#I can barely recognize my own face. there is too much weight on this too young body. and I will simply have to live with it

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

winter crash is really hitting hard tonight fuck this god damn season (it has always been my favourite season)

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny, I recently found ur page and have been binge reading ur posts, you’re so good!! I have a big order. Peach cake, Red velvet cupcake and a pound cake with strawberries. With a side of with dark hot chocolate and a glass of water, George Russell🙈… if it’s too many details do it however you want bcuz your writing is amazing <3

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i love getting orders! i accept more than just formula one so i'm always happy to try different fandoms. so please! check it out! and thank you lovely anon, i'm happy you love my work! and thank you for submitting a george russell order because i've gotten people asking for him! so thank you! i hope you love it <3

peach cake: ("if you spill a drop, we start all over.") + red velvet cupcake: ("if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one.") + pound cake with strawberries: ("you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again.") + dark hot chocolate: (sub!reader) + glass of water: (aftercare) served by george russell (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sub!reader & dom!george, rules & punishments, spanking, sparkling water, jealousy, aftercare, doggy style,

"you're so lucky, honestly he sounds like a prince charming!" you once heard from someone when you were talking about your boyfriend, "george just seems like such a sweet guy. like he double checked to make sure that roses wouldn't make your cat sick? most guys can barely get flowers!"

you felt your ears burn at her words and nervously played with the bracelet around your left wrist. there was on charm on it, letter 'g' for your beloved. your boyfriend, your biggest fan.

your dom, george russell.

but even men who looked like princes in fairy tales could be a little jealous. george often appeared himself to be a very sweet guy, who'd never actually hurt someone. he was a force on the track and would do what he needed to win, but he'd never put his hands on another driver. he'd never get in their face or try to get violent.

but as he watched lando norris try his hardest to pick you up, george really wanted to knock some sense into the driver. just because a woman didn't wear a neon sign that said 'taken', it didn't mean they were free game to flirt with.

and you, the future mrs. russell, should know better. even though the weight of the bracelet you wore wasn't too much. he hoped that it was enough of a reminder to behave. listen to the rules that george had laid out for you.

when lando touched your bare arm, and you stepped back a little. george knew that he had to step in. he was at your side rather quickly, smiling at lando. he wrapped an arm around you.

"see you've met my girlfriend, mate." he smiled, putting all of his charm into it, "i was looking for her." his hand snaked to your ass and you gave it a firm squeeze. you weren't off the hook.

"oh this is-" lando looked at you, "i didn't recognize her, mate. i'm so sorry!"

george was a little unconvinced when he replied,"yeah, a haircut can do that." even though you hadn't styled your hair differently in years. george didn't get too aggressive with the fellow driver because now that he was close to him, he could see that the drink in his hand was large and his stance implied it wasn't the first one of the evening.

but, george made sure that you didn't have a drop of alcohol. so while lando was drunk, you were well aware of the rules that your dom had set for you. the driver leaned to your ear and said, ""you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again."

and you swallowed, knowing you'd get a lecture when your boyfriend steered you away from the drunken racer. you felt the tip of your ears grow hot and you played with the bracelet. despite how nervous you felt, george was all smiles as he told lando to have a good night.

as you walked away, your lover's voice was hot in your ear, "no flirting. remember? you are mine, and i don't need other men getting their hands on you." he held you by the back. he kissed your cheek softly, "when rules are broken, there are punishments." this was part of your dynamic.

you knew there would be a punishment when you got home and you were right. a bottle of sparkling water from the grocery store was opened. and with you on your knees, opened your mouth. this was a punishment of endurance and being unbreakable. george poured a mouthful in your mouth then closed your jaw. he said, "if you spill a drop, we start all over."

you nodded before you got up onto your feet. your legs shaky as he put the bottle down on the nightstand. you held the water in your mouth as you got over his lap. you could feel his hard cock against your stomach. the goal of the punishment was to hold the water in your mouth even if the carbonation made your eyes run. and george spanked you for every infraction you did.

"you're a whore." he said as he rubbed your bare ass. he stripped you down to nothing as soon as you got home. you were to be laid out naked for him. he on the other hand was still in the shirt and slacks fro the party. it only added to the dynamic, you were exposed for him while he got to stay dressed. he slapped your ass, "you're a whore, you let norris get his hands all over you. you know if you let him suck on your pretty breasts or fuck your poor pussy, you'd be thrown away by the next day." he landed another spank across your ass.

you whimpered, trying to hold the water in your mouth. the spanks made it hard to not choke on it or have to drip out of your mouth. the bubbles of it made you feel discomfort in your face. but you had to be good.

"but not me. i'd never do that to you." he said softly, "you are my treasure. you know there's rules, that you have to be well behaved for me. or else we're going to have problems. you're my girlfriend, my love, my submissive." he landed a few more spanks across your ass, he watched your body shake with each of his slaps. but you didn't spill a drop.

the knowledge of that made george smile to himself. it wasn't hard to train you to be an amazing sub, you were always so eager to make him proud. you took your punishments with grace. he landed a few more smacks across your ass, "but you are my whore in the end. my responsibility to teach and fuck." he groped your bruised ass which made you whine.

you kicked out your legs as if you were trying to say that you weren't a whore. that you were a good girl, but it was only met with another hard smack across your cheeks. you arched your back and whined more.

"if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one." he said as a warning. he took you by the jaw to look at him. your craned your neck to get a good look at your prince charming. he smiled, "swallow. then hands and knees."

you swallowed and nodded happily. and like a good girl, you opened your mouth to show you swallowed it all. you earned a pat on the cheek, which made you melt a little. you got off his lap, leaving pussy slick across his black slacks.

george noticed it and chuckled lightly before he started to unbutton his shirt. you were a messy little slut, but george adored you. he was only rough because he knew it was best for you. you were a smart girl, you just needed reminders. once he was out of his clothes, he saw you with your hips raised. ready for him as always.

"my beautiful girl." he said as got himself behind you on his knees. he admired your beauty from behind. he could feel the heat of the bruises on your ass when he placed his hand across one of the cheeks. oh, you were perfect for him, "see, norris could never have you like this. no, no. he wouldn't know what do with himself. he'd probably finish before he started." he chuckled as he gave your ass a pat. he pushed his cock all the way into you, you were beyond soaked that it was so easy for him

he started to move his hips, he pushed you into the covers by your shoulders and had the perfect angle to fuck you. you looked so pretty as you took him. you really were a good girl, the farthest thing from a whore. but he knew it excited you when your prince charming, george russell, called you such sick names. it made you hot all over, just as when he fucked you with heavy thrusts.

"ah, george. sir." you arched your back as he hit the softest parts of you. you felt like a dream, you were a fairy tale princess. from your cute face to how you dressed. to how you were good with everyone but always perfect for george. you took his cock perfectly, made for him like you came from pages of a story. it was why he need to fuck you was always so strong.

"perfect little whore." he said, his voice tinged with praise.

you moved a little bit and felt your knees start to hurt from the feeling of it all. you felt a thump in your chest from his words. you held onto the pillow under your head. your ass stung from the feeling of the previous slaps.

"see what happens when you behave. you know i'll take care of you. always, but you have to remember our rules. they're to keep you safe. you are the most important thing to me. that's why i hate when you're a whore." he continued to thrust up against you.

you believed him. that was why you put so much trust into him.he never steered you wrong. you loved him so much. and he loved you, even when he called you names in the safety of your bedroom, you loved him more than anything.

his thrusts were focused and they made you squirm. it made it feel like he was nudging up into your stomach and it took the air out of you. your pussy was a fit for him.

you held onto the covers with your back arched. you panted heavily into them. everything was hot in your body, you panted heavily into the sheets. "please, sir."

"you know i love you, and this all happens because i love you so much. and i know how good you could be for me." he said hotly into your ear, keeping you pinned to the bed.

the blood rush made your toes curled and you came with your hands buried in the soft sheets of your shared bed. you gasped into the pillow and you back arched. it was all too much, you almost had tears in your eyes.

he finished after you did, then slowly came to a stop. he pushed his entire length into you and bottomed out in you. he shuddered and coughed out a moan. his grip on you was tight. and you came once more from the intensity of it all. the sparks in your brain came alive.

your back arched as you felt him slow down and stop. you both tried to catch your breath before george pulled out and wrapped himself up around you. he got the covers over you and kissed at your face with love.

"do you need water?" being a good dom meant aftercare. especially from such a production. he peppered your face with kisses and held you in his arms, "i think there's something in the fridge you could snack on."

you looked at him and cupped his face gently, you said with half-lidded eyed, "just some water. when i can think again maybe a shower, sir."

he kissed your lips and said, "perfect, good. my good girl." even with the bruises across your ass, you felt on cloud nine. there really was nothing like having a dom. especially the kind like george. your prince charming <3

[circuitcircus]

in defense of kabumisu……..

addressing things I see people say about why kabru being shipped w mithrun is ‘bad’ or why their canon relationship ‘doesn’t mean anything’ while also clearing up misconceptions of the characters some fans have

listen it keeps popping up and I just gotta do this or my brain will melt (if you don’t see it around then god I wish that were me) there’s an age gap!- erm there’s also an age gap in farcille (ily), the most popular ship in the series...also chilchuck looks like a kid but a lot of fans recognize him as a dilf because of his relative age, so there should be no age gap discourse among adult characters because it feels so conditional tbh

kabru taking care of mithrun is racist!- marcille likes to take care of others as well. is that sexist, or just an aspect of her character?

kabru isn’t treated like a servant, waiting on mithrun hand and foot…I mean he gives mithrun a foot massage but no one told him to do all that lmfao

he's also not the only one to care for mithrun. pattadol is shown to worry for him and milsril was the one to start taking care mithrun in the first place after he…...y’know. speaking of which-

they probably met when kabru was a kid!- neither of them showed signs of recognizing each other the entire time mithrun was introduced nor when they were together. and im pretty sure KABRU of all people would show some kind of recognition if they'd met before. it's kabru!!! the people person!!! mr. "i-noted-down-50+-characters-in-this-dude's-backstory-for-fun-and-actually-enjoy-social-gatherings"

you would think some kind of memory would come back to him especially after hearing mithrun’s backstory if milsril had even told kabru about him as a kid. but nope. it’s just fan speculation unless there's a side comic suggesting otherwise that i haven't seen

mithrun doesn't care about kabru, his shapeshift double looked like shit!- it's obviously because of mithrun's (then) lack of desires that it looked like that, but they really grow on each other

i think it's safe to assume it'd look more like kabru after they spent so much time together (also laios can barely even remember kabru's name..also saw his face multiple times and didn’t recognize him when they talked for the first time)

mithrun is racist!- he’s actually the least likely character to be racist since he lost his desires and that includes a desire for superiority over others. he even calls his past self out on that part of himself. the other elves in that side comic were being just as racist to shorter lived races but just didn’t use ‘outdated slurs’

(unfortunately literally every main character in dunmeshi is at least a lil prejudiced, but I believe it’s worldbuilding and a sign of the times rather than a reason ryoko kui is giving to hate each character)

taking care of others is a pain in the ass!- saying this as a reason kabru and mithrun shouldn't be together is basically saying disabled people shouldn't be allowed to have romantic relationships because they're a "burden"...if someone is actually willing to put in the work, then let them be.

that's not even all of their relationship, mithrun is the fighter of their duo and kabru would've been killed by the shapeshifter or something if he'd fallen down the hole on his own since he sucks at fighting monsters. mithrun helps collect ingredients for cooking every time, too (barometz fruits and griffin egg). he pulls his weight and then some!! i feel like people forget that part of mithrun a lot somehow.

+senshi literally cooks for everyone all time. it's kind of an important aspect of the narrative.

+also, while it is a popular fan thing I see around that kabru handfeeds mithrun, he literally never does lol this is mithrun using his own hands to eat:

also here we have him washing his own body

just saying because people like to treat mithrun like a baby even though the narrative respects him as a capable adult who also has special needs because of an accident. he’s captain for a reason

kabru hates taking care of mithrun!- not exactly, he was initially surprised and put off but got used to it quickly. i’m sure he’s grateful for all the times mithrun saved him from a monster and teleported them out of danger as well

he even starts doing “unnecessary” things for mithrun’s comfort and safety like when mithrun pushes himself too hard fighting, even after his mission to take care of him was complete when the canaries came back

here is even kabru resting while mithrun keeps watch (mithrun let him sleep for 5 hours before waking him up from the nightmare earlier, too):

there's nothing more to their relationship!- they actually have had a very tight and consistent dynamic since they met and they incite the most change within each other by the end. kabru is the one who inspires mithrun to create new desires so he doesn't waste away, and mithrun is the first person we see kabru being genuine with and it leads him to be more honest with others by the end instead of tiptoeing around everyone all the time (that mask was also the reason some ppl initially disliked kabru…)

kabru’s relationship with mithrun is honestly so important for his character and vice versa, but it’s often disregarded because of one over exaggerated aspect of it (an aspect that isn’t even the first way they interact with each other) or because people want to just straight up ignore it for some reason 🥲🥲

kui dedicates many panels to them that don't particularly serve the narrative as a whole in order to demonstrate this and i think that's pretty significant

you're taking this too seriously!- as if i'm the first person in the world to be crazy about a ship or the characters ���� i love analyzing text and it's upsetting to see them mischaracterized when kui lays out the characters so clearly and deliberately

also they end up touching each other like all the time and have the kind of canon validation most ppl can only dream of lol i feel so insane look at this:

and this is just when they're first getting to know each other cuz there's a fuckload more

kinda hard to explain how i don't actually need them to get married or whatever but i'd die on this hill for them and i enjoy their dynamic immensely

haha you thought you were reading ship discourse but it was actually a character analysis 🤪🤪🤪

also don’t somehow take this to mean I think anyone has to ship them, I just need everyone to understand these accusations kind of don’t make sense especially when they can also apply to other pairs or characters

bonus kabru just looking at mithrun:

[theowritesstuff]

Yours No More

Nikolai Lantsov x gn!healer!reader

Summary: Hiding an almost-relationship with the Prince of Ravka is hard enough, but it gets even harder to navigate feelings when he’s engaged to a Saint

Prompts: “are you really so oblivious?” & “it hurts, just how much I ache for you.”

A/N: What can I say? I love writing healer!reader. Also once again I’m mixing book canon and show canon

Sobachka - puppy

Moi tsarevich - my prince

Moi tsar - my king

SHADOW & BONE S2 SPOILERS

When thinking about your life, the young prince of Ravka seemed to be a prominent feature. There was before Nikolai, the life you lived before the palace, then there was after Nikolai, the life surrounded by other Grisha, serving the royal family.

You were offered up to the Lantsovs as somewhat of a personal healer, ready to tend to them whenever needed. The king and queen didn’t really have a need for a healer most of the time, and the older prince was often far from the palace. They younger prince however, the sobachka, had a tendency to dive headfirst into danger whenever he liked.

While this very well could have made Nikolai a thorn in your side, you’d quickly grown fond of him. It was impossible not to, what with his crystalline blue eyes, the blonde waves that adorned his head, and his charming, carefree spirit.

You’d been given an easy role. You’ve seen how other Grisha are treated amongst the other royals, sometimes even the soldiers from the First Army. Your poor friend Genya was dealt a terrible hand when it came to the roll she played in the palace, so you were grateful for the young prince’s kindness.

