pricks in closets and if anyone ever felt like leaving the cult I would give them a hand.

So yeah. What's your religious trauma look like?

[actual-changeling]

had this little seed in my brain for a long time now and would lose my mind if you wrote one or seventeen iterations of it. a premise: ellie loses an important sense (sight hearing etc.) at some moment time for a short or long amount of time and joel has to do important and not important things to assist

thanks so much god bless i love you

hi, thank you so much for the request!

I have more ideas related to this and I will definitely write them at some point. This is me dabbling in it a little bit, I haven't ever really written any kind of sick fic, so this was a new experience. I enjoyed it, though, and if people are interested I might turn this into a full fic and continue where I left off.

-

Despite Joel’s fussing, Ellie insists she is fine for two days, the pressure in her ears mildly annoying, but she has cramps ten times worse than the accompanying pain every single month, so it isn’t even worth considering taking painkillers. They start feeling clearer in the hours before she finally lets herself fall into bed, and Ellie leaves him on the couch with a pointed see, I’ll be all back to normal tomorrow as Joel shakes his head, betrayed by the smile tugging on his lips. 

Then she wakes up on the third day to a splitting pain radiating through her skull and an aching face, ears ringing the second she tries to sit up. God, Joel is insufferable when he is right, and she is already dreading his ‘I told you so’ when she notices something is off. Ellie slowly kicks away her sheets and leans back against the headboard, an alarm going off in the back of her mind. Outside of whatever is stuffing her ears, she can’t figure out what it is until the door to her room swings all the way open, never fully closed while they sleep anyway. Everything is drowned out by the high-pitched noise, the frequency higher now that she is upright, but Ellie assumes Joel’s words will penetrate through it anyway, watching his lips with the first seeds of panic sprouting in her chest. His mouth moves, several times, and her breaths pick up speed when she realizes she can’t hear him.

“Joel-”

Ellie cuts herself off, disoriented when even her voice is barely audible, more of a dull feeling than actual words, and her vision goes static all at once, her panic a blooming pressure within her lungs as she struggles to suck in air. She meets him halfway, throwing herself forward despite the pain spiking at the sudden movement, and Joel catches her immediately, trying to pull her against his chest, but she resists, hands caught between them. His lips move again, more urgently, worry hardening his face and leaving only his eyes soft, and she tries to read the words he is forming, unable to pick up anything but her name. Ellie feels her tongue move, hoping she is actually saying what she thinks.

“Something is wrong with my ears, I can’t hear, Joel, I can’t-”

His palms gently cup her cheeks, tapping his forehead to hers in a silent request to focus on him so he can help her calm down, a gesture that somehow ended up as a part of their post-nightmare routine, and she gratefully sinks into the familiar pattern, tracking his breaths ghosting over her face until they match hers and the fear loses some of its edges. The state of her head remains the same, though her calming heart rate takes away the blood pounding in her ears, and she grips the fabric of his shirt with white knuckles and a pinch of desperation bleeding through. Being unable to hear what is going on around is disturbing in a way she didn’t expect, paranoia trickling down her spine, and if the slightest movement didn’t send tears to her eyes, she would stop suppressing the urge to check every corner of the room, gaze flicking between Joel’s face and the space behind him. After a few seconds, he carefully grabs her chin and tips it up until she is looking directly at his lips, his words slow and clearly articulated enough for her to figure them out.

“You will be okay.”

Joel softly brushes his thumb along her cheekbone, tucking back a few stray pieces of hair, and she clings to his reassurance, trust not a choice but so deeply ingrained she has no control over it. He says she will be alright so she will be. However, he said nothing about not panicking until that is the case. The urge to beg him to fix her rises in her throat, empty stomach twisting so tightly she tastes bile, and when Joel offers another hug, she falls into it willingly and buries her face in his neck, jaw trembling with the sobs she refuses to let out. Ellie hides in his embrace for as long as she can, panic and pain challenging each other to see who can rise the fastest, and when she leans back Joel taps her chin up again to get her attention. It’s only one word, but it takes her a few seconds to figure it out when her first assumption is ‘in it’.

“Clinic?”

Any other time Ellie would have fought tooth and nail to stay away from it, but this trumps pretty much everything, so she gives him a tiny nod in response. Letting go of Joel feels like a death sentence, but she does it anyway and grits her teeth through the throbbing ache that follows her when she gets back on her feet, and he leaves her to change with a kiss pressed to her hair.

[nescaveckwriter]

Bundled, Broken Maybe Healed (Part 2)

Prompt: Bundled up in blankets - will be in bold,😱

A/N: YAY! My third one for @badthingshappenbingo 🤭, Okay y'all, this chapter is intense, I'm not kidding.. we find more out about Meredith's past and its traumatic okay... So good luck...😱💓❤️

Warnings: 18+ Only! Some language, blood and gore, normal Criminal Minds stuff, going into depth off crime scenes etc, drug use,torture, anything else I missed let me know💕

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, JJ, Emily Prentiss, Meredith Lang.

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva.

Words:3000ish 😅

Chapter Name: Bundled, Broken, Maybe Healed? (Part one) (part two) (Part three)

something, the pinch between my toes was horrible, but the pain didn’t last long, no! I saw these little bits of spiders coming from everywhere, I tried my best to smash them but I couldn’t due restraints, it was scary, the spiders I mean, I never was a fan, I’m not sure how long it lasted, but it felt like I wanted to crawl, get out of my skin, out of my body. So when my first high came down I was back in the cage, watching how he would drug Hope,’ she paused, looked at me and said ‘no! He , Never did touch us, you know… I guess we could be thankful, this was clearly not a sexual thing,  more sadistic, he got off on our fear.’ I looked at her, this teenager who went through something horrible, and I realised that she is one intelligent human being, she profilled this man, without any experience, so she looked at me “you know, what one day, I will find Hope, and I will find the collector and I put him behind bars, make him suffer the way we did.’ I knew right then and there I needed to call Jason Gideon, maybe her healing journey starts with justice. And as the days passed and she spoke, of her time, that  everyday he’d do it over and over again, how he broke in the girls, to listen too him, too obey him, every order, he’’l train them like dogs, to fight each other, and how she did not participate in it, she’ll let the others beat her up, even Hope in the end started to beat her up, but that day she broke down, she sobbed, not because she felt the pain of her best friend turning on her, no, but because she couldn’t save her, she couldn’t stop him, from brain washing her, from ruining her, she looked me and my heart shattered, her words tore through me ‘if only I could help Hope be strong enough, he would’ve thrown her out just like me, I tried, I tried to talk to her, to make her strong, but nothing work’ she clenched her fist, ‘The collector got rid of me,because of  not listening I was bad for his business, no one wanted buy me, hell I don’t even think he advertised, but he tried to make me fear him,, and internally I did, but I didn’t show it, he would starve me for, days, I felt weak, at first but after a while, numb…  so one day he pumped me full of drugs, and I remember thinking, this is it, finally I’ll overdose and this nightmare will be over, till today I remember feeling, cold like really cold, and I wrapped myself in blankets and it didn’t help, by now I was so used to seeing the spiders, that I would talk to them, I knew they weren’t real, but to me, they we the only familiarity that I had, so I felt comfortable with, them.’ she gave a humorless laugh ‘Now, I’m probably never getting out of here doc am I?’ I smiled and told her that I understood, but really how could I? I have a feeling she deliberately skips parts, that’s too painful to tell over, or she’s afraid that she’ll scare someone, she is highly sensitive but she doesn’t show it, she hates feeling vulnerable, the moment she’ll feel scared she lash out, but at the same time she’ll care about the people around. She trusts no one, in one of our sessions she disclosed that she doesn’t even trust her parents. Sometimes I try to press that subject, but she’ll ignore it, saying ‘one time thing doc’ and start talking about something different. 

[craftyworx]

hi guys, allow me to go on a rant about content farms.

so we can all agree that content farms are the fucking worst. shitty, low quality videos of popular colorful shows or games to attract children and gain views.

It's so gross and really destroys fandoms.

For example, Poppy Playtime!! And Digital Circus!!! If I came up to someone on the internet and said "I like poppy playtime and digital circus" they would probably just assume im an ipad kid who's chronically online and likes shit like skidibi toilet.

and it fucking sucks because poppy playtime- that game is DARK. i fucking HATE these content farms that are taking chapter 3 and making cheap shit. like, chapter 3 HURT ME. IT IS REALLY DARK AND DISTURBING. and i have grown very close to these characters. i've drawn them, written them, made stories with them. hell, boxy and crafty are kinda stuck in my brain atp.

my dad's girlfriend has a kid who watches this kids content stuff. he watched me play ppt and just CASUALLY ASKED "whens the part with the torn up dog" and i just fucking look at him. like. what?

i respond with "oh he's coming up eventually. but i dont like looking at him." why dont i like looking at him? seeing animals in pain triggers trauma. so there are some parts in ppt that i cant pay attention to or watch due to this.

but he replied with "why? is because he's too scaryyy for you" i just said no then ignored him, because i am NOT explaining my trauma to him, that is not happening lol.

its hard for me to look at catnap because he's starved, and starved animals is an even bigger trigger for me so its hard to look at catnap. but he's so cool lookin and i love him. but this kid said "catnap isnt even that scary. and he looks so lame." then as im playing he just says how nothing in the game scared him, as if the whole point of the game was to scare him.

like. bitch.

"wow, its a 7 year old acting like a 7 year old! thats gen alpha for you!" yes but the fucking CONTENT FARMS. he went "oh yeah i saw a really funny video where the siren head characters were put into poppy playtime and they stole huggy's pepsi!!" and he was also critizing literally every thing i did while i played lmaoo

but anyways. the kind of things i have written with poppy playtime. the things i have drawn. the things i think about. people are gonna think i need a mental asylum.

same goes for digital circus. the content farms ruined the perception of tadc SO BAD. right now it's just known as a "content farm for 3 year olds" and even some people just see it as a kink, which is DISGUSTING.

i have also connected to the characters in DC as well. like ragatha, she reminds me of my mum so i really like her. but the fandom is full of shipping wars, content farms, and nsfw. which saddens me. thats why i dont want to be associated with tadc. its why i only talk abt it with friends. only lucky people see my art of tadc and literally noone but my partner knows my tadc story.

i hate how i need to be ashamed of my interests. i hate being seen as "immature" or "childlike". i dont know why it pisses me off so much, but its like a punch to the stomach when someone calls me immature. Just the thought of people thinking im immature scares me. thats one of the reasons why im so private with my interests. i've been somewhat open with poppy playtime, because i thought that chapter 3 would scare away the content farms for children, but nah.

apparently massacres, starved animals, cannibalism, betrayal, cults, and child abuse are all okay for children to see on the internet!! yippee!!!!!

i wont go into my past too much but little nightmares really hurt me with that betrayal. i got trust issues from it, and it really affected my mental health. it wasnt just the game alone, but i was too young to have seen the things i did.

content farms are just.. gross. really gross. they ruin everything. i hope they all burn in hell. and they get children into fandoms that they're too young for.

(tw for sui and animal death. skip to red text to skip this)

oh i remember seeing a content farm when i was a lot younger. it was a minecraft animation. i dont remember too much of it, but i do remember that there was a kid with a dog. the kid was neglected by their parents bc they were always working or something. so the kid played with the dog. the dog ran out of food while the kid was at school and the mum refilled the bowl, but she got dog food and chocolate mixed up. so yeah the dog uh. passed. the kid came home to the dog.. yk. he tried getting his parents attention to try and help the dog but they ignored him. then the kid hung himself. im not even kidding. and this was aimed for children. i didnt understand what was going on at the time but my god.

imagine if i kept watching stuff like this. imagine if the content farms caught little me's attention and i kept watching really horrible things like that. i wonder how i would've turned out. much worse than rn, i bet.

