#I hate feeling this dreadful like my heart is about to explode

[peachdues]

necrosis

a peach original, I guess??

CW: 1.5k • dark content • dead dove do not eat • body horror/rotting • abusive relationship • gaslighting

Toxic love except it actually rots you from the inside, out.

It starts with a spot of black that appears on your tongue one morning. You scrub at it with your toothbrush, your tongue scraper, yet it won’t budge. You rinse with the most stringent mouthwash known to man until it burns your throat and stings your nostrils, but when you hold your tongue out to inspect it, the black lingers.

You make a doctor’s appointment even though you hate them, but when you sit in the examination room, fingers digging into the armrests of your chair as a metal tool is shoved into your mouth, the doctor cannot give you an answer.

“I see nothing wrong,” she says, sitting back and snapping her gloves off. “It looks perfectly healthy to me.”

But when she turns her back, click clacking her notes into your chart, you find a mirror and stick your tongue out.

The black spot has grown larger.

—

“Do you see it?” You ask him that night, when he comes home later than he should, a hint of perfume that isn’t yours lingering on his neck.

It isn’t the first time. You never mention it.

“See what, love?”

“The spot.” You hold your tongue out for him to inspect. “Thee?”

He studies your mouth and a small smirk curls up the corners of his lips. “I see only my love for you.” He taps his index finger right atop the small black mark and you nearly hiss at the eruption of pain that explodes under his touch.

Out of the corner of your eye, you swear he grins as you wince, but when you look to him, his frown is the portrait of concern.

“Let me kiss it better,” and he swoops down on you before you can protest. His lips feel like a blade sawing back and forth over your mouth and yet, there’s a sweetness to his kiss. A comfort in the violence he bestows upon you that has your hands tangling in his hair, begging for more.

Beneath the pain blooms pleasure, the kind you’d known in the early days of your romance, hot and honeyed and addictive.

When you wake up the next morning, you find your entire tongue is black.

—

Weeks later, he brings home your favorite pastry.

It’s a distraction; one to keep you from asking about the lipstick stain on his neck the night before.

The sugary diversion is unnecessary; you’d learned not to ask him about the trophies he receives from others years ago, when your nagging had been met with the sharp sting of his palm against your cheek.

Do you want me to leave? He’d asked, bitter and cruel. Do you want to be all alone in this world?

Alone.

The word had filled you with dread, made your skin turn gooey with sweat. You’d fallen to your knees, begged him not to go, to stay, to love you.

He knelt down with you, pinched your chin between his fingers, and promised he would.

As long as you apologized.

Your mind railed against you, shouted and screamed that you had no reason to apologize, that it was he who should be begging your forgiveness —

The words rolled right off your tongue, effortless and earnest.

And as he brought his lips to yours with sage smile that was all self-righteousness and pride, your heart had whispered its thanks. You would not be alone.

So no, the bag containing your favorite croissant from down the street isn’t necessary to keep you in check. But it’s there, held out to you like a prized offering, and you tell yourself it’s because he loves you.

“It’s your favorite,” he says with a grin too full of teeth, glossy and sharp. “Go on. Eat.”

You mimic his smile and bring the croissant to your lips. You take a large bite, the layers of crisp pastry and sugar crackling under teeth that sit too loose in your gums.

You make a sound of delight, and his smile only grows.

“Again.” He commands. Like always, you obey, repeating the motion again and again until there’s nothing left but crumbs and powdered sugar clinging to your hand.

His fingers latch delicately around your wrist, and he brings your hand to his mouth. Slowly, sensually, he licks each of your fingers clean.

When he’s done, you bring your hand back to your lap and you try and ignore the way the skin of your knuckles splits; how your fingers swell with gangrene.

He gives you a knowing smile. “Good, right?”

You smile and nod. You always do.

You don’t tell him you haven’t been able to taste a thing in weeks.

—-

The black stagnates for a month after he brings you the pastry. It is kept strictly to your tongue, and no one seems to notice apart from you and him. You decide you can live with it; so what if you can no longer taste anything that isn’t the burning fire of his lips? Food and drink were only necessities; you have all the pleasure you could ask for, sleeping beside you at night.

But then that pleasure disappears for a morning, two, three, before he returns home again. He offers no explanation and you ask for none; you only peel the blankets off your cold body and invite him in to warm you up.

The next morning you sit at your vanity, readying to face another long day at work when you catch sight of yourself in the mirror.

The compact of powder you’d been holding clatters to the floor, its ashes spilling across the hardwood.

Your skin has turned gray; dry in some spots, melted in others. More black whittles its way under your skin, inking the veins that creep toward your eyes.

You hold out your tongue to reveal a dark, shriveled lump. Ink coats the inside of your mouth in place of where your saliva once gathered, staining teeth that now seem too large, too brittle. A maggot peeks out from between them, its pale, fat little body wriggling against your receding gums.

He saunters in a few moments later, undisturbed by your earlier disquiet. He smiles at you through the mirror as he eases up from behind, dropping his head to plant one kiss atop your bare shoulder.

The skin shrivels under his lips.

“Beautiful,” he says as you stare in horror at your reflection. “You’re so beautiful, and you’re all mine.”

He fists the hair at the nape of your neck and tilts your head back for a kiss. When he pulls away, his mouth is covered in an oily slick that he cleans with his tongue.

“I love you.”

Your heart flutters against your thinning sternum, each beat sending small fissures along the porous bone. You smile at him and a fly escapes your mouth.

“I love you, too.”

He withdraws his hands from you and you spy a clump of your matted hair tangled between his fingers.

——

You make another doctor’s appointment.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” she insists even as you stain the thin paper sheet of the examination table black, soddening it down with your rot until it disengages. “You’re as healthy as a horse. Perhaps you need a psychiatrist.”

“Perhaps I do,” you try, but your echo is garbled by the teeth that fall into your lap. “Thank you, doctor.”

She looks at you with something like disgust and at last, you think she might finally see.

But then she turns and closes the exam room door firmly behind her, leaving you and your black alone.

——

By the time you learn the word for your affliction, it is too late.

It’s a necrosis; one that spreads from tongue to lips, until your teeth turn to dust and black slime seeps from your mouth. It drips down your chin, splashing onto your chest where it rots away the skin over your heart.

You’d been taught that the sternum is the most resilient bone in the human body; hard and thick, a near impenetrable fortress that guards the human heart.

If that were true, then how is it that the black slime spilling down your chest sinks so easily beneath your skin? How can you see the weakening beat of your heart pulsing under rotting flesh as though no rampart of bone ever existed?

He lays beside you in bed, unaware or uncaring at the way you seep into the mattress. Flies circle your head, born from the maggots that nest in the corners of your eyes. If you looked down, you would see the emporium of wriggling things that feast on your carcass, have made their home among your bones.

He does not care that he fucks a dead thing; he has loved you into his image. To rot is to be whole for him and you have let yourself fester into perfection.

He lovingly plucks a worm from the gape of your nostril and you almost thank him.

“I love you,” he says, fingers brushing away a flake of mottled, decaying skin from your cheek.

What’s left of your mouth stretches into a smile. Your tongue has long since rotted away, but you try to mouth the words back.

I love you.

divider from @/saradika-graphics!

[sydnikov]

saw you were asking about requests and if that’s still the case: something hurt/comfort where the reader is comforting svech when he finds out he has have to surgery, and helping him through the recovery process.

either established relationship or a feelings realization maybe? whatever you’re most comfortable with.

In Five || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov/Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: Cursing (mild this time), sports injury (torn ACL/ligament), steamy kissing, bad proofreading, so much angst, but don’t worry there’s fluff at the end

A/N: I really tortured myself writing this. The emotions are still high, I hate the Bruins (sorry Bruins followers), and I hope you guys get all the feels as you read this. In all seriousness though, THANK YOU to whoever sent this in because it got me out of my writer’s block. (p.s. I’ve now opened requests to get me more inspired… so go submit stuff!!) anyways, I hope y’all enjoy 😁

It wasn’t bad. Not at first glance—at least that’s what you told yourself from the stands, clenching your fingers so hard they left nail indentations in the middle of your palms.

But you knew. You knew your best friend because you could read him like a book. Every twitch of the eye, a quirk of his lips, they all were a glimpse into his mind of what he was thinking. Andrei is your favorite book, and you just reached the chapter where everything starts to fall apart.

He was trying to hide it, the pain he was feeling from the quick stumble he took at center ice. It was just a small muscle pull, though, right? That’s what you thought, but then you saw him skate to the bench, favoring his right knee with the expression of one who knew he messed up.

Andrei played the rest of the game, but as you headed down to the locker room you couldn’t fight the feeling of dread steadily creeping up your heart.

“Hey,” you greeted a few of the girls leaning against the wall, waiting for their significant others to finish interviews. You were sort of an outcast in that manner, because Andrei wasn’t yours… No matter how much you wanted him to be. “Has he come out yet?” you asked.

The solemn shake of their heads gave you your answer, and you didn’t even bother trying to hide your worry when you leaned back against the wall with them, anxiously chewing your lip. The time came and went, seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to an hour of watching the other Hurricanes players come and go—none of them the man you wanted, no needed to see.

It was times like these where you questioned how you got here, waiting on Andrei like a girlfriend but being firmly stuck in the friend zone. He had never made you feel like anything less because of it, but you felt it aching in your very bones when he’d flash a smile to the girls at the bars you frequented, or when he’d ask you whether the blue shirt or the red shirt would look better on a date with the cute girl he met at a shopping mall.

It was funny, too, because you hadn’t met him any differently than he’s met the other girls he’s taken out. It was at a bar, actually, one in downtown Raleigh not too far of a drive from PNC Arena, and you were nursing a drink with a few friends from work when the place exploded in activity because players from the Carolina Hurricanes had just arrived.

You didn’t ask “who?” like one of your coworkers asked, because you loved hockey and went to a decent amount of games, and you could confidently answer which player had which number. In one game you’d even managed to snag glass seats, and that had been the best night of your life.

Never had you actually met any of the players, though. Odd, considering you had always made it a habit to go out at least once on the weekends, but one fateful Saturday night was when you finally were able to get a good look at the players outside of their hockey uniforms. You were content to merely watch them from a distance, but soon you realized they were just like any other regular bar patrons and soon lost interest in eyeing them a few tables back.

It was as you were ordering another drink that you caught from the corner of your eyes a body settling down on your right, too close to be convenient because there were other open seats far from you. You hadn’t been looking for a hookup that night, though, so you figured playing hard-to-get might ward off any men looking for a quick one-night stand.

“Hi,” the man suddenly spoke, accent too thick to be attributed to intoxication. A foreigner? You met his eyes, your gaze colliding with warm brown that reminded you of the hot chocolate you’d buy to keep your hands warm in the winter. “Drink not up to standards?” he said, leaning against the bar counter to get a better look at you.

Your brain had short-circuited, because wow this guy was good-looking, and it only took another minute of analyzing his features with your tipsy brain to realize you were talking to Andrei Svechnikov, or rather, he was talking to you.

“Not much of a drinker to begin with.” you had replied smoothly, shocking even yourself because talking to attractive men had never been a strong suit. “What about you? What do you drink?”

You and Andrei, who had later introduced himself and to which you responded with a cheeky quirk of your lips, “I know”, had hit it off immediately. You talked for hours that night, unable to shake the undeniable chemistry you had between you until one of your friends ran into you slurring her words and stumbling in place that signaled your outing time was up.

You exchanged numbers that night, and unbeknownst to either of you, your hearts were beating in tandem for days after, and brains spiraling with ‘what ifs’ and ‘I think they like me’. Unfortunately… It had never gone beyond that, because communication was hard to begin with for Andrei without the added challenge of having to speak English, and well–past relationships have made it a little hard for you to put your trust in people.

So, here you were. Confidently able to say that Andrei was one of your closest friends who you just so happened to be in love with, but knowing it would never go beyond that. You’d rather have Andrei in your life as a friend than not at all, right?

That’s what you told yourself when you finally heard the familiar sound of Andrei’s deep voice from the locker room, coming closer and closer as the distance between you decreased.

“No, no,” Andrei said, firmly, finally making his appearance. “No hospital. I feel fine.”

“Son, you’re favoring your knee. You need to go, now.” Head Coach Rod Brind’Amour marched in right behind the left winger. “I let you wait out the rest of the game, that’s what we agreed.”

Andrei remained in place, stubbornly glaring at the older man with the two looking like raging bulls getting ready to charge the other.

“‘Drei?” you finally found the courage to speak, hesitantly stepping forward and breaking the heated glare between the two men. You didn’t even notice until now that the athletic trainer was waiting behind them, phone held to his ear. “What’s going on?”

Immediately, the Russian’s eyes whipped towards you and he stepped back from Rod immediately. He said your name in slight confusion, even embarrassment at being caught in the metaphorical pissing match between him and his coach.

“I—” he licked his lips, struggling to find the words in English. “My knee. It is… Messed up.”

“Messed up?” you said. “What do you mean?”

That’s when Rod popped in. “He took a bit of a stumble on the ice, it didn’t look too serious at first but his knee is hurting.” He turned to glare at Andrei. “He can barely stand on it.”