He became just as infatuated with you as you did with him just as quickly though. Whenever you ran to him healing a scraped knee, or when his parents sent you with him when he joined the First Army specifically to tend to him, you stole his heart little by little, until he could no longer call it his own. He almost looked forward to getting hurt, because it meant he could call upon you.

If asked he’d deny it, but he begged his parents to let him take you with him whilst he studied for his apprenticeship. They were hesitant to send you away, to lose their best healer, but Nikolai was persuasive.

He asked you to tailor him, just enough that no one would recognize the prince of Ravka on a ship. You reluctantly agreed, slowly waving your hands over his face, changing the features you’d grown to find comfort in. His blonde waves now a bright red, stark against his pale skin. His once sparkling blue eyes were now a muddy green color. The only thing that really remained of your prince was the ever present smirk he had.

“How do I look?” He asked you.

“Different.” You nodded.

“Good. No one will be able to pick me out of a crowd.” He looks over himself in a mirror.

“I could.” You stand behind him. “I think it’d be quite easy to pick you out.”

He smiles, but furrows his brows. “How so?”

“Well, let’s start with your posture. You’re still too regal. Relax your shoulders a bit. You’re no longer carrying the weight of a prince.” You place your hands on his shoulders, using your thumbs to massage the muscles. “Then there’s your charm-”

He quickly turns his head to face you, a bold smirk resting on his face. “You think I’m charming?”

You laugh. “I think you’re confident, sometimes overly so. I think you have this air about you that draws others to you.”

“Are you?” He asks, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Am I what?”

“Drawn to me?” He leans closer to you, his eyes shifting down to your lips.

Before he could press his lips to yours a sharp knock sounded from the door. You pulled away from each other quickly, both trying to hide your flustered states.

“Come in.” Nikolai called.

Tamar opened the door and poked her head in. “Love the new look captain.” She laughed. “Ready to go?”

Sailing the seas with Sturmhond took some getting used to. The few Grisha you knew helped you settle into this new life, while others in the crew wondered why their captain kept a healer so close.

You shared a bunk with a few of the other crew mates, but more often than not, Nikolai pulled you away to the captain’s quarters. He wanted to keep you close to him.

“What if someone breaks into my room and stabs me?” He asked, shrugging.

You shook your head. “Then you’d probably want the Bataar twins here to protect you.”

“Here I’d be. Laying on the floor, blood pooling out of my chest.” He collapses to the floor with a loud thud, a hand over his chest. “Slowly letting the life drain from my body.” He closes his eyes for a moment.

“Don’t be so dramatic sobachka. I know you wouldn’t take death laying down. You’d fight it until your very last moment.” You roll your eyes at him, but can’t help your smile from growing. “Even then, you’d probably drag your corpse to me.”

“I would.”

Occasionally, in the quiet night, he’ll allow you to wipe away the tailored face you’ve created for him, and bring back his softer Lantsov features. You brush a hand through his gold locks, pushing them away from his face.

He lets you admire him in silence. A clever quip waiting on the tip of his tongue, but he never allows it to escape in fear that it will ruin these moments with you.

“Moi tsarevich.” You sigh as your fingertips travel from his hair down the side of his face, tracing over his cheekbones.

“You don’t have to call me that.” He whispers to you. His eyes remain locked on yours as yours travel around his face, memorizing every detail of him.

“Nikolai then.” You give him a soft smile.

You reluctantly pull yourself away from him after a while, ready to tailor him back into his privateer persona. “It’s probably time for Sturmhond to return.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well,” now you smirk at him. “I think the prince is decidedly more handsome than the pirate.”

“Privateer. It’s an-”

“Important distinction. Yes, I know.” You laugh as you slowly tailor him back into Sturmhond.

Once finished you walk over to the other side of the room, where he’s added a bunk specifically for you. You blow out the few candles that were lit, and climb into your bunk.

“Y/n?” Nikolai calls from the other side of the room.

“Yes?”

“Do you really think I’m handsome?” You can hear his grin.

“Good night Nik.” You roll your eyes affectionately, rolling over to face the wall.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face, your new nickname for him floating around in his head.

You’d fallen into an easy routine with Nikolai aboard the Volkvony. You spent time with the crew during the day, tending to injuries, sometimes even practicing the heartrender specialties with Tolya or Tamar. Then the evenings you’d spend with Nikolai. You keep him company as he makes plans for where the ship is going and why, you show him what the twins have taught you.

“Watch this, I can adjust your heartbeat a little bit!”

He watches as you do the heartrender motions in front of his chest. He can feel his heartbeat quicken just a little bit, but whether it’s from your powers or your close proximity he’s unsure.

“You don’t need to use your powers to make my heart speed up.” He takes your hands in his and holds them to his chest. You feel his heartbeat through the thick blue coat he’s got on, and sure enough it’s beating faster than usual.

He’s smirking down at you, proud of how flustered he’s seemed to make you as you pull your hands away from his chest. You excuse yourself, and quickly leave him there, wondering whether or not he holds the same power over your heart that you do his.

Evenings are spent sharing moments with Nikolai, both of you teetering on the line that divides friendship and more. Quiet moments shared where you both wonder what would happen if you crossed that line. If you just leaned into each other, and took what your hearts most desired.

When Nikolai had taken in Alina Starkov and Mal Oretsev you were nervous. You knew Nikolai had a penchant for adventure, but harboring the sun summoner and a deserted First Army soldier was an entirely new venture.

You knew that he wanted to take them back to Ravka, to regroup with the First and Second Army there to find a way to destroy the Fold and take down Kirigan. He helped them find and kill the sea whip, giving Alina another amplifier to use, while you stayed behind on the ship, away from the danger.

Nikolai grew closer and closer to Alina as time went on, well after she learned who he actually was then punched him out of frustration. It was clear he was trying to create some sort of relationship with her, a type of alliance between the Ravkan royals and the living Saint.

Whilst Alina became closer with the prince, you started to form a bond with Mal. He was a bit hesitant about you at first, having a hand in keeping Nikolai’s identity a secret was a little hard to forgive, but he found you were a nice change from the air that Nikolai brought with him wherever he went.

“You spend practically every minute with him. You must find him insufferable.” Mal scoffs, watching Nikolai attempt to win over Alina.

It breaks your heart a little, watching him with her. It almost feels like you’ve been pushed to the side in his life. What was once a life long friendship has now turned into a mere partnership. He’s replaced you in his heart with a new Grisha, one much more powerful than you.

“No.” You shake your head. “His company means the world to me.” You tell Mal, quiet enough so he’s the only one that hears you. “You know what that’s like though. To spend so much of your life with someone that you form what you think is an unbreakable bond with one another.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile. He feels the same way. He knows Alina loves him, he’s sure of it, but like you, he fears that something could pull her away from him.

Being back in the palace separates you even more from Nikolai. Instead of sharing a room with him, you now occupy a room at the other end of a hallway from him. You both long for one another in the quiet night. His room is far too empty, and his bed far too large for just himself.

You think that maybe he’ll ask you to stay with him, like on the Volkvony. That you’ll share a space with him again and you’ll have that little bit of peace you once shared. But he never comes to your door, and you never go to his.

Nikolai doesn’t fail to notice your relationship with Mal starting to grow. While you once sat by his side during meals, Alina now occupies your seat, and you sit with Mal, laughing with each other about something only the two of you can hear.

He feels something in his chest, a sharp pain to his heart. This is something even you, the best healer he’s ever known, couldn’t fix.

You feel the same pain when he announces his engagement to the sun summoner. Unlike Nikolai, it takes a moment. He announces it at dinner, while the First and Second armies are gathered together, that their marriage will help heal Ravka. You’re frozen, too shocked to move. It’s Mal that pulls you back to reality, his hand on yours.

You feel the pain in your chest, a twisting sensation in your stomach, as you turn away from Mal to look back at Nikolai. He’s looking around at the cheering soldiers, but his eyes catch yours for a moment. He sees the red that begins to outline them, and the tears welling up. He looks like he might go to you, to assure you that you have his heart, and not Alina. But he straightens himself out, then sits back down.

He desperately wants to follow you as you quickly exit the room, no doubt heading back to yours. He wants to chase you down the halls, to wrap you up in his arms and wipe away the tears he’s the cause of, to whisper words of love against your lips. But he can’t. He must marry Alina for the sake of his country.

He keeps an eye on you at the engagement party his mother threw for him. You’re talking with other Grisha. You look breathtaking. The only thing missing from your ensemble is the Lantsov emerald. You don’t spare him one glance at all that night. That is, until chaos ensues.

Shadow monsters destroy everything in sight, and take the lives of so many. You search for Nikolai in the bustling crowd, but a hand grabs your arm, pulling you away. Zoya drags you away from the scene before you, tugging you through numerous hallways.

She leads you to a series of tunnels underground, all while you try to pull away from her.

“You won’t be of any use if you die trying to save the prince.” She grumbles at you. “You’re one of the few healers here, and we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

You hate to admit it, but as usual she’s right. There are dozens injured, some worse than others. You’re about to get to work when someone calls out your name.

You look down to the other end of the hall to see Nikolai. He looks fine, no visible injuries, but he does look distraught. He practically sprints to you, and pulls you into a tight hug.

“I couldn’t find you. You weren’t there, and I thought-”

“I’m fine, I’m fine Nik.” You pull away just enough to be able to look him in the eyes.

His scan over you, searching for injuries, until you lift his chin so he’s looking at your face again.

“I’m okay, I promise.”

He nods and takes a deep breath.

“Besides, shouldn’t I be the one worried about you? I am your healer after all.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Right.”

Alina pulls Nikolai away, asking if he’d seen Mal anywhere. You take that as your cue to leave. You start going from person to person, helping heal them in any way you can.

When it comes time to make a plan for Ravka’s next move, and Nikolai and Alina suggest finding the Neshyenyer, your mind starts to wonder. He’s sending Tolya and Zoya to go to Ketterdam and recruit the Crows to find it.

You think selfishly for a moment. It would be a way to get away from the soon to be king and queen of Ravka. A way to alleviate your heart of the pain you feel when you’re around them.

“I’d like to accompany Tolya and Zoya.” You tell him.

He looks surprised to say the least. “Why?”

“Well, there will be seven people looking for a mystical weapon, danger is bound to arise, they may need a healer.” You attempt to convince yourself and him that this is the reason you’d like to go.

“No. You’ll stay here.” He shakes his head. He can’t fathom so much space between you. “You’re my healer.” He puts emphasis on the word my, you don’t know if he notices it, but you do.

You listen intently for his heartbeat. It’s pace slowly accelerates as he starts to pace around the room.

You step in front of him, blocking his continuous path, and take his hands in yours. He closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of having you so near. He leans his forehead against yours.

“I think we both know, I am yours no more sobachka.” You murmur.

He shakes his head and opens his eyes. You can see tears slowly start to build up. “If you insist that you must go, take this.” He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his gold compass. “So you can always find your way back home.” Back to me.

The trip to Shu Han was definitely an eventful one. Tolya kept a watchful eye on you after being told explicitly by Nikolai to protect you at all costs. The Crows were an eclectic bunch, no one quite like the other.

Seeing Nina again was nice. She was still the same witty friend you remembered her to be.

“What? The prince let you off your leash?” She laughs when she first sees you.

“The king.” Zoya corrects her.

“Yes, he’s tending to his country, and his soon to be wife at the moment.” You tell her.

Her face falls slightly as she looks between you and Zoya. “Oh. My apologies, I didn’t-”

“It’s alright Nina. I’m really here to help forget about him.” You lower your voice. “Besides, he was never mine to lose.”

You stayed with Tolya through the heist, getting nearly killed by poisonous gas, and choking down a butterfly to save yourself.

Other than the poison slowly making its way through your body, the gas didn’t harm you physically. It lulled you to sleep, pulling you into a sweet dream.

You were with Nikolai, of course, in the palace. Light shone into his room from the large window, making the gold in his unkempt hair shine. His arms were wrapped tightly around you as you both lay the soft sheets of his bed.

“Hello my love.” His voice is deep, still strained from sleep.

“Moi tsar-”

He nuzzles his face into the crook of you neck, pressing soft kisses against the column of your throat. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.” You can feel him smiling against you.

“Pirate Prince then.” You smirk.

He scoffs, then pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” He says, moving to cup your face with one of his hands.

You reach a hand up onto his bare chest, just over his heart. You listen, searching for the all too familiar rhythm, but you don’t hear anything. You give him a sad smile and shake your head. “Me too Nik. But I know this isn’t real.”

He pouts. “Promise me you’ll come back. Back to the palace. That you won’t find a new life in Shu Han, or Ketterdam.”

You know he isn’t real, that he isn’t actually asking you to come home to him, that it’s just what you wish he’d do. Even so, you press a kiss to his cheek.

“I promise.”

You wake with a burning sensation in your throat, in the dark temple. Tolya and the Crows are with you, some in a coughing fit, others completely silent.

Tolya comes over to you, and rests a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

His eyes scan your face. “What did you see?”

You know he can hear your heartbeat spike. He glances down at your hand as you subconsciously reach for the compass that hangs around your neck, hidden under you clothes. You know you won’t get away with lying to him, but you do it anyways. “Nothing.”

You’re grateful that he doesn’t push for an answer.

After retrieving the blade, you all head back to Ravka together. The Fold has now expanded, nearly covering the entirety of the Spinning Wheel.

“Stay with Zoya.” Tolya tells you. “You’ll be able to help Alina.”

Your heart yearns to go with the other group, to find Nikolai, but you know saving the sun summoner takes precedence over anything at the moment.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay.” Nina tries to assure you. “He was always headstrong.”

Kaz glances at you as you wring your hands, about to follow Zoya, Nina, and Inej.

“Y/n.” He calls to you. He walks over to you and speaks lowly. “Watch over my wraith, and I’ll keep an eye on your king.”

You give him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

The journey into the Fold was terrifying. You kept yourself as silent as possible as the four of you searched for Alina. She and Mal were near the edge of the fold, fighting what looked to be a volcra. It had a hold of Alina’s hair, pulling her further into the darkness.

Inej slashed the monster with the Neshyenyer, killing it. They both looked grateful to see your little group.

“We need to get further into the Fold to destroy it.” Alina nods her head towards what looks to be nothing but pitch black.

You check over Alina for any injuries as you head further into the darkness. You heal any small cuts or scrapes you find on her, quietly watching her skin mend back together.

“There. In perfect condition to destroy the Fold and save Ravka.”

She snorts out a laugh. “No pressure, right?” She creates a small bundle of light in her hand and stares at it.

You smile at her. You want to dislike her, but you can’t. The living Saint who has stolen Nikolai’s attention from you is actually amiable. She’s kind, very brave, and willing to do anything to end this war.

“You’re going to make the perfect queen when this is all over.” You tell her.

She looks up at you and shakes her head. “I never wanted this. Nikolai thinks this engagement will strengthen Ravka, but I know my heart belongs to another.” She glances to Mal. “Just as his does too.” She turns back to you with a pointed look.

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t love me. I don’t think he could love anyone the way he loves you.”

“He doesn’t-”

“Oh, I assure you. He does.” She scoffs. “When I accepted his proposal I thought that maybe we could learn to love each other, but I see the way he looks at you. I hear the way he talks about you. I may be the sun summoner, but to him you’re the brightest. You’re the shining light in his life.”