(end of tw)

yk this explains why im SO open abt hazbin hotel and murder drones! allat is more adult/teenager stuff, so i dont need to worry about children getting their grubby paws all over it.

but my main interest is poppy playtime. and it is so kids content-y it makes me SO FUCKING ANGRY.

and its funny, i LOVE things like The Little Prince (1943), Raggedy Ann and Andy (1977) and Calvin and Hobbes (1988). then i like poppy playtime (2021) and tadc (2023). like my interests are either in the 2020s or sometime in the 1900s, and there is no inbetween

but yeah. sometimes i feel ashamed of my interests, and that really hurts. especially when i've put so much effort into writing or drawing these characters. i mean, my onenote has sections dedicated to some characters, and some characters are so deeply developed.

(sui again..... feel free to click away now, this is the last section of my rant)

also buahahahaha just wait until these content farms find out how a CERTAIN character died in poppy playtime!!! she offed herself, her cardboard cutout hints toward it so bad. like if she died some other way then what the fuck was that cardboard cutout dialogue

"do you wanna jump to the moon with me? on three! 1.. 2.. 3! ..heh, didnt get very far, did we? lets try again! 1.. 2.. 3! ...nope. listen, this isnt going to stop until we get to the moon! again, 1.. 2.. no no! dont look at your feet! none of that matters! 1, 2, 3, Jump! JUMP! JUUUUUUU-"

i can dissect this as to why its sui, but i feel like its clear enough with "jumping to the moon" being "jumping to heaven". and the "listen, this isnt going to stop until we get to the moon!" being "the pain and torture wont stop until we're dead!"

anyways that uh.. that concludes my rant.

fuck content farms and i hope they die in a fire /vneg /ref

(@ch0cocrave @shamen0m0 @peppermintz-25)

[saint-felicias-writing-corner]

WIP: Trouble in Shangri-La (Buddie)

Good Afternoon and Happy Saturday! Hope everyone's been having a good day! Just wanted to drop a small snip of the new chapter of "Trouble in Shangri-La". It's been a long time coming (a couple months now, but 'You're The Two' kinda ran away with my brain for a bit there.) Hope everyone enjoys

============================

Bobby’s hand is reassuring as it kneads into his shoulder. “When’s the last time you’ve slept?”

It takes Buck longer to think about it than it should. Tommy’s, right? He hadn’t been able to really sleep since… at least, not anything that would matter for much. There was the bit in the hotel, but that was fitful, filled with darkness and demons and regret. Thirty minutes there, maybe an hour? There was too much thrumming through him, cataclysmic mistakes and aching needs that he didn’t have the strength to fight warring with nightmares that reared their head the second he put his to the pillow. Everything was either a playback of his and Tommy’s last time or blood, water, and ash.

Yesterday, he had been at work. That would have been twenty-four hours. He glances at his watch. Noon. That means it was creeping up on fifty plus hours at this point, give or take, since anything he could consider greater than a nap.

After his shift, he’d initially gone to the boardwalk, the other place that Tommy had told Bobby he could be found, but disjointed caricatures of Christopher warred with soaked memories of Christopher then. There’s a space between there and here where he operated on autopilot, a wounded soul listlessly flitting through purgatory, reliving his greatest failures and his deepest wounds.

“Is Christopher okay?” He avoids Bobby’s question with his own.

“Chris is fine, Buck. Athena and I are happy to have him. But we’re worried about you right now.”

Buck sloughs Bobby’s hand from his shoulder and places a sidestep of distance between them. “I’m fine.”

Bobby doesn’t call him on his lie, which Buck is thankful for. He just mimics the other man’s stance, arms on the railing, fingers interlocked. “Eddie’s awake.”

“I know.”

“There was a brief scare there. He threw a clot into his lungs.” Bobby’s voice is impossibly calm.

“I know.” His voice warbles on the words. He hates it.

“He could really use his best friend, Buck.”

Buck squeezes his eyes shut to try to halt the tears. “He’s better off without me there.”

“I don’t think that’s true one bit. I’m sure he doesn’t either. He wants you there.”

Buck scrapes away the tears with roughened palms. “You don’t know that.”

Bobby’s hand rests on his shoulder again. Buck doesn’t shake it away. “I do know, because he told me, Buck. When I saw him. Whatever you think happened all those years aga, I don’t think it’s nearly as bad as you’ve made it out in your head. Even if it was, I don’t think Eddie cares right now.”

Buck sniffs loudly. For a moment, he feels impossibly small. Could Bobby be right? He thinks of Eddie then; sweet and beautiful, so full of pain but so impossibly vibrant that Buck had to be near him. The man had rewritten him, inviting a lost and wounded man into his family and his life with barely a second thought. God, he missed him. Their antics. Their friendship.

“I’m not strong enough, Bobby.”

“Strong enough to do what, Buck?”

Buck’s shoulders sag, blue eyes zeroing in on the spot where he’d almost lost Eddie all those years ago. The blood had long since been cleaned up, the chipped asphalt from the sniper’s missed shots patched and filled in. But Buck still knows their exact placement, as if he’s an actor, and its the blocking for one of the worst days of his life. When he finally turns to look at Bobby, the man is staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“To watch him leave again.”

“You know there’s a better chance of him staying if you go see him than if you avoid him, right?”

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: The first image Psychonauts fanfic banner on a black-to-gray gradient background. On the left in white text it says “Prompt #5: Never Be Hurt Again” On the right is a light blue animated figment of a scaler (a long metal dental tool with thin hooks on either end).

The second image is a Bad Things Happen Bingo card. Various prompts are marked with a half-brain (prompt requested but not filled) or full-brain (prompt requested and finished) symbol, while the “Never Be Hurt Again” prompt specifically is marked with a full brain symbol. /end ID]

Okay I keep forgetting to post this, but I thought of it just now so I’m finally taking an opportunity to get this posted! Here is, FINALLY, my next fic for my @badthingshappenbingo​ challenge! \

I am currently NO LONGER OPEN FOR REQUESTS. I have enough to work on to get a bingo! I MAY decide to reopen prompts later if I want to keep going after finishing these fics, but for now, requests are closed!

This request is for @loveandmad​! Hope you enjoy it! Also big thanks to @jaywings​ and Pinky G Rocket for beta-reading.

Prompt: Never Be Hurt Again Characters: Caligosto Loboto, his parents, and various OCs for his backstory Warnings: Emotional manipulation/parental abuse, (SPOILERS: implied dental torture)

---~~~---

Traffic honked and wailed in the streets below his window. It was not the city he had been in originally, the one that his parents sent him to a few years ago; he had chosen this city.

—~~~—

"Stoneton?" Caligosto looked from the pen in his father's outstretched hand to the application on the kitchen table. "That's on the other side of the country."

"Yes, but it's a very good city," his mother replied, with the same enthusiasm she'd used to talk about the "very good highschool" or the "very good summer camp" that he'd been forced into in the past, that he still had nightmares about.

"I don't know..."

"Look, son, we're doing you a favor!" His father slammed the pen onto the table. "You want dental school? Here it is. We're offering to pay for your tuition!"

"Your father is willing to give up the money he was putting toward his second yacht! We're making a personal sacrifice for you!" His mother looked away. "I don't know how we managed to raise such an ungrateful child..."

"No, no! It's not that—"

"We're doing this for you, son! You want to live your dream of becoming a dentist, we're letting you do that!"

You never wanted to before, Caligosto wanted to say, but the words retreated back down his throat. To live his dream... he couldn't let this slip away. He stared down at the application again, then grabbed the pen, the yellow gleam of the kitchen light glinting off its metal surface.

—~~~—

Light danced on the tip of the hook as he turned the scaler in his hands. He stared at it, feeling its weight in his palm, remembering the last time he'd used it.

His fingers clenched around it, knuckles white beneath the glove.

—~~~—

The room was a blinding white and silver, save for the dull gray chairs and the dummy heads strapped to them. The heads were painted in flesh tones, faceless save for gaping mouths with complete sets of teeth. Many of his classmates had shied away from these at first, but Caligosto had always rushed to his assigned dummy, half his mind giddy with the thought of finally getting to practice, and the other half with the thought of his parents seeing him as a successful dentist.

He held the scaler down toward the dummy, ready to practice methods of scraping plaque from teeth, when his professor strolled by.

"Now, you'll probably deal with patients who put up a fight," she stated. "Some patients will struggle and squirm. Some may try to bite."

Of course, they'd gone over this before. This professor had always liked to make a show of taking off her glove and revealing a scar one of her own patients had left on her hand. So he nodded along, continuing to move the hook between the fake teeth, digging gently into the silicone gums.

"But you may even have patients who are... unnatural, so to speak."

He paused.

She strode toward a cabinet in the back of the lab as she spoke. "Of course, you need special methods when dealing with them. There are certain tools we have in the medical profession to deal with them, which I'll show you in a moment." She glanced over her students with a glint in her eye.

Slowly he looked back down at the dummy, unsure of why his hands were going numb.

"They're known for all sorts of tricks," she went on, turning to open the cabinet. "They can dismantle your tools with just a look!"

His hand twitched, leaving a small scratch on a fake tooth.

"Or they could reach out and infect you with a deadly virus, just by their touch..."

He gripped the scaler, his knuckles turning white.

"Even if they don't touch you, some can reach out with an invisible hand and change your future, just enough to bring you misfortune!" Finally she turned around with a strange pair of earmuffs in her hand, and something about the sight of them sent a jolt up his spine and caused his chest to burn, and he jumped away from his dummy. His professor didn’t notice as she continued, "That's why—"

"Th-that's not true."

He suddenly became aware that everyone was staring at him, and that his professor's grin had fallen. "Pardon?"

It was too late to back down, so he straightened his back. "They can't dismantle something instantly. They can do it without their hands, but they still need to pull it apart. And there's no psychic power that can cause illness, unless they're spinning you around like a ferris wheel!" He snorted. "And if they could change their future, wouldn't we see a lot more of them winning the lotter—"

"Stop."

He shut his mouth, but his eyes were locked on the earmuffs she held, and he wasn't sure why the sight of them was making him tremble.

The professor approached him, her gaze dark. "Are you defending these mentalists, Loboto?"

"Wh-what?!" he sputtered, head snapping up. "No! I just—"

She got in his face, and he swore he could feel some form of terrible, familiar energy from the earmuffs in her hands. "Never in my class would I ever have expected to encounter a psychic sympathizer!"

The phrase turned his stomach to ice and lit his head ablaze—outraged that she would accuse him of such, and horrified by the implications.

It wasn’t the last time he would hear it, or even worse terms that he didn’t like to think about.

They came up during a meeting with the dean regarding his dismissal from the college. They were spat upon him when he tried to apply for jobs in the area as he scrambled to find his footing. They were hissed at him from former classmates who had once gotten along with him.

The term was even snarled at him over the phone, when he contacted the last two people he could think of for help.

“Psychic sympathizer.”

—~~~—

The shriek of metal on glass brought him out of the memory, and he stared down at the faint scratch across his window.

After taking a moment to unclench his jaw, to breathe, to set the tool aside onto its cart, he turned away from the window and strode across the dark room. There was no point in reflecting on those memories, those terrible manglings of his character, those people who chased him away from what had felt like the one chance of ever achieving his dream. They were behind him now.

But his foot nudged a book that stuck out from the lowest shelf, and he reached down to adjust it, frowning when he noted the misaligned printing on the spine.

—~~~—

Caligosto plucked up the book, flipped through it, picked off the sticker, and slipped it into his jacket. It had gotten easier after the first several times; his hands no longer shook, though his nerves still fluttered in his chest. After browsing through the shop for another quarter hour, he shrugged and trotted out, bidding the owner good-day as he headed back to his apartment to plot his next course of action.