Andrei clenched his jaw, attempting to shift his weight onto his right knee, but he could barely manage to stand before his face twisted up in pain and he had to use the wall to balance himself.

You stepped up to the Russian, worriedly wringing your hands together before stilling them to grab your stubborn friend's arm. “You’re too stubborn for your own good,” you smiled wryly, attempting to mask your worry with a small tease.

Andrei towered over you, but his size had always made you feel safe rather than scared, and that applied to now, roo. “I am fine, darling,” he murmured the pet name in Russian, his voice matching the softness of his eyes he could never hide when looking at you. Sometimes he’d speak in his native tongue in front of you because he knew you didn’t understand, and the scowl on your face afterward always made him laugh.

But, even though he was definitely not fine, he could barely take having to bother his teammates and coaches with his issues, nonetheless you. He didn't want you to see him so weak, at least not like this.

“My knee is just stiff. Sore.” he shot a look towards Rod, who up until this moment had been staring at the wall to give the two of you privacy. “It is not that bad, I am sure of it.”

“Then you’ll go to the hospital to get it checked out since it’s ‘not that bad’.” Rod deadpanned, finally breaking the bubble of tension that always seemed to surround you and Andrei when together.

“I agree with him, Andrei,” you said, placing another hand on his arm to gain his attention. “You need to get it looked at, at the very least.”

You gave him your best puppy eyes, peering up at him as he stood over you. You could see the hesitation on his face, knowing his protesting was mostly because he hated bothering others with his problems.

“If not for your career, do it for me?” you said, attempting to bring back his smile by poking him in the chest. “Please?”

A moment of silence, you staring at Andrei and Andrei staring at you…

“—fine.”

He agreed, but his knee was not fine as he said it was. It was bad because it wasn’t actually his knee that had been causing his pain, but rather a torn ligament connected to the knee that turned out to be the ACL in his right leg.

And Andrei was devastated. You weren’t allowed to be in the room with him while they checked him out because he needed an MRI, but Martin and Seth were and it was them who came up to you in the hallway, grim looks on their faces as they broke the news. You could hear the raised voices of both Andrei and Brind’Amour shouting from the room.

You couldn’t see Andrei’s face, but you felt your heart breaking for him anyways as the doctor probably told him how long his recovery would take, the physical therapy he would need to endure, and the amount of time he wouldn’t be able to play hockey for.

“Nine months,” Andrei said, angrily typing away on his phone to his brother, Evgeny, probably. “Maybe six if I am lucky.”

You remained silent, watching him from the kitchen counter at a loss for words. You had offered to drive Andrei home, unofficially taking on the role of caretaker since Martin lived with his girlfriend and Seth was, well… Seth.

Andrei was on the couch, dressed in an old Hurricanes hoodie with shorts, his right leg propped up on a stool wrapped in a temporary cast. His face was flushed, and his hair messy from all the times he had run his hands through it. You knew he was in pain, both mentally and physically, but it really was unfair how he still managed to look so attractive all throughout.

Leg cast and all included.

“Is that what the doctor said?” you asked, finally gaining the courage to speak as you crossed the room. You carefully sat on the couch next to him, not wanting to jostle his leg.

The Russian dropped his phone on his lap, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes before gazing at you with determination. “Yes. But I’m going to be better in five.”

You finally cracked a smile, there’s the ‘Drei you knew and loved, your first one since hearing the news and bringing him back to his house. Andrei couldn’t help but grin, feeling the fondness for you in his heart grow. You were so good to him, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his feelings to himself while you stayed with him.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t mind having you stay with him for the rest of the year, though. Andrei was selfish, and he was also possessive, so he liked having you to himself. He considered Martin and Seth and Sebastian his good friends, his teammates, his bros if you will, but you were his. His best friend, his best girl—you were the only one he wanted, and maybe this new living situation would give him the opportunity to finally tell you.

Andrei just hoped you felt the same. He wouldn’t be able to stand losing you because he couldn’t keep his heart under control.

“Well, you know I’ll be here to help you get through it.” You stated with conviction, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze and your heart beating all the while.

You held your unspoken promise, especially on the day of his surgery a little less than a week after his prognosis. It was an early surgery on a Thursday morning, and you even called off work so you could be at the hospital with him when he woke up.

You already knew most of your friends and family were wondering why you were putting so much effort into caring for someone who was just a friend, and if you were being honest you didn’t have much of an answer to give them. They had a point after all, right?

You and Andrei were just friends. That was it. You may be in love with him (now more than ever), and you definitely omitted that little detail during past conversations, but still. Friends move in with each other to help recover from big injuries all the time.

This time with Andrei was no different, and you had to repeat this mantra over and over again in your head as the anesthesia slowly wore off and his eyes were so soft and droopy, mumbling his words and his accent was thicker than ever and your heart was beating so fast it was going to jump out of your chest–

“Thank you for being here with me,” Andrei slurred, gazing up at you with those warm, half-lidded eyes.

You grabbed his hand, gently, lacing your fingers together and squeezing once. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Andrei squeezed back once before losing consciousness, his eyes closing and his head lolling back against the pillow. “That’s normal, right?” You asked the nurse, who was busy writing on a clipboard. She only had to look up once to take in the situation before responding.

“Everyone responds to anesthesia differently. Your boyfriend is just one of many who has to sleep it off.”

You felt your stomach drop, your eyes widening only slightly at the nurse’s casual use of ‘boyfriend’. Of course, that’s what you and your best friend must have looked like to her, right? You, holding Andrei’s hand, and he gazing up at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

It was probably just the drugs in his system. Definitely.

Andrei was cleared to leave the hospital the next day, and you heard the news from the group chat you, Martin, and Seth were in. It was comically titled, ‘Andrei’s bobble-leg’, courtesy of Seth, of course, and it was essentially just the three of you coordinating who has Andrei duty on the days you weren’t able to be with him.

Unfortunately, the day he was able to go home was the day you had to be back at work, so Martin and Seth left their morning skate early to drive him home. And so, here you were now, finally off from work and driving down Capital Blvd road to Andrei’s home.

Martin, Seth, and surprisingly quite a few of the players were already there when you arrived. You knocked on the front door before letting yourself in, curiosity written all over your face as you walked closer to all the noise.

Happy shouts of your name rang across the room when you appeared in the doorway, and your face flushed red in embarrassment at all the eyes suddenly upon you. “Hey guys,” you said, eyes scanning around the room looking for the only man you really cared about.

Finally, you found him. Andrei was seated on his couch, leg safely propped up on the ottoman and wrapped in tight bandages and a brace. He had an Xbox controller in his hand, the video game he was previously playing on pause.

“How was work?” Sebastian asked from the right of Andrei, also holding a controller. There were several bags of chips laid out across the ottoman, and both men were currently snacking.

It was probably against their diet, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell them that, especially Andrei.

“Work,” you finally responded, rather dry. Most of the population, including you, unfortunately, were not lucky enough to play the sport they loved as their job.

A few chuckles and about an hour later, everyone began packing up to leave. Somehow, you had gravitated toward Andrei during this time of catching up with his teammates and ended up on the couch next to him, on his left. His arm was casually strewn across the back of the couch, fingertips playing with the ends of your hair and occasionally brushing against your neck, sending shivers up your spine.

You liked to pretend it was just you harboring feelings for him sometimes because it was less scary, but every day that fantasy was getting harder and harder to live… Especially when you would turn your head to catch a peek at his side profile, and he was already staring as if knowing the effect he had on you.

“How’s your leg feeling?” You asked once you heard the front door shut, signaling the exit of the last guest. It was silent other than the TV playing softly in the background, it having changed from Call of Duty to a rerun of Friends some time ago.

Andrei sighed, attempting to hide his emotional turmoil with a smile. Bringing his arm down from the back of the couch, he tentatively rested it on your shoulders, gauging your reaction before bringing you to his side. He’s been an affectionate person since you first met him, so you were used to the random hand-holding or hugs, but it still never failed to make you long for something more.

He patted his leg gently, careful not to disturb it from where it rested. “Hurts. But that is to be expected, no?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t suck.” You said, your voice nothing more than a murmur. You rested your head against his shoulder, tugging at a loose string on one of your sleeves.

The hockey player didn’t respond, instead, he placed one of his big hands on your shoulder and squeezed, a sign he at least heard your attempt at reassurance. Time passed quickly like this; Friends continued playing, as did your position tucked into Andrei’s side.

You felt at peace, and while he didn’t say it with words you could tell the Russian beside you felt the same. Hopefully, the next few months of healing will just fly by.

And they did, at first. But even though the Carolina Hurricanes were missing one of their star players, the games must go on. His teammates went out on the ice, each and every one of them feeling Andrei’s absence keenly.

You felt it too, as the Boston Bruins scored their fourth and final goal of the night, winning the game in a shootout. The hope immediately dissipated within your chest and in rose frustration and disappointment to take its place, but you were sure that was nothing compared to what Andrei was feeling beside you.

The entirety of the game, your hand was wrapped in Andrei’s, his squeezing down when the Bruins scored their first goals in regulation and releasing to clap when we were finally able to tip the puck in. Then the team came back in the third period—you weren’t sure what Brind’Amour had said to the boys during the second intermission, but whatever he said had worked.

The Hurricanes had been controlling the puck in the Bruins’ zone, something they had failed to do in the first two periods. They were passing, aiming, shooting, scoring, first by Skjei in the corner of the net and then by Aho on a tight pass from Martinook that slipped right past Swayman’s shoulder.

It was looking so good because Andersen had finally gotten his head in the game and the defense had stepped up, but then we went past overtime scoreless, and then to the fateful shootout.

You had felt the anxiousness from every fan in the arena. If anyone was an avid Hurricanes watcher, including you, they knew shootouts had never been this hockey team’s strong suit.

Andrei’s frustration was palpable next to you. His left leg was bouncing up and down for the entirety, and you could see the muscles tensing and untensing in his right leg as if he had wanted to move. It only got worse when Brind’Amour sent Burns out first, something that had you, Andrei, and every single Hurricanes fan in the arena watching on in confusion.

“No, no,” you had heard the Russian mutter from next to you. “Why is he sending Brent? He needs to send Fishy, or Turbo—” the words then died in his mouth as Brent missed as everyone knew would happen, and sadly Teuvo, who went out next, did too.

Unfortunately for us, the Bruins had good goal-scorers. Coyle had slipped the puck past Andersen, as did DeBrusk, and then it was done. Game over. Just like that.

You finally turned to face the man next to you just as his head fell into his hands, tugging at his hair and messing up the gel you forced him to put on because no, Andrei, you can’t show up with bedhead. He was muttering words you couldn’t understand, most likely the creative Russian curses you heard him say on occasion.

If this game had been hard to watch for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how Andrei was feeling.

“‘Drei,” you said, tentatively. “Are you—”

“No. Don’t.” He snapped, rubbing at his eyes before unsteadily rising to stand. His right leg shook, but he refused the arm you held out and didn’t dare to look in your eyes to see what look they held. As he tried to reach for his crutches, his leg buckled from underneath him, and this time you ignored the hurt of him lashing out to put your arms around his back to steady him.

“Can we— Is it okay if…” he struggled to speak, his accent thick with emotion as he struggled to find the words. Andrei had never been good at communicating when upset, literally, because everything always came to him in Russian naturally, and this time was no different. “Leave? Can we leave?”

“What about—”

“No. No team. No reporters.” he said, digging his fingers into the back of his jersey you were wearing.

You softened, gently maneuvering your body so you could face him better. Now you were chest-to-chest, your arms still wrapped around his midsection to keep him steady. “What do you want then, Andrei?”

“Home,” he murmured. “Home. With you.” he wasn’t able to convey it right at this moment, but his heart was pounding as he said the words. To him, to anyone in his culture, this was the closest he could come to expressing his love without outright saying it.

He found he wasn’t scared about finally admitting this out loud, either, because you were his home. Everything about you was home because he wouldn’t dare let anyone else except his brother and mama see him so vulnerable.

Of course, you were oblivious. He normally found it cute, but right now he wanted to shake you because all he wanted right now was to hold you in his arms and kiss you as he found comfort in your presence.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, the double meaning of his words flying right over your head. But something emboldened you, gave you the courage to raise your hands to his shoulders so you could reach up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, right next to the corner of his lips.

“Let’s go home, ‘kay?”

The ride home was silent, comforting even despite the rough loss the team took. By the time you finally managed to get to the car, the two of you were struggling to keep your eyes open and also keep your hands off each other. Andrei tangling your hands together, you gently leaning against his side…

It was all surface-level, neither wanting to speak the words out loud but yet not wanting to sacrifice the innocent, physical intimacy you found with each other. This was all racing through your mind the closer you got to Andrei’s house, and you were almost positive he was thinking the same.

Andrei, in fact, was actually contemplating the one-hundred different ways he was going to kiss you, if he ever gets to that stage with you. He was currently facing the window but left enough room at the corner of his eyes to take little peeks at you, only fuelling his determination to do something about the tension between you.

And, yeah, maybe he was hyperfixating on you to distract him from the fact his team lost and if he was down on the ice he knew he would have been able to fix it, been able to score. His emotions had skyrocketed since the game ended, and everything felt so much more intense than usual.