You feel warmth spread across your face. Did Nikolai really feel that way about you?

“If we succeed today, the crown may be mine, but I promise you, the heart of the king will be yours.”

You understood just how strong shared love could be when you saw Alina light the fold. Combined with Mal’s power she was able to cast an immense light into the darkness. Flashes of gold and pink spread around you.

Kirigan arrived not long after, ready to fight Alina, but she was able to assail him. You rushed to Mal’s side when he collapsed, trying your hardest to help him. Kirigan had delivered a near fatal blow. In all your years of healing Nikolai, you’ve never had to heal something this large.

Alina falls to her knees next to you, taking his hand in hers. You do everything you can for him, focusing all of your power on keeping him alive.

Streaks of light flew from Alina. Reds, purples, and golds flashed through the sky, breaking apart the Fold. She takes a dagger from Mal’s side, and plunges it into his chest, screaming out as bright blue lights surrounds you. You shield your eyes, but can still see the blue behind your eyelids.

When you open your eyes again, the Fold has dissipated.

“Can you heal him?” Alina asks you, with tears down her cheeks.

“I’ll try.” You nod at her, then turn your attention back to the now unconscious boy.

Kirigan slowly rises up, and walks towards you. Alina stands up, taking a protective step in front of you and Mal.

“Now, you know sacrifice.”

“Beyond anything you’ve ever known.” Alina tilts her head up at him. “And look what it did.”

“Indeed. Look what it did.”

You try to start Mal’s heart again, but can’t seem to get it. Nina kneels down next to you, lifting her hand to his chest.

“I’ll get his heart started again. You focus on the wound.”

You take a deep breath, then pull the knife out of him, quickly moving your hands to sew his skin back together.

You’re so focused on saving Mal, that you don’t realize Alina has knelt down next to you again.

“He’s putting up a good fight, this one. Like something’s holding him on the other side. Give him a reminder then, of what matters over here.” Nina tells her.

After a few moments Mal wakes up, gasping for air. You sigh in relief, leaning back to check over the rest of the group. Inej and Zoya are both unharmed, staring down at Kirigan’s body.

Zoya stays with the body, while the other five of you start the hike back to the Spinning Wheel. Your spirits lift as you get closer and closer, and enter through one of the walls.

There are bodies strewn about on the ground, and groups of people gathered with hushed conversations. Their attention all turns towards your group as you enter though. Most of them are watching Alina, giving her silent thanks for finally destroying the Fold. Kaz’s eyes are locked on Inej, only briefly scanning over her, before he looks to you and gives you a slight nod.

You look past him to see Nikolai sitting with Tolya and Tamar. He’s got blood smeared on the side of his head, and he struggles to rise to his feet. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you, slowly limping in your direction. You rush to him, holding his waist with one hand, and the other pressed against his chest.

“Nik, what happened? I leave you alone for a few days and you nearly get yourself killed.” Your words are teasing, but your tone doesn’t quite match.

“I’m okay.” He smiles at you.

“Let’s go sit down so I can heal you, alright?” You guide him away from the group to a more private area. He sits down on a crate, groaning at the pain in his leg.

You heal his leg, then sit next to him, with your hand hovering over the wound on his head. He’ll have to wash the dried blood off, but you’ve closed the wound.

His eyes wander over your face as you heal him. He feels whole, complete with you here next to him.

“I should go see if anyone else needs any help.” You say quietly, rising to your feet.

He grabs your hand in his, softly pulling you down next to him again. “Allow me to be selfish for a moment, and keep you here all for myself.”

You reach into your top, and pull the compass out from underneath it. You lift the chain up over your head and hold it out for him.

“It seems you need it more than I do.”

“No.” He closes your hands over it. “It kept you safe. And it brought you back to me.” He whispers.

His eyes glance down at your lips, then back into your eyes. It looks like he’s having an internal battle with himself. A battle that only ends when he leans forward and brushes his lips against yours. You lift your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself. He pulls you closer to him, deepening the kiss.

Everything comes rushing back to you in that moment. You softly push him away, breaking the kiss, and turn your head from him.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks, reaching for your hand again.

You pull your hand away from his reach quickly. “This isn’t right Nikolai.” You stand up and take a step away from him. “We can’t do this, not when you’re engaged to Alina. I can’t-”

He’s quick to get up and move to stand in front of you. “Y/n, I assure you, my heart belongs to you.”

“You can’t say that Nikolai. You can’t just play around with my feelings.” You shake your head and wipe away the tears started to form in your eyes.

“Play with your feelings? Are you really so oblivious?” He scoffs. He takes your hands and holds them to his chest. “Listen to my heart. Hear the way it beats for you, just for you.” He takes a tentative step closer, so close to you that his nose brushes against the tip of yours. “It hurts, just how much I ache for you.”

“But Alina-”

“Was just a political move. I thought that an alliance with the sun summoner would strengthen Ravka.” He takes a deep breath. “But a marriage with her wouldn’t mean anything to me, not when I could’ve had you.”

“Nik…” You trail off, attempting to gather your thoughts.

He lets go of your hands, and moves to hold your face. “Tell me to leave. Tell me you never want to see me again, that you’re going to leave and live in Ketterdam, and I promise you, you won’t ever have to deal with me ever again.”

You can’t fathom doing any of that.

“Or, tell me that you’ll stay here with me, and that we’ll work this out. Tell me that you feel the same way I do. Because I will find a way to rule Ravka with you by my side, I swear to you.”

A smile starts to spread across your face. “You always have been stubborn sobachka.”

Before he can retort you pull him into a kiss, sealing your own promise to him, that your heart does in fact belong to him.

[zepskies]

Wake Me Up - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Thank you so much for your lovely responses on Part 1! Last week's angst was very physical. Now let's get into emotional...

Song Inspo: “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers.

Word Count: 6.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, PSTD, hurt/comfort, medical trauma and injuries…and a bit of Nurse Benjamin? lol

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 2: “All in Your Eyes”

At first, it was all shapeless color.

It felt like a small eternity before your vision cleared, and you dimly became aware of being in a hospital room. Your steady heartbeat clipped away on the monitor.

You had an IV in your hand and wires suction-cupped to your chest. Your raggedy clothes had been replaced with a blue paper gown, hidden under the blankets keeping you warm.

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well-trimmed.

His head soon rose, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

His green eyes went blank for a moment. His hand fell from your cheek. 

Then he chuckled in disbelief.

“Eyes are barely open, and already you’re fucking around,” he said.

That confused you even more. You were saved from answering, however, when there came a knock at the door. A blonde young woman peeked in. She brightened with a shocked, but happy smile when she saw you were awake.

“Hey! Oh my God, you’re awake,” she whispered in excitement. She went to your bed on the other side and picked up your hand. It took you a moment to remember her name, but you did recognize her.

“A-Annie? What…what happened?” you asked. You didn’t recognize the roughness in your own voice.

Annie shared a sobered look with the man sitting beside you, and she looked down at you again.

“Oh, hun. What do you remember?” she said.

You tried hard to think…but you couldn’t. It was all blurry and muddled in your mind.

Then, it was incredibly painful. A sharp, piercing pain that permeated through your skull and rattled down your spine, waking up the rest of your body in the worst of ways.

You whimpered, and the monitor began to beep more incessantly as your heart rate began to climb. You uttered a cry of pain while you held your aching head. You felt the gauze wrapped across your temples, forehead, and under your chin, half-covering your face.

The man turned to Annie with an angry frown.

“Get the goddamn doctor!” he snapped. But he reached for your closest hand and held it gently. He met your tearful eyes. Part of him didn’t know quite how to comfort you though. His eyes flit over your pained face, the way you were gripping your head with one hand.

He brushed his thumb over the one he held.

“…It’s okay, I got you,” he said eventually. “Just breathe.”

You couldn’t respond. There was too much pain, too much confusion. The last thing you saw was the worry in his eyes, before your head fell back against your pillow.

Your world faded away once again.

Dr. Helen Jeong, the neurologist Grace hired specifically to attend you, had been with you for a while. When she came out, Ben, Annie, your mother Marie, your sister Louisa, and the rest of the team (except for Butcher) were in the waiting room. All of them wanted to hear how you were doing, as well as the doctor’s prognosis.

Ben stood with his arms crossed, and Marie and Louisa followed suit. Technically, Marie was your next of kin, considering you and Ben weren’t married. She was close to tears again, but Louisa was supporting her.

“She’ll need a few more tests to confirm, but it looks like dissociative amnesia,” said Dr. Jeong. “It could be selective. Meaning, she remembers parts of her life, but not others, specifically tied to the past few days and the past year.”

“And me,” said Ben. He was frowning angrily. “Why doesn’t she remember me?”

She gave him a patient look.

“Her skull is fractured, but she’s also gone through an emotional trauma, as well as a physical one," she said. "The memories she’s lost are likely linked to that trauma, and so, her brain is trying to block out anything related to that painful time. It’s the body’s way of coping.”

Somehow, that explanation didn’t make it any better. Something dark and unfamiliar had been churning in Ben’s gut for days, but now he was forced to reckon with it.

It was guilt, and it was eating at his insides, clawing up to his throat. He covered it up with a hot layer of anger.

“Aside from time to heal from her injuries, it’s important that she be taken care of in a familiar, low-stress environment,” said Dr. Jeong. She aimed that last bit at Ben.

“How long until she’s better?” Louisa asked. “Will her memories come back at all?”

Ben shot her a dark look for even asking that question, but the doctor bobbed her head.

“It may take a while. Weeks, or even months, but have patience with her. As she heals, and with therapy, her memories should come back eventually,” she said. She gave Ben in particular a more reassuring glance.

He wasn’t interested in being reassured. He wanted results.

The doctor moved on so she could schedule an MRI for you, among other tests. Annie went over and laid a tentative hand on Ben’s arm. He glared at her touch and slid his gaze over to her.

“Look, we’re here for her…and for you,” she said. Even though she withdrew her hand, she looked sincere. “Whatever she needs, just let us know.”

Hughie was just behind her with a sympathetic look of agreement. M.M., Kimiko, and Frenchie were quietly supportive, if somber. You’d recognized Annie and Hughie earlier, but the others were strangers to you as well—likely because you’d met the other two at Supe Affairs, before you took on one fateful mission that would lead you to Ben. And him to you.

He let out a breath and gave Annie a minimal nod.

She smiled a little, and she and Hughie went back into your room to say goodbye for now. They promised to come back and visit, along with the others.

Meanwhile, Marie and Louisa were talking quietly. Ben’s ears perked up to it.

“I think she should come stay with you, Mom, until she’s better,” Louisa said.

When Ben heard that, he approached them. His darker frown was back in place.

“She’s coming home with me,” he said, in a tone that boded no argument. He should have remembered that your sister was too much like you sometimes. Fucking stubborn.

“If she doesn’t know you, she’s not going to be comfortable with you,” Louisa pointed out.

Marie gave her daughter a look, one that said she could’ve had a little more tact there.

“The best way for her to get her memories back is for her to stay with me, in a familiar place. In her home,” Ben said, his voice terse and shoulders tense.

“But trying to remember is hurting her,” Louisa said. “She needs to heal from her injuries first. And oh, how about this? No one will even tell us how the hell this happened in the first place!”

Ben’s frown deepened. Your younger sister had been warming up to him a bit more since the Christmas holiday you all spent together last month, but it seemed she was just as protective of you as you were of her.

Fine. Ben understood it, but Louisa was just a college student, not even old enough to order a fucking beer. He wouldn’t have this little girl telling him what was best for you.

However, as he glanced at your mother, he also couldn’t bring himself to answer Louisa’s non-question. At least, not with the whole truth.

“It was retaliation,” he replied, “for a supe we put away a while back.”

Louisa sighed heavily. Her lower lip trembled as tears welled up in her eyes, and she bit her lip and shared a look with her mother.

“Why did they want her though?” Louisa asked Ben, sniffling.

He held the tremor of unease deep inside, and he thought fast.

“He had connections in the CIA. She was the only part of the team here at the base, so he singled her out,” he said. The lie rolled off his tongue without much effort, even though part of it did add to the dark churning in his gut. His gaze fell beyond them.

“All of this is a moot fucking point,” he said. “All she needs is my blood, and she’ll be just fine.”

Louisa wiped under her wet eyes and scoffed.

“You think she’s going to accept a blood transfusion from a supe? Look, I’m sorry, but she’s not the person you know right now—”

“All the more reason to fix this sack of bullshit,” Ben snapped.

He turned on his heel and headed for your room. By now, Annie, Hughie, and the rest of them had cleared out. You were dozing, it seemed, but your eyes opened when Ben thundered in, followed closely by Marie and Louisa.

“Ben,” Louisa warned.

“What’s going on?” you asked weakly.

Ben shook his head and went to your bedside. He took up your hand and didn’t notice (or ignored) the apprehension in your eyes.

“Look, I know you think you don’t know me. You’ve been through…a lot,” he said. He paused when he considered the hell you’d probably endured the past few days. His gut began to roil again, but he pushed forward.

“Last year, you got hurt. Bad enough that you were going to need surgery,” he explained. “But I gave you some of my blood, and you healed right up. I’m gonna do the same for you now.”

You saw that he was serious, that he probably believed he was telling the truth. You just didn’t know this man—this supe that they’d told you was actually Soldier Boy. Instinctively you tried to pull your hand out of his grasp.

“No thanks,” you said, trying to hide your nerves. “I think I’m good healing on my own.”

Ben frowned. He held your hand a fraction tighter.

“Look—”

“No, you look,” you said in frustration, and a frisson of wariness. “I know you think I’m your…girlfriend or life partner or whatever the fuck, but I don’t know you.”

Just as the words left your lips, something sharp and painful flashed in your skull.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

“But you do. You fucking know me!” Ben insisted. His grip on your hand tightened enough to make you flinch, a whimper sounding in your throat.

“Hey!” Louisa snapped at him.

“Ben,” Marie said, more gently, but not without urgency.

He realized what he was doing, and he forced himself to relax his grip. He watched you take your hand back and look at him like he was some kind of animal. He also realized then that you were scared. Scared of him.

Fuck me…

By degrees, he relented. Heaving a sigh, he carded a hand through his hair and gave a short nod.

“All right,” he said, and he met your eyes. “I’m, uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He held your wary gaze until you nodded in acceptance. He took in your face, bruised, and still stained pink from the blood that had been cleaned away with antiseptic wipes. Your neck, arms, and chest were the same; your other wounds were stitched up and bandaged.

According to the first doctor who evaluated you after you came out of emergency surgery (Ben had already forgotten the broad’s name), you’d also sustained broken ribs and a fractured cheekbone, aside from your other injuries.

“And…what about the rest of it?” Ben had asked. He spoke alone with the doctor, just outside your room. Marie and Louisa were in there with you now in the ICU.

The doctor shook her head, offering a look of professional reassurance.

“No. There’s no evidence of sexual trauma,” she said.

Ben took that information in with a nod. Inside his chest, however, the clenching around his heart eased a great deal.

But even with that relief, just your battered face, and the way you were looking at him now…it was all too much.

Ben ignored the voice deep inside that said this was what he deserved.

He stood up, and he left you with your family.

While Louisa had to go back to her dorm for school tomorrow, Marie stayed with you that night. You zoned in and out while New Girl played on the little TV on the wall.