The book, while a measly paperback, was a signed copy, and would surely yield him enough money to cover the rest of this month's rent, which was due in two days. He just needed to choose the next store carefully—one he hadn't been to in a while. There was Jamie's down the road, but he'd just sold a set of pilfered baseball cards there a week ago. He hadn't been to the one on 5th and Maple in a while, but it was closed today... Ah, right, the one another town over—he hadn't been there in a couple months, so that one should be all right. It would be a bit of a hike, but it would be worth it.

So he made the trip, which ate up a chunk of his day, clutching the book under his jacket. Just one more time, and he would be set for another month—another month to figure out how to get out of this dump.

"Got a good one for you this time!" Puffing up his chest, he slapped the book onto the counter. The force at which he'd done it had caused the binding to come somewhat loose, and he fought the urge to wince, hoping the man wouldn't notice. "It's a signed copy, you see?"

The shop owner slid the book closer to himself, lifting it up and turning it this way and that, studying it through narrowed eyes.

Even though he'd gotten away with it before, the sweat still trickled down his back as he awaited the man's evaluation. Maybe he could settle for a lower price if the shopkeeper wasn't willing to pay what it was worth—just so long as he could cover his rent, that was all he needed—

The man huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "Not a signed copy," he remarked. "It's a photocopy." He'd pointed out the spine, which, now that he looked more closely, didn't even have the title aligned, part of it folding over onto the back cover of the book. When the man opened it, his finger traced the margins, which didn't line up with the edges of the pages. He set the book back on the counter, giving him an unpleasant grin, one with poorly-placed veneers, revealing the blackened teeth between where the porcelain didn't line up with the gums. "I'll give you two bucks."

He trembled all over, the blood rushing from his face, before his mouth twisted. "I hope you choke on your own rotten teeth!" He snatched the book before storming out.

His trek back to his apartment was made in a blind, numb haze, his stomach sinking as he wondered just how he could word a plea to his landlord to allow him another week to pay the rent. If his landlord would even allow that, if his landlord hadn't already heard the gossip being spread about him.

The thoughts left him the second a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him behind a building. His mind clicked into self-preservation mode while some voice screamed in the back of his head that this was it, someone had caught him, or someone had heard the rumors and come after him—

"C-Caligosto, is that you?"

He found himself staring at a young man with a frightened, pale face, and dark circles under his eyes. At first he narrowed his eyes at him, prepared to bolt, only to realize he recognized the man's messy orange hair, though it was a lot messier than the last time he'd seen it.

"...Bower," he said slowly, yanking his arm away. He'd shared a few classes with the student during his short time at the university. "What do you want?"

"Help," Bower choked, huddling in on himself. "I... I just need your help with—"

"I haven't been a student in months, in case you haven't noticed," he said, voice dripping in bitterness.

"Yes, exactly, that's exactly why I need your help!"

He stared at him. "What."

"Everyone avoids you, so—so... no one would know!" A manic smile stretched across Bower’s face as he spread out his sweaty hands.

"...No one would know what?"

"Look, I-I kinda owe someone some money—"

"You're talking to the wrong person."

He turned away, but Bower caught him by the shoulder and turned him back around. Jerking his arm away, he grit his teeth and glared down at the man, who held up his hands.

"I owe them a lot of money! And—and if you can help me get some, I'll give you half."

He opened his mouth to protest, and closed it, looking away as he mulled things over. "Do you have a plan of some sort?"

"I-I do. But it's risky, and I need help. And after that, you never have to speak to me again!"

"...You never spoke to me anyway."

"Look, I know, just—please, just this once?"

Deep down, he could feel something—something telling him it was nice to feel needed. Not to mention, he did need the money on short notice.

He steeled himself. "All right. What's the plan?"

—~~~—

He shook his head. While it had been the moment to launch him into his current career, he'd been foolish to think that he'd been needed by that idiot. No, Bower hadn't needed him specifically. If he'd refused, he would've found someone else. No, Bower had used him, and had been planning on keeping all the money for himself, if he could get away with it (which he hadn't—as he'd predicted, Bower had gotten caught by the police, and ratted him out, but he'd been long gone by the time they'd come looking for him).

He'd been free.

—~~~—

With his few possessions in a duffel bag hanging on his shoulder, Loboto strolled down the sidewalk of the new town, which looked brighter and more promising than his old college town ever had.

It would be a new leaf for him. Perhaps he could forge a license and start a dentist practice, if not here, then somewhere further out. The robbery had given him more than enough money to rent a new apartment for the rest of the year, so housing wouldn't be a problem for a while. Just so long as he could find a job to start with...

He stopped at the bulletin board, perusing the job postings and skimming past event fliers. He wasn't terribly picky, so long as it was something that could pay for rent and still have some left over for food and savings—

A pair of familiar glasses caught his eye, and his blood ran cold.

Wanted: Caligosto Loboto.

His teeth grit so hard they nearly cracked, he tore the poster from the board, and ran.

—~~~—

...It was better now.

The police hadn't found him, of course. Never, in the past few years of his career, though they'd searched. Oh, they'd searched, and he'd had to move again later, but it was all good now.

Especially since his new client had opened up a world of new possibilities to him.

—~~~—

Loboto found her staring at the tools, still in pristine condition, arranged on the shelves. "Interested in those, are we?" He tipped his head. "Do you need some dental work done?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than his heart began to flutter in excitement, and he perked up. "I know you're here for business, but if you ever need some work done on your pearly whites, I can—"

Nora held up a finger. "I'm just here for business."

His heart and hopes dropped to the floor, and his shoulders drooped. "Yeah, of course."

Yet she was still looking over the tools, eyes narrowed. Without a word she picked up a dental hook, pressing it into one of her fingers until it drew blood.

"Hey!" he cried. "You should be wearing gloves—"

"These tools, Cal," she said quickly, rubbing the finger she'd pricked against her thumb, smearing the blood. "They look like they would hurt."

Grumbling, he snatched the hook away and hunted for a bottle of cleaning alcohol and a cloth. "No," he said absently, stooping down to snatch up a bottle. "In the right hands, the procedures can be mildly unpleasant at worst."

As he disinfected the tool, Nora reached out to him. "So could those same hands..." She gently grabbed one of his palms, and he yanked his hand away, shooting a glare at her. "...make them hurt?"

He stared at her.

"Perhaps, enough for a patient to beg, to plead, to give whatever information you want?"

Loboto held the hook away from her, but hesitated a moment. "...Why do you ask?"

Nora stepped back, regarding the tools on the shelves. "It doesn't look like they've seen much use, and it would be a shame for them to go to waste."

—~~~—

His hands shook, in spite of his smile.

This was it. He was finally going to see his dream come true—perhaps not in the way he'd originally planned, but that's the fun of it, isn't it? He was past all of that nonsense—his parents and professors and even the police trying to control him, trying to get in the way of his goals.

His dreams were coming true. He was finally, finally getting to put his skills to use. And no one was going to convince him otherwise.

"Cal!" a harsh voice called from the room he'd remade into a new "dentist's office." "Your patient isn't cooperating. Get in here!"

"Right away!" he called in return, wheeling his cart into the room.

On the other side of the room was his client, Nora, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. And before her, strapped to the dental chair, was his patient. Both his mouth and eyes were wide, the former from a mouth prop forcing his jaw open, and the latter from terror.

Loboto looked him over, selecting the scaler from his cart and fighting to keep his hand from shaking. He looked from the patient's teeth and gums, then to Nora, who nodded impatiently at him. He stared down at the pointed tip of the tool in his trembling hand—one of many tools that hadn't seen use since his college days.

"Get on with it," Nora hissed.

He clenched the tool, forcing his hand to still, and aimed it at the patient's gums, grinning down into his terrified eyes. "Say aaah!" he said, and jabbed.

[2af-afterdark]

So uh. Winter depression hit full force and I have fallen off the face of the Earth and now I feel anxious coming back, but I also miss reading your posts and sending silly things to your inbox... Which means that I need to actually write something...

First off, I guess I'd like to know if you've received the three long asks I sent you, like, a month ago? I wish I could say what was in them, but my memory is exceptionally shitty and so all I remember is that one of them was me trying to provide more details for that one Bael idea I told you about. I never got around to making sure it actually sent and didn't just disappear, and I'm sorry for that. I remember you saying you liking the idea and wanting to write for it, and I probably made that a whole lotta harder for you.

I've also had a burnout after all and hadn't been able to force myself to pick WHB up again. I'm thoroughly enjoying NuKani though (despite Eiden being stubborn and not coming home after 170 pulls), and hoping to return to the horny devils, too. Bael still has me in a chokehold and I miss him.

Sorry if this was too personal and uninteresting. Not really sure if I'm being a bother, but I figured I should probably kick myself into telling you I've yet to perish. I hope you're doing well, or at least okay! Please remember to rest and drink water <3

— 💛

💛!!!!!!!!!!!! I was afraid I had blocked you during one of my follower checks! I'm so sorry the winter depression has taken its tole on you. It's a lot every year. Why is the human body like this....

Personally, I haven't been writing as much lately because, uhhh, I explained last week (the post is private now) that I have been in a weird funk because I learned that my father died and it's made me kind of... confused in a lot of ways? You just happened to send everything right before I got that news...

I got your request and the ask that explained MC's personality. I may have answered the other two? I certainly don't see them in my inbox at least. Was it this one where you ask about the nightmare pass stuff? If not, Tumblr may have eaten them.

Olivine is on my shit list right now because he refuses to come home and I lost my 50/50... I just want to get shit in my gacha! I need hot men and art and fanfics all catered toward my specific taste! Manaed the first two, but I am super picky about the last one and I can't find a writer with open commissions that matches my needs. Sadness.

I'm glad you found the strength to send something in at least! Hope life and your brain treat you better in the coming weeks. You deserve it.

Hugs and kisses from across the internet~

[finalgirlminamurray]

while i'm here i might as well do something of an introductory post.

horror as a genre has been a big special interest of mine for a long time. i've always been kind of drawn to "scary" things out of...i don't even know, some kind of interest in why certain things were considered scary and an inherent fascination in things that were deliberately designed to be scary because of that. i didn't really grow up watching horror movies like some people did (because as a kid i assumed i wasn't allowed to watch anything r-rated and i didn't have a strong interest in seeking out movies that were above my age) but i sure did read a lot and there's plenty of genuinely scary kids' books out there, even before i read my first stephen king novel (misery, age 13, borrowed from my aunt-who-was-really-mom's-friend who knew i could handle it.)

anyway once i turned 18 and went off to college i took full advantage of being able to watch whatever i wanted and started watching every classic horror film i could find and never looked back. i like horror from all decades and subgenres - i like to think i have a good variety in my tastes. i'm pretty desensitized at this point so i don't often find that movies actually "scare" me; that's not the primary reason i watch them. it's just my favorite genre.

it would be impossible to list all of my "favorites" but here are some particularly special and important movies to me:

the texas chain saw massacre (1974) - obviously. i was fascinated with this one ever since i heard the title and my brain latched onto it and wouldn't let go. there's just so much there to talk about with it and i've found it an endlessly compelling setting to work with. i'm also very fond of the texas chainsaw massacre 2 (1986), which is mostly a more "fun" movie but i still feel doesn't get analyzed enough. i watch both every year on the 18th of august. i know there are other films in the series but. i don't care for them.

the wicker man (1973) - i'm a big fan of folk horror in general but this is the ur-example for a reason. the soundtrack alone would probably have pushed this into my top 10 and yet it's still an extremely well-made fascinating film. another annual watch for me because how else are you going to celebrate may day

black christmas (1974) - i don't really think of myself as a slasher fan but the ones that i like i REALLY like. i really feel this one does not get its due in terms of the influence it ended up having on the genre nearly enough. great characters great atmosphere great sense of dark humor while often being genuinely scary. also coming up on its 50th anniversary this year so we should do something to celebrate

a nightmare on elm street (1984) - another slasher i really like. when wes craven's films hit they hit. nancy thompson one of my favorite horror protagonists ever. strangely enough i often find i'm alone for liking the first film best in the series. i would probably like 3 better if nancy didn't die. sorry!