Maybe that was just the pain medication he was on, though…

After you finally arrived at Andrei’s house, it took a little bit over an hour to finally get yourselves ready for bed. The problem? Neither of you were ready for any sort of sleeping, and you both knew it.

Currently, Andrei was leaning back into the couch, his right leg once again propped up on the ottoman and a blanket haphazardly thrown over his lap. You were next to him, legs comfortably tucked underneath you with a few inches of space left between you and Andrei.

There was half a family-sized bag of Doritos in between you that he said was in his pantry, so you were both currently snacking on them while watching the NHL channel. It was quiet other than for the TV, for neither of you were speaking a word for fear of breaking the thick silence between you.

The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, and what made it even worse is that you didn’t think Andrei even noticed. He was wrapped up in his phone, most likely watching the game recap because his face was twisted up and his whole body seemed tense.

You shoved another Dorito in your mouth. Fuck. You were so, so screwed. You needed to get it together before you said something you regretted, especially since you had temporarily become his roommate.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and spoke. “Andrei?” you said, hesitantly looking towards him.

“What?” he responded after a moment, not taking his eyes away from his phone.

Now you felt uncomfortable. Before, in the arena, he was looking at you like he loved you, but now he was snappy and tense and worse than normal because his team lost without him being able to play.

Picking at the skin around your nails, you attempted scooting down the couch before just giving up and moving to stand. “Nevermind,” you said with a mutter, feeling withdrawn and defeated. If he didn’t want to open up to you, fine, but you didn’t deserve to have him take out his frustration on you.

At least, not like this.

Andrei didn’t even respond, furthering your feelings of bitterness towards the man you had so many feelings for. Wrapping your hands in the long sleeves of his hoodie you were still wearing, you shuffled down the hallway and into the guest room you claimed as your own.

You could still hear the TV playing in the background, but that was the only sound in the otherwise silent house. You blinked the frustration from your eyes and crawled underneath the bed sheets, scrolling on your phone until you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed of restless tossing and turning, and then suddenly it was three in the morning and you were being woken up by countless knocks on your door.

“The fuck?” you muttered sleepily, crawling out of the cocoon of blankets you were in to answer your door. For whatever reason, your sleep-addled brain wasn’t able to comprehend that it was probably Andrei on the other side. “Andrei?” you said, confused as the Russian leaned against the wall.

He looked rather sheepish, slightly embarrassed. His hair was ruffled, and the TV was still playing so he probably fell asleep on the couch.

“Oh, shit,” you said, suddenly realizing that he was probably here because he needed help. Of course. That was all it was. “I’m such an idiot, sorry,” you breathed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you stepped out of the room. “C’mon, I’ll help you get in bed.”

Andrei stopped you with a hand, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find words. “No, that is not it.” he finally settled on.

Okay, now you were curious. “Huh?”

“I am sorry.”

What?

“For what?” You asked, staring up at him wide-eyed. You were honestly too tired for a heavy conversation like this so you were struggling to keep up.

Andrei swallowed the lump in his throat. His leg was currently throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing in his heart as he looked at you. Your hair was all over the place in the most endearing way, and your eyes were droopy in a way that told him you were just sleeping.

“For not treating you right, for—” He cut himself off, sighing in frustration. Why was English so complicated? If only you understood English. “English is stupid.” he muttered, then released a big sigh and steeled his resolve.

Stepping closer, he brought the two of you chest-to-chest and brought his arms to cage you against the wall.

And you, you meanwhile, let out the most embarrassing noise possible when he suddenly got close, and then Andrei was everywhere and nowhere all at once. His body was trapping you in, and while your senses were on overdrive you strangely enough didn't feel like fleeing.

“Andrei?” You squeaked, sinking further into the wall if it was possible. Your eyes dropped, finding the center of his chest to firmly set your gaze. His eyes were so dark, intimidating, and swimming with an intention you were nervous to find out. “What are you doing?”

“Look at me, please?” A large hand smoothed against your skin, gently tilting your head up. Your eyes automatically locked with his, and the emotion on his face had you gasping. “There’s my girl,” He said.

Okay, yeah, your body was frozen, the breath leaving your lungs in a torrent of sharp breaths. This… This was new territory, for the both of you, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Andrei looked so calm while you looked like a startled deer—an unattractive one, at that.

He started speaking, heart thundering while the words poured from his throat like warm, melted butter. “I’m in love with you. You are my person, I knew from the very first moment I saw you in that bar so many months ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but tonight, having you next to me… You’ve always been next to me, and I’ve taken advantage of that. Darling, I want to make up for all the times I never kissed you senseless, and I want nothing more than to have you as mine, and I yours.”

Your favorite music, your favorite voice, words so filled with emotion and yet you couldn’t even understand him as he looked at you like you were his sun, and he a plant desperately seeking your warmth. Andrei had only spoken in Russian a handful of times in front of you – most being curses or quips exchanged with Pyotr – and never had he spoken so much of it.

You’d always thought Russian was rather harsh. The sharp whistles, clicks of the tongue, hissing of certain words; you admired anyone who could speak it, but it had never been an easy language to listen to you. But, when Andrei spoke Russian… It was soft, almost musical, and expressive to the point you felt like you could understand the very subject at hand if you thought about it. Maybe you were just biased, but you swore you fell more in love with him every time he spoke it.

“No words?” he said, a grin on his face that made you realize you’d maybe been silent for a little too long.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You were breathless— literally.

“I show you, then, what I said,” Andrei brushed his fingers against the side of your neck, almost fully grasping it as he gently brought you closer. You had no complaints, though. “Yes?”

He said your name again, looking at you with those warm eyes so full of depth they hypnotized you and had you nodding yes, almost instinctively.

Andrei sucked in a breath, tightening his grip on you only slightly as he slid his hand around the back of your head. Your lips were slightly parted, shiny and red from where you’d been biting them previously, and that cupid’s bow that always drove him crazy when you smiled was quirked upwards as if it was asking him to kiss you.

He waited a moment, stared into your eyes, his fingers merely a whisper of a touch against your cheek, and finally took the leap. The first touch of his lips was shy, testing, but then you whimpered with need and tugged at his shirt to bring him closer and Andrei had an internal moment of fuck it where he realized just how crazy he was for you. Pressing you into the wall, he nipped at your bottom lip and was granted entrance with a gasp drowned out by the sound of his own groan. He put every ounce of his passion and love and relief into this kiss as if trying to convince you to stay because this, this here? It was worth it—you were worth it. Fireworks, electricity, butterflies, and everything all at once was igniting in your gut and caused you to let out a pathetic whimper the moment your lips finally detached. He was clearly skilled at this, wholeheartedly controlling the moment as his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin that met your collarbone.

“‘Drei,” you gasped, clutching the hair right at his scalp – when did you move your arms around his neck? – as he sucked a mark under your jaw. “Hm?” he hummed, not stopping with his ministrations.

“What,” you said, throat dry and raspy as you tried to speak over the sound of your beating heart. “What did you say— oh,”

Andrei’s grin was almost feral as he drew the beautiful sound from your lips. “Found it,” he said, voice full of pride as he brushed his fingers against the newly-found sweet spot on your neck.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed his head in between your hands, bringing his head to yours so you could press a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips before pulling back to gather your thoughts because you had a lot of them.

Andrei pouted the moment you pulled him away but respected your boundaries and merely rested his hands on your waist to keep you close. He said your name gently, his tone bordering on questioning. “Did I… Did I push too far?” he said.

“No, no, not at all,” you rushed to correct him, already having caught the guilt in his eyes. “I just want to know what you said earlier, before you— you know.” It felt almost taboo to say ‘before you kissed the life out of me’, not wanting to break this delicate balance you found yourself in.

The Russian hummed, already catching on to your bashfulness and deciding to tease you for it. “No, darling, I think you need to remind me,” he brought a hand up to loosely wrap around your neck, the contact keeping you grounded. “On what I did before what?”

“Andrei,” you said, immediately dropping eye contact as your face flushed red. “You’re being a tease,” you muttered.

He dipped his head, brushing your lips together as he spoke. You felt his breath against your skin and had the sudden desire to taste him again. “I can do this all night, but the question is can you?”

You gave up at that because the moment he spoke he drew back and you couldn’t stand the feeling of not having him close to you anymore. “Andrei,” you sucked in a breath. “What did you say before you kissed me? In Russian?”

“I love you,” Andrei didn’t miss a beat as he crept his other hand farther up your waist. “That is mostly what I said. And more.”

“More?” you squeaked out as he drew closer.

The hockey player hummed, then suddenly stepped back and grabbed your hand. “Much more,” he confirmed. “Now—bed?” Short, sweet, and to the point Andrei always was…

Just one of the many things you loved about him.

Twenty minutes later you lay in Andrei’s bed, swallowed in another one of his shirts, and curled into his chest. His arm was wrapped around your waist, stroking gentle circles into the skin exposed to the room. It was silent, null except for the steady hum of the air conditioning and the gentle breathing of two humans reveling in each other’s presence.

“I miss it,” he said, suddenly speaking up. You lifted your head only slightly from his chest, already missing the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. “Hockey. And I miss playing with my brothers.”

Brothers. Your heart broke at hearing the longing in his voice, because every single player on the team he played with was his family, in one way or another, and now he was being forced to watch them play the sport he had no chance of helping them win.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he was feeling.

“I know, Andrei,” was what you finally settled on. Your voice was soft, gentle, trying to convey your understanding with actions rather than words. You drew tiny circles on his chest, taking pride in the way goosebumps rose in your fingers’ wake. “I know.”

He tightened his grip on you, holding you closer to him as if he were afraid you’d disappear. “Will you be here?” he suddenly asked, frowning. Andrei knew he was being slightly irrational, feeling so vulnerable, but he really hadn’t felt secure in himself since first tearing his ACL.

What was his purpose in life, really, if not to play hockey and have you with him?

You hadn’t yet spoken, so he quickly clarified. “In the morning. And all the mornings after.”

A smile broke across your face as you buried your head into his chest. You felt the rumble of his chest as he chuckled, and then he shifted to where you were laying on top of his chest so he could see your face. “All the mornings, huh?” you asked, feeling bashful.

Andrei grinned, his tongue poking out from behind his teeth, knowing the effect he had on you. “Every one,” he replied. “If you will have me.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

And you meant it, truly, with every fiber of your being. The next months were going to be rough, the ones where you’d have to be there for Andrei as he watched his team ultimately compete and fall through in the playoffs especially.

But you knew the two of you could do it. Andrei was nothing if not committed, even through all the arguments, tears, and emotional breakdowns, you were there for each other through the long haul.

And Andrei, meanwhile, after many difficult months down the road, had the biggest smile on his face as the doctors told him it was a miracle.

Because he had healed from his ACL injury in five.

fin

A/N: Before my medical professionals come at me, YES I KNOW acl injuries take up to a year to recover from almost all of the time, but for the sake of this fic just pls ignore that little fact 😭 in all seriousness though, I can’t wait till our favorite Russian gets to play again bc I miss him sm. As always, please leave likes, reblogs, and comments. Ily all <33

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[rottenpumpkin13]

Inspired by recent events - how would modern AGSZC handle long haul international travel? The airports, the flights and the inevitable jet lag

♯ Angeal always tries to find the positive and bright side of everything, so he's game for anything. He’s the one making checklists, planning every detail, ensuring everyone’s luggage is in order, and being just a little neurotic (just a little) he sees it as part of the fun and a way to ensure everything goes smoothly. Even jet lag can’t dampen his spirits! He views it as just another part of the adventure.

*Angeal kicks the door down*

Angeal: To whoever had the audacity to go up to the packing checklist I've helpfully pinned to the fridge and write 'calm down Angeal', I just want you to know that I'M FUCKING!! CALM! I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO CALM IN ALL MY LIFE—HEY! GENESIS YOU GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN WHY I FOUND A WHOLE BOTTLE OF LIQUOR IN YOUR LUGGAGE? WE'RE GOING ON A BUSINESS TRIP, YOU DONUT, NOT TO A RESORT. IF I GET ONE WHIFF OF ALCOHOL ON YOUR BREATH I'M THROWING YOU FROM THE AIRPLANE!

*Sephiroth and Zack are watching from a distance*

Zack: Why is Angeal screaming at the wall?

Sephiroth: Don't look, Zack.

♯ Genesis loves traveling and views every aspect of it as part of the vacation, thanks to his aesthete heart. Packing is an artform to him, creating playlists for the car ride to the airport is essential, selecting books, and planning which episodes of his dramas to catch up on during the flight. Jet lag would be a downer for him, but he's rarely sleeping on vacation anyway, preferring to be out partying. But once he's back needs at least two days to recuperate.

*Genesis is sitting in the briefing room with sunglasses and a cocktail. Zack is fanning him*

Lazard: Commander, this is ridiculous. Your vacation ended two days ago.

Genesis: On the contrary, director. I'm still on vacation.

Lazard: Your theatrics are disrupting the workspace.

Genesis: No they're not.

*Sephiroth and Angeal walk in and immediately slip and fall on the sand that's scattered on the floor*

♯ Sephiroth is convinced that no one in the world hates taking trips more than he does. Work trips are terrible, and the 'getting there' part of vacations is dreadful no matter the 'distractions' he brings to keep his mind busy. Honestly, he'd be a happier person if teleportation were more widely used so he could just appear at places randomly. He's a homebody who loves the comfort of his own space and values his sleep, so jet lag hits him hard.