Marie caressed your hair gently, though she was mindful of the way most of your head was wrapped after surgery to fix your skull. If only they could fix your mind too.

“That man…” you trailed. “Um, Soldier Boy. All that crazy shit he was saying…was it true?”

Marie gave you a look for your use of language, but she nodded gravely, and with sadness.

“Yes, Ben was telling the truth,” she said. “He’s the one who saved you. Believe me, he’s very upset that you’re hurt like this.”

You tried to process that as you frowned in contemplation. He’d certainly been…pushy. And determined, like he could actually heal you.

It didn’t matter though. You weren’t about to let a supe feed you his blood like a damn vampire, or whatever Compound V-tainted shit he tried to give you. You weren’t Bella Swan, and this wasn’t fucking Twilight.

“Ben” was rough, and demanding, and gave off a real assholish exterior. Just before he left, though, you also saw his upset. He had taken in your injuries like he was angry, just at the state of you. Like he was mad that he hadn’t been able to prevent it.

“I guess he went home,” you said. Marie shook her head.

“No, he’s still here.”

Your brows knitted together. “What?”

“He’s in the waiting room downstairs,” she explained. “Grace made sure he had a special pass so he could stay with us in the hospital, just in case…”

���In case of what?” you asked. Marie smiled and continued to brush your hair back.

“In case we need him,” she said. “For protection, he said.”

Her eyes shone with sadness again, like she knew something you didn’t. It made you suspicious, but you were surprised that he was still here, despite what you’d said to him.

…Huh, you thought.

Thanks to the (fucking awesome) power of morphine, you fell asleep shortly after.

A week later, you were still recovering in the hospital. The shitty fact of it was, between the medication for your injuries and the risk of pulling your stitches, you could barely move. Dr. Burke was pleased that you at least had feeling in your extremities. One of her main concerns for you had been mobility issues.

Well, you still had to use a bedpan, and sometimes you missed your mouth when you ate pudding, but at least you could feel your feet.

Marie took the whole work week off from her job in order to stay with you. Louisa visited you every day she could after her classes, but she had a recital coming up, and you didn’t want her to lose focus. You encouraged her to only come if and when she finished getting in all the practice she needed.

And Ben…well, he came often. Mostly when you were sleeping. And every time you woke up, you saw something new from him: a beautiful bouquet of flowers, imported chocolates, a snack from the deli down the street from the hospital, a good breakfast from your favorite café in the city, or even several orders of takeout for you, him, and Marie.

You also noticed how your mother doted on him almost as much as she did on you, offering to grab him cups of coffee, or laying her blanket over him while he napped in the big lounge chair close to your bedside.

The guy just refused to leave. So you didn’t say anything about it. You just watched him whenever you were lucid enough to notice he was there.

As it became easier for you to stay awake, and to observe his quiet, but solid presence, the more your wariness of Ben bled away.

You soon began to realize that you were curious about him. If you really had been with him before, how had you two met? And what had made you get with a supe, let alone the original supe Vought ever introduced to America?

You considered him now while he dozed in that uncomfortable looking chair. His brown locks had once again swept over his brows, almost obscuring his eyes. Part of you itched to lean over and brush it all away from his face. If only you were close enough.

You could admit, if just within the safety of your mind, that he was a damn fine specimen of a man. Between the cut of that bearded jaw, the broadness of his arms and chest, the length of those widespread legs…

“Keep staring at me and you’ll wear a damn hole in my face,” he muttered.

You inhaled sharply, and his eyes cracked open. A small smirk raised his lips in amusement. You smiled as well, more in embarrassment at being caught.

Ben let out a long breath and rolled the cracks out of his neck, confirming your assumption that the chair was even more uncomfortable than it looked. You felt a bit bad for him, that he was putting himself through all that for your sake…for someone who didn’t remember him.

He turned to you in askance. “How’re you holding up?”

You shrugged.

“Okay. Pain meds are finally kicking in, at least for the hour.”

He nodded, dragging a hand over his beard. He knew that you’d eaten lunch with your second dose of the day not too long ago.

“You still hungry?” he asked. “I don’t know how they could give you that shit. What was that, some poor fucking excuse for baby food?”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant,” you agreed, but the doctor had requested something you could easily digest, with all the medication you were on.

Ben shook his head and rocked onto his feet. He’d get you a candy bar or something. He knew Twix was your favorite.

“Um…Ben,” you said, halting his steps. He turned to you with a raise of his brows. You pointed over to the folded quilt at the foot of your bed. Your mom had brought it from home.

“Would you give me that blanket over there?” you asked. “I’m a little cold.”

You’d get it yourself, but it pained you to fold yourself over. Ben was gracious enough to go over and get the blanket for you. He even opened it up and covered your body up to your chest. His face was stoic, more or less, but there was care in his hands. You found yourself staring up at his face. He leaned against the guardrail of your bed and met your eyes.

“Thank you,” you said, in a near whisper. “And, um…my water?”

You pointed to the plastic cup and jug on the rolling tray to his left. He shot you a look, but he did as you asked, pouring some fresh water into the cup and handing it to you. His fingers brushed with yours on the pass, but you tried not to focus on the warmth of his hand. Instead, you took a few sips from the cup and handed it back to him. He set it back on the tray for you.

“What’d I do to get the hot nurse?” you couldn’t help but tease.

Ben’s brows rose again, somewhat incredulous this time. Then, he was unable to restrain a cocky smile.

“Hmm, I’m a let that one go, since you’re laid up,” he said. 

His gaze roamed your face. He noted that your purplish bruises were easing up somewhat, to green and yellow. Your lacerations were beginning to heal. And before, where there had been wariness, he now saw curiosity in your eyes.

“Can I ask you something?” you drew enough courage to ask.

His lips twitching to one corner, he lowered the guardrail and sat down on the edge of your bed. He gave you an expectant look. You sucked in a breath to steel yourself.

“How long have we been a…a thing?” you asked, pointing between the both of you.

Ben quirked a brow. “About a year now.”

You nodded, though your eyes were wide in surprise. You actually began to blush.

Ben smirked. He reached for the phone in his pocket and handed it over to you, after scrolling to find his photo album.

“Does that look like we don’t know each other?” he asked.

You shot him a wry glance, but you took the phone and started looking through the album. Many of the pictures that featured both of you looked like ones you’d taken, just from the angle. One picture was rather innocuous of him sitting on a couch, presumably watching TV, while you rested on his shoulder and smiled at the camera. His arm was wrapped around your waist.

Another was of you glaring at him in surprise, mid-bite on a large chili hot dog. He wore a Cheshire grin while leaning in close to your cheek.

There were several more than you flipped through, but each one made you sting with the unfamiliarity of it all. You couldn’t remember any of this, but it was undeniable what you and Ben were to each other.

Then you happened on a picture of just you, fresh out of the shower with a towel barely wrapped around you. You looked annoyed, but by the evidence of your smile, also amused that he’d surprised you with the picture.

Your blush intensified as you scrolled past that one. Then you encountered more pictures of you and him, each position filled with more bare flesh—and even more compromising than the next. You refused to press play on any of the videos.

“Oookay,” you said with a full flush heating your face and neck, and the tips of your ears. You minimized the album and all but tossed the phone back at him.

Ben’s smirk had deepened the longer he watched you peruse through the pictures. Now he chuckled and pocketed his phone.

“Like what you see, huh, sweetheart?” he couldn’t help but tease.

Frankly, you were adorable, getting all embarrassed, crossing your arms and pulling the blanket up to your neck. You shot him a look of warning.

What, you could eye him like a honey-glazed ham, flirt with him even, but you couldn’t take a little on the return side?

Ben chuckled some more and reached for your hand, to uncross your arms. You allowed it with a thinly veiled wariness. You weren’t afraid of him…anymore. But that didn’t mean there was no reason to keep your guard up around this guy.

Meanwhile, Ben actually struggled to figure out what he wanted to say to you. Something that wouldn’t put you off, or come off too strong. This was just too fucking strange…

He met your gaze with a heavy exhale.

“You’re going to be let out of here soon enough,” he said. “You don’t need to be scared of me. I’m not gonna hurt you. Matter of fact, I saved you.”

I’ve saved you more times than I can fucking count at this point, he thought wryly.

You stared back at him in contemplation. He sensed you were listening, really trying to hear him.

“You do care about me, don’t you?” you asked, almost in wonder.

Ben didn’t answer you right away. Your question took him off guard a bit, but he also found himself meeting your gaze.

“I think that’s pretty fucking obvious,” he said. You frowned at him then.

“Not entirely," you said. "Not if you don’t say it, Romeo.”

Ben stilled. Against his will, he remembered the last real words he’d said to you before this nightmare began.

“I love you,” you’d said. He could hear your pretty smile through the phone. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” Ben replied, smiling himself. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

He could also hear your disappointment, there in your brief silence.

“Come on, say it,” you implored.

Ben restrained a sigh. He cast a subtle look from the corner of his eye, watching Butcher, M.M., and Kimiko loading the car with their weapons, along with the supe they’d captured. They were all too close for comfort.

“Say what?” Ben asked, feigning ignorance. Your sigh reached him, stinging him.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

He knew what you wanted, but he still didn’t give it to you.

He didn’t allow himself.

Now, he brushed a thumb over the back of your hand, and he sighed. Sometimes, regret weighed just as bad as guilt, even if you couldn’t admit to either one.

His gaze now slid up to yours.

“Well, I do… I care about you,” Ben said.

You’re fucking mine, his selfish heart added. He just didn’t think you’d react well to that admission.

“What do you say about coming home with me?” he asked. “I think being around all your stuff will help you…get better.”

You debated his proposition, and you realized his idea made sense. If this man was really your boyfriend, and you’d been living with him for a year…then maybe you could trust him.

Just not entirely.

“I want my mom to come too,” you said.

Ben smiled. It was a small, but true smile, and it took you by surprise. But you only felt your face getting warm again when he pressed his lips to the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, she can come help me take care of you, ‘til you’re feeling better,” he said.

You regarded him for a moment, still wondering if you could trust him. The longer you stared into his eyes, the more you found yourself relenting.  

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll go with you.”

After you were finally discharged from the hospital, Ben drove you and Marie out of the city to his apartment in Scarsdale. Technically, it was your apartment too.

He promised that it had been fitted with a much better security system, now with motion cameras around the apartment, and sensors on the roof. (You didn’t know that Hughie would have to explain to Ben how all that shit worked on his phone.)

The apartment itself was familiar to you, but it felt fuzzy in your mind. Like you had a dream of being here, living a life that wasn’t yours.

Thanks to the stairs, Ben left your bags at the foot of them, before he carefully maneuvered you into his arms without pressing on any of your stitches. You sucked in a shaky breath and held onto his shoulders, squeezing your eyes tight for a moment as the movement jostled your sense of equilibrium.

“You okay?” he asked. You blinked your eyes open and met his. His brows were furrowed in concern, but it was the intensity of his eyes that stole your breath. Part of you wanted to smile, half out of nerves, but you tempered it.

“Peachy,” you replied.

His lips twitched. He then moved carefully up the stairs.

He set you back down on your feet once he reached the top, at your insistence. Marie came in from behind with her suitcase and your forearm crutch, but Ben still kept a supporting arm around your waist.

“I’ve got it,” you told him, a bit nervous and hasty to escape his hold.

He released you, and reluctantly watched you head further into the apartment on your own two feet (and crutch). You wandered into each room like you were looking for a damn portal into Narnia.

It was hard for Ben to watch you like this. With a sigh, he went back downstairs to grab the rest of your things. He set them down in the living room while you ambled off into the guest room. Marie touched his arm in comfort.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” she said.

She’d developed a soft spot for Ben not too long after meeting him. And though he’d never admitted it, the sentiment was reciprocated.

He didn’t answer her, but after a moment, he nodded. She rubbed his arm with a faint smile and went to check on you.

Marie soon found you in the office you and Ben shared. It didn’t look like he used this room often, while your desk was covered in papers and files. It did, however, smell like his cologne in here.

Or, well, the scent was masculine and woodsy—like sandalwood and spice (and a hint of weed, as evidenced from the ashtray on his desk). You had to assume the scent belonged to him, even though you didn’t think he’d worn cologne at all in the hospital. Or maybe you just inherently recognized it as his.

Huh. Smell is the strongest sense, you mused to yourself.

The thought of you remembering anything at all from what you’d lost had you the slightest bit excited, and nervous. Dr. Jeong said you’d been through a terrible trauma. The evidence of it now littered your body and had nearly broken you. So you were fairly certain that there were things you didn’t want to remember.

The touch of your mother’s hand on your shoulder had you jolting. You breathed in relief when you saw her. Her eyes widened and she held up placating hands.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she said. “You okay?”

You nodded, though you continued to take in your surroundings with a small frown. She helped you sit in one of the office chairs, as your strength was already waning.

“It seems like everything he said was true. It’s just…it’s a lot,” you said.

“Of course it is,” said Marie. “But if it helps, you seemed very happy here. You were just glowing all night with him at the Christmas party.”

Great, yet another event that was entirely blank in your mind. If you couldn’t remember celebrating your favorite holiday, then what was the point? You huffed.

“I just find it hard to believe that I’d end up with a supe,” you admitted. You worked at Supe Affairs for God’s sake.

Marie only laughed and rubbed your back. 

“Well, you found a good one,” she said. 

A good one, huh? you shook your head in true wonder.

Now that was food for thought.

When you first arrived, Ben had led you to the master bedroom and said it was your room. So why the fuck was he climbing into bed with you?

“Excuse me,” you frowned at him, drawing the blankets closer over your body. You only had on a large shirt over your underwear. It was how you preferred to dress for bed, and it was easier than pulling a pair of shorts over the healing scars on your legs.

Ben had on a gray shirt and some plaid pajama pants. He’d shucked off his old man loafers before making the right side of the bed dip with his weight. He raised a brow at you.

“What?” he asked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked.

“Going to bed, sweetheart. Been a long fucking week,” he retorted.

“I thought this was my bed,” you said.

“It’s our bed,” he corrected. He grabbed the edge of the blanket to pull some of it towards him, but you pulled it tighter against you.

“Look,” you said flatly. “I agreed to come here and stay with you, but I didn’t agree to this kind of close quarters.”

Ben stared back at you in annoyance and willed his temper not to snap. So fucking what if he shared the bed with you? It was a California king. The odds of your bodies even touching were slim to none.

However, he saw that stubborn look in your eyes. It was all too familiar.

Christ on a cross. He forgot how goddamn difficult you were in the beginning.

And really, you two were at the beginning, all over again. He’d gotten you to trust him, slightly, but he knew the rest would take time.

Is this really fucking worth it? came an insidious thought deep inside. The selfish part that had ruled for most of his life.

Then, he spied the silver Rolex on his nightstand—the one you’d gifted him for Christmas, along with the photo album that you’d put together for him. It included the only pictures he kept of his mother, and new ones you’d made with him. They were pictures you’d collected and captured of your life together so far.

With a deep sigh, Ben wordlessly got out of bed. He grabbed up his pillow and a throw blanket that had slid to the floor, and he made his way to the living room. Marie was taking up the only guest bedroom, so he supposed he was relegated to the couch in his own home. How the fuck did that happen?

He sat down heavily in the middle of the couch and had to take some deep breaths. His head slowly fell into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. With both hands, he tried to rub the exhaustion and frustration from his face.