re-animator (1985) - this is what i think of when i think of 80s horror. again the perfect combination of good characters great practical effects and an excellent dark sense of humor. it just suffers from regrettable treatment of its only female lead character but there's also always bride of re-animator which ups the wacky frankenstein nonsense without any scenes you have to warn people about before they get into it. jeffrey combs' herbert west one of my favorite little freaks in horror fiction.

american psycho (2000) - if you don't get the satire of this one that's on you. i just enjoy this one so much. it's brilliantly executed (ha!) i did read the book but i think the film does a very good job distilling and presenting its ideas in a more marketable but no less effective way. i really hope it doesn't develop the reputation of being an overplayed Meme Movie because it's such a good film.

the ring (2002) - okay i don't know if i'm putting this here because i think it's a great movie or if it was just such a formative experience for me but i'll allow myself one nostalgia choice. this was the first real horror movie i ever watched (anyone else's middle school have a pre-halloween event night where they'd have costume contests and show spooky movies? well we used to have one pg-13 rated film each year and this was the one that made an impression on me.) normally i hate 2000s horror remakes and this one does itself no favors by being an american remake of a foreign film (it does have more in common with the film adaptation of ringu than the original novel) but it's probably the best you can get with one of those. i was obsessed with this for a year after watching it and it's probably what actually kick-started my horror film interest. i went down a rabbit hole of ringu lore on my own at age 12-13 and sadako yamamura ended up being the first horror villain i really loved as a character in their own right while everyone my age made a big deal out of being terrified of "the ring girl". that might say something about me or it might not.

that's a brief tour of my horror history i guess. there are so many more films (and books!) i love and i'm always looking for more. my favorite decade of horror is almost definitely the 70s but there's something to love in every era (there are trends but they're not monoliths) and i love seeing new stuff. i can be pretty opinionated and can get a little pretentious, in a way, about my chosen genre so be assured it all comes from a place of love. i like more things than i hate, i think.

i'll be using this space to drop my thoughts about various scary movies and books i've seen and read recently or not so recently. i'm just glad to have a repository for All Of My Opinions.

final note: it's horror if i think it's horror based on vibes. hope this helps

[maydaymaydaymayday]

Raw emotion

Lyrics:

Tears that I wept

blood that I shed

Years that I spent

Wasting all my breath

Depressed beyond the rest

Suppressed within my chest

life’s just a test

Teflon on my vest

How could I be stressed

Eat my pills they pressed

Roulette with the press

God as my complex

Repressed from regrets

Lost all respect

Raised with neglect

feelings I project

Fuck, did you expect

Dying, for a check

Body they inspect

Check for defects

Blame they deflect

Drugs they detect

nother reject

Gone and he’s dead

This ain’t pretend

off the deep end

He been geeking

Since last weekend

Now I’m speeding

Crash out sleepin

Off the deep end

are you okay?

no, bitch

Wanna Put my brains on display

No, stitch

Gonna Watch my memories play

Couldn’t refrain, from my aim

Running round, my head no relay

Look at my anatomy decay

feeling like a zombie today

Its too late for me to pray

No prescription can supply my addiction

No proposition draw on em composition

no pot to piss in, no prayer, no crucifixion

no one to listen,

cure my sickness

No fixing my condition

torture me like the inquisition

death is my only decision

might jus become my religion

Wicked world full of animalization

white washed colonization

systematic dehumanization

psychedelic criminalization

so dark I need illumination

fuck both political parties

Creating nothing but separation

broken soul, no compensation

daily depersonalization

vivid hallucinations

of me bleeding no menstruation

heart palpitations

my demise anticipating

end is my preoccupation

my soul dissipating

dancing with constellations

disturbed, contemplations

stemming from my frustrations

fuck civilization

when’s the end I’m sick of waiting

Rapture won’t happen

thy kingdom won’t come

hell is on earth

no hope to disperse

Gaia is cursed

and consciously birthed

engulfed in flames

full of dying dreams

And living nightmares

no hope in sight

so turn off the fucking light

[ouch-thats-harsh]

venting ahead

don't look please

just needed to release everything

its never too late for me to start working

I've been procrastinating for too long

my entire chest aches

and I haven't even started on the things i have to do

so many books left to read

so many exams to give

hell, more than these, there are too many expectations

and every time I vent, it just feels like I'm faking for attention

I'm laughing with tears streaming down my face, scratching my neck, pulling my hair, franticly wiping my tears, screaming, sobbing while trying to take a walk to calm myself

music was blaring outside yesterday

and people still think I'm happy and fine and okay and gods know what

I'm so tired of thinking I'm doing all this for attention and that I'm a fucking fraud

I cried too much last night

and stared at the ceiling while laying motionlessly on my bed

went to the toilet and sat there terrified of having nightmares or sleep paralysis

its getting worse everyday

us making plans to meet on that specific day after 20 yrs

just for fun

I said "If I'm alive ofc"

I looked happy saying that

and my friend who knows how shit my mental health looked so worried

she freaked out when I screamed at my friend to stop packing my bags

I freaked out because it was fucking my brain up in all wrong ways

my arms started to shake

just because my books were packed weird (felt weird to me, it was completely fine)

she and my best friend looked so helpless while I had a full blown panic attack in our classroom

my best friend hates my family because she knows they are primarily the reason I'm so fucked up

I don't hate them

never did

last night i asked why she compares me to her in-laws

my mother can be so selfish

and a hypocrite

called me selfish and horrible

that i'll never be a good person

and then last night she said that she only says such because they ill-treated her

and she hopes they were dead

I asked, do I really treat her as such

she said, I never said that

then proceeded to talk about her trauma

even though I asked her to let me know why she hates me so much

i want to talk to someone

be held

just someone to sit with

I want to cry

so hard

she asked if I had been crying today

I said no

I want to bang my head until my skull cracks

have been calling myself all sorts of shit things

and I know they are true

and if anyone else says I'm not

then I know they're pitying me

if they yes, then I'll sit quiet

and then start to cry later

not me hating how I've wrote 'I' too many times

like my own existence bothers me

don't wanna cry

but then how am I suppose release this feeling

my chest hurts and feels like something's gnawing at it in the middle

I'm tired of feeling

tired of being tired

and my arms are weak

my stomach

it doesn't feel good

I'm gonna cringe at this

not like I'll read this again

[buckyalpine]

Let go

18+

Bucky x reader

My brain is truly like a toddler that doesn’t want to put on pants. Anyway. Now that this thought is in my brain and I envisioned it, I must get it out. sorry

Warnings: angst, smut

Imagine emotionally repressed and touch starved Bucky. 

He doesn’t really allow himself to cry. After a nightmare he tries to hurry away the sobs that wrack his body and pull himself together. He doesn’t think he deserve to feel sad after the things he’s done so he takes those nightmares like punishment's he deserves. He doesn’t talk about the pain he’s in because he doesn’t want to burden others with his problems. 

Even with you. There have been so many moments where his eyes sting, his throat tightens, he wants to curl up like a baby on your chest and cry but he can’t bring himself to. Sometimes when you hug him for a second longer, his lip trembles and he lets go. 

He’s touch starved in a way he doesn’t tell others; it’s not about people being too close or hugging him. He’s had plenty of bear hugs and drunken smooches on the cheek from nearly everyone on the team, especially after Tony’s parties. 

That’s different. 

He’s scared to let go. Scared to feel something so intense. He doesn’t even think he deserves that type of pleasure. He only has faint memories of what that type of intimacy felt like and he doesn’t feel ready to be vulnerable like that. His body looks different. His body is different; its pumped full of chemicals, all his senses are always dialed to a hundred. 

It scares him so much, he doesn’t even do anything about it for himself. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want it. When he sees you, he wants to touch you. He wants to feel every bit of your soft skin. He wants to feel your hands caress him wherever you want. But he never lets it happen, pushing it away for as long as he can. 

Until he can’t anymore.

The soft kisses between the sheets become more needy and he wants to feel all of you. Your quiet moans each time he touches you make him crave more, he wants to make you feel good. So good. He wants to feel every inch of your body, fuck he wants you to touch him. 

Touch him everywhere. 

Where he’s the most vulnerable. 

Where he’d moan for you.

Where he knows he’d be so sensitive, scared, shy, but no one else can have him like that, just you. 

Once you’re both bare, he can already feel so much.  Wanting your hands to stroke him, your lips to kiss him there softly. The need to be inside you. He wants to push himself inside you and stay like that forever, safe in your arms. He doesn’t tell you that this is basically his first time again; he can’t remember anything from before. He hopes you don’t realize he’s nervous, that you don’t hear the fast beating of his heart, his shuddered breaths when he feels your hand grasp him, giving him gentle strokes. 

“You okay Bucky?” You look at him with so much love and kindness and for a moment he wonders if he can do this, if he even has the right to make love to such a beautiful thing like you. But you play with his hair, kissing his skin, reassuring him you want this and he knows he wants it too. He needs it. 

You guide him to your soaked entrance, your thighs hugging his waist; this is already so much closer to you than he’d ever been before. He doesn’t realize his breaths are getting heavier, his heart racing even more, until he feels your hand cup his cheek, making him look at you to ground him. Your hand is rubbing up and down his chest, soothing his erratic heart, you just want the same as him; to be connected in a way you feel all of him. 

“It’s okay baby, just look at me” You whisper, your breath hitching when you feel the tip of his cock nudge your core. “Let me feel you Bucky” 

Keeping his eyes locked with yours, he pushes himself inside and he can’t help the deep moan that slips past his lips. Its almost euphoric. His body moves on its own, rolling his hips, chasing more of your warmth, his arms holding you close to him. Your hands are gripping onto him, moaning, telling him how good he’s making you feel, but he knows its nothing in comparison to the way he feels wrapped in your warmth. You would never have a clue how good you were making him feel. 

“Y/n...”

He can already feel it, the pleasure blooming through his body, he can’t stop it from creeping up his spine, flowing through his veins, he’s never felt something so good and he can’t hold it. 

“Fuck it feels good y/n”

You moan in response, loving the way he stretches you. His thrusts speed up craving more. 

“Baby, touch me?” He looks at you with pleading eyes, he wants to feel your body enveloped around his. “Pleases, please t-touch me y/n, I need it” 

You mark his neck with soft bruises, letting him feel your lips and teeth gently nip at his skin while your hands stroke up his arms before draping around his neck to hold him close to you. 

“Please baby” He knows he’s not going to last longer; he desperately wants to but you feel too good and he’s too sensitive, feeling everything at once, “Please, it feels good baby, its so good, y/n, angel, I-I need it so bad” 

You kiss his lips sweetly and the gentleness of your touch makes him melt. 

“I-I can’t-I’m gonna-hngggg-”

“Let go Bucky, cum for me baby” you whisper, your hands stroking his body as he nearly whimpers, burying his face into the crook if your neck, hot puffs of air hitting your skin. Your words throw him off the edge, his entire body weight on you, words can’t describe how good it feels. 

His first release. 

His body is feeling so much. 

Too much all at once. 

The feeling is now overwhelming, he feels open and vulnerable, his body still throbbing, shivering at the cool air touching his sweat covered skin. He’s panting against your skin, body weight on yours. You start to feel a dampness on your neck, confused. Were those tears? 

Then the first sob escapes his lips.

You’re terrified a boundary has been crossed or that a memory of his may have been triggered. Did you hurt him accidently? 

“Bucky?” You try to pull away to see his face but he shakes his head and buries himself deeper, clinging onto you. “Baby, you’re scaring me, what's wrong?” 

He can’t even tell you what’s wrong, crying harder and hugging you tighter, his body continues to feel, still wrapped in your warmth. He can’t even place where all his feelings are coming from; everything he’d been holding on the inside pouring out at once. 