Zack: Hey, how are you—

Sephiroth: I haven't slept in 22 hours and if I don't drink something caffeinated and release my anger within the next minute, then I will be forced to enlist the help of the shadow that's been following me around all day to tape your mouth shut.

Zack: What shadow?

Sephiroth:

Zack, panicking: WHAT SHADOW?

♯ Zack loves trips, partly because his upbringing in Gongaga made him eager to see the world. He's just happy to be there, though he hates packing and always forgets to bring essential stuff like his underwear and toothbrush. But that's what Angeal is for! Jet lag is nonexistent to him because he can and will sleep through anything, as long as he has a comfortable enough space. The only thing he can't deal with about trips is the sitting still part... yeah, he needs to stretch his legs or else he starts to lose his mind.

*In the airplane*

Genesis: Are you alright? Your eye is twitching and your knees are shaking.

Zack: I can't take this anymore.

Genesis: Read a book.

Zack: I hate reading.

Genesis: Watch a movie.

Zack: I can't focus.

Genesis: Then do one of the two things I do when I'm bored—either poke Angeal with a back scratcher until he explodes or challenge Sephiroth to an arm wrestling match.

Zack:

Zack: Somehow I feel like Sephiroth breaking my arm is the safer option.

Genesis: It is.

Zack: Alright.

♯ IF Cloud survives the motion sickness, he will not be a happy camper during the trip.

Cloud: I feel like I'm gonna throw up.

Sephiroth: Ginger is known to reduce nausea and prevents vomiting. Consuming ginger in the form of tea, candy, or even chopped pieces can be effective to combat nausea and vomiting.

Cloud: Do you have ginger?

Sephiroth: No.

Cloud: Then why the hell would you bring that up?

Sephiroth: It's always nice to learn something new, Cloud.

Cloud: *visibly annoyed*

Sephiroth: I realize I've made a mistake. I'm in the splash zone.

[residentialsinyomakai]

Obligatory refs + Info of my Yokai Watch Ocs (*＾▽＾*)

Under a cut because there's gonna be a lot of yapping and art stuffs....explodes +□+

Caspian Hernandez || Any Prns || Watcholder

Basics:

The 15 year old 'basically Nate replacement' of this universe!

Lives in Blossom Heights mostly alone, parents are gone pretty often for one reason or another.

In addition, she lives with Baddinyan who is the only reason they're always out of Chocobars

Can see yokai through their glasses (ability can't be deactivated, but he has to focus on yokai for a few seconds in order to actually see/identify them)

Summons them w/ the Yopple-Brand summon band :'] (Customizable! That's why it looks like a disc attached to a Brute Bracer; because it basically is.) Insert disc into a slot in the side!! Whoopie!!!

Not very socially aware due to doing online school up until the age of like 12 (EVIL CAT interactions early on are constantly like 'lol that thing they said actually meant this you dork ahah you fool' 'hush weirdo I'm trying to focus')

((^ i mean in addition to that hes also based on me so like. Neurodivergent canon?? Maybe?? Idk i unintentionslly write characters like me sometimes

A bit goofy and switches moods easily. Some days can be pretty apathetic if she's in a slump.

Gameverse Friend Team of 6: Baddinyan (duh), Badude, Casanuva, Babblong, Tut'n'K'mon, and Rawry

VC: Unbearaboy! from the 'Yo-Kai Watch!' Sub (the blue one in this scene) ((yes I know it's goofy but it's the only clip I could find, skip past the beginning flashback 😭));

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Kerosque || He/Him || Formerly-Alive Yokai

Basics:

Water-Attributed Rank-B yokai of the Tough Tribe

Phrog is about in his upper 40's.

Inspirit; is kinda like when people tend to be kinda cold/curt in the mornings for seemingly no reason.

Runs a ramen stand someplace on the outskirts of Yo-kailafornia. (He's a pretty good chef too)

((He also has little custom pins you can get for free depending on who you are ^u^ a few of his customers/friends tend to.))

Uses his ladle (however you spell it) as a bit of a weapon thing. Comically large goofy ahh 😭

Doesnt go to the human world more often than he needs to. Too much everything

This man HATES stepping foot in downtown he does NOT wanna be there ever-

Kinda perpetually grumpy, resting mildly angry face. He tries to be polite but isn't very talkative at all lol

He does in fact croak. I love frog

Not pictured cause I forgot but like. Has a little swirly stomach pattern

Reoccurring yokai at his stand tend to be: Roughraff, Sick-Kun, Quinn, Ebi, Caspian, Master Oden, and occasionally Bruff.

VC: No clue yet, something along the lines of a higher version of Walrus Captain from A hat In Time, or a less enthusiastic Captain Caviar from Cookie Run? (If you got ideas, feel free!)

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Dread || He/They/Xe || Human-Born Yokai

Basics:

Drain-Attributed Rank-S yokai of the Shady Tribe

Inspirit; kinda similar to intrusive thoughs. Worse case scenario stuff, things that make you think you're an awful person, dreading situations or overthinking anything, etc etc

Is sighted quite a bit around high-schools. Hormones+anxiety+prime place for embarassment? Makes his job too easy

He has low empathy, but isn't completely incapable. Doesn't make a lot of friends and honestly he could care less either way.

Rather flippant, dry humor kinda guy, kinda similar to Jax from tadc for reference

He does have hair under there (i thought thatd be obvious but then again you'd probably also expect him to have skin and a chest/stomach under his hoodie so aifkwod), but it's usually kinda greasy.

Heart is a weak point in battle. If he ever let's it be exposed in the first place, that is

Cannot be seen by Caspian earlier in the story. Around the point I'd expect him to be in most of my drawings, he's at 'watch' Rank-B

Likes to taunt people, the easier to provoke the better. He feeds off of negative reactions and emotions for both entertainment and soul food nom nom

Usually a sad reaction is better than an angry one for him. If he finds someone's emotional weakness he most likely Will Exploit it XnX

While he doesn't care for anyone, he tends to harass Fuwhirl and Negatibuzz the least.

VC: Dont kill me but Raggedy Andy from Raggedy Anne's Musical Adventure

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Swiss || He/Him || Human-Born Yokai

Basics:

Electic-Attributed Rank-C yokai of the Eerie Tribe

Inspirit; is why people (usually kids) are picky eaters. This can look like randomly losing an appetite/ just finding several things repulsive/I'm bald/nuance/ref

Wanders around wherever. Lives in one of the Tranquility Apartments officially tho.

(Fuwhirl lives w him after they reunite <333 long story short they know him)

Has pretty poor eating habits himself tbh

Is edible!! Technically!!! He would not reccomend it (he's cake roll flavored :'])

The swirl in his hair can be dyed different colors.)

Going off of that, he can regenerate. Useful, but kiiiinda painful

He's a bit of an a-hole, and absolutely doesn't know when to shut up. He doesn't like to fight tho surprisingly (°>°)

Sarcastic and quick to snap back at someone =u=

(There's a strange old man he helps with experiments concerning his odd biology....he hasn't been posted yet but he belongs to my friend @sketchdeath22)

VC: lol idk

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Fuwhirl || They/Them || Object-Born Yokai

Basics:

Wind-Attributed Rank-D yokai of the Mysterious Tribe

Inspirit; Makes people dizzy either randomly or after standing up ×□×

Lived at a circus for a while, but eventually it moved out of town. After a bit of aimless wandering they found their way to Blossom Heights 🌸!!!

Kinda stumbles when they walk, it's worse when they're distressed but a bit more easy to navigate when they're happier &u&

Naive, likes to think anyone's nice under the surface +▽+

Is kinda like Tattletell's in the way he had to be latched on to you to be effective. Typically via a backpack

Has one of those build-a-bear hearts inside him!!! Whoopie :)

VC: Uhhh I forgot atm but I will come back and edit lol

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Anyways, that's not including my like 'ocified versions of pre-existing characters' agsgydirofor I love yapping about ocs!!! Wahoo :)

[daenysx]

hey!!!!! I just wanted to say that your writing is absolutely stunning!!! You are such a good writer and write the Hotd characters so well. Could I request fluffy daemon fic about him and the reader comforting each other after stressful days? I totally need that in my life rn 😂😂😂

thank you for this request and your sweet words, i hope you like it! i don't know why but i feel incredibly tense today, i just wanted to write this more comforting and fluffy. also i started to love writing soft!daemon, he is just too sweet to write. :(

my masterlist

curses & bubbles

after a horribly stressful day, you and modern!daemon try to comfort each other.

daemon targaryen is on the edge.

no, literally, he feels like he'll fucking explode. it's a terrible day, disastrous, awful. he wishes for it to end, even prays to the gods inside his head.

he watches the clock for minutes, has 5 more cigarette breaks, and drinks 2 cups of coffee in the same hour. even though he doesn't hate his job normally, today everything gets on his nerves. at least it's friday, he thinks. two days of rest and he'll be fine. hopefully.

when it's time to leave, finally, his phone rings and he sees your name on the screen. he smiles for the first time today since he left you in bed, as he was leaving earlier. he answers your call, impatient to hear your sweet voice.

"sweetheart?"

"oh my god, can you tell me what the hell is wrong with today? are we cursed or something?" you sound tired and frustrated.

"well, if it'll make you feel better my day was horrible too. i think we might actually be cursed."

he hears you exhale. "i'm going home now. did you leave the office?"

"yes, i'm on my way. see you at home, baby."

you say the same words and hang up. daemon drives fastly, silently begging for some relief. he is too tense, he just wants to find some comfort.

he opens the door with his key, and finds you lying on the couch with your clothes on. your skirt is wrinkly and your heels are thrown out on the floor.

"sweetheart?"

you lift your head as you hear his voice. you leave the couch to jump into his open arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. he holds you there for a few moments, inhales the scent of your hair and feels the comfort it brings him. you press a kiss on his neck beneath his collar.

"i missed you." your voice sounds muffled as you talk.

"i missed you too. terrible day, right?"

"mm-hmm. i just wanted it to be over."

he nods, carries you to the bedroom. "let's have a long bath, shall we?"

you nod happily. you love long baths with daemon, he knows how much you love them and he has grown to love them too. you spend hours covered in bubbles as you sit between his legs, and daemon thinks you look adorable. too adorable for his pathetic heart.

"you take off your clothes, i'll prepare the bath." he says.

"and bubbles, daemon."

"of course bubbles, sweetheart."

you take off your clothes and put your hair in a messy bun on top of your head. he comes out of the bathroom, opening the buttons of his shirt, and you can hear the sound of water filling the tub. you walk to him, help him take his shirt off and press a kiss on his chest. he takes off the rest of his clothes and carries you to the bathroom as you laugh.

the tub looks perfect. it smells perfect, too. you think you both deserved this after a long and dreadful day. daemon gets in the tub, his muscles welcome the warm water and soft bubbles. he opens his arms for you and you adjust yourself comfortably between his thighs.

"this is amazing." you whisper.

"yes, fucking amazing."

you put your head on his chest as he strokes the skin of your waist. your fingers play with bubbles and draw foamy shapes on his chest. you hum softly when he brings his fingers on the spot between your neck and shoulders, the muscles there are tense and hardened. you can't help but softly moan when he presses his fingers harder.

"you like that, baby?" he asks. you nod, look at him with big eyes.

"come on, turn around then." he says.

you turn around and your back is against his chest now. he leans and kisses the back of your neck. he kisses your shoulders, and starts massaging the tender muscles there.

"you should relax for me."

you inhale and exhale a deep breath. the water is perfect, bubbles are perfect, and daemon's hands are perfect. his big hands easily cover your shoulders, he applies just the right amount of pressure on your achy muscles. your eyes close after a few minutes, melting to him, and smiling.

"i'm gonna fall asleep on you if you keep doing that."

he chuckles. "it's fine by me. wouldn't be the first time, anyway."

you try to turn around to see his face and he helps you. you see him smiling softly. you smile back, the tension long gone.

"do you want me to return the favor?"

he leans closer to you, cups your cheeks and kisses your lips. he kisses you as you sat there all naked and softened for him, sitting between his thighs covered in bubbles.

"you're too sweet for me." he says.

you bring your hands to his neck as you return the kiss. daemon keeps you there until the water gets cold. he helps you get out of the tub and wraps a soft towel around you. you go to the bedroom to wear your clothes and he does the same.

"so, which one of your shirts should i wear tonight?"

he smiles. "we have to choose a different shirt for each night?"

you nod, as if this is a deadly serious thing to decide. "yes, and i should also choose a pair of knee socks. it's all about the colors, daemon."

he gives you his blue shirt, loves seeing you in his clothes. you find yourself a pair of knee socks. he dresses into comfy clothes as well and you leave the bedroom.