There were words he couldn’t say. However, within the safety of his mind, he was forced to reckon with it.

This was his fault. He knew it, down to his bones.

It was all really his fucking fault.

He should’ve gotten you a protective security detail from the beginning. He just didn’t think anyone would have the balls to…

Ben breathed past the tightness in his chest that was once again clawing at his throat. 

Well, this fucking blows like a cheap whore, he thought.

And as you might expect, he slept fitfully that night.

The next morning, you winced at the ache in your head that was now customary for you. You had practically drowned in this giant-ass bed, but the reality was, you’d barely slept. You just couldn’t get comfortable enough to stay asleep.

You didn’t know if it was because it was an unfamiliar place, or because you now had a lower dose of pain meds than you’d been given in the hospital, or if it was because there was just something missing here.

You sighed and hauled yourself out of bed to freshen up. Really, you should’ve waited for your mother or Ben to help you out of bed, but you weren’t used to being incapacitated like this. And even when you were down, it had been ingrained in you (through your father’s special brand of “parenting”) to play through the pain.

So you grabbed your crutch from beside the bed, and somehow you managed to make it to the bathroom by yourself.

After dressing in sweatpants, a bra, and a tank top, you padded out into the hall. Your mom was still sleeping, but you found Ben in the living room.

He was sprawled out across the couch. Half the covers had slipped off his body and pooled on the floor. Again, you tried not to admire the length and broadness of his form, and the way that shirt stretched across his chest and arms.

His arm was curled across his closed eyes, but he lowered it when he heard you approaching.

His eyes were a bit red and bleary. It didn’t look like he’d slept very well either. You felt bad for that, as you leaned on the back of the couch to greet him.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” you teased him a little. “You slept like shit out here, didn’t you?”

“What was your first damn clue?” he groused. You had a feeling he was grumpy in the morning, regardless of how well he slept.

“Okay, I’m sorry about that,” you said. Even though you had every right to sleep alone, you still felt bad for making him sleep out here. “How about I make us some coffee?”

He nodded with a grunt. You smiled and teetered only slightly on your way to the kitchen. Ben frowned as he realized it.

“You shouldn’t be walking around like that yet,” he called after you.

He forced himself to get off the couch, rolling to his feet. You shot him a stubborn look.

“I’m fine,” you said.

Ben’s frown deepened with annoyance.

…Right. Okay, you weren’t exactly fine.

You were still exhausted. Still felt like utter crap, as stiffness pulled at your muscles and pain at your stitches and broken ribs. And, oh yes, your head was still broken.

But, this was the most mobile you’d been in a few weeks. You were determined to do at least one normal, productive thing today. Even if it was just making coffee, then you were going to count that as a win.

By the time Ben joined you, the coffee was done percolating and you handed him a mug. He took a sip before he remembered to tell you…no cream.

He looked into the mug in wonder. You’d actually made his coffee with sugar, no cream. Just like he liked it.

Noticing the look on his face, you paused.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to ask how you take it.”

“No,” he said, sitting across from you at the breakfast bar. “It’s just right.”

You blinked in surprise, but then you shrugged and sipped at your own cup of coffee, which had both cream and sugar. While you were preoccupied with brainstorming where to order in for breakfast, Ben allowed himself to smile a little.

You were in there, somewhere.

He just needed to help you come out.

AN: See? I promise, there's hope. 💚

(But there's also still drama ahead...)

Next Time:

“We’re not gonna have this discussion again. You need to fucking eat,” he said. “I could feed you, though I promise you’re not gonna like it.”

His surly, frowning face was annoying you. His deep voice was annoying you. His tall, ridiculous wall-of-man body in your line of vision was annoying you, clothed in a rumpled shirt and the sweatpants he’d slept in.  

Everything about him annoyed you right now.

But that could also have something to do with the pounding ache in the back of your skull, radiating forward and between your eyes.

“Bro, I’m on like, three kinds of medication,” you replied in weary irritation. “With what appetite do you expect me to eat?”

Bro? His eyebrow twitched.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

[venusrising91]

Gym-body

Pairing: Huta x Male reader

Genre: Smut 18+ mdni

Summary: You've always wanted a gym body. Your new trainer can help you achieve it—if you could only pry your eyes off his toned biceps for long enough to follow instructions. (Thank you to brattyboy for the request!)

Word count: 1,755 (2 pgs)

You weren’t sure if you could trust your own two eyes. It was pretty early and you hadn’t had any coffee yet. Only a bitter pre-workout drink. The interior of the gym was pretty dark. It was barely 6AM—the only available time-slot for the gym’s most highly reviewed and sought after personal trainer. He stood near the weights, looking suspiciously similar to the only boy you’ve ever had a crush on—Huta Lee. 

Except he wasn’t a boy anymore. He was a man. Tall and muscular. So carved that he could’ve been a Greek god. 

What the fuck was he doing here? 

You should’ve paid closer attention to the photos on his employee profile. In them, his face had been obscured by a mask but now, as you looked at his page on your phone again, huddled in the corner near the mirrors, you saw that the eyes staring out at you from within the screen were familiar. You could never forget those eyes: dreamy and dark.

“You my 6am client?” asked Huta, walking toward you with two dumb-bells. 

You had resolved to leave but…fuck. Too late to chicken out now.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I am,” you replied, voice trembling.

“What are you doing hiding in the corner? Come out. I won’t bite.”

You pocketed your phone and shuffled over to him. Did he recognize you? You hoped not. He never took much notice of you in high-school. But you always noticed him. He’d gotten so much bigger since those teenage days—you could hardly believe this was the same scrawny Huta that you were so enamored with back then.

He eyed you as you stood before him, then asked, “So what area are you looking to strengthen?” As he said this, he assessed your body, dragging his gaze over your chest, your arms, then lower, lingering on your…fuck. 

                fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!

You were getting hard just off the sight of him, the outline of your arousal creating a tent in your shorts.

“Is that because of me?” asked Huta. You froze. He saw it? 

Your heart quickened, beating fast as you scrambled for a reply. 

Huta chuckled. “Relax, I’m just fucking with you. Certain pre-workout drinks make me hard, too. Some dudes get wood for a while because of the increased blood flow. Should wear off once we start warming up.”

You were so flustered that you didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Every word and sentence went right out of your head. All you could focus on was the throbbing between your legs—of Huta’s lips and eyes as they gazed out at you. Of his chiseled body and the faint traces of his cologne as it wafted through the air around you.

“I...I think I should go,” you said.

Huta chuckled again. “Oh come on, it’s just an erection, bro. It’ll wear off. Let's go, pick up the weights. We’ll do a few sets, take the edge off.”

You did as he said, albeit with a degree of reluctance.

 He guided you through a warm-up and a full body work-out. By the time it was over, you were still aching and erect. It had been so long since anyone touched you. And Huta had his hands on you, spotting you through most of the session. You practically raced out of the gym after finishing the last set.

For the rest of the day, he was all you could think about. At work, at dinner, in the shower.

Later that night in bed, you set your alarm and thought about the session as you lay there. Behind your closed eyes, Huta came into focus, the fantasy of being with him weaving itself to life in the blank space of your mind. You couldn’t resist touching yourself, and came hard to the thought of him—of his naked body, then drifted.

In the morning, he was there waiting for you in the gym. The workout was just as painstaking as yesterday’s. Twice he caught sight of the bulge between your legs, widening his eyes as he regarded it.

“Starting to think you’ve got a crush on me,” Huta said with a devious grin after spotting you for a round of sit-ups. 

You adjusted your shorts and rose, feeling too shy to respond. You didn’t trust the words that might spill from your lips. Around him, you felt so insecure and unsure of yourself, and just like the sight of your hardened cock, Huta noticed this, too. “Wait, don’t tell me you actually—”

“What if I do?” you blurted it out with no thought for consequences. 

The look in his eyes. What were you thinking saying something like that? You wanted to kick yourself. Quickly, you collected your gym bag and rushed through the doors. 

Huta shouted after you. 

Outside of your pulse roaring like a lion in your ears, you could hear nothing, and you refused to stop for clarification. Whatever he’d said, he could say it to your back.

At home, you tried to forget. It was all so stupid of you. Huta was just as unavailable to you now as he had been in high school. You considered quitting the gym, and you would have, but you’d already paid in advance for three more sessions. If you kept your mouth shut and your eyes down, maybe you could get through them without another foolish incident.

The next morning (following a restless night) you entered the gym and found Huta waiting. He was frowning. Your gazes met for a split second. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his expression didn’t look welcoming in the least.

He was short with you—ordering you around and giving you hard looks for the entirety of the session. During your last set, he glared at you, arms crossed.

“The other day. What was that about?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, y/n.”

Your name. He’d said your name. Your real name (you’d given him a fake one once you realized who he was) He knew you?

“You know who I—”

“Of course I do. Clocked you as soon as you walked through the doors for our first session. You haven’t changed a bit. Still as shy and awkward as ever. Thought you might’ve outgrown it. Guess I was wrong.”

You didn’t know what to say.  Seconds ticked by in silence. Then: “Why do you keep teasing me about my—”

“About your hard-on? Why do you think?”

“I-I-I…don’t—I…”

“Are you seriously that clueless?”

You couldn’t think straight, and gathered your belongings, then headed for the locker room. You needed to get away from him.

But he followed you inside.

The next few moments were a blur. Before you realized it, Huta had you pinned against one of the lockers, breathing down on you. He stood so close that the tips of your noses touched.

“I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. You were my biggest crush,” he said against your mouth.

All this time, he wanted you, too? 

Something unfurled in you, so many years of pent up passion and wanting bursting forth all at once to claim you. You reached into Huta’s sweatpants and took him in your hand. He groaned at the contact, throwing his head back.

“That’s it, just like that,” he whispered as you stroked him. After a few pulls he drew back. “Not here,” he said, panting. With this, he grabbed you by the wrist and led you out of the locker room.

He’d taken you to the showers. It was early, and there were barely any gym-goers present. Every stall was empty. Huta pulled back the curtain of one and ushered you inside. He had his mouth on you in an instant. Sucking and biting at your willing flesh.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” Huta said, trailing kisses across your chest. All you could do was moan as his lips and tongue traced lustful patterns against you. 

“I want you inside me,” you panted, breathless.

He took a break from kissing you and grinned, turning on the shower in the process. Each of you stripped off your clothing. Then slowly,  he reached behind you, and within moments, his fingers found your hole. He pushed at your entrance, gently. The water streamed over both of your naked bodies, providing a small amount of lubrication. Just not enough. 

You winced as his finger sank deeper into your tight ring of muscles.

“Loosen up, baby—relax, I won’t hurt you,” Huta said as he pressed a kiss into the hollow of your throat.

You grabbed hold of his erection as he finger fucked you, giving him tight fisted pumps. He moaned after each one, and in response, pushed his finger further into your depths. Your hole absorbed him, up to the knuckle. The pleasure made your eyes roll back.

He had you leaking all over the shower floor from the rhythm of his steady penetration.

“That’s it. Look how well you’re taking it. Good boy,” he said as he grabbed a handful of your ass, and spread your cheeks wider. He swirled his digit deeper inside of you. You almost came, and would have, but he stopped abruptly, easing his finger out of you. The sensation made you whimper and tremble. “Lean against the wall. I want to lick you.”

He didn’t wait for you to move, and shoved you against the tiles of the stall. Before you knew it, his tongue was inside of you, licking that delicate, forbidden place. He ate you like a main dish. Halfway through, he brought his hand around to tug on your hard cock. His efforts resulted in two back to back orgasms, each leaving you weaker than the last. By the third, you watched the thick ropes shooting down the drain in amazement. Stunned that your body had produced so much semen for him.

Huta would have given you a fourth orgasm, but you stopped him. 

“Had enough?” he asked, licking his lips.

You nodded. “Just about.”

“My turn, then. Get on your knees.”

You didn’t have to be told. You were longing to taste him. He made the most beautiful, ruined, helpless sounds as you swallowed his length, taking it to the back of your throat.

“Oh, fuck, y/n, just like that. Don’t stop.”

You didn’t intend to. Not even when you’d drained him of his load. He’d lost it quickly. You had been eager to please him. He praised you afterward, calling you a good boy, and showering you with compliments.

The two of you had made a mess in the shower stall. You bathed together, each working a lather on the other.

Back in the locker room, you dressed and exchanged what could only be described as coy pillow talk.

If every work-out was going to end like this, then you’d have the perfect gym body in no time. 

[hyperfixiation-station]

Lighter

Summary: You and Ghost are on a mission and you take a bullet for him. With evac too far out and next to 0 medical supplies, the only way to keep you alive is to cauterize the wound.

TW: Blood, graphic depictions of injuries, angst

Part 2

Part 3

You had been shot, the bullet lodging itself in your hip, just barely nicking your artery. You were headed back to the extraction point, mission completed, when something rammed into your left hip, sending you stumbling back. The white-hot pain came a second later. 

Ghost dragged you to cover, cursing your stupidity the whole way. He tore your shirt off, using one hand to stem the bleeding while the other fumbled with the med kit.  Now, you were propped up against a wall, pale and shaking as Ghost labored in vain to stop the bleeding, pressing gauze into the wound, then replacing it ten seconds later in a never-ending cycle. 

"I don't think gauze is going to stop the bleeding." You wheeze, breath ragged. Your eyes flick to the growing pile of red-soaked cloth, then to your blood-slicked skin, then to Ghost’s masked face. 

"No... No, it won't. But it buys us time." Ghost murmurs as he applies more pressure. One hand comes up to his shoulder and he clicks the radio. 

"We need a medevac to our location. ASAP." You shake your head, knowing that they won’t get to you before you bleed out. Your eyes flick down to your belt, where a lighter sits, and you get a terrible, horrible, possibly-only-option idea.

"I have...a lighter..." You rasp out before you can change your mind. 

"You want to cauterize it?!" Ghost asks you incredulously. "You’re fuckin’ insane."

"It's better...than bleeding...to death" You gasp, eyes fluttering. 

Ghost hesitates, the thought of causing you such intense pain making him wince. "You're right... but, bloody hell…I can't do it. I can't hurt you."

"Do...you want...me to die?" You wheeze, smiling weakly at him. 

"No... No, I..." Ghost bites his lip and closes his eyes, visibly trying to find the strength to do this. He gently pulls your jacket off, folding and tying it around your mouth, shoving the cloth in between your teeth so you don’t bite your tongue off. 

He hesitantly pulls the lighter from your pocket, flicking it on. He straddles you, holding you in place with his thighs as he brings the flame to your wound.

“You ready?" he asks softly. You nod shakily, and Ghost hesitantly lights the flame. As he brings the lighter closer, the heat sears your skin. You scream against the gag and try to escape the source of pain, body involuntary jerking away from it. Your skin and blood bubbles, quickly sealing the wound shut. 

Your body seizes, your screams muffled by the gag. Ghost lets go of the lighter, certain that the bleeding has stopped, but he doesn’t get off of you. He holds you in place as your body jerks involuntarily, wiping tears from your cheeks. 

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, "I'm sorry...I’m so sorry." Ghost winces and places his hands over the burn, trying to apply pressure and dull the pain as much as he can. He brushes your hair from your face, frowning at how clammy and pale your skin is. He places his fingers against your neck, feeling for your pulse. Your breath comes in ragged, rapid gasps, and your pulse is quick and thready.