“Bubba” You coo, rubbing his back, trying to rock him and calm him down but sobs continue to wrack his body. You manage to pull the covers up, protecting him in a cocoon of warmth while he lets everything out. You realize its the first time he’s cried in front of you. What you don’t know is it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to cry at all. 

“Its okay sweet heart, I’m right here James” Your lips brush against his forehead, stroking his hair. 

“S-sorry” He whimpers, feeling bad for spilling all his emotions onto you without warning, hardly lasting, feeling like an even bigger burden than before. You shake your head, cupping his cheek to wipe some of his tears away while he continues to hide away from you, keeping his face in your neck. 

“You can cry whenever you want to, I’m here to hold you. You can always cry baby, don’t hold it in” 

His cries soften as he thinks about how much he loves you. He’d never felt safer, he’s never let anyone touch him or hold him or comfort him like this. All those rights were reserved just for you, his safe haven. His doll who took care of him. 

“Shhhh” You soothe him as best as you can, kissing the top of his head, “You’re safe here bubba, I’m here” 

He nods against your chest, little sniffles and tears still streaming down his cheeks. 

“Y-you make me feel so good” He whispers, closing his eyes and clinging onto you. You giggle but Bucky shakes his head, pulling away from you and making you look at him. 

“No angel, you don’t understand. You make me feel so good in everyway. Y-You make me feel safe baby, you take care of me. You love me so much, you’re such an angel to me” His eyes leave your gaze for a moment, his cheeks blushing, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re my first since I’ve gotten a little bit of my life back. I know I don’t remember a lot but no one else has ever made me feel so good. Not like you” 

You kiss him deeply, the muscles in his body relaxing, allowing himself to get lost in you again. He groans into the kiss, letting his tongue explore your mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist, hugging him with your entire body. 

“You’re making this hard for me angel” Bucky stutters, feeling your walls flutter around his semi hard length, still buried in your heat. “I-I won’t last” You can practically feel the warmth radiating off his cheeks, your poor touch starved baby. 

“Just want to feel you” You whisper, your breath hitching when he starts to rock his hips again, making your moan. Your hands rub all over his body, your fingers carding through his hair, moving down to trace down his spine, your ankles locking around his waist. You kiss him and touch him in every way possible while he pants and moans above you. 

“Is this okay?” He asks timidly, his hand hesitantly cupping your breast, toying with your nipple his forehead resting on your again. 

“Touch me baby, anywhere” You moan out, while he grasps the soft flesh harder, dipping his head down to take your nipple in his mouth. The feel of your hands caressing his skin, your soft peaked bud on his tongue brings his release again, and he can’t stop himself, he chases it, his body trembling on top of you. 

He blushes, about to apologize again but you stop him, your thumb caressing his cheek, pressing a kiss onto his nose. 

“We have all night solider. All night” 

And he does just that. 

He spends all night having release after release. 

Until the bed is so messy, you have to take it to the showers. 

Tags:

@glxwingrxse  @hungryyeyess  @sebsgirl71479  @beabutterfly987  @teambarnes72  @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass  @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan  @buggy14  @whimsyplaty92  @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec   @pono-pura-vida   @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z  @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog  @happyt0exist   @emmabarnes  @bethyruth @matchat3a  @cjand10   @getwellsoontana  @cherryschaos   @lokisasgardianvampirequeen  @ashenc-blog  @buckybarnessimpp   @potatothots  @goldylions  @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog  @kingfleury   @peaches1958   @spiderman-stilinski   @peaceinourtime82  @gublur   @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46   @lolawassad  @almosttoopizza   @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess   @buckycallsmeaslut    @kamaria-sweet-writes  @charmedbysarge    @xnorthstar3x  @kryoee7 @alina02  @gh0stgurl    @batprincess1013 @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes

[beyondspaceandstars]

The Sleeping Situation

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: minor mentions of blood, minor (non-descriptive) violence Summary: You finally convince Bucky to sleep with you in the bed, as opposed to the floor, but you find it doesn't exactly go as smoothly as you had hoped it would, leading to some taunting emotions and revelations. A/N: This one went over pretty well on ao3 so fingers-crossed y’all enjoy too! idk how different audiences are - i just like sharing my work :)

Masterlist

You had finally convinced him. After weeks of hints and attempting, he had finally placed himself beneath the duvet, snuggled up right next to your body. 
It was something close to a miracle. Bucky had been sleeping on the floor for as long as you could remember. It had become really something you accepted — like clockwork, after watching a show or movie in the bed, he’d let you doze off then untangle himself to go to the living room.

When you first moved in, he didn’t think you really noticed. He’d always be up before you anyways, nothing seeming out of place but as if you possessed some sixth sense, you could always feel Bucky’s arms leave your waist as he went to retire in the living room.

During attempts at bringing up the bed, Bucky would dismiss it, saying he just hated how soft it was. He couldn’t get comfortable. He wasn’t used to it at all. And while you didn’t doubt this for a second, you still felt something deeper worries had been brewing.

You had decided to start small by having Bucky stay cuddling after your nightly movie viewing. You two would lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling, mindlessly talking about whatever was going on with your days. He seemed at peace with this until your eyes started drooping. Within seconds, the grip on your waist would vanish and he was heading out.

It was fine, though, since you had your moment together and he had found some way to relax in the bed. While you never wanted to push him, you wanted him at least content.

The next level was napping. After work, nearly every day, you’d announce you were laying down for a nap and ask Bucky if he was tired. Usually, he’d just shake his head. But one day he looked absolutely spent and wordlessly followed you into the room. A thrown arm around you loosely, he was able to get some shut-eye…for about 15 minutes. Soon he was uncomfortable and placing a kiss on your cheek, following it with a recoil of his touch. Still, you were taking the win and slowly but surely, the time spent napping would go up. Days bast but eventually he was up to an hour in the bed, napping peacefully.

When he finally decided to take the step to join you for a full eight hours in the queen-sized bed, you were quite shocked but easily overwhelmed with joy.

The movie had just ended and you were closing the laptop when Bucky left the bed. You frowned, watching his figure disappear to the bathroom, worried he was already backing out before cuddles and pillow talk. But you didn’t say anything and instead got comfortable on your side (well — the whole thing could’ve been your side at this point).

As you drifted off, a heavy arm snaked its way around you as you felt the other side of the bed dip. Blinking your eyes opened, you looked over your shoulder and was greeted by a nervous-looking Bucky staring back at you.

You turned to face him and asked, "Everything okay, honey?"

He nodded, "I- I’m going to try- try sleeping here if that’s okay."

Your eyes beamed as a smile you couldn’t suppress made its way to your face. "Of course," you said and placed a good night kiss on his lips. "Sleep well."

"You too, doll," Bucky mumbled and placed another kiss on your forehead. You curled up into him, feeling that he got more relaxed and his heartbeat went steady, drifting off to sleep.

***

Shaking. You were disrupted by something…shaking. Violently. Your first thought as you blinked, waking yourself out of your dazed sleep, was that a spontaneous earthquake was happening.

Except once your mind adjusted, it didn’t take very long to realize the mattress was the only thing shaking — and was the result of Bucky twisting and turning in fear next to you, lost in a nightmare. At some point, he must’ve untangled your cuddling bodies but thankfully that allowed you to sit up quickly, not trapped under whatever was happening.

You watched him, quite stunned to see Bucky thrashing around uncontrollably as whatever images and scenarios took over his brain. You didn’t really know what to do. All your brain could focus on was getting him out of his own thought. You needed him to calm down and know he was perfectly safe.

"Bucky?" You mumbled, your voice scratchy from the tears and fears creeping up. He didn’t react, only whispered some words to himself that you didn’t understand.

You hesitantly reached out for him, placing an experimental touch on his shoulder. He didn’t react at first so you called out his name again and tried shaking him. That was apparently not the right move because the next thing you knew, you were being flung off the bed, the side of your face against your bedside table on your way down. You landed ungracefully on your side, groaning at the unexpected pain.

The fall must’ve been loud enough because the next thing you could comprehend was watching the bed and seeing a very confused and dazed Bucky sit up. He was looking around the dark room, sweaty and anxious. When your eyes met, any color left in him faded. You could practically see the gears turning as he realized what he had done. You on the other hand were still quite surprised by the incident, simply choosing to stare at your boyfriend, watching him scramble off the bed and kneel at your side.

"Doll?" Bucky asked right beside you but his voice sounded so far away.

Taking some deep breaths, your shaky hand came up to your cheek as you felt something wet. Looking at your fingers, it was a sad mix of tears and blood.

A hand being placed on your shoulder made you snap back. You jerked away, turning towards your boyfriend. Bucky was practically frozen watching you, hands in the air, as you rushed to put space between you two.

Realizing the consequences of your actions, your heart sunk and you began apologizing. "Sorry, sorry," you mumbled, trying to furiously wipe away the tears and blood. "I- What happened? Are you okay?" You situated yourself to sit criss-cross in front of him.

"Am I okay?" Bucky shook his head in disbelief. "Are you okay? I- I’m sorry. God, I don’t even know how to apologize for this I am- I am so sorry, doll, I didn’t mean it. It wasn’t me, I swear, it- I had a nightmare and I just- I don’t know what happened." He was rambling, body shaking as he didn’t know what to do. Where to begin. How to explain. His mind was torn as a part of him wanted to hold you… And the other part wanted to leave you forever, utterly terrified of himself.

"Yeah, you seemed a bit upset," you mumbled, trying to hold your hand to your scraped cheek. Bucky saw your struggle and darted to the bathroom to get a washcloth, offering all he could as his words were failing. He handed it to you then took his seat again on the floor.

You dabbed your skin, checking the cloth as the bleeding slowed down. You weren’t sure what to say, either.

"I didn’t know what to do," you finally whispered, looking down at the carpet beneath you. "You were shaking and tossing and- and I just wanted you to wake up. To know you were fine. You seemed so scared-,"

"Alright, alright," Bucky mumbled, cutting you off as he saw you beginning to get worked up. Your body was shaking now as you recalled the last few minutes. The pure suddenness and terror that took over the room. He placed an experimental touch on your knee and, thankfully, you didn’t jump away. "You were fine, doll. This isn’t your fault. I- I knew I wasn’t ready to sleep with anyone and I got ahead of myself and now… Look what happened. God, what have I done?"

His jaw clenched as he spat out the words. You jumped slightly.

"Bucky, you didn’t mean to-,"

"But I did it," he said. "I hurt you and now I think maybe this just isn’t…" He faded off, his hand leaving your knee. He turned towards the bed as you tried searching him for anything, any answer.

"James, don’t." You shook your head. Bucky’s head whipped back to you as he heard the anger, the seriousness, in your voice. "Don’t say whatever you’re going to say. Let’s just go back to sleep and we can figure stuff out in the morning."

Bucky bit his tongue. He just nodded at your request, seriously not trusting his words anymore. He had half the mind to walk out, disappear into the world without you, all in the name of keeping you safe. And like the mind-reader you could be, you knew it. You saw it in his entire demeanor. He was practically planning an escape route at that very moment.

You two finally stood up from the floor. After disregarding the washcloth, you found your way back under the duvet. Bucky wordlessly gathered a blanket and left for the living room, knowing very well this bed was going to be the last place he fell asleep for a long time.

"Bucky," you called out as you were turned away from him. He stopped in the doorway. "To talk in the morning you have to actually be here."

He didn’t respond and instead just nodded his head as if you could see it. Then he promptly exited the room.

While the bleeding had stopped, the tears weren’t as you only heard the sound of Bucky walking to the living room.

***

Bucky was there in the morning and you talked — you. Only you could formulate words as difficult as it was while Bucky sat across from you. The guilt, shame, the exhaustion, all of it was painted on his normally sweet face.