"hungry, sweetheart?" he asks.

you shake your head. "not really, but coffee would be perfect."

he nods. he doesn't feel like eating as well. he takes two of your favorite coffee mugs and prepares coffee quickly. you are lying on the couch on your usual spot and he puts the mugs on the coffee table before he joins you. he pulls your legs on his lap and you lean to the pillows. he hands you your coffee mug and you two drink your coffees when you talk about your own dreadful days.

when the coffees are finished, he pulls you closer, you sit on his lap, and wrap your arms around his neck. you caress his beautiful hair, kiss the spot beneath his ear and he wraps the fluffy blanket around your shoulders.

he holds you there like a baby, rubs your neck and your back. your eyes get heavy with the warmth and the feeling of safety in his arms.

"sleepy, baby?"

you nod. "can we go to bed?"

he turns off the television, the movie you chose for some background noise long forgotten. "of course we can."

he carries you to the bedroom and you find enough strength to go to the bathroom to brush your teeth. he does the same and you both return to bed finally. he holds the covers open for you and takes you in his arms. you kiss his neck before whispering good night and closing your eyes.

he forgets all about his stressful day then. you give him the hope of waking up to a new day, new possibilities. he would've think that is a little bit fucked up before but now he smiles and accepts it. he just holds you closer, kisses your hair, and rubs your back until he is sure you're comfortably sleeping.

"good night, sweetheart."

[lucifersresources]

taylor swift // the tortured poets department : the anthology rp meme. part one. part two here.

edit/alter/change pronouns etc as you see fit!

fortnight.

i was a functioning alcoholic.

i hope you're okay.

no one here's to blame.

but what about your quiet treason?

for a fortnight there, we were forever.

i wanna kill her.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february.

i took the miracle move-on drug.

the effects were temporary.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

my husband is cheating.

i wanna kill him.

the tortured poets department.

i think some things i never say.

you're in self sabotage mode.

i've seen this episode and still loved the show.

who else decodes you?

who's gonna hold you like me?

who's gonna know you, if not me?

this ain't the chelsea hotel.

we're modern idiots.

you awaken with dread.

i chose this cyclone with you.

i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

everyone we know understands why it's meant to be.

who else is gonna know me?

that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys.

here we go again.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys.

i'm queen of sand castles he destroys.

i should've known.

we could've played for keeps this time.

i know i'm just repeating myself.

he runs because he loves me.

i knew too much.

there was danger in the heat of my touch.

he saw forever, so he smashed it up.

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.

i felt more when we played pretend.

he stole my tortured heart.

told me i'm better off, but i'm not.

down bad.

did you really beam me up in a cloud of sparkling dust, just to do experiments on?

i was the chosen one.

this world is bigger than us.

i knew cosmic love.

for a moment, i knew cosmic love.

now i'm down bad.

everything comes out teenage petulance.

fuck it if i can't have him.

fuck it if i can't have us.

they'll say i'm nuts if i talk about the existence of you.

for a moment, i was heavenstruck.

i was heavenstruck.

i loved your hostile takeovers.

how dare you think it's romantic.

fuck it, i was in love.

fuck you if i can't have us.

so long, london.

i kept calm and carried the weight of the rift.

i pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away.

my spine split from carrying us.

i stopped tryna make him laugh.

how much sad did you think i had in me?

you'll find someone.

so long.

i didn't opt in to be your odd man out.

i founded the club she's heard great things about.

i left all i knew.

you left me.

i stopped cpr, after all, it's no use.

the spirit was gone.

i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.

two graves, one gun.

i'll find someone.

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.

my friends said it isn't right to be scared every day of a love affair.

every breath feels like rarest air when you're not sure if he wants to be there.

how much tragedy did you think i had in me?

just how low did you think i'd go 'fore i'd self implode?

you swore that you loved me.

you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

i died on the altar waiting for the proof.

you sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days.

i'm just getting colour back into my face.

i'm just mad as hell coz i loved this place for so long.

but daddy i love him.

i forget if this was ever fun.

these people only raise you to cage you.

these people try and save you coz they hate you.

they slammed the door on my whole world.

but daddy, i love him.

you should see your faces.

floor it through the fences.

no, i'm not coming to my senses.

i know he's crazy, but he's the one i want.

growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all.

he was chaos, he was revelry.

stay away from her.

the saboteurs protested too much.

i'd rather burn my whole life down.

i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin'.

i'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace.

i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing.

god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me.

they think it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me.

you ain't gotta pray for me.

it's just my choice.

scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer.

we came back when the heat died down.

fuck em, it's over.

time, doesn't it give perspective?

no, you can't come to the wedding.

he's the one i want.

fresh out of the slammer.

i'm running back home to you.

he doesn't understand me.

handcuffed to the spell i was under.

it's gonna be alright, i did my time.

now that i know better i will never lose my baby again.

my friends tried, but i wouldn't hear it.

he kept me going.

i swirled you into all my poems.

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up.

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up now that i know what's at stake here.

florida!!!

they said i was a cheat.

this city reeks of driving myself crazy.

your home's really only a town you're just a guest in.

can i use you up?

me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time.

i'm haunted but i'm feeling just fine.

i did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body.

i need to forget.

tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable.

love left me like this and i don't want to exist.

guilty as sin?

this cage was once just fine.

am i allowed to cry?

what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind?

i keep recalling things we never did.

without ever touching his skin how can i be guilty as sin?

there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.

we've already done it in my head.

i've screamed his name.

they're gonna crucify me anyway.

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

they don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly.

i choose you and me religiously.

who's afraid of little old me?

you don't get to tell me about 'sad'.

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said.

nothing makes me feel more alive.

who's afraid of little old me?

who's afraid of little old me? you should be.

the scandal was contained.

at all costs, keep your good name.

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

is it a wonder i broke?

i was tame, i was gentle, till the circus life made me mean.

don't you worry folks, we took out all her teeth.

they didn't do it to hurt you.

i wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

i'm fearsome and i'm wretched and i'm wrong.

you caged me and then you called me crazy.

i am what i am coz you trained me.

i can fix him (no really i can)

the jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud.

i can fix him.

i can fix him, no, really, i can. and only i can.

he had a halo of the highest grade.

good boy, that's right.

i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel.

trust me, i can handle a dangerous man.

loml.

who's gonna stop us waltzing back into rekindled flames?

we were just kids.

i thought i was better safe than starry-eyed.

i felt aglow like this never before and never since.

you and i go from one kiss to getting married.

we're never quite buried.

you told me i'm the love of your life.

you blew in with the winds of fate.

you took me to hell too.

you shit-talked me under the table.

i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all.

should've let it stay buried.

our field of dreams engulfed in fire.

you're the loss of my life.

i can do it with a broken heart.

she's having the time of her life.

i can show you lies.

i'm a real tough kid.

i can handle my shit.

you gotta fake it till you make it.

lights, camera, bitch, smile, even when you wanna die.

he said he'd love me all his life.

he said he'd love me all his life, but that life was too short.

all the pieces of me shattered.

the crowd was chanting 'more'.

i was grinnin' like i'm winnin'

i was hittin' my marks.

i can do it with a broken heart.

i'm so depressed i act like it's my birthday every day.

i'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague.

i cry a lot, but i am so productive.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

i keep finding his things in drawers, crucial evidence i didn't imagine the whole thing.

try and come for my job.

the smallest man who ever lived.

was any of it true?

now you know what it feels like.

i don't even want you back.

i just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal.

i don't miss what we had.

could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived?

you hung me on your wall, stabbed me with your push pins.

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man.

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

were you a sleeper cell spy?

in fifty years, will all this be declassified?

confess why you did it.

good riddance.

it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

i would've died for your sins.

i would've died for your sins, instead i just died inside.

you deserve prison, but you won't get time.

you said normal girls were boring.

you were gone by the morning.

in plain sight you hid.

you are what you did.

i'll forget you, but i'll never forgive.

the alchemy.

this happens once every few lifetimes.

what if i told you i'm back?

i'm coming back so strong.

i'm the one to beat.

the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me.

who are we to fight the alchemy?

clara bow.

did you know you'd be picked like a rose?

i might die if it happened to me.

this town is fake, but you're the real thing.

the crown is stained, but you're the real queen.

you're the new god we're worshipping.

beauty is a beast that roars.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

[thatstrangegiiirrlll]

I Love You, now Fuck Me

Nijiro x Female reader(requested)

Summary: Nijiro is driving you home from a successful date. During the drive, a confession of love leads to intimacy.

Includes: shy, needy nijiro, dry humping in the car, some fluffy, corny love 🤍

Also I don’t know who the girl is in the picture! I just thought she was really pretty when I came across her on Pinterest, hehe. U all r free to picture whoever u like for this imagine/story. — Ash <3

“I love spending time with you, y/n,” Nijiro speaks, stealing a glance at you. He unlocks the doors to his car and opens the door for you.

You smile at his words and turn to him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a French kiss. You can't lie; you never want your dates with Nijiro to end. But you understand that you both have lives. Too bad you're not conjoined at the hip because you hate being away from your baby.

On the way to your home, you can't resist the urge to analyze him as he drives: his jawline, nose, his gorgeous eyes, and eyelashes, those soft lips...just all of it. Not only is he beautiful, but so is his heart. You love him and you're not ashamed of that.

“Nijiro,” you utter, now turned to face him in your seat.

“Yes, baby?” He replies, taking a swift look at you.

You blink at him slowly with little to no hesitation in your voice as you say, “I love you.”

He sits up in his seat, looking twice from you and the street ahead in astonishment. “Really?”

You nod, eyes fixated on him like a hawk. His mannerisms are telling you he's uncertain, and that makes you uneasy.

“Y/n... I-”

“Fuck,” you say, the panic exploding in the pit of your stomach. It doesn't take a genius to read the room, or in your case, the car. You've made him uncomfortable. “Just forget it.”

His face saddens and he grips the steering wheel anxiously. “Please don't be upset. You know I care about you I just-”

“Nijiro, drop it, okay?” You interject, feeling as though you could crawl out of your skin. You know it's not fair to be upset at him - saying that is a big deal. Still, the way it makes you feel stings like hell.

You hear him sigh quietly, his face turning red. You dread the remainder of this awkward car ride.

He pulls into your apartment complex and puts the car in park. You grab your bag and open the car door hastily.

“Y/n, wait, please?” He pleads, gently grabbing your arm.

You decide to bite back your pride and hear him out. It's only right to do so.

Closing the door back up, you stare ahead, waiting for him to speak.

“I'm sorry for the way I reacted,” he starts, eyes soft and low as he looks at you. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” You keep your eyes facing forward, too stubborn to face him. “I know, Nijiro. But why? Do you not love me back?”

He keeps his hands together, placing them tightly in his lap. “I do, y/n... I’m just scared.”

You uncross your arms and turn your head to look at him. He has his head down, fidgeting around with his fingers.

“Nijiro,” you say, a soft smile on your lips. “What is there to be scared of, baby?”

When he looks at you and sees your welcoming expression, his body relaxes. “I'm just worried you won't like me anymore. What if my love is too much for you, and you become sick of me?”

You feel your throat get tight when he says this. You had no idea he even felt this way.

“Sick of you?” You repeat, grabbing his face with both hands. “Nijiro, I can't get enough of you. So don't ever think that, okay?”

His cheeks burn as he nods. “Fuck, this is embarrassing.”

“Stop it,” you tell him, sliding over onto his lap. You let your weight fall into his pelvic bone, arms on either side of his head behind the seat. “Nothing about you is embarrassing. Everything you feel is okay. Even loving me, because I love you back.”

His warm hands rest on your sides and he kisses you. “I love you, too. I love you more.”

You smile scrunching your nose in amusement at his response. All this loving and vulnerable energy is driving you wild. And it doesn't help that you feel Nijiro's hard length under your skirt.

His eyes scan you up and down, a twinge of darkness present in them. Oh? So, that's how you feel?

You let his seat back a little, watching as he lulls his head to either side. You slide your hands down his torso and to his erection through his jeans. You sit back on top of it, your skirt sliding up and revealing your underwear.

Nijiro holds your waist as you start to roll your hips into him. You feel his dick start to get even harder as you grind, your clit striking it every damn time.

“Shit,” you hiss, grabbing hold of the seat. Nijiro helps himself in grinding back onto you. The friction from his jeans sends sparkles up your spine. He throws back his head, closing his eyes tight as he enjoys the ride.

“That feels so fucking good,” he purrs, hand sliding under your blouse. He massages your breast, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. “I'm so close.”

Your hand slaps against the door's window when Nijiro rubs both your breasts. You get the perfect move of your hips down, the angle pressing precisely where you need it to.

Your pussy is so wet it's nearly numbing, but you continue. Your orgasm is so close you can taste it.

“Just a bit more,” you croak, throat parched and dry as you try to breathe.

Nijiro pulls you down to him in the seat, grabbing your ass as you ride him hard and fast. Within seconds, you cum, lips hanging right over his ear. Your gasps are uncontrolled and intense. It's pretty difficult to come down from an orgasm that hard.

Pushing out a few more thrusts, Nijiro makes his way to his orgasm. His body goes still for a moment before he groans and breathes. You love hearing his sounds when he cums.

He blushes when he notices you watching him orgasm. “This underwear is destroyed,” he says, shaking his head. You can only imagine the wet explosion beneath his pants.

“That's yummy,” you reply, kissing him everywhere on his cherry-colored face.

He chuckles and rubs his thumbs over your tummy. “Wanna spend the night at my place?”