He finally gets off, his hands deftly tape gauze over the burn, protecting it from the elements. 

You let out a ragged sob, curling up around your injury, pain radiating through your body. A weight is placed over your body and distantly you recognize that Ghost put his jacket over you. You float away, the only tether to your body being his hand on your shoulder. I don't think seeing my own body is a good thing you think, but it's a passing thought, not concerning you. From above, you watch him tap your cheek, trying to get you to wake up. But you just stare at him with unfocused eyes, trembling. 

“C’mon Y/N.” He says, gently tapping your face. He looks at your unresponsive form worriedly.

"Fuck." He moves your body, positioning it so that your legs are slightly elevated, resting on his lap. 

“Soap,” He calls into the radio, “You’ll have to come to us. She’s gone into shock.” 

"Fuck. Alright, we’re three minutes out, Lt." His voice is distorted and staticky, “we’re going as fast as we can.” 

Ghost nods, though Soap can’t see him. He looks at your pale, ashen face and prays to a god he doesn't believe in that you’ll make it to tomorrow.

The next three minutes pass agonizingly slow. Every time your breath hitches he fears it's your last. His heart hurts at the pain etched on your unconscious face, and he rests his hand on your thigh, hoping to provide some comfort. 

The sound of an approaching helicopter grows louder, and Ghost’s could almost cry in relief. 

Dust and debris blow around as the helicopter hovers, ropes dropping down from above. A medic drops down, followed by Soap, and they help Ghost load you onto a stretcher, securing you and letting you be pulled up before following. 

“Hang in there Little Bird.” Soap says, placing an oxygen mask over your face. The medic tucks a shock blanket around you and takes your blood pressure, unable to do much else with limited supplies. 

“You alright Lt?” He asks Ghost, checking over to make sure he isn’t injured either.

“Fine.” He snaps, pausing to take a deep breath before continuing in a softer tone, “They took the bullet for me.” Soap nods in understanding, looking at your limp form before looking back to Ghost. 

“They’ll be okay.” He pauses as the helicopter hits turbulence, steadying your stretcher with his hand, “They’re one of the toughest people I know.” 

Your eyes flutter open several minutes later, vision hazy, ears ringing, and head spinning. There’s people talking to you, at least, you think there are, but the voices are quiet and distorted. The last thing you see before being pulled back under is Ghost, standing above you. 

Ghost sits in the waiting room, still dressed in his blood-soaked clothes. He sits in the hard plastic chair, not moving an inch for the entire 4 hours the doctors have you in surgery. 

Soap and Price sit with him in silence for the first couple of hours, but are called away before you get out of surgery. Ghost doesn't even acknowledge them as they leave, eyes fixated on the OR doors had been rushed through. 

The second the door to the OR swings open Ghost is up, towering over the surgeon who came out to deliver the news. 

"How are they?" He asks harshly. 

"They, um, lost 1.2 liters of, um, blood, and their, um, left hip bone was, um shattered. A bone fragment, um, broke off and ripped through some important bits, causing some, um, internal bleeding. They are, um, stable now, but they did, um, flatline 3, um, 3 times on the table." The nurse stutters out.

"Are they awake?"

"Um, no sir, um they are, um, in a coma, we're not, um, we don't know when, um, when they are, um, going to wake up, um, of they, um, wake up." The nurse, who couldn't be older than 20 says timidly, "if they can, um, make it through the, um, night then we-we believe they'll pull through." 

"Can I see them?" Ghost asks, voice marginally softer. 

He's led to a bed in the ICU, where you lay pale and lifeless. There's a tube down your throat, tubes in your arms, and wires crisscrossing everywhere. He sits down, tentatively grabbing your limp hand, careful to avoid pulling your IV out. 

His eyes unfocus as he stares at your limp form, your blood-curdling screams echoing in his ears. The guilt he feels at the fact that you got shot protecting him, that he caused you pain, makes him physically sick. He didn't deserve to be saved, and he definitely didn't deserve to be sitting in your room, holding your hand. 

The atmosphere of the ICU did not help with Ghost's silent existential crisis. The constant beeping, the lighting, the moans and groans, the ever-constant presence of the nurse were all succeeding in putting his nerves even more on edge. 

He tenses as the monitor by your bed starts beeping wildly, lights flashing. Medics rush in, shoving Ghost to this side as they check your body.

"-pressure is dropping!" 

"-oxygen to their-"

"-failing. Need to-"

"-already had one!"

A nurse grabs Ghost by the arm, marching him out of the ICU and pushing him into a chair in the hallway.

"You just wait right here, sugar. I'm gonna go get you a glass o' water while they try to save your sweetheart, okay?" She says gently.

His hands shake, barely, as he takes the cup, his eyes trained on the window of the ICU, through which he can see multiple medical professionals surrounding you. 

Please, he begs silently, I need to apologize. Please hold on for me. He knows it is selfish and he feels disgusting for even thinking it, but he doesn't know what he'd do if he never got to tell how sorry he was he hurt you. Please.

Pt.2?

[jackdelroys]

hihi!!! i’d like to request either surprise or seductive for jack delroy or murdoc please, take your pic!! (honestly ive been in a slump with my own dd fics and your prompts have been a joy to read, ty for the lovely content!! 💕)

hi!! ty for the request 🖤 im very glad to hear people are enjoying! i decided to go with murdoc for this one, because as of late hes taken over my brain entirely : (

[ surprise ] a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard

YOU always kept the bedroom door locked at night.

nestled deep in the covers of your bed, you were already drifting off by the time the darkened figure slipped through the open window -- that was a precaution you'd forgotten to take this particularly warm evening.

you didn't hear the soft thud of boots on the carpet, nor the distress of leather as he flexed his knuckles once, twice, hand gripped tight around the handle of a sharpened blade. he brushed back his hair, it was a long journey to get here. but he'd made it.

it wasn't until he reached the far end of your bed, eyes trailed on your sleeping figure did he even remember to breathe. once in, deep, then out, exhaling the sting of exhaustion with it.

he's on you before you can even wake.

you panic at first, until you recognize the familiar scent of lavender detergent and, much more prominently, gunpowder. you barely whisper his name before he silences you with a feverish kiss, forcing his knee between your legs and pressing his weight against you. he swallows the dazed groan you let out and trails his tongue over your lip, nipping at it. he drinks in the way you shudder underneath his body with a wicked, self-satisfied grin and dark eyes grow wide in intrigue as you squirm under him. he pulls away and allows his coat to drop to the floor, followed quickly by the thick sweater he's wearing underneath, and the gloves that get in his way of removing it.

"anyone could have come through that window," he breathes, mouth still working its way down your neck, hands brushing the ragged shirt you'd worn to bed up, just enough for his fingers to trace your sides, it was a figure he'd committed to memory already, but old habits surely die hard. it was one of his favorite pastimes.

"you're lucky it was me."

"lucky?" you choke out, "you fucking scared me. and then you --" you're cut off again by his lips on yours, one hand tugging gently at your hair, tilting your neck just up enough for him to return to it.

"-- and then you do this."

he pulls away suddenly.

"i can stop, if you'd like, doll."

"god, no, don't."

that shit-eating smile is back on his face, and then it's gone, buried in your skin again. your fingers reach up to weave into his hair, pulling harshly as you feel his teeth sink into the flesh just above your collarbone.

"shit --"

"so sorry, doll. can't help it."

you hiss his name, drawing his attention once more. his head falls slightly to the left as he hovers over you.

"i love you, but i was sleeping, murdoc. i'm tired."

with an inconvenienced roll of his eyes, he's also rolled off of you, and instead into the empty space of his pillow next to yours. his arms stay wrapped around you though, and his larger figure curls in on yours, pressing you close to his chest. you wonder if he's ever really comfortable like that, or if he's just so used to sleeping that way that he can't otherwise while he's home. he's still trailing his hands across your torso, just as he always does, almost as though he was curious, eager to study each and very part of you. and perhaps he was. this idea of permanence was all very new to him too, after all.

you fascinated him. it's why he kept coming back, over and over. it's why he breathes against you and kisses your head once more, and it's why he waits for you to fall asleep again before closing his eyes himself. he looks beyond you, to the now-locked window. he can feel your pulse in your chest as you resign to slumber once more. he almost laughs, knowing how quickly you'd fallen asleep in his arms, knowing full well the capabilities he has and the things he's done. things he was willing to do.

what a curious creature you were to someone like him. perhaps he'll keep you.

[whumpsoda]

can I request what you think your previous prompt about the thralled whumpee and whumper would be like in day to day life? definitely picking up Lima syndrome vibes. i’d even wager a bet and say that whumper probably dresses whumpee in beautiful expensive clothes, and finds it adorable how spacey and easily entertained they are. the whumper does care deeply for them in a messed up kind of way afterall.

WOHEO Masterlist

Of course!! I’m glad so many people liked that first one!!

cw: vampire whumper, human whumpee, intimate whumper, hypnosis, pet whump

———————————————————————

“Oh my goodness!” A delighted gasp rang out, prior to a shrill squeal. “This one is most definitely my favorite! You just look your absolute cutest!” The vampire exclaimed joyously, captivated by the sight in front of them.

They took a step back, admiring their handiwork with love stricken eyes and a giddy smile. Biting their lip excitedly, they curled their hands together. “My delicious little thing.” They cooed. 

The vampire pinched the human’s pudgy cheeks, mushing his face between fingers like putty. Malak barely even recognized the touch, his head too much of a sticky pool of pleasure. The only sensation his body registered was the far too bright flash of a camera in his face.

Adrastus had left on a shopping spree that evening, returning to the mansion with an unimaginable amount of frilly, extravagant gowns for their pet. For what could’ve been hours, they had been adorning Malak with each outfit, and obsessing over his appearance.

With each new article, Adrastus made it a point to flash as many pictures for their endless collection as possible, determined to capture the moment.

They allowed their camera to settle around their neck, instead using two hands to lift Malak by the armpits. The human’s head lolled as his limp body was hauled from the comfort of the padded arm chair, a slight groan escaping his lips from the harsh movement.

The weight of Malak’s sluggish, large figure was no issue for the strength of a vampire, especially one as powerful as Adrastus, even if they appeared skinny and frail.

“Oh, forgive me, darling. I just need a better look at my precious little pumpkin.” For a moment, they simply studied Malak with doting eyes, before resting the drowsy man against their bony shoulder. One hand lie on his back, as to prevent them from slipping to the floor, while the other sifted through his freshly cut hair.

After a period of tenderly holding the large man, Adrastus gently lay him down on their plush bed. Malak sank into the rich fabric, leaning into the satisfying tickle of a blanket against his skin.

“So docile tonight, aren’t you? So dozy.” Towering over Malak, they contently grinned down at the man. “I have just the gift for you.”

In the blink of an eye they disappeared from the thrall’s vision, only to return a moment later with a small contraption in hand. 

“I just had to get this for you. I knew your empty little head would just adore it.” Adrastus flopped onto their stomach, adjacent to Malak, after placing the object between them. After a short second, dull light cascaded over the dimly lit room, carefully transitioning from color to color.

They watched in charmed fascination as Malak shifted their head to gaze over the ceiling with foggy eyes. He ogled in cloudy allure at the patterns projected above him, a distant smile forming on his lips.

Adrastus sighed pleasantly. The two rested in individual serenity, the sound of silence filling the atmosphere.

In a daze of mindless enchantment, Malak drifted into the delicate graze of fingers on his neck. Distantly, he recognized the sensation of limbs intertwining with his own.

“Look at all those pretty lights, darling. The way they twist and turn over each other, so captivating.” They whispered into his ear, curling into the warmth of their thrall’s body. “Absolutely beautiful, aren’t they? Just utterly engrossing, filling up the space inside your head.” 

Malak felt himself getting caught in the swirling glow above him. “So riveting, so enthralling, that all else just melts away. Master will keep you safe as you lose yourself in the sight.” The rippling visuals blossomed a blissful warmth in his chest, seeping into his frame.

Hot breath beat against the skin of his neck, forcing him to subconsciously crane his neck to open the space.

Even under such a heavy spell, he couldn’t help but expell a strained mewl over the pierce of two aching pricks in the tender flesh of his neck.

Soon though, the wash of overwhelming pleasure was far too strong to mull over it for more than an instant.

As the blood drained from Malak’s system, it was almost as if his mind drained as well. His head throbbed slightly, and soon the pull of unconsciousness krept upon him. Before his head became too light, sharp fangs released from his flesh, replaced by supple kisses to the puncture.

“My apologies, sweetie pie.” Adrastus cupped his face, forcing him to break from his trance and meet eyes with the vampire. “I lost control of myself a bit, there. You’re just too cute to resist the calling of an extra meal.”

[ezraischell]

Tags: angst, mentions of yingxing, reader is a short lived human, what lemon? i only have onion, dan feng is still pining for yingxing, ooc dan feng.

“a moth to a flame.” —dan feng x fem!reader

Dan Feng's heart shattered into pieces as soon as death took Yingxing into its embrace. The wind howls through his empty soul; you know he has not moved on.

What hurts most is that he will never love you the way he loved his now deceased lover.

You make him feel some semblance of happiness again, yet the pain within him is still raw. Perhaps it's because just like Yingxing, you are also a short lived species.

"I love you, but..." he declares, his words followed by haunting silence. The tension has increased as you await his next answer.

"But you're not him."

You remained silent upon hearing his voice, his words acting as though they are that of a thousand swords, mercilessly impaling your heart through and through, and yet, you never uttered a single word and never have you broken out of your stoic character just to breakdown in front of him. No, you wouldn't do that, you couldn't.

"I understand." Was all that she could say. Despite that, she knew deep down that it definitely hurt more than what she had perceived for herself.

He knew that he had inflicted pain upon you with his words, but he couldn't bear to lie. Despite his love for you, his heart still ached for Yingxing. The void in his soul persisted, a constant reminder of his lost companion.

He reached out to gently stroke the side of your face, his touch tender and reassuring, despite the weight of his words.

"You deserve better than this," he murmured, his voice filled with a hint of regret. "You deserve someone who can love you fully, without any reservations."

"..."

You wanted to recoil from his touch but you didn't, you remained still under the influence of the remaining respect and attachment that you still bore for him.

His hand, no matter how much it seemed like that of a cold touch burning painfully against your skin, remained.

And yet again, he was right. You deserved better than a bare minimum treatment from him, you were simply too blind and incapable of recognizing it for yourself.

As Dan Feng observed your stoic demeanor in response to his touch, he couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration with himself. He wished for you to react, to express your feelings, to show that he meant something to you.

But instead, you remained quiet and still. It was as if you had built a wall around your heart, refusing to show any vulnerability.

"You know I can still love you in my own way, right?" he whispered quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of longing and softness.

No matter how much he tried, you wouldn't budge or give in. Why would you? You were built and molded by the cruel world into a being incapable of ever finding the key within yourself to free your emotions.

No matter how much he loved you, you will never be able to find it in yourself to reason with him nor his words. You were simply crafted that way by the world.

"I sometimes wonder why you have walked into my life of solitude, only to ruin its peace the longer you stay."

While you understood that he could not move on from his dead lover, It always left you wondering silently to yourself why he chose to give you hope, only to take it away and break it when he realized that he cannot love you the way you expected him to.