You had told him you were fine, were feeling better. You were going to be okay. You understood the bed situation and wouldn’t pressure him into sleeping anywhere he was uncomfortable. You just desperately wanted him to be okay, to feel safe and happy in this space with you. Bucky just nodded along as you began attempting to write out a plan in case that had happened again. Nothing seemed to bring a true conclusion but there was at least the idea that there’d be no more touching of either person in their sleep, at least for the time being. It crushed you both, but neither of you commented.

He didn’t really offer much input besides agreeing with your points. Every other word out of his mouth was "sorry" so much so to the point you had to beg him to stop it.

He mostly just listened which you generally would enjoy from any man but in this case, you knew it gave his brain time to wander. Probably still planning how he would get himself out of his. But you didn’t want him gone. He was practically the perfect significant other in every sense. No one had ever treated you with such kindness and respect. Showered you with romance and kisses. Surprised you with date nights and flowers. You were just at a bump in the road and you didn’t want to get stuck behind it so easily.

Few days had passed and stuff seemed to be edging back towards normal. He had begun even holding your hand again, just a gentle touch to work his way up, reminding you greatly of when you first started dating, but you were welcoming it all with great patience.

You were standing at the kitchen counter cutting up vegetables for dinner when Bucky came home. He had a therapy appointment that day and usually emotions could be all over the place when he came home. Some days were good, some days everything would get under his skin.

Today, though, he seemed just… fine. He came in quietly and planted a quick kiss on your cheek before grabbing a beer from the fridge. He asked if you needed any help and when you shook your head, he went over to sit on the couch, watching whatever reality show you had mindlessly playing.

Moments passed and you had just begun sautéing the cut-up veggies when Bucky spoke, cutting through the silence quite surprisingly.

"I told her what happened," Bucky said softly. You froze, eyes trained on the skillet in front of you. His therapist. He had told her.

"Oh?" You asked, silently cringing at your stupid response. Neither of you had exactly brought up the incident since that morning after. And if anyone was going to resurface it, you had assumed it’d be you, so hear him so casual was making your heart pound.

"Mhm," he hummed. "I told her my first reaction was to leave."

"Bucky-,"

Footsteps started towards you, stopping at the little kitchen bar. You could feel him watching you as you tried focusing on the cooking produce. Your breath started to get caught in your throat, so much worry and concern washing over you.

"She wanted you to come in one session," Bucky tapped his fingers on the counter. "So we can talk."

You frowned and finally turned towards him. Worry was splashed everywhere on his face. Your heart practically sobbed. "Bucky, we did talk about it."

He shook his head profusely. "No, you talked," A beat. "I stood there like a statue, thinking of ways to leave you. Ways to get out of this so I’d never had to see that scared, upset look on your face ever again. So I’d never have to cause you any more pain than I already have. But I’ve come to realize I can’t do that because I love you too much and I- I can’t run away from you or anything. I’m going to try… No, I will make it right."

Your heart sank at his confessions. He loved you — a word he had never explicitly said before. A four-letter word he had never stood there and outwardly said. You let out a light sob and went around the kitchen counter, throwing your arms around his neck. He was shocked at first, maybe even a bit unsure, but you weren’t letting go, he realized, until he held you back.

"I love you, too," you eventually mumbled between the tears. You pulled away slightly, keeping your hands on his arms while his hands rested comfortably at your waist. Just feeling his touch had you melting all over again. "We’re going to be okay, Buck. It’s going to be fine."

He nodded, his eyes searching over your face as the scrape on your cheek was just still barely visible. It was going away fast but he didn’t think he could ever unsee it. "You’re right, doll, we’ll be okay. I’m working on it."

You gave a small smile. "You can’t be perfect, Bucky."

"Maybe not," Bucky shrugged as his hand found its way to your face, caressing your unharmed cheek. "But I at least gotta try to be perfect for you."

You sighed, leaning into the loving touch. Looking in his eyes you could kind of see that it truly was going to be okay. He looked so passionate and dedicated when he stared at you like you were it in the world. The only thing there. It made your soul sing and you hoped he saw it in you, too. "You are, honey. You already are."

[levi-my-beloved]

Hello I hope your having wonderful day/evening, could I request headconons on Levi catching his crush masturbating and watches from afar, then reader catches him. Any reader gender is fine. At their hq ofc…

<33

IM FINALLY GETTING ROUND TO THIS PLEASE ITS BEEN TEASING ME IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG AND FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY IM GETTING THE TIME TO WRITE THIS AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Warnings: masturbation (f and m), oral (m receiving), face fucking, subby!ish Levi, voyerism

okay this is literally just a smut fic with bullet points istg....

It wasn't uncommon for the pipes supplying the superior's quarters with warm water to pack up in the wintertime, and during these disastrous days, all and any shower blocks and bathhouses became communal. Soldiers and cadets would share one block, superiors would share another, that's just how it went.

It had been an ass of a day, full of brutal training regimes followed by piles and piles of paperwork that you swore reached the height of a 15m titan. And it never. Stopped. Your muscles were sore, your brain was sore, and you were so fucking pent up it was unreal. You've had a severe lack of time for yourself and it was taking your toll on your libido. All you wanted to do was to get off, and yet all you managed to do was sign you fucking name over and over again until your eyes were falling out their sockets and your fingers were too cramped up to do anything other than claw at next parchment you needed to work on.

God winter was a fucking nightmare.

And what's worse was that you couldn't get these filthy images of Captain Levi out of your head. The man had you wrapped around his little finger and he didn't even know it. And he didn't even know how badly you literally wanted to be wrapped around his fingers. Gods, every part of him was screaming "Fuck me" at you and there wasn't a damn thing you could do about it. You couldn't even relieve your own urges for fuck sakes.

Your squads barely interacted anyway. Just enough to keep your thoughts occupied with him. Fleeting glances, quick conversations, a brushing of fingertips when exchanging paperwork. Every interaction sent bolts of need through your body, and you couldn't tell if you hated him for it, or loved him for it.

Little did you know, Levi had found himself in a very similar position. Fuck was your image getting on his nerves. Riling him up when he was supposed to be writing requests for more funding or responses to inquiries about the Scout's recent findings. His disobedient cock springing at the mere thought of your sculptured body, and he was at a loss as to what to do about it. He didn't have the time to take care of his situation, however it was a little more obvious for him when he was thinking about you than it was for you when you thought about him.

Your urges were less... visible. And Levi had caught himself readjusting his military uniform more than once after being lost in thought, images of you ecstasy painted face burning his mind and his core.

Why did you have to be so fucking attractive?

Why did he have to be so fucking attractive?

The day had been long, the night had been longer when you finally decided enough was enough. You hadn't showered in far too long and you were starting to feel the dirt accumulating under your fingernails. You hated the idea of sharing a bathroom, remembering how little privacy there was back in your cadet days. But it was passed midnight, so the likelihood of anyone barging in was incredibly low. Maybe only Hange after one of their late night experiments, but you'd welcome them with open arms into your bath. You just had that kind of relationship with them.

Plus they're always in dire need of one.

With your bath town folded over your forearm, you quietly padded to the bathhouse, not wanting to wake anybody from their rest. They sure as shit needed it.

However with every step, the anticipation grew. You could finally release all this tension you had building up, your core growing ever wetter as you walked. You could feel your arousal already pooling in your folds, dampening your underwear as you tried your best not to picture Levi's face when you stuffed his cock in your mouth. God fucking damnit why were you so damn horny for this man?!?

With cautious steps, your footfalls echoed in the empty chamber, your prize lying at the end of the hall of shower blocks. You had no idea why these soldiers were only given a few bathtubs, personally you thought it was a little cruel, but at least nobody was here now. Hanging up your towel on the hook, you began running your reward for all your recent hard work, adjusting the temperature until it suited you best.

You hastily removed your uniform, almost forgetting to fold it until you cringed at the crinkles that would form in the borderline pristine clothing, even after a day's work. You sighed in frustration, haphazardly piling the surprisingly neatly folded uniform in the corner, before unraveling your breast bindings and stepping out your underwear, trying not to look at the string of arousal that linked the fabric to your aching cunt.

Fuck were you needy.

You couldn't stop you hands from wandering over your body, tickling up along your stomach and waist, teasing circles under your breasts before travelling back down to your inner thigh, pinching and groping until you gasped lightly. You let your imagination run wild, your hands feeling larger, more calloused than your own.

You'd almost completely forgotten about your running bath, your breath hitching as you grazed your swollen, throbbing clit. It was only when you forced yourself back to reality did you realise the tub was getting dangerously high.

Cursing under your breath at yet another interruption, you twisted the tap off, before stepping into the scalding water, your muscles already sighing in relief as you let yourself sink up to your neck, before plunging in completely.

Having been submerged, you didn't hear the echoing pads of more footfalls, somebody else clearly having the same idea.

Levi had been hauled up in his office for the best part of three weeks, only emerging to train both himself and his squad, before locking himself away once again to work. The idea of a nighttime bath had been calling to him, like a siren to a sailor, and he couldn't deny it's song any longer.

He assumed he was alone, not expecting anybody else to even be awake at this time, let alone running themselves a bath. So imagine his surprise when he's halfway through removing his boxers and the gentle sloshing of water graced his alert ears. Head perking up like a cat, Levi wrapped a towel around his midriff, his mind set on investigating whatever the fuck that was. He prayed it wasn't a bust pipe, because he might actually throw himself off the roof if he couldn't relax for at least an hour tonight.

His gaze narrowed as he approached the not-quite-shut door to one of the baths, hand braced on the slightly damp wood before he pushed ever so slightly, almost immediately stopping in his tracks. Did someone just whimper...? Unfortunately, Levi knew that voice anywhere, whether it be barking out orders on the training ground or airing high pitched moans in the bathhouse.

Levi couldn't help it, his repressed sex drive and lustful curiosity got the better of him. Pushing the door open a crack more, his eyes widened at what he saw, all the blood in his body rushing to his cock as he watched you, head flung back, jaw locked open, unashamedly pleasuring yourself.

You'd had enough of teasing, enough of running your fingers around your core and not actually touching yourself where you really needed. The second the pads of your fingers came into contact with your exposed pearl, the game was over, and you couldn't hold back. Taking your clit between your thumb and forefinger, you squeezed and rubbed yourself, jolts of pure euphoria electrifying your nerves.

Your other hand played with your sensitive nipples, rolling the pebbled buds in the same motion as your clit, before this hand too travelled down your navel and between your thighs. You head flew back as you dipped a finger inside your soaking hole, the water doing nothing to wash away your gushing juices, your finger slipping inside yourself and massaging your needy walls.

Another whimper flew from your lips and Levi's member twitched in response, as if answering your needy call. It was all he could do not to cum there and then, his palm settling over his tented erection as you continued to bring yourself to your peak.

"Fuck... F-fuck, Levi, oh fucking– shit...! Levi..." you mewled his name, your fingers once again feeling thicker as you added another, scissoring yourself open whilst your middle finger continued to circle your twitching clit.

Levi froze. Did you just...? Did he just hear that correctly...? Did you just moan his name? Another crack of arousal shocked his nerves, his hand kneading at his covered cock, stifling a high pitched groan at your words. His other hand slapped over his mouth, biting down on his knuckles as his thumb swiped his fountain tip, leaking precum all down his length and surely dampening the towel he was supposed to be using later.

The water in the tub started to rock with the rhythm of your pumping hips, grinding yourself against your own fingers as all you could think about was chasing your release. It was all you needed, all you wanted, and then you could get back to work.

Levi's hand slid inside the front of his towel, his fingertips grazing his throbbing length. He was glad you were too caught up in your throes of pleasure to hear him moan quietly, his jaw tensed open at the mental image of you making those sounds because of him, because of his fingers, or his mouth, or if he was lucky enough, his cock.