You smile hard when he offers this. “Hell yeah, I do. Let's go.”

🤍💕🤍💕🤍💕🤍💕🤍💕🤍💕🤍💕🤍💕

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi!!! Can you do a Jess Mariano fic where they are a couple and she’s a Gilmore. Maybe she show Lorelei why she’s in live with Jess?? Thanks for your fics:)))

-

Lorelai’s head snapped up when you mentioned Jess and boyfriend in the same sentence, forgetting about the take out styrofoam before her.

‘’Wow wow, let’s rewind, missy. Jess as in Jess Mariano, Luke’s nephew?’’

You hummed, chewing your bite of pasta.

You had been dreading telling your mom about Jess and your’s new relationship status, knowing she would immediately disapprove. She’s always had a low opinion of him and you doubted she would ever change her mind — even if you told her you loved him.

‘’I visited him in Philadelphia with Rory last month for his book release,’’ you explained, an absentminded smile curling on your lips at the thought of Jess. ‘’We spent the whole afternoon talking and it was like we never lost contact. We caught up on life, and one thing led to another. I ended up driving to Philadelphia again the following weekend.’’

You spared her the moment he chased after you down the street because he thought it would be his last time seeing you and kissed you on the sidewalk. The rom-com moment will forever be engraved in your mind.

‘’No,’’ Lorelai interrupted. ‘’I’m not letting this happen.’’

‘’Letting what happen? Me and Jess?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Sorry to break it to you, Mom, but you don’t really have a say. Maybe you could control my life when I was sixteen, but I’m an adult now and I get to choose who I date, who I give my heart to.’’

‘’He’s not right for you,’’ she said, recycling her speech from years ago. ‘’He wasn’t when he got shipped here three years ago and I doubt he had a 360 personality change. End of conversation. The food is gonna get cold.’’

It felt wrong to stand up to your mother, you hated fighting with her, but you wouldn’t let her dictate what was right or not for you. You felt like the protagonist of a romance novel — having to fight for your love. Perhaps you should see it as a compliment, all the great love stories had to fight to be together.

You put your fork down a little harder than intended. ‘’Conversation not over! He’s changed, Mom. He got his life together. He got his GAD and co-owns a publishing company—’’

''Hourra for him.’’ Her sarcasm was rude and childish. She was really hurting your feelings, yet she couldn’t see past her hatred.

Now you understood the way she felt when her parents didn’t want her to date Christopher. You were hoping wouldn’t act the same with you, that she would be on your side since she knew how it feels, but she disappointedly proved you wrong.

‘’You’re so hung up on his past and how he reminds you of Dad that you refuse to see that he’s actually a good person. Jess is not like Dad, Mom. They both wear leather jackets and have troublemaker tendencies, but they're very different.’’

‘’He’s gonna ruin your life, Y/N. That’s all guys like him do.’’

‘’He’s not! Jess wants the best for me.’’ Before Lorelai could place a word, you beat her. ‘’I bet you didn’t know that he’s the one who told Rory to go back to Yale? He exploded at her after a terrible dinner with her and Logan, calling her out on dropping out of Yale, hanging out with rich guys in fancy cars and practically turning into our grandmother. If it hadn’t been for him, she would still be living in grandma’s bungalow.’’

The look of disbelief on Lorelai’s face was one to remember. You wish you could have taken a picture to put on the fridge.

‘’What?!’’

‘’If you would just stop picking on the things that give you an itch and give him a real chance, you would see how great of a person he really is.’’

‘’But he hurt my baby…’’

‘’He did,’’ you agreed, flashes of all the tears you’ve cried because of Jess when he left town. Your first heartbreak. ‘’I appreciate that you trashed him to me when I was sad of him being gone, but the heartbreak is over and Jess and I are back together. I love you, Mom, and I don’t want my relationship to put a strain between us, but I’m also not going to leave Jess to make you happy.’’

-

[c0ffinshit]

Then I Saw Her (Ellison Oswalt x Reader) Part Two

Part One

word count: 1,429

warnings: takes place after the events of the movie, smoking, talks about death and condoms, ends with a cliffhanger

It finally happened again. I saw the girl from the bookstore in Seattle again. Honestly, I’m kind of shocked that we saw each other again. Even after I survived that dreaded and frankly fucking terrible house. They made me sign a book deal and, as you might have guessed, another dreaded book tour. This time, at least,  they gave me a paper cup filled with bitter and sad coffee. Which, for Seattle, feels disappointing. The only thing worth noting about the whole day other than seeing her again was the number of people that showed up. People of different backgrounds came to me and asked to sign my shitty book about my trauma. And by all different backgrounds, I mean primarily white women and their bored-looking husbands. When she finally trekked up to me, her eyes seemed to light up the minute we locked eyes. 

"Well, we will meet again." She said, placing the book on the table.

I opened the book for me to sign. Before my pen hit the paper, I noticed the title didn’t match the one I was there to advertise. It was Kentucky Blood, the first book.   

"Yeah, and you’re making me sign the wrong book," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

She laughs, her sweet laugh, and takes the book back, placing it into her navy blue crossbody tote bag. Her hair looked so perfect as she dug around for the other book. My eyes slowly passed along her figure, and the line behind me was slowly getting smaller and smaller as people started to walk out the door and into the busy Seattle streets. Maybe people didn’t come to see me. I didn’t seem to mind, looking back.

"Here’s the right one, sorry." She places the right book on the table, sliding it to me. 

"It's alright, sweetheart, no need to worry." 

Under the yellow light, I could see the embarrassment on her face as I took out my Sharpie. I wanted so badly to ask her who she really was. Is she a morning person or a night person? What’s her favorite movie? 

"So, um," she begins, "this is probably unprofessional, but I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee sometime?" 

The minute I heard her say that, it felt like my heart would explode. 

"Yes, I’ll be free in about an hour. Can we meet outside this bookstore?" 

She looks to the floor, shy. "Yeah, I have something I need to do, but yeah. I’ll meet you here."

A part of me wasn’t surprised that she had a life outside of me, but I wondered what was so important. Maybe she wanted to go home and grab condoms- stop it! 

This girl has been admiring me for god knows how long, and here I am, thinking impurely of her. She probably just needs to get something from the store or maybe her car, totally pure and wholesome, nothing more or less. I may know her name, but that doesn’t mean my mind can wander. I carefully watched her as she winked at me and walked out the door. She would be on my mind for the rest of the day.

___…___

Finally, the day was coming to a close. I stood outside the bookstore, patiently waiting for her to come back. I wanted to apologize to her if I seemed awkward or mean earlier. I didn’t want to offend her. A pack of Marlboro Red sat in my cardigan’s pocket. Suddenly, my mind thought of my now-dead wife. I missed her, sure, but at the same time, I didn’t care. I was about to meet a beautiful girl I’d only known briefly. Her hair felt perfect on her head, and her clothes fit perfectly. It’s what she would’ve wanted. She would’ve wanted me to move on, move to New York, continue my writing, and find a beautiful girl to see often. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a dark brown car pull up to me. The window rolls down, revealing her in a different, more put-together outfit. This Charming Man by The Smiths played softly in her car, hitting the doors. 

"Hey partner, (Y/N), we met earlier," she said, her voice bubbly.

I was so starstruck, and I hate using that term. Star. Struck.

"Hey," I said. My voice was breathy. Like my words left my mouth with a struggle. "It's Ellison."

She flashes me a smile. "You wanna hop in and take a trip around? Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on kidnapping you. I’m not a murderer or anything."

I shake my head. "Don’t worry, darling. I wasn’t thinking that. But yeah, let’s do some sightseeing."

She unlocked her car and gave me the motion to hop on it. I do, seating myself in the back. I knew if I sat up there with her, I wouldn’t be able to speak. It felt like that movie… I can’t remember the title, but you know the one. She looks at me in the rear view mirror and gives me a disapproving look. My eyebrows furrowed together, wondering what was wrong.

"Why are you back there? You should be up here with me." (Y/N) said, her eyes turning back to the road, still not starting the car. 

"Well, I don’t know. I think I would explode if I looked at you too long."

She giggles, "Come on, I’m not hurting you with my charming good looks. Relax, you’re safe with me."

Relax, you’re safe with me.

When she said that, my heart stopped. It was so flirty and different. Before I could even blink again. I closed the door and sat next to her. 

"See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?" 

I shake my head ‘ no,’ I feel too afraid to speak. I’ll say something stupid and then walk to my hotel alone. God, this girl is so fucking amazing. 

"So, where to go first?" she said, looking over to my lap.

"Anywhere." I plainly said. 

"Alright, I know just the place."

She finally started up the car and pulled away from the bookstore where I sat for hours, hearing the same few words said about my book or me. She passed a few small businesses and street performers before coming to a dirty-looking club. It seemed like a popular place to hang out during the day and into the later hours, judging by the long line waiting to get inside. (Y/N) parked the car and looked at me.

"Are you ready?" she said as she unlocked the doors.

I was scared shitless. Going inside seemed like an okay idea… if I wanted to get stabbed. 

It was reckless. 

My car door swung open, and she grabbed my sweater’s sleeve, dragging me out of the car's warmth. The writing on the wall outside grew enormous as we walked inside. This was it. I was going to die. I am a grown man now getting stared at by a colorful crowd of bikers and women who stared daggers at me. She continues to drag me all the way up to the bar. I look up at the menu. All the drinks are named after obscure Broadway shows or terrible movies. The lights feel like they are going to burn my irises. My eyes lower, looking at the bar itself. She yells for the bartender and looks over at me. She can tell I’m uncomfortable, but I highly doubt she even cares. 

"So, what’s the name of this place? It's very…interesting." I asked politely.  

"Anywhere." She yells, despite the music not being that loud.

"The place is called ‘Anywhere?’" I asked again. Was she being serious or lying to my face?

She nods her head, seemingly pleased by her reply. 

Maybe this was a bad idea. I knew that her taking me here had half a chance of being the best night of my life. All those hopes slip right out of my hand as I look at her again, now chatting with a younger man at the bar. It felt like I wasn’t even there, like a ghost trapped in the empty halls where the ghost’s life had ended. People slowly get up and leave, still looking at me. I want to be angry, wondering when she’ll let me go. Her eyes lean back to me, the younger lad still talking. 

I imagine what the stars look like outside. They sparkle, sure, but the actual stars were few and far between. 

Maybe I was one of those stars. 

Bright, and yet, very few like me.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Desert Flower [Chapter Seven] One Step Toward Insanity [Grimmjow Jeagerjequez]

A/n: it's been a while since I've posted anything for this story. I apologize for that. This chapter took me a while to figure out, honestly. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): AU, oral (f), teasing, slight overstimulation, Grimmjow being Grimmjow.

My stomach is in knots as curfew comes, though based on the endless darkness that surrounds the desert terrain of Hueco Mundo, it can be hard to tell. I only know because Sōsuke had walked me to my room after dinner, insinuating that I should remain locked up at night. He gave me no explanation as to why, but I know it's because the palace isn't safe.

It never has been. 

As much as Sōsuke wants this arrangement to work, some don't. I can feel their anger and their disgust every time I walk into a room. This is one of the reasons I am hesitant to sneak out, in fear of being caught by them. The other is Grimmjow.

It is wrong of me to want to pursue him, especially since Yama might be right; Sōsuke might ask me to marry him. But I do not want to be tied down to a man like him. I feel nothing but fear and dread around him. My heart isn't in it, and that makes my situation much worse because I do not have a choice. 

But this does not warrant my behavior. I can't help it though. Grimmjow makes me feel untamed whenever he's around. And I love it. Should it not be my choice? I do not think about clan politics or nobility when I am near him. I feel free and that is all I have ever wanted. With Sōsuke I can never be free.

With a deep and uneasy sigh, I saunter toward the door, hesitantly easing it open. The air feels thick outside my room as if my mind is warning me: tread carefully. There is no turning back. It is because of this that I take a step forward. The pressure fades the further I continue down the hall until I am left with elation. 

This is exactly what I want. 

The sound of my heeled shoes clacks on the floor as I quicken my pace. My nerves are on fire; I can hardly believe that I am going through with this. As I step into the corridor facing the 10 chamber halls I recall the one Grimmjow had walked down; the number six is etched into the wall beside the opening. But as I take another step, a familiar noise catches my attention. 

The sound of footsteps alerts me that someone is drawing near. But from where? I panic for a moment, searching the darkened halls until a person emerges from the hall marked with the number 8. My eyes widen in fear as I recognize the familiar white robe lined with black.

"Gin!?"

He hums as he recognizes me, and then grins.

"What do I owe the pleasure, princess? It's after curfew if you didn't know."

What should I say? I can't just admit that I came here to see Grimmjow. My face heats up as I search for an excuse.

"I am aware. I might be a bit lost."

It's not a complete lie.

Gin hums.

"Indeed you are. This is the main corridor that leads to the private chambers of the royal family...unless you knew that."

"I did," I admit. "I wanted to see Harribel."

My heart feels like it might explode. Gin walks over to my side and turns, pointing to the corridor marked with the number 3.

"Harribel lives down there. As you can see it is the 3rd door from the entrance. Each of the Familia is numbered from one to ten, though some would argue that it's zero to nine."