Frustrated by your lack of response and hurt by your cold demeanor, Dan Feng couldn't help but express his confusion. He was at a loss as to how to connect with you, how to reach you.

"If you're so upset with my presence, then why do you tolerate it?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of anger and despair. "Why do you allow me to be near you if it brings you nothing but pain? You have the power to push me away, yet you choose not to."

"Just like how a moth is drawn to flame, no matter how harmful it may be to them, I feel something similar akin to that.."

Despite your cold exterior, had always been drawn and attracted to his affection like a moth to a flame, always seeking the light in the dark and the warmth in the freezing world.

No matter how painful it may be, you knew what you wanted. If you truly love him, you wouldn't leave no matter how harmful he is to you.

Just like how harmful a flame is to a moth. However, you didn't need his pity, you never will. You do this out of your own will, even if he still cannot move on from his dead lover and sees you as a mere replacement.

He sighed heavily, his anger slowly fading away to give way to a deep sense of sadness. He took a moment to compose himself before replying.

"I wish I could love you the way you deserve," he said softly, his voice tinged with resignation. "But I'm afraid that a part of my heart will always belong to Yingxing. It's not fair to you, and I know that. But..."

He trailed off, his eyes downcast. He knew there was no justification for hurting you like this, and he hated himself for it.

"I am aware.. that's why, i would like to leave you and end our relationship. I wish to sever my ties with you, Yinyue-jun."

Perhaps it was out of the impulse influencing your feelings and causing you internal turmoil. But you knew better than to be selfless and disregard yourself, that would be very disrespectful to your own being.

You can't live without him, or so you thought, but then again, can you live with him while knowing he is hurting you? No, you could not. You knew better than that.

His expression grew grim as he heard your words. He knew this moment was coming, yet he still felt a pang of disappointment in his chest.

"If that is your decision, then I cannot stop you," he said quietly, his voice tinged with resignation. "But I want you to know that I truly cared for you, and I never wanted to hurt you."

He reached out a hand towards you, his eyes clouded with sadness. "Will you give me one last embrace before you go?"

"Unfortunately, i cannot."

With that being said, you walked away. You walked away, severing your ties with him and freeing yourself from the shackles of his love that you assumed for yourself.

"Farewell, Yinyue-jun."

[sur-i-ki]

6/20

The grey between the black and white

The silence between you has been growing all night, thickening like a fog neither of you can cut through. You stand in the doorway, unsure whether to come in or walk away, but he’s watching you, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with questions he won’t ask.

This isn’t the reunion you imagined. The memories of laughter and late-night talks feel like they belong to different people now, ghosts of who you used to be. You’ve replayed your reasons over and over in your mind, told yourself you did what you had to, that it was better this way. But facing him now, you feel each step you took away from him like weights tied around your ankles.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just stands there, his face a mask of barely-contained hurt. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, laced with disbelief.

The words feel jagged in your throat, like they'll tear something on the way out.

Finally, he sighs, his voice low, almost defeated. “Do you even know how much it hurt to see you walk away like that?”

You swallow, blinking back the stinging in your eyes. "I had to. I thought it would be better for both of us."

“Better?” He lets out a bitter laugh, looking at you like he can barely recognize you. “Leaving without a word, without giving me a chance? That was better?”

“It wasn’t like that,” you say, but even to your own ears, it sounds weak.

“Then what was it like? Because from where I’m standing, it felt like you ripped my heart out and threw it back in my face.” His voice cracks on the last word, and you flinch.

Your gaze drops to the floor. “I didn’t think you’d care that much…”

There’s silence, and when you look up, the hurt in his eyes has turned cold. “You really believe that, don’t you?” He shakes his head, looking away from you as if you’re too much to even look at. “You never understood, did you? I gave everything, and it still wasn’t enough for you.”

“Please,” you whisper, reaching out, but he steps back, and the distance feels final, like a door slamming shut.

“You left first,” he says softly, and the last piece of you breaks at the realization that he's not coming back.

⇝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

i don't really know what happened here, just wanted to practice my dialogue

[diazheartsbuckley]

I have such a weak spot for this one: Soldier!Eddie/ (frustratingly annoying)war correspondent!Buck

Any updates or snippets you can share? 🥺👉👈

Hi Hippo! 🩵

I’m sorry this fic has been pushed so far back in my mind because life has been a mess lately but let me offer you a little snippet 😚

The idea is here for those of you who don’t know about it. And check out the amazing cover that @ronordmann made 📸

Ask me about my wips 💌

More under cut ✂️

As Eddie’s superior officer, Captain Nash, delivered the news of the impending arrival of the war correspondent, Evan Buckley, Eddie gritted his teeth.

“Why do I have to talk to that guy? We all know what he’s after” Eddie said, the disdain and contempt that he holds for reporters clear in his words. In his eyes, they were nothing but vultures, just picking at and digging into the worst moments of people’s lives for a few minutes of spotlight.

“My friends haven’t been dead for-…” He turned his wrist, wanting to look at the time, only to be distracted by small dried out blood splatters across the clear glass. Eddie swallowed harshly, pushing down unshed tears. This morning, he was leading a team of four soldiers. Five if he included himself. Now all that was left, were him and Mills.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head and lifted his head to look at his Captain, an understanding but stoic smile plastered across his face. “They haven’t been dead for more than eight hours. Their bodies are barely even cold yet, Cap. Why now?”

“I get your reluctance, Diaz, but Buckley’s inquires can’t wait. He’s got friends amongst the higher ups and I’m just relaying the message to you” Captain Nash explained, arms folded across his chest. “And we have to provide him with the information that he’s seeking, no matter the timing of it”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, hands curling into fists at his sides. “With all due respect, Cap, their deaths are still pretty fresh in my mind. I’m not sure that I’m the right person to talk to a reporter right now. Why not take Mills?”

Captain Nash’s mouth curled into a straight line and Eddie instantly knew what that meant. “Right, of course he’s requested to talk to her too. Isn’t there anything we can do?” Eddie could feel the grief weighing heavily on him but his stance never wavered, willing to do almost everything to get out of talking to a fucking reporter.

Having worked with Captain Nash for years, Eddie could recognize that solemn smile from a mile away. “I’m afraid not but I hear you, Eddie. And your concerns are duly noted” Bobby replied, his tone reflecting a deep understanding of Eddie’s pain. They had both lost people before but he could tell that this was taking a toll on the younger man. “But orders are orders. We need to cooperate with Buckley’s investigation, even if it’s the last thing we want to do right now”

With a heavy sigh, Eddie unclenched his fists and nodded in acceptance. He brought his hand to his chest, fingertips carefully tracing the cold metal of his St. Christopher’s medallion. It made him think of his own family and it made him think of the families of his dead friends. PFC Norwahl had done nothing but rave about how excited he was to go home on leave in two weeks and finally meet his newborn daughter, even sharing pictures with the entire team who had shared their joy with him.

The weight of duty bore down upon Eddie, mingling with the grief that clung tightly to his heart, threatening to squeeze the life out of him. In the midst in all the loss and turmoil that the ambush had caused, Eddie knew that he had no choice but to face Evan Buckley, no matter much he wished that he could delay the inevitable.

Using this as my fuck it friday/inspiration saturday ✨

I was tagged by @tizniz @diazsdimples @cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 and @spotsandsocks 🌹

Tagging!! @watchyourbuck @wikiangela @jeeyuns @honestlydarkprincess @loserdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @wildlife4life @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @giddyupbuck @jesuisici33 @vampbuckley @athenagranted @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @whosoldherout @weewootruck @puppyboybuckley @poughkeepsies @rogerzsteven @underwater-ninja-13 @actualalligator @butraura @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @evanbegins @disasterbuckdiaz 🩵🦋

[aboutcustardcreams]

Help me hold onto you

summary: You discover a new side of the Doctor, one that you never thought could belong to her. And it's breaking you.

warnings: Hurt- no comfort. You have been warned [it's a nightmare] I apologize but it was necessary. It's probably a common nightmare to many weak in the knees for the Doctor.

part two

part three

“Why are you doing this?” Pathetically hugging yourself in the panel room, you felt like shrinking, falling, crumbling. Your entire body trembling under the weight of the venom she was force feeding you with. This was so unusual to her, her normally bubbly and optimistic demeanor changed into something you never thought you’d see. 

“I’m just so tired–” she let out a weary sigh, turning to face you with a pair of eyes you barely recognized. They were darker, no longer of that wonderful hue of hazel, their usual glimmer, the stars you used to see, were gone. It felt like watching into a deep darkness, with no light at the end of it. The person you were looking at had nothing to do with the Doctor you’ve known for years. 

You shook your head, and squinted your eyes without understanding. Tired of what? Of you? Of traveling with you? 

“Do you really think this is what I asked for?”, she was mocking you, “Keep you out of trouble all the time, risking my own life to save yours? ” Shaking her head, she stared at you, making you feel small, too small, utterly useless. “And what for? So that you can make the exact same mistake the day after? You never learn. Humans– never do.”

You had no idea the Doctor felt this way about you. You didn’t really understand where all this was coming from. You were doing fine, you had fun together, bonding even in a way you never did with anyone else before. “Please– ”, you lost count of the times you felt yourself suffocating by a lump in your throat. No matter how many times you swallowed, the lump was always there. Normally she would come up to you, the Doctor you knew used to care about you. She smacked her lips, barely acknowledging you. She was too busy starting the TARDIS, hands hovering over the controls, pushing buttons, lowering levers. Was she really going to leave you? Was this happening for real?

Before you knew, your eyes were filled with tears. You forced yourself to be brave, to insist– because it couldn’t be. You moved a few steps towards her, arms still hugging yourself, cause suddenly you were cold. “Please, I’m sorry–I…” your voice came out muffled, as if you were chewing on cotton. “I’ll do better,” you croaked out, tilting your head ever so slightly in the attempt to be met with hers. Maybe it was just a silly joke. Maybe she was just trying to scare you, because she always failed to do that. Yeah– it had to be that. “Doctor, come on–” you slowly and painfully shook your head. 

Your biggest fear was materializing right before your eyes and it hurt in the most inexplicable way. It started with a slight headache at first, which was now intensifying every passing second. 

When she finally locked eyes with you again, you knew she wasn’t joking. That cold stare crashed your heart and sent pins and needles in your head. It hurt in the most inexplicable way- so much you pressed your fingertips over your temples.

Was she doing this? Could she be doing this?

“I think it’s time for you to accept that you can’t do better,” she spoke slowly, in a low, confident murmur that yet felt like a loud thunderstorm inside your head. She took a step towards you, staring up and down at your fragile form, “you’re weak and you’ll always be. If I keep you around, you’ll only slow me down. I’m a Time Lord, not some sort of babysitter.”

She was saying those words with such ease, you thought dying was better than this. It would hurt less. That’s what she truly thought of you then. All these years, you believed something good, something special was blossoming between you two. A friendship first, that eventually, at least on your part, turned into something more. Deeper. It hurt because you got it all wrong. It hurt because you loved her and never told her. It hurt because you never would at this point. Not like this. Not when you meant nothing to her. 

“We will be landing shortly, so if you left something on my TARDIS, you better collect it now. There won’t be a second time to do it.”  

You swallowed, hard. The lump grew bigger, your throat tightened and your heart felt like it was about to explode in your chest. It was hard to breathe, and your head– oh your head felt like it was splitting in two. You were in no condition to walk out, even less to be wandering around the TARDIS to search for your belongings. 

“Please, I-I don’t want it to end,” you stuttered, silent tears streamed down your face. “I’m sorry. I swear, to you, I’m so sorry,” your knees gave in and you found yourself dropping on the floor. 

Your vision, a bit blurred now, still allowed you to see the annoyance in the Doctor’s eyes.

“I made up my mind, your time’s up,” she said sternly, as if she was speaking to an unruly child. “Now stop crying, you’re only embarrassing yourself.”

You let out a sound between a growl and a bitter chuckle, your voice before low and barely above a whisper, rose at once, “Stop talking–” you began, voice filled with anger. 

To your surprise, she listened, however, there was still a mocking smile tugging at her lips. 

“Stop talking to me like that! Just– shut up - shut the fuck up if everything you can say to me after all these years spent together is how much of a burden I was to you–” Your stomach lurched and so did your heart, it clenched so painfully to the words you just let yourself slip from your mouth. This wasn’t you. That wasn’t her. It felt wrong, on so many levels, yet what else could you do? What other emotion other than anger and betrayal were you supposed to feel? The Doctor made you a promise once, she vowed to keep you safe, to matter what, she vowed to neve let you down, to be the person you’d always rely on, and now, oh now– everything changed. Just like that. 

When the Doctor laughed, among all the things she could do, you froze.

You inhaled sharply, “I- thought you were m-my… friend. ” 

The Doctor let out a sound that was half a mocking chuckle, half a scoff. She kneeled down in front of you, tsked a couple of times, before harshly grasping your chin, “Now listen to me very carefully, you pathetic little thing, because I won’t repeat myself-” 

You didn’t want to hear her. You tried to squirm away from her iron grip, but she didn’t let you, and her hand tightened around your throat. You held your breath, afraid that whatever you’d say to her would enrage her more. At this point, you only hoped it would end soon. 

You felt the magnitude of her power in the way her fingers dug into your skin, sucking the oxygen out of you. When color drained from your face, that seemed to please her. 

“You were never my friend. I never liked you. I tolerated you, because I thought you could come in handy,” you squeezed your eyes shut when her grip tightened. You let out a choked sob, as you tried to grab onto her wrists, to pull her hands off you. “Silly of me to think that. You’re worthless. Pathetic. I doubt someone could ever even enjoy your company.”

“L-let g-go–”

“Make up your mind. Only a moment ago you were begging me to let you stay–”, she feigned a hurt tone by your sudden change of heart. 

“I-I said.. let g-go!” when a droplet of blood fell from your nostril, touching her fingers, the Doctor immediately pulled away. 

“Ew, you’re bleeding. You better not mess up my TARDIS,” she winced, moving away from you. 

Frowning, you touched your face and found something viscous and warm running down your nose. You got a taste of it, as it fell on your lips. It was sour, and hot. When did you start bleeding? No, that was the least of your problems. You could bleed out for all you cared, that was always better than to witness the Doctor treating you like a ragged doll. 

“Don’t you ever touch me like that again–” 

For the very first time you wished something you never thought would cross your mind. You wished you’d never met her. Because having met her and then being thrown away like you never meant anything was worse. Awfully worse. 

“Rest assured, I won’t. This is your stop. Get out.”

You didn’t know what else to say. This was it. The end. Not even a goodbye, not even one last smile. You turned around towards the TARDIS doors, a peculiar mist, thick and gray, was coming from underneath. Was it normal? Where did she drop you? You frowned, unsure whether to point it out to her or not. But she wasn’t looking at you, almost as if you had already dropped off. You got up on your wobbling legs, a hand pressed against your nose to keep it from bleeding, and your head dangerously spinning. 

Despite everything, you found yourself lingering on her figure one last time. Because yes– she was right, you were pathetic, and weak and fragile and no, you’d never learn, because you loved her. 

When you touched the wooden surface of the doors, your lids felt suddenly too heavy to be forced open. You tried to resist, push through a little longer, but you never knew if you made it past the blue box or not, because everything turned dark around you.