"Gonna... fuck, gonna make me fucking cum, L-Levi...! Feel so fucking good, you feel s-so fucking good... shit, oh fuck oh fuck oh F-FUCK LEVI...!" your fantasy had completely taken over, hips bucking relentlessly as your high hit you like a freight train. Your thighs shook, abdomen tensing before you threw your head back completely, cumming hard around your digits with a staggered, loud whine of relief.

You kept your fingers moving, back arching off the base of the bathtub, the water spilling over and onto the stone as wave after wave of utter bliss consumed your body, another half scream leaving your throat before you gasped for air, your entire body twitching with every gentle caress of your fingers as you removed them from your quivering pussy, washing away the tacky remains in the now dirtied water.

Levi was stunned, his fist grasping the base of his cock so firmly he could feel his heartbeat pulsing. He really didn't want to cum watching your pleasure yourself but holy fuck was he close. Any movement of his hand and he was sure he would burst. His nerves thrummed with need, heart thumping in his chest as he watched your peak unfold. Shit, you looked like a wet fucking dream, slick skin arching out the water, muscles tensing and relaxing sporadically.

He couldn't breathe. If he breathed, he would moan again, and if he moaned, you'd know not only did he just witness this entire thing, but more importantly that he enjoyed it. His member begged and throbbed with every convulsion of your body, your neck, back and head bowed in such a pretty arch he couldn't help but feel like this private performance was all for him.

It was that thought that was his undoing. Whilst trying to remove his hand from his dick, the sudden onslaught of pleasure drew the prettiest, neediest whine from his lungs. His other hand braced on the doorframe, clutching on for dear life as it took every fibre of self restraint not to dirty his already filthy towel even further with his release, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, brows furrowed in euphoric agony. It took a few second for Levi to regain his senses, mind still half clouded by his desperate member and heavy balls.

In utter horrified terror, Levi realised what he'd just done, the sound he'd just made. Slowly opening his eyes, he looked back down to see you hadn't moved. Maybe you were just too far gone in your afterglow to have heard what happened? It was possible he could get that lucking twice... right?

"Luckily for you... this little performance requires audience participation." fuck being subtle. fuck being cautious about this. You'd heard those pretty little whines, and though you had literally just cum, you couldn't suppress the urge to hear how many more noises he could make.

Turning your head, you smirked provocatively over your shoulder at Levi's mortified expression, watching his thought process as he realised what just happened. His eyes darkened with need, relaxing a little as he understood that you weren't, in fact, livid.

"How long've you known?" he asked, voice low and gravelly, filled with restraint. You little giggle was worth all the gold in the city, your bubbles of humour shooting straight to his aching core.

"That you've been standing there? The whole time. That you want me the same way I want you...?" you smirk turned deadly, the equivalent of a predatory snake showing it's fangs. "The whole time." you hissed, biting your lip as you heard him swear under his breath. Sitting up in the tub, you turned to him, beckoning him over with a single curling finger and you watched his eyes focus on the movements, noticing the tent at his waist jolt slightly.

You couldn't help but giggle again at how eagerly he walked over, stopping just short of the edge of the tub as you reached out for his waist, hands pulling him closer so the muscles of his thighs pressed against the metal.

Tilting your head up, you watched his expression shift as you placed that same beckoning finger on the tip of his tented erection, delighting in the way he sucked in a breath, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides, needing to feel your skin beneath his fingers.

"What got you so excited, Captain? It can't have been me moaning your name, could it? L-Levi... oh fuck Levi! Something like that?" you grinned at the buck of his hips, one of his hands threading through his hair and gripping his own locks, trying to ground himself.

"Please, gods... Been so fucking pent up... 's your fault as well... fucking– oh fuck, fucking thinkin' 'bout you all the damn time," you loved the way he stuttered, too busy panting and moaning when you softly palmed his length over his towel to even form a coherent sentence. Leaning up, you licked a long stripe along the divots of his abs, leaving a trail of saliva coated goosebumps that sent shivers down his spine and pulses of raw pleasure to his cock.

Your delicate fingers lightly traced the hem of the towel, still miraculously tucked around his waist. Your featherlight touch had him keening, soft whimpers flying from his mouth as you finally, finally untucked the garment, allowing it to fall to the floor. Your grin grew feral as he bucked again into the falling fabric, relishing the way the rougher surface dragged along his swollen cock-head.

Shit was he beautiful. Bulging veins, leaking tip flushed fuchsia with desperate longing, his length glazed and shined with his own lustful need. You ghosted your touch along his underside, barely giving him the friction he needed. A pitiful mewl mingled with the sloshing of water in the air.

The moment you wrapped your hand around his shaft was the moment any restraint he had on himself vanished. You listened to his long, throaty moan as you increased the pressure of your thumb along that most prominent vein along the underside, watching as his eyes rolled back in an instant, jaw once again held open to allow the slew of pleasure induced sounds to fly from his pretty mouth.

"Wanted you like this for so long, Levi. Want to make you feel so fucking good," you muttered, finding yourself fascinated by each and every reaction to your touch. The way his length jumped, the way his abs flexed and strained, the way his hands didn't know where to settle, the way his expression couldn't lie still, constantly shifting between clamping his jaw shut and leaving it hanging open. He was such a hot mess, and you couldn't get enough.

"Y-yeah? Then p-please... please, make me feel good, fu-ah'haaah... fuck! Oh f-fucking– yes, fuck... yes...!" his moans grew in both pitch and volume as you delivered a few kitten licks to his bulging tip, his hands finally sinking into your hair as he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting onto your tongue. You braced a hand on his naval, preventing him from moving as you lolled out your tongue, dribbling your hot saliva along the top of his cock before once again wrapping your fist around his length and languidly pumping.

Parting your lips, you flicked your slick muscle against his slit, before enveloping his aching head in your plush mouth, your own arousal building again as his fingers dug into your scalp. You smirk around his cock, hearing yet another shaky groan, your hand continuing those slow yet firm pumps along his shaft.

If Levi had the mind right now, he would think back to how you two even managed to get yourself into this situation. But he didn't have the mind, and he couldn't think. All he could do was feel and whimper and writhe beneath your scalding touch. The suction of your mouth had him seeing stars, his eyes crossing before rolling up into the back of his head.

"Tell me how it feels, Levi." he vaguely registered your instruction, his head dipped in something that resembled a nod. But suddenly speech seemed impossible as your hand came off his length, only to be replaced by your throat. A noise somewhere between a gasp and a scream tore from his lungs as you swallowed around him, his tip brushing your textured gag reflex and discovering no response. Levi's hands flexed in your hair, his breathing erratic.

"Shit! Sh-shit oh fuck yes right there f-fuck, oh my gods...! Feels s-so good... so fucking– ah'hah... nngh, oh shit, feels so good...! You feel so fucking good!" you stilled, allowing him to take a moment. His praise only served to rile you up further, your other hand snaking down to flick your clit, causing you to moan around his length. Levi's mouth formed an O as he felt the vibrations shudder down his cock, letting out the most pathetic whimper you'd ever heard.

"Please... please move... I can't– haa'ah, wanna cum so bad, 'm so fuckin' hard," taking pity on him, you removed your hand from your own core, placing both against his hips and slowly guided him back, hollowing your cheeks as you urged him to gently fuck your mouth. Levi looked down, almost cumming at the sight of your teary eyes and swollen lips as you nodded in both confirmation and encouragement.

Using his grip on your hair for leverage, Levi slowly thrust his cock back inside your beckoning cavern and you had to admit you were impressed with his restraint. To be this needy, you knew he must have been in the same situation as you, having no time to take care of himself. So you were shocked when he didn't immediately fuck your throat like his life depended on it. Which at this point, it may well.

Every swipe of your tongue along that underside vein sent molten ecstasy through his system as his volume increased with his speed, the soft slapping of his heavy balls against your chin joined the symphony of his whines, every thrust of his hips brushing his cock-tip against the back of your throat.

You could tell he was close when his rhythm faltered, his movements getting sloppy and unmeasured as he fumbled with his words, "C-can I cum in y-aah'ah, can I cum in your mouth? Please... fuck! Fucking– p-please? 'M so close... fuck 'm so f–ucking close... you feel so good, mouth feels so g-good oh fuck oh f-fuck!"

You nodded enthusiastically, helping him back with his rhythm as you sucked and swallowed around him, desperate to taste his release. Your tongue working overtime to give him that much needed high he'd been holding out on.

It only took a few more thrusts before Levi completely lost control, his hips stuttering with a mind of their own. Head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, his jaw fell open with a half-scream. The muscles in his thighs quivered as he came harder than he ever thought possible, ropes and ropes of his seed forcing its way down your throat, his salty taste lingering on your tongue as you lapped him through his high.

You'd never seen such an erotic sight. Levi's back arched so beautifully and the way his nails dug into your scalp had you whimpering slightly. He pumped into your soft mouth a few more times, groaning your name in utter bliss, every nerve in his body alight with his orgasm tearing through.

Even after completely emptying himself down your throat, it was as if his muscles were on autopilot, still seeking that blinding pleasure until it was physically painful for him to continue and whimpers and pleas for you to stop fell from his lips, prompting you to pull off his softening cock completely, pressing a gentle kiss to his inner thigh before licking any of his remains from your lips.

You looked up at him in adoration, smiling as his smokey eyes cracked open once he'd caught his breath, your tongue poking through your teeth. Levi's removed his hands from your hair, his thumb wiping any stray tears from your cheeks as he returned your smile with the slightest pull of his lips, his expression softer than you'd ever seen it.

"Move up." he instructions made you panic slightly, eyes widening.

"But I just– as in, you saw me– I uh–" and all of a sudden you were flustered.

"I don't care, we'll shower after, I need to fucking soak after that." there was less water in the tub now, most of it having spilled over and onto the floor, but it was still surprisingly warm. You giggled as you scooted over until your back was against the edge of the tub, making room for him to climb in and lie on top of you, his head resting on your chest.

"Levi?" you inquired, your hands gently threading through his hair.

"Mm?"

"You taste really fucking good."

Levi snorted, whether he was embarrassed or amused, you couldn't tell, but you had a distinct feeling it was the latter, if the way he turned his head away was anything to judge by.

"Shut up or I'll drown you in this bath." Levi could feel your laughter in your chest, adoring the way it echoed throughout the bathhouse.

[delirious-donna]

Nightmares [NaLu]

an: this is a short story that my mind conjured for Nalu week which is themed bittersweet/angst. Today's prompt is nightmares, hence the title. Angst is not my favoured genre to write for as I am far too soft-hearted to want to see beloved characters in pain but it is always fun to work on new ideas so I hope this has come out okay? @thenaluarchive

pairing: Natsu Dragneel x Lucy Heartfilia

warnings: SFW, angst, nightmares, mentions of violence and death, dark imagery and themes, regrets and worries, Natsu just needs a hug, Lucy is his guiding light, Zeref isn't a villain (I will die on this hill), minor spoilers for 100 Year Quest

Masterlist

Dreams – warm and golden.

Fragments of long-forgotten memories that he shouldn’t possibly be able to recall, yet they played out in the calm space of his subconscious. To him, this was reality and not the concoction of his overactive brain. The tall, lush grass tickled against his bare toes, the scorching heat of the midday sun beat down upon his pink hair and a black haired boy chased eagerly after him.

Joyous laughter rang merrily through the vibrant blue cloudless sky. His heart felt so full that it might just burst right out of his tiny chest. The sweet sound of his brother calling his name through gasping giggles only spurred him on to run faster, sure that he could outrun him if only he kept going.

A small house came into view as he turned in a tight arc, hoping to find some place to dive behind cover and change the game from chase to hide and seek. Curls of snow-white smoke spouted from the rickety chimney, the roof tattered in places but despite the scruffy appearance, the home was filled to capacity with love.

The young boy couldn’t see the patched paintwork walls, the crumbling bricks of the chimney stack or the window frames that were loose and rotten in places. All he saw were the smiling faces of his family; the tall figure of his father with hair the same cotton candy pink as his own, the warm arms of his mother that would embrace both her sons each and every time she could and the black tuft of hair that dared to defy gravity on his older brother’s head.