Gin laughs as he says this, though I have no idea why.

"It's rather late to be visiting her, however. Was there a reason you needed to speak with her?"

"I wanted to apologize for something I accidentally did," I lied. "It has been bothering me all afternoon."

Gin laughs. 

"That sounds devastating. Well…I suppose it's okay. It's a good thing we ran into one another. Had you gone down the wrong corridor, five or six for instance; Nnoitra or Grimmjow, then you might have been met with hostility."

No kidding. I had no idea that Nnoitra and Grimmjow lived so close. Given their hate for one another, I am surprised, though perhaps it was not their choice.

"It is a good thing. I appreciate it, Gin," I utter.

It is a good thing I remembered the hall. 

Gin grins in response.

"Don't be long, princess. I believe Lord Aizen has something planned for you tomorrow."

Does he? I suppress a frown and nod, watching him walk down the main corridor toward the palace. What does Sōsuke have in store for me? With an uneasy sigh, I wander down the sixth passage toward the end to a door. But as I go to open it, I find that it's locked.

Heat rises to my face as I remember that not all towers are the same. Just because Harribel lives in an abode in a fabricated sandy landscape does not mean that Grimmjow does too. How rude of me. I raise my hand and knock. On the second, the door opens and a man with a long face stares down at me with impassive gray eyes.

"Turn back, miss. You have come to the wrong tower," the man states.

"Um...I am looking for Grimmjow. He knows that I am coming. This is his tower, is it not?" I ask with an utter.

Perhaps I was misled by Gin, or perhaps this tower belongs to Nnoitra. I shudder to think so.

"If he's expecting you, then follow me," he insists.

His tone implies that he doesn't necessarily want me to be there but he steps aside and lets me in. I stand beyond the threshold in awe, staring at the room I walked into. It's dome-shaped with a winding staircase in the center. One of the most common elements in the room is the various plants; it reminds me of a desert paradise with its cream-colored theme.

"This way," the man insists as he brushes past me.

I follow him up the staircase to the top floor, noticing three others including Grimmjow seated around the room; the latter is laid out on cushions and pillows. This room in general gives more of a laid-back vibe; various plants and fish bowls with gorgeous ecosystems decorate the room; it's interesting just how different his tower is from the previous one I have seen.

"Grimmjow, you have a guest. She claims that she is expected," the man announces.

The room turns to me in interest; an embarrassed heat spreads to my face. I should be used to this sort of attention being from a royal family, but judgment has never been a favorite of mine.

Grimmjow grins.

"And I thought you'd tuck your tail and run."

"Better late than never," I retort with a snap. 

Why must he always be so mean? I am here, aren't I? For a moment I consider turning around and walking away, but I doubt he will stop being an asshole. 

"Who is this woman?" A large muscular man with hair styled in a partial shave asks.

"Does it honestly matter, Edrad? She's of no importance to us," snaps the man beside him; a man with short hair. His right eye is hidden behind a cyan-colored bandage, but the other, narrowed and gray, stares at me with uninterest.

The one beside me hums, drawing my attention.

"She is a princess, an honored guest to Hueco Mundo. Show some respect, Di Roy."

Funny, because I don't feel any respect from him either. I don't even know his name.

"Forgive him, princess. He cares little for names. I am Yylfortdt Granz," a blond states, bowing his head. His long hair falls over his shoulder as he does.

I raise my hands.

"Please don't bow. I am not worth the effort."

Grimmjow snorts.

"How noble, princess."

I give him a heated look. Does he think I would go so far as to wave my authority at him and his friends? Not all nobles are stuck up. With an uneasy sigh, I bow my head.

"Please call me Yuina. It's a pleasure to meet--"

"Get out of here," Grimmjow suddenly orders. "Leave the princess and me alone."

I watch in awkward silence as the three men stand up and walk past me; the man who led me follows. Standing near the stairs, I take a look around, unsure of what to do. It's strange being alone with him especially when the sole reason revolves around sex.

"Come here," Grimmjow orders. 

His voice makes me jerk in unnecessary fright. I'm nervous, but as he orders, I walk over to him and sit down on the plush cushions. Silence falls between us as I glance around the room, taking in the decor.

"I'm surprised," I admit. "I never thought your tower would be so comfortable."

"Like I care what you think," Grimmjow retorts.

I hum, turning my eyes to him.

"It's not an insult. I just...when I am near you, I feel chaotic. It is strange, but seeing this puts me at ease."

I wonder if he too feels like this. Instead of an impolite response, he simply snorts.

"You feel chaotic."

I nod.

"Honestly, it's stupid. I can not explain it, but it's not a bad feeling."

Not like how Sōsuke makes me feel. 

A hand on my knee makes me sigh. I turn my eyes to the blue-haired man beside me in curiosity. What does he plan to do next? My face heats up as I hesitantly rest my hand on his, rubbing my thumb across his warm skin.

"I like the way I feel around you. It's messy, but it makes me feel alive. Like I am not bound by these restrictions that have been forced on me. I yearn for it."

Grimmjow grins.

"Then take what you want, princess. Isn't that what you nobles do?"

He has no idea how feral he makes me feel. What thrills me, however, is that for a man who is in control, he hands the reins to me so easily. Perhaps he wants me to make the first move; to be sure I want him. The consent is mutual. 

I maneuver his hand up my thigh, humming.

"I want you."

"This is probably the biggest mistake you've ever made, princess," Grimmjow mentions as he leans closer.

His lips on my neck send shivers across my body.

"Why is that?" I ask with a relaxed sigh. 

"Because I don't fucking share what's mine," Grimmjow utters.

His arm wraps around my back, pressing me tight against his chest. He smells so good, like Petrichor. A soft moan pours from my throat as his warm wet tongue slides across my ear. I should consider his words as a threat and stop this before it gets started, but it feels too damn good. The obvious red flags I ignore as his hand slips beneath my dress.

Thick fingers press against me through the damp cloth that separates us and for a moment, I forget to breathe. Please do not let him stop, not after teasing me like this. I recall the promise he made me; the promise to tear me apart little by little and I hum in eagerness.

"Ready, princess?" Grimmjow asks in my ear. His warm breath scatters goosebumps across my skin. 

I nod in response, easing my legs further apart for him.   

Grimmjow pushes aside my panties and spreads my lips, pressing his thumb against my clit. My arms slip around his muscular chest; fingers grasping at the back of his t-shirt as he makes short deep circles around it. Waves of pleasure roll across my body making me tense up against him. This is it; his pace is perfect. I can feel the rise of my orgasm as it slowly builds. A warmth fills my stomach, but before it can spread and intensify, the blue-haired tease stops and removes his hand from my panties. 

Why in the hell did he–   

"Lie down," Grimmjow orders.

With a glare I untangle my fingers from his t-shirt, leaning back until I am rested comfortably on the cushions. I have no idea what he plans to do, but as long as he continues, I don't care. Spreading my legs, Grimmjow slips his fingers beneath the band of my panties and yanks them down my legs. My face heats up in embarrassment as his greedy eyes take me in. He then leans down and runs his tongue over my outer lips. A sigh of relief escapes my mouth. 

Oral never even crossed my mind, but I am more than eager for this. For some reason, I had thought that he would focus on his needs alone for this short tryst; he doesn't seem like the type of man to care about someone other than himself, but I've been wrong before. 

A finger slides into my pussy, yanking me from my thoughts, and then another follows. The pleasant sensation it creates forces me to tighten my jaw in fear of moaning. I don't want Grimmjow's friends to hear us, though they probably know what is going on between us. 

It feels unbelievable though. 

In addition, he flicks his tongue across my clit, taking it in his mouth for a moment with a gentle suck before he quickened his pace. I grip the cushions as my body tenses in pleasure. It's unbelievable how remarkable he is at eating pussy. I can't imagine how great he is at fucking.

As the pleasure in me grows so too does my resolve. I moan as he easily bounces my body with the momentum of his thrusts. He's hitting all the right spots, in sync with the quickness of his tongue.

"Fuck…please," I beg. 

My hand slides into his soft locks and I run my nails across his scalp. Grimmjow hums in response, faltering a moment, but he quickly recovers and curls his fingers in me. The lewd and wet sounds that fill the air push me over the edge so quickly that I can barely think. My mind goes blank. All I can feel is my body reacting, tensing up as waves of intense pleasure roll over me.

Tears well up in my eyes as Grimmjow continues. Once my high wears off, there is a slight pain from the overstimulation. I gently push his head away from me to gain his attention. 

"S-stop," I beg. 

He does so and turns his electric eyes to me, raising a brow; a thin line of saliva and arousal breaks as he sits up, parting us. 

"It's too much," I utter, completely spent. 

For a moment it feels like I'm on cloud nine. 

"That good, huh?" Grimmjow teases. 

I narrow my eyes, too tired to argue. He has no idea. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I glance down and notice the obvious swell in his pants. So he too enjoyed this?

 "I can return the favor, you know?"

Grimmjow grins. 

"As tempting as having your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, it'll have to wait for another time."

I raise a brow. He notices my obvious confusion and snorts. Lifting his finger, he motions for me to rise. I do so and he cups my jaw, running his thumb over my lips; teasingly I kiss it.

"You're not the only one having to wait," he adds. 

I widened my eyes, prompting him to laugh.

"Why do that to yourself?"

"Because I promised to tear you apart," Grimmjow answers. He removes his thumb. "And when I do, you're gonna scream my name to the fucking heavens." 

I shiver in response. This man is not sane. But he did warn me.

Leaning in, he captures my lips in a rough kiss before he parts. I barely even moved. With a snort, he flicks me on the nose.

"Run back to your room, princess. You don't want the worms to figure out that you suck out."

He has a point, though I feel like I should mention that I ran into Gin before I came here. Perhaps my lie convinced him, however. With a sigh, I attempt to stand, but Grimmjow stops me.

"Without those," he declares, pointing to my damp panties.

My face heats up.

"You're a pervert."

He snorts. I have a good idea of what he plans to do with them, but I hand them to him regardless. Afterward, I fix myself up the best I can. My legs are still a bit jittery, but It will go away soon.

"When can we meet up again?" I ask hesitantly.

"Already wanting more?" Grimmjow asks with a grin. 

I turn up my eyes. 

"I'm not answering that. It'll give you a big head." 

"Soon," he retorts. 

I want to ask how soon, but I opt not to. There is still some dignity in my left. With a nod, I clear my throat.

"I'll be leaving then."

Saying my goodbyes without making it too awkward, I turn and walk down the stairs. It isn't until I'm at the bottom do I realize that all of Grimmjow's friends are still in the tower. My face heats up in embarrassment as I attempt to confidently walk toward the door. 

"I hope to see you again, princess," Yylfordt states. 

I hum. 

"Me too."

Awkwardly I leave the tower. Once I am certain that I am out of sight, I bury my heated face in my hands. 

That man is going to be the death of me.

I must be insane.  

[skzhocomments]

Broken hearts can heal - Choi Minho SHINee Fanfic - Chapter IX - Losing your temper

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad link

AO3 link

Chapter VIII / Chapter X

---

Chapter IX - Losing your temper

word count: 1.9k words

~5 months later~

You were now completely settled into the motherhood life, and you felt like you were losing your mind.

You denied Minho's request to hire a nanny during the day when he was away, and it went alright at first, but now you regretted it badly and didn't know how to really reapproach the subject without feeling like a failure.

Other mothers are able to take care of their child on their own, so why couldn't you?

You started feeling very overwhelmed, and as usual, your bad coping mechanisms were drowning all your sorrows and pretending the problem is not there, acting completely composed on the outside while breaking on the inside.

Getting Haru to eat became harder, as you had to start introducing him to solids, but you were at least glad he was starting to sleep better during the night, so you managed to get at least 5-6 hours in.

Except for the past 3 nights, because Haru started teething, and was crying non-stop from the pain.

It just so happened that Minho had to be away to film a promotion a few cities over during this horrible period of your life, and you've been alone with the baby getting no rest at all.

You were sick of his crying, and you felt like your head was about to explode, so when Haru started up again, you just felt the need to leave the nursery and just go in the kitchen, away from his sobs, to clear your head.

You cried for a good while, cursing every God in existence, and you felt you were getting bad, all the emotions getting under your skin. You dreaded looking in the mirror and seeing the prominent dark circles under your eyes, you didn't manage to eat anything for the past 2 days, and Minho not coming home meant you've been deprived of all human contact.

It was bad.

You opened your phone and noticed he's been texting, but you quite literally didn't have a moment to yourself to freaking shower.

Whatever, he's going to come back today anyway. You thought, so you instead opened Twitter and started scrolling mindlessly, until something caught your eye.

---

SHINee's Minho spotted cozying next to co-star on film set.

Fans are having mixed feelings after pictures of Choi Minho holding his co-star, Hye-ri, by the waist started circulating the web.

A fan secretly took a picture and shared it on her page on Twitter, with the caption 'And he said he was married!'. The picture started being shared like wild fire around SHINee communities, with many...

---

You rolled your eyes as you stopped reading. The picture was a bit compromising, but you knew the Media had a way to twist everything and make anyone look bad. They surely were just friends, so what were they on about?

Still, curiosity got the better of you and you went down to the comment section, reading what others had to say.