[justsescape]

You hadn't seen Misato in ages but you didn't expect her to have changed this much. You hadn't even recognize her at first when you walked up to the table. She hadn't bothered to warn you that her breasts would be flowing to the floor on either side of her seat, each as tall as the table. That her new, fat belly would be piled so high on her hidden thighs between her outrageous breasts that it would partially obscure her face. Let alone nipples the size of your forearm leaving puddles of milk around her.

"You think I need your help with these? You just want to touch them, you weirdo." Misato replied with a smirk.

"I have a couple cargo carts from the base to move them around, I'm weight lifting to make sure I can keep heaving these growing breasts and stand with my fattening belly, I've got this." She explained, squishing her heaving, perfect flesh to demonstrate, her smile growing with your every twitch.

"And don't pretend to be worried about how fat I'm getting, I can see how flustered you're getting. You need fat to build muscle anyways! And I get whole catering orders and kegs to myself now!" She proclaimed proudly. Her surprisingly thick, if still soft, arms clamped onto one breast like a claw machine and, with her whole body shaking & sweating, did manage to barely lift it for a moment. Though the pressure turned her leaking nipple into a firehose right at you, soaking you in the most irresistibly sweet milk you've ever tasted; your heart anxiously dropping as you felt every nerve in your body crave more.

Misato's head fell back, exhausted and trying to hide how much she was enjoying herself. Her heavy breathing sending ripples across her sweat-glistening breasts. "Constantly lactating is technically a problem because I'm technically not supposed to climb on top of them to drink all my own milk because technically that's what keeps increasing my supply and size... but I couldn't keep up with how much cleaning the pumps needed...

"And besides, why wouldn't I want to see how funny you get once I get too big to be indoors?" She cooed as her breasts slowly swelled closer to you.

[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA]

[into-deepspace]

like lovers do

zayne/mc • trans (ftm) mc • ~2k • ao3 link • requests open

romantic fluff || mildly suggestive || established relationship || brief mention of weight {zayne notices that mc has not been eating well because of a busy schedule}

notes: my first lads fic, so be gentle! hope i did zayne (loml) justice here :)

It’s with heavy breaths and a mildly aching head that Teagan enter’s Zayne’s office.

Well, Dr Li’s office, since he’s technically on the clock right now, but that’s never deterred Teagan and isn’t about to stop him now. He knocks briefly to give his boyfriend a moment’s warning before stepping fully into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Now, yes, it would usually be frowned upon (at best) for a doctor to treat his own boyfriend, but this was a special case. Between Teagan’s Protocore Syndrome and Zayne’s firm title as the best cardiac surgeon of his generation, exceptions were to be made. So, there Teagan was, hopping up onto Zayne’s desk and leaning forward to smirk at him.

“Good evening to my favourite doctor,” he says, his smile only growing with his words. Zayne sighs good-naturedly.

“Good evening to my most troublesome patient.” He jots something down on a form that Teagan can’t even begin to make heads or tails of. Without looking up, Zayne motions vaguely to Teagan’s torso.

“Off,” he intones. Teagan places a hand against his chest and gasps dramatically, leaning back.

“Doctor Li,” he admonishes. “We are in your office. How can you be so forward?” With a breath that Teagan’s come to recognize as a laugh, Zayne shakes his head.

“The binder, you menace. I know you’ve been wearing it for too long, not to mention through several hunting missions. You are well past the safe wear time.” Teagan grumbles because Zayne’s right, as usual, and begins the awkward process of pulling off his binder without completely stripping bare.

It’s not that Teagan doesn’t trust Zayne. Hell, he trusts the man so much that he’s literally placed his well being and life into Zayne’s very capable hands. It’s just that there’s an almost tangible divide between being home with Zayne and being in the office with Dr Li. Something about the difference stops Teagan from simply peeling off his hunter’s uniform and freeing his ribs from their daytime prison.

After a bit of twisting, turning, and odd contorting, Teagan manages to pull off the binder fully. He takes a deep, loud breath, making a face at the odd feeling of his work uniform against the skin on his chest. He folds the binder and stuffs it in one of his many pockets as Zayne closes his computer for the day.

“Have you been feeling fine?” Zayne asks simply as he pulls his stethoscope from his neck and places the appropriate parts in his ears. With one hand, he takes Teagan’s wrist, pressing two fingers to the pulse point there.

“Amazing as usual,” Teagan replies, though he shudders as the metal of the stethoscope touches the thin fabric of his shirt. A combination of Zayne’s ice Evol and the general chill of the office is enough for Teagan to feel the cold metal even through his clothing. “Bit of weirdness yesterday, but I felt fine as soon as the protofield I was in dissipated.”

“Hm,” is the only response from Zayne. After a moment, he pulls back, placing his stethoscope back around his neck. “Not surprising, since your condition is protocore related. Do try and avoid that class of Wanderer in the future.”

“I will,” Teagan smiles, hooking his legs around one of Zayne’s playfully. Something in those hazel eyes softens, and before Teagan can fully process what’s happening, Zayne runs a hand through Teagan’s hair, front to back. In one smooth motion, he then brings his hand forward to Teagan’s jaw, tipping his face up to kiss him briefly.

And then, as if nothing has happened, as if he didn’t just leave Teagan’s heart fluttering and breath catching and face burning, he turns to take off his white coat and hang it up on the hook on the office door.

“You’re awful,” Teagan chokes out. Zayne glances over his shoulder with a smile.

“I know.”

They decide to go to Zayne’s place that night, the car ride quiet and comfortable. Zayne keeps one hand on Teagan’s knee as he drives, the other firmly on the steering wheel. Teagan had tried, as usual, to get Zayne to backpack on his motorbike, because just once he wants to zip through the streets with his boyfriend’s solid warmth against his back. But nooooo, Dr Li is adamant as ever that the bike is nothing more than a death trap and he’s got no interest whatsoever in sitting on the damned thing.

But, Teagan supposes, this is good too.

He twines his fingers between Zayne’s, lifting his hand up and planting a kiss there. With a soft something in his gaze, Zayne glances at Teagan out of the corner of his eye.

“You shouldn’t distract your driver,” he says, voice hardly above a whisper, taking on that breathy quality that never fails to make Teagan feel a special brand of loved.

“Both hands on the wheel, then,” Teagan says, teasing. He uncurls Zayne’s fingers and guides the hand firmly back to the steering wheel with a pat.

“Hands to ourselves?” Zayne says in a tone that Teagan just knows is going to spell a bit of trouble. “I can do that.” But Teagan’s not to be outdone, and just nods, relaxing further into the seat.

“Yup. And feet. And mouths.” Then, with a joking wiggle of his eyebrows, “And other appendages.” Zayne hums.

“Well, that puts a damper on some plans,” he mutters, tone flat. Teagan feels his cheeks burn as his head whips around to stare at Zayne.

“What plans?” he demands. “We didn’t have any plans.”

“No plans now,” Zayne says evenly. Teagan can’t tell whether or not he’s teasing. He crosses his arms to sulk in his seat as Zayne makes another turn.

“You’re the worst,” Teagan pouts. “Have I told you that?” Zayne laughs, a soft and breathy thing.

“And yet here you sit, in the passenger seat of my car, wearing my jacket and playing with the necklace I gave you.” Teagan blinks. He hadn’t even realized he’d been fidgeting with the thin silver chain around his neck. He drops it back under his shirt with a huff.

But he’s not got any time to try and give Zayne a (half-hearted) silent treatment, because they’re already pulling into Zayne’s driveway. Teagan waits until the car is both in park and has the manual brake locked to unbuckle his seatbelt, knowing that if he doesn’t he’ll get a miniature lecture about ”the car could shift back” and ”it’s just a second to ensure your safety.” It’s not annoying, endearing if anything, but it’s still something Teagan has to keep in mind.

As Teagan leans over into the back seat to gather the bag he’d left in there before coming into the hospital (Zayne had put Teagan’s fingerprint into the lock on his car when they started dating, good heavens does Teagan love his boyfriend), Zayne comes around to open the passenger’s side door.

“Getting a good view?” Teagan jokes as his hinges snag the strap of his back, knowing good and well Zayne’s getting an eyeful of his backside. Zayne only gives a noncommittal hum in response. As Teagan sits back up and shifts to get out of the car, Zayne leans forward as if about to kiss Teagan’s head, but then straightens up abruptly.

“Ah,” he says. “Hands to ourselves.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Teagan spits, and in the next moment he’s dragging Zayne down by his stupid, perfectly-pressed shirt collar for a proper kiss. 

It’s not a particularly sensual thing, just a hard press of lips–to-lips to satisfy the swirling mix of frustration and longing and ImissyouImissyouImissyou that burns in an eternal fire inside Teagan’s chest. It’s not Zayne’s fault, not anyone’s fault. It’s just a byproduct of the insanity of life. Teagan’s job as a Hunter often has him running days-long missions with no contact to anyone but his mission partner and maybe his team captain. Zayne’s work has him on call more often than not, sometimes missing date nights for emergency surgeries or getting interrupted in the middle of a quiet moment or a meal together because Akso needs him right then and now.

They pull back at the same time, a tiny testament to how well the two know each other. Zayne smiles, a rare, soft thing, and leans in to press his lips to Teagan’s hair, providing the kiss he teased with just moments before.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks, voice soft. Teagan gives him a pointed look-over, which earns a flick to the forehead. “You’re insatiable,” Zayne scolds.

“And? You like it.”

Zayne Li is the type to buy packs of instant ramen, only to add all his own seasonings and dump fresh vegetables into the broth.

Of course, Teagan isn’t complaining. He happily scoops noodles into his mouth, hardly waiting for them to cool. Zayne is much less eager but enjoys the meal no less, giving a satisfied hum when he takes his first taste.

It's nice, a treat almost, to get to sit in comfortable quiet and just have an uninterrupted meal together. Teagan goes back for seconds, his lack of concrete schedule having left him with no time to eat since he was dispatched that morning. 

(“You’ve lost weight since becoming a Hunter,” Zayne had commented with a frown several weeks back, a gentle hand laid over Teagan’s side. His thumb brushes across the skin there in circles, bringing the slightest pleasant haze over Teagan’s thoughts. “You need to fuel yourself better.” Since then, Teagan has been especially conscious about making up for missed meals.)

Afterward, Teagan pulls Zayne into the living room, two spoons and a pint of ice cream in hand (coffee flavored, because Zayne loves the stuff). They sit on the couch, with Teagan leaning back against the armrest while his legs are slung over Zayne’s lap. Between mouthfuls, they catch each other up on their days.

It’s pleasant. It’s a contrast of quiet and comfort from their hectic days. They talk about everything and nothing until Zayne is glancing down at his watch with a resigned sigh. They both need to be up early again tomorrow, and need to go to bed accordingly.

They eke out the last bit of time in the day. Teagan sits on the counter while Zayne showers, and purposefully leans into his boyfriend while they brush their teeth for the night. When they crawl into bed, both having foregone shirts in the warm Linkon night, Zayne rests his head on Teagan’s bare stomach.

“Gross,” Teagan laughs, pushing him away without an ounce of seriousness. “Your hair is still wet! Get off!” Zayne, the bastard, just hums, hands coming up to grasp Teagan’s sides so he can pull himself even closer. 

“If you fall asleep quickly, you won’t feel it,” he smiles, shifting ever so slightly to press a kiss to Teagan’s skin. That earns him an involuntary shudder, and a very voluntary slap to the shoulder.

“Zayne,” Teagan chides. “That tickles.” Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “And don’t start things you know you’re not going to finish.” Despite his words, Teagan threads a hand through Zayne’s dark hair, ignoring the moisture now in favor of having his hands on his boyfriend.

“I can’t believe I’m being the responsible one here,” he says as Zayne peers up through dark eyelashes. “Sleep.”

“Sleep,” Zayne agrees, thumb moving soothingly back and forth across Teagan’s waist where his hand lays. In return, Teagan scratches at Zayne’s scalp minutely, the other hand resting on his back.

They sink comfortably into the quiet darkness, tiny motions slowing to a stop as they both drift off. The next morning, they’ll rush around each other, hastily getting ready for their days once more. Zayne will lose his badge, and Teagan will realize he doesn’t have a uniform shirt that’s ironed and ready. They’ll laugh at both instances and solve each other’s problems with an easy, loving laughter.

But for now, they sleep, warm against each other’s skin even under the thin bed sheet. For now, they think only of the lovely moment they’re in.

[turnin9pag3]

i say that i am going to kill myself and im not even sure if i am joking or not anymore. because my mustles are weak and i feel my bones creak every time i stand. and i look in the mirror and im not sure i like who is staring back at me. i hate my face. i hate my body. i hate my hair. i hate that my nose is too big and my lips are too small. i hate that my teeth r too yellow and crooked and my face is too red and pimpled. i hate that my eyes are too dark and my eyebrows are too light. i hate that i hate everything about how i look but i cant fix it because wearing makeup feels like playing dress up and i dont even know who i am anymore. i want to be human but i think im well past the point of humanity. i am untouchable to all but myself yet your mind is your own biggest critic. so i hate myself and tell everyone i dont because i dont know what to think.

so i say i am going to kill myself and i can no longer recognize the humor in a statement that feels so true. though i guess it has to be false because the sad truth is i simply do not have the guts. it has been like this for as long as i can remember and nothing has changed yet here i am so i don’t see myself leaving anytime soon even if i wish i could.

i remember being 10 years hidden behind the washer in my laundry room with a rag in my mouth attempting to muffle the sobs. i remember walking to my room after like nothing happened and no one ever questioned it. i remember writing a letter to my mother explaining how i was scared about how terrible i felt because it felt like it would never end. i was scared she would be mad at me if i told her. she would not have but the young mind thinks irrationally and i did not know what was happening to me. it is 5 years later and i still feel like that little girl hunched over and gagged by her own hand behind the washer, hiding from the family that made her feel like this. half a decade later and i still want to send that letter but its been too long and im too old to feel so helpless and im too smart to feel so sad and im too pretty to feel so ugly and i have too much potential to be wasted because i felt a little bad. that little girl has grown and wasted away and its too late.

so i tell people i am going to kill myself and no i dont really mean it. but dont i?

because i can see myself gaining weight and i am nothing special. because there are people smarter than me everywhere and i cant bare to pick up a book anymore. because i talk too much and i know im annoying but all i want to do is speak to you and you cant stand to text me back. im over eager and over chalant. i care too much but i will never care enough. i am an enigma to myself and i hate myself. yet i have never loved anyone more.

“you are an artist, and your mind dont work the way you want it to.”

if someone asked me who my best friend is i would say myself and my mind. if someone asked me who my worst enemy is my answer would not change. some may call that contradicting and maybe theyre right. or maybe they have never experienced my brain and they will never know the true beauty of hating yourself.

so if you ask me i will tell you that yes i want to kill myself without an ounce of humor. yet if you were to ask about the execution i would walk away laughing.

i want to kill myself but im weak and i wouldnt be able to stomach it. the bile rises in my throat as i hold the knife to it and it falls with my tears to the floor. at the end of the day i am still nothing but a little girl sobbing in a heap on the floor, jaw clamped around a rag, with a tear-soaked letter of self hatred crumpled next to her.

the only difference is now i am old and the letter is a suicide note i will never post because i will never need it.

i said i was going to kill myself and i meant it. but i did not mean physically for i am already long dead in every way but this one.