Things were perfect for the Dragneels and little Natsu didn’t have a care in the world…

A raven flew from its branch with an ominous caw. Gusts of wind whipped from out of nowhere, enough force behind them to make the small boy falter in his pace and it was all that was needed for his pursuer to grasp his shoulder. A hand that was much too large for a child rested heavily, dried blood caked beneath the fingernails and skin as pale as a ghost.

He was no longer a boy, Natsu stood tall in the ruins of a building that he knew all too well.

His chest heaved with each breath he took whilst burning pain raced along his ribs. Skin coated in a grimy mixture of sweat and blood, he felt unclean and broken. So utterly destroyed by the sight that lay at his feet; the bodies of two lovers entwined, it was enough to send him crashing to his knees.

Natsu worried over the fate of Zeref’s soul, would he be damned for the rest of eternity in a place he did not belong? Destined to writhe in agony as flames far superior to those of the Dragon Slayer licked at his flesh? His stomach roiled with that unpleasant thought and tears fell freely.

This was his nightmare.

The place his mind took him to more often than he wished to admit. For how long he would spend grieving the loss of his brother as well as the frail-looking First Master, he did not know. At times it felt like he would spend days here, watching as the corpses rotted before him, unable to do anything about it. Other times the ghosts of Zeref and Mavis would appear to taunt him, throwing accusations at him for letting them die.

He wondered what he was in store for tonight, pain laced his mind and made him whimper from the incessant barbs of a thousand venomous wasps. Each one was a reminder that he could not keep everyone alive, and wasn’t strong enough to prevent the death of his brother.

Zeref had made mistakes, but who hadn’t? He had come to terms with the machinations of a mind warped by the cruelty of a God that demonstrated no mercy or understanding of human curiosity. How wicked a fate it would be to endure eternal life whilst all those he loved around him turned to dust – a result of his love.

Indifference and hatred were the only way to keep others alive and centuries of those emotions had taken their toll on his dear brother.

Now, as he wiped at his tear-filled eyes and quietly sobbed for the missed opportunities, he braced himself for the onslaught of pain.

~

Lucy became aware of the stilted movements by her side over the period of several minutes. At first, she had fought against the rush of consciousness that tried to pull her from the adorable dream she was having, but it seemed a fruitless endeavour.

She felt cooler than normal, and that was the first indicator that things were not as they should be. The absence of the warm embrace of her beloved was enough for her eyes to snap open, lids blinking rapidly as she adjusted to the pitch-black room. It was clearly the middle of the night, no time for her to be awake but she was needed, desperately so.

Low whimpers met her ears and sent the wings of sorrowful moths to flutter against her insides. The blonde rolled as cautiously as she could manage, to find where in the bed Natsu was. Her heart panged anew as she spied him curled into a fetal position by the very edge of the mattress, bare from the waist up and trembling.

She worried he was cold, but the gentle touch of her fingers confirmed the opposite – he was slick with sweat and burning as hot as a furnace. Even the softest of touches caused him to cower, even more, burying his head further into his chest with his arms raised protectively around him.

Her fierce and courageous Dragon Slayer was suffering through a nightmare and she had to bring him back. Only she could coax him to return to her side, the lit candle that burned bright in the void of the darkness and directed him to safety.

Lucy scooted closer to his back and wound a protective arm over his middle, all the while she cooed in his ear – not words only reassuring noises much like a mother would hush her baby. It was hard to be the big spoon when she was so much smaller in every way than the male she called her partner.

Yet, she managed it.

Given his curled posture, her knees rested against his butt and her front curved against his spine. Lucy folded a pillow beneath her head to raise her up enough to press her chin against his shoulder and speak directly into his ear.

His hand swatted at her like she was a pesky fly, frightened whimpers sounding into the perfect black void. She merely chuckled at his lame attempts to protect himself, it was laughable. If Natsu Dragneel wanted to dislodge her, he had the power and then some to do so.

The laughter died in her throat as realisation hit her like a bullet between the eyes. This was reminiscent of other times she had awoken to his bad dreams, specifically the times when Natsu seemed to be trapped within the mindset of his younger self. The occasions were few and far between – or so she thought – but they were never easy to get him to rouse from them.

“Natsu,” she cooed, “can you hear me, baby?”

A little grunt was the only response, but the shivering halted and his breathing evened out slightly. Her fingers slid to the hair that fell across his face, still mostly hidden by the arm that obscured his eyes, nose and mouth but his brow was exposed. The locks were damp at the edges but the majority felt as soft as downy feathers as she lazily brushed through the strands, pushing them back from his face. The scrunch of his eyebrows told of his mistrust and wariness.

“Can you speak to me?” she asked on a whim.

“Don’t wanna,” came the timid yet petulant reply.

The blonde hummed reassuringly as she contemplated her next move, wondering how she could gain the trust of a scared little boy that likely did not recognise her for the important person she was to Natsu the adult. She settled against his back, nose running along the curve of his shoulder blade.

“Hmm, I can tell something is wrong. Wanna tell me what is scaring you?”

The silence gives way to snuffles, the arm covering his face moving only enough to allow him to speak without sounding muffled. His lips are tipped down, chin trembling gently as his lips part.

“Want my brother back.”

“I know baby,” she soothes, fighting back the first well of her own tears as she listens to the innocent confession of the childlike soul that resides within Natsu.

Lucy had lost count of the conversations she and Natsu had had discussing this very matter. The Dragon Slayer was wounded more gravelly than he often let on in regards to the demise of Zeref. It had taken longer for Lucy to be swayed over the reasoning behind the Black Wizard’s motives. She had struggled to overlook the threat he had posed to the entire Kingdom of Fiore, and specifically to Natsu.

“He – he’ll be lonely without me,” he continues and the quiver in his voice is enough to make Lucy feel like she swallowing past glass in her throat.

“Natsu, my sweet boy. Remember where he is? Where his soul resides now? You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

His body relaxes a little, the tight curl of his posture loosening up to allow Lucy the opportunity to more completely wrap herself around him in hopes of offering him solace from her own body and soul.

“W-where?”

The soft lilting hum that she has been maintaining between the short exchange of words pauses once more. Her fingers stroke along his forearm and rest over the top of his clenched fist.

“Zeref is happy in the Heaven you created within your heart. You love him so dearly that you ensured he had a special place to go to when he died. Your compassion is limitless, and although you may appear hot-headed to others, those who know the true Natsu, know that you are the very best of Fairy Tail.”

The words are lumpy and rough as the blonde loses her grip on her own sadness. Salty tears drip upon the searing skin of his shoulder and run in rivers towards the sheets below their cocooned bodies.

~

For the first time, the sequence of his nightmare shifts to an outcome he has not seen before. The ruined Fairy Tail guildhall dissolved before his eyes, the remaining bricks and mortar rising into the air and slipping away into nothingness. The corpses of Zeref and Mavis, which he had been forced to witness rotting, frozen in place with eyes unblinking and stinging from his torture, disappeared instantly.

Finally, he could blink and when his eyes reopened, he found himself in a place he had only seen once before. Filled with fluffy clouds, brilliant sunlight and light breezes that swept the sound of joy and laughter around freely.

Someone tapped on his shoulder and Natsu whirled instantly with his heart racing and defences lifting. The sight that met his gaze was one of sheer ecstasy. Zeref – happy, whole and smiling. For a moment he didn’t know what to do and his brother seemed to sense this.

Zeref’s arms opened wide in invitation and Natsu needed no more to fall into the brotherly embrace. Their relationship may have been strained to the point of almost snapping, but in the end, they were still family and Natsu refused to give up on his family.

For a moment he felt like his younger self once again, tiny fingers clutching into the robe of his older brother, refusing to allow him to back out of the hug. Zeref chuckled against the crook of his neck and smoothed his fingers through Natsu’s messy locks.

It seemed like an age that they stood there in the brotherly hug as the young Dragon Slayer wept for all that he had endured in this dream and every previous iteration. He didn’t know what had caused the shift from nightmare back to dream and it seemed that his elder sibling heard his internal question.

“You have someone very special to thank for bringing you back here,” he said softly.

As they broke apart, they were adults again and Zeref stepped back as a healthy and whole Mavis slotted herself against his side and placed her hand tenderly upon the black haired male’s chest.

Natsu could think to do nothing but smile, his grin wide and toothy as always but a hint of melancholy still lined his eyes. He could hear soft humming that sounded like it was coming from within his own head, it was familiar and comforting.

“Lucy found you suffering in the darkness and brought you back into the light. My dear brother, do not worry over my fate. I have much to atone for but your loving heart has given me a place to dwell in happiness whilst I do my best to keep Mavis here happy in turn.”

The second Zeref spoke Lucy’s name, her beautiful face shone within his mind’s eye and it was as if she were giving him a hug from behind, yet he could not see her. Warm breath tickled his ear, familiar vanilla filled his nose and ghostly fingers carded into his hair right down to the scalp.

Heat enveloped his heart and he knew that she was there with him – his guiding light.

He nodded at the sincere expression on Zeref’s face, the soft radiance of love that emitted from the couple and it reminded him of his feelings for his own blonde beauty that continued to save him over and over again. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes to clear away the remnants of his tears, swallowing thickly to clear his throat.

“You gonna – gonna be okay?” he asked the man once thought to be the most evil mage that ever lived.

Zeref tsked whilst Mavis giggled, walking off to give the boys a moment of privacy. She waved cheerfully at Natsu. His vision was beginning to haze over as if he was looking through a smudged window, he blinked trying to clear it but failing.

“I don’t need you worrying over me, Natsu. You still live and have many adventures to come. Send Lucy my love and thank her for being such unwavering support for you,” he replied.

“It’s time to go home baby brother,” he whispered, lifting a hand to give a final squeeze to Natsu’s shoulder, “you will not return to that nightmare vision, understood?”

Even in death Zeref was not to be denied and for once, Natsu nodded in agreement rather than argue.

He was fighting against the hands pulling at him, tugging him into consciousness. Knowing that he would return to Lucy but wishing but a moment longer to look upon his brother’s face. A face not known for warm smiles but things change, as do people and he was glad of the happiness that shone within his obsidian eyes.

��Goodbye nii-chan,” Natsu murmured only loud enough for the recipient to hear and beamed at the look of joyous shock that struck upon Zeref’s face.

~

Lucy continued to hum her endless tune, fingers moving in repeated patterns through his hair and over his cheeks and occasionally cooing words of incitement to return to her. At long last, his body stiffened and all at once, relaxed.

Natsu stretched out his limbs that had been locked in the protective posture as Lucy scooted back to give him some space. She had barely moved an inch before she was pulled back, a strong arm winding around her waist and hauling her half across his torso.

Midnight eyes swam with tears despite the half-smile playing on his lips. Worry gnawed at her insides yet it did not linger for long.

“Thank you, Lucy, for finding me in the abyss and leading me out. Zeref sends his love and reminded me to stop worrying over things already played out.”

A calloused thumb ran the length of her jaw until he cupped her cheek and lifted his head to kiss her lips. It seemed he poured every ounce of his gratitude and love into this one sweet, lingering kiss.

“Anytime, Natsu.”

Lucy allowed herself to sink into the sensation of being draped over his body, arms and legs entwined as their heartbeats fell into a synchronised rhythm. Soothing hands rubbed at her spine as if she were the one in need of comfort, and yet she knew he needed to be seen as doing something for her, never content with being passive.

“Can we talk about my – my nightmare?” he asked quietly, his voice hushed by the way he spoke directly into her golden hair.

Her heart tugged as Natsu looked to her again for solace, willing to open himself up and show her his deepest fears. The blonde squirmed herself around until she was comfortable, earning herself a moan of pleasure from the Dragon Slayer in the process.

“Of course, I’m all ears.”