---

"I mean, can we even blame him? Who wouldn't fall for Hye-ri?"

"lol and they said he has a wife and a kid sksksksks"

"come on we don't know what his relationship with his wife OR this actress is, stop assuming"

"he's THE minho, why would want to be with a nameless bitch lol"

"i ship him and Hye-ri!"

"lmfao imagine being his 'wife' at home seeing this what a loser"

"lol stop hating skskks"

"OMFG HYE-RI IS MY FAV ACTRESS I LOVE THIS"

"is this the end of shinee hahahah so many scandals nowadays"

"imagine being his kid and reading that everyone hates your mother lololol"

"what kid he's literally another man's son!?"

"hes just dropping bomb after bomb on us. we cant keep up minho!!"

"what, was the woman at home too ugly? skksksks"

---

Enough hate for today. You sighed. You knew fans were saying nasty things about you, calling you all sorts of names ranging from whore, slut, gold-digger, witch and so on. How dare you fall in love with Kibum and have a kid with him, then marry Minho?

They didn't care to understand that you only did it for Haru.

You felt yourself tear up again, but instead, you dissociated and simply watched the front door from the kitchen table with a blank stare.

~

After 3 long days away from home, Minho finally finished his busy schedule and could come back. He missed Haru a lot, he missed you, but more than anything, he missed resting. These days were so hectic he didn't even know what you were up to. He didn't have time to call, and you stopped replying to his texts a day prior.

He felt overwhelmed from all the stress at work, which was unusual. He's been in the industry for many years and only rarely felt the need to really take a break.

The day went on horribly; everything that could go wrong went wrong. First, he had an emergency meeting with the PR team because dating rumours started circulating between him and his co-star. His reputation already took a hit when he revealed he got married and was caring for Kibum's son, but he didn't care about it. He knew it was going to happen, but Haru's happiness was way more important to him. However, this was different, as it was completely blown out of proportion due to a friendly gesture he did towards a friend.

Whatever, he didn't want to dwell on it. Filming was done, even if it took longer than expected and he didn't get to rest or sleep too much these past days, so he could finally go home.

But then, he started driving home, and someone who didn't see the glaring red light ahead bumped into his car, completely destroying its back. He lost 2 hours waiting for insurance to come and assess the damage, and then had to take an Uber home.

He was supposed to originally get back at 6PM, but it was now well over 9PM and he was cranky, tired, and hungry.

He opened the apartment door only to hear Haru screaming his lungs out, while you leisurely drank a coffee and ate a sandwich at the kitchen table. The house looked like a mess, there were a few things thrown around the place, some half-drunk cups of coffee on the living room table, and a few of Haru's clothes on the sofa.

"Hey." He replied coldly. He didn't want to take it out on you, but what the fuck were you doing?

"Hey. You're back." You replied with a sigh.

"Haru is crying."

"Yea." You nodded. "I can hear him."

"And aren't you going to do anything about it?" He asked, but his tone was almost accusatory, which pissed you off tremendously.

"I will. I just need a break."

"A break? You need a break?" He continued, annoyed.

"Yea. I'm really tired..." You replied, confused by his demeanour. He was normally understanding, so you didn't get where the hostility was coming from.

"You need a break? I'll tell you what, Da-Eun. I fucking need a break. I've worked the whole day, the past few days, actually, and I wanted to come home and rest, not hear the baby cry his heart out while you ignore him, for what, for a nightly snack?! Fucking do something for once."

"Excuse me?" You stared at him in disbelief. "What did you just say to me?"

"What, the crying made you deaf?" He continued. He knew it was wrong, and really didn't want to take it out on you. He was so pissed off, though, and it was hard to contain his anger instead of redirecting it to you, who were there.

"Wow. Okay, sorry I don't do shit while you work sooo hard all day long. Had fun with Hye-ri?" You asked mockingly.

You didn't know why you said that.

It was a low blow, and you knew the scandal didn't hold any truth to it. You said it impulsively.

Minho scoffed. "Don't tell me you believe that bullshit too!"

"I don't. I'm just mad and wanted to get back at you." You affirmed, not wanting to keep fighting him for nothing. It was clear both of you had a couple stressful days, so it was not productive to talk right now.

"Get back at me?! Sooo mature, Da-Eun!"

But why did he keep pushing?

"Can you stop?" You asked him, feeling a couple tears making their way to your bottom eyelids.

"I just can't understand how you can leave him crying like that and simply eat like it's nothing!" He shouted annoyed. "And the house is a freaking mess. I am gone for just 3 days and..." He gestured around him. "Can't you fucking do anything right?"

That was the last drop that overflowed the glass. You felt all the raw emotion pour out of you as you started unloading on Minho everything you felt the past days.

"You know what, Minho? Fuck you! Fuck you for coming back angry and taking it out on me! You think you were the only one with a shitty day?! Haru started teething just as you left and has been crying NON-FUCKING-STOP FOR 3 DAYS STRAIGHT AND NO MATTER WHAT I DID IT DIDN'T WORK. So I finally take a break- after 3 days of no sleep, not showering and not eating- I take a FUCKING break, which all experts advise when you are overwhelmed, by the way, and I come here to get away from his screaming and eat the first thing I could ever since you left – this fucking sandwich!"

You stood up and grabbed the plate and went directly to the trashcan, throwing the sandwich away angrily. You no longer had an appetite. Then, you continued your ranting.

"And THEN, you come back, FINALLY, and instead of being a supportive partner, what do you do? You start fucking screaming at me, basically calling me good-for-nothing, complaining about Haru, about the house. Just 3 days?! Fuck off! I'm fucking sorry I'm such a failure and such a bad mother in your eyes!"

With that, you brushed over Minho and headed to the nursery, tears streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably.

"Da-Eun, wait-" Minho tried to stop you, realising how royally he fucked up, and that he really hurt you.

"If you need a break so fucking bad, then we'll just leave!" You screamed at him again, and as much as you wanted to at least look composed, you were unable to stop the tears.

"No! I don't want you to leave anywhere! This is your home, and-"

"Look, I know I'm failing tremendously, and that Haru isn't happy with me because babies who are happy don't cry all the time, you don't have to remind me!"

"No, I never-"

"I can't do this right now, Minho. I'm fucking overwhelmed, and I don't want to talk to you or see you right now, so let go of me, and leave me alone!" You screamed at him, then went into the room and locked the door behind you.

Haru was still crying, so you picked him up and rocked him, putting a pacifier in his mouth. You were still crying at this point, so you stood down with him and begged him to shut up for once. Of course, he was a baby and had no idea what you were talking about, so he only stopped after about 30 minutes, when you finally put him down in the crib and he fell asleep without much struggle. 

---

(A/N) Oop, the first argument between Da-Eun and Minho is here!

How do you think they'll handle it?

Love,

Storm

---

Chapter VIII / Chapter X

[magichaddock]

I actually knew that the kiss was going to happen (because i have no self control when it comes to spoilers) but had felt a bit...meh? cringe? "oh no they didn't"? about it before I actually watched the episode?? Like I kind of dreaded it.

Part of the myriad of reasons I hold S1 so close to my heart is that you can see just how much Aziraphale and Crowley adore and care for each other without *any* of the physicals involved. It's all very ace and yet manages to be very lovey-dovey. Kissing is just not the kind of thing that I imagine angels or demons are into. It just doesn't feel in-character for Aziraphale and Crowley (love language etc etc.) (do angels and demons’ human bodies even have erogenous zones??)

It's also just very over-done in drama in general (those shots where the camera zooms in on two character's face and mouth for 30 seconds or more? come on we can do better). And -- I might get so much hate for this -- frankly there's already enough fanfiction of it that putting it on screen would feel too cheap of a fan service.

But man, this scene.

Is it awkward? Yes. Is it out of character? Heck yeah. But that, I feel, is...kind of the point.

Neither of them seem to be particularly enjoying it (or disliking it, to for that matter). Crowley is more desperate and angry than anything, and Aziraphale is very, very shook (and clueless about what to do with his hands, alas). It is sad as fuck. I exploded. I am still very much in shock. And I love every second of it.

But why did they kiss, if it's not a ~romantic~ kiss?? I have several interpretations (each of which can be mutually inclusive):

(1) Crowley is running out of demonic and heavenly arguments to convince Aziraphale, and thus tries one last desperate shot in the dark.

(2) It's one of Crowley's "I've seen humans do this and it worked in the movies so might as well do it". It's him doing a human thing, something that both he and Aziraphale have witnessed and understood over their 6004+ years, to remind Aziraphale what he's going to leave behind.

(3) Crowley is doing the least likely thing he would do in the hopes that it would shock some sense into Aziraphale

(4) Crowley is actually also doing something that we will only learn in S3.

(5) Crowley is doing strange things with his tongue

I don't know. I really need S3. Guess we'll all have to just…wait and see.

[cinemacentral666]

Dancer in the Dark (2000)

Movie #1,123 • Ranking Lars Von Trier #6

[EDITOR'S NOTE: This was one of the first films I watched for my series on Lars von Trier so I reviewed it without the context of his earlier work.]

I didn't know what I was getting into, still don't know, and — as it grows ever more abundantly clear — will continue to never know. When you hear the word trilogy, you think three, three of a kind, a kind of grouping of three things that should be or feel connected on some level. The first film trilogy that comes to mind? Probably Star Wars or Lord of the Rings. It's almost always nerd shit. As I close this first chapter in the book of Lars von Trier (the Golden Heart trilogy), I find myself perplexed and in awe, not so much at the technical or traditional aspects of the filmmaking, but at the sheer audaciousness of the process. This movie, arguably the most famous work of the three if not of LVT's entire career, is ostensibly a musical but for me to think of it, let alone grade it, by those terms, fills me with dread. It's an anti-musical as much as anything else. Björk, star of the film and author of said musical numbers, is a much-needed anchor but the non-singer/non-dancer Actors tasked with performing alongside the genius musician are so terrible that it feels as if she's singing alongside faulty animatronics at a cheap pizza restaurant. It breaches any semblance of good faith one would put in a "musical" right from the get-go, and it's perfect in every way because of it.

The through-line of this trilogy is that each entry "is about naive heroines who maintain their 'golden hearts' despite the tragedies they experience." And that's really not debatable. That LVT would deploy such variance in bringing that to life is what truly sold me on the genius of these films taken as a whole. Stylistically and visually, Dancer feels like a merging of the first two movies: rough and off-the-cuff like Idiots but exploding in color like Waves during the musical excursions. If one were to watch these independent of the others, without knowing that the same man made them, they'd likely never see the connections. That's a masterful use of subtlety. Though there isn't one damn subtle thing about any of these works on an immediate level. In fact, they work constantly to hit you over the head, potentially offend and leave you swirling with a head full of questions.

Björk, who was sadly turned off by the experience making this film (another story altogether), is outstanding in this. One of the reason the uncanny valley of the musical numbers is such a discordant delight is that it truly feels as if she's on another planet if not light-years ahead of the culture when it comes to her songwriting. I honestly feel like she'll be one of the few artists from this time period that humans will talk about if the earth is still around in a couple centuries from now, and her work here is no exception. Early in the film, her character makes a statement that she hates the big last song of a musical because it means that the musical is about to end. It's a poignant thought on its own, but it comes full circle with the actual big last song of this "musical," which she sings with a noose around her neck just before being executed…

For thirty years, Men's Wearhouse founder and executive chairman George Zimmer wowed audiences with his commercial tagline, "You're going to like the way you look. I guarantee it." And, three films down, I feel that Lars von Trier could offer a similar marketing campaign for his motion pictures…

But sometimes we need to feel that way, to maintain our own 'golden hearts'.

SCORE: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

PS. They're all 10/10 from here on out, folks. So "ranking" them was especially hard.

I’ll be counting down all of Lars Von Trier’s movies right here at @cinemacentral666 every Thursday through September 2023

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum Preview

Hey, I've been working on this story and I'm excited about it, so I'm sharing with you. This is just a little snippet from the first chapter.

Here’s my taglist if you want me to tag you when I start posting it 🖤

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (named Louella / Lou / Lua ~ physical descriptors include tattoos and scarring)

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: After the unexpected loss of your husband, you take on the "customer interaction" portion your small-scale cannabis bakery. This introduces you to the occasional customer, Dieter Bravo. As your friendship blossoms, you realize you have something in common: you've both died. What Dieter doesn't tell you about his near-death experience, though, is that it foretold his meeting you.

————

You sink down into your purple velvet couch and turn on the TV. Fresh-out-the-shower damp hair sticks to your cheek when you rest your head on a black and white checkered pillow. In an attempt to take your mind off what you thought you saw in the spare bedroom earlier, you flip through various streaming services for a distraction. However, your attention is drawn to the shiva candle dwindling down on the fireplace mantle.

Each time it flickers, dread seizes your heart. You hold your breath and watch it, unblinking, until it steadies.

It happens again.

And again.

Your eyes flit to the opaque black ink stain in the middle of your carpet, only for a moment. But it's long enough. When you look back to the candle, the flame is gone. Black smoke curls and dances in celebration around a glowing orange wick.

He’s gone.

This fact creeps into your consciousness slowly, but surely. The same way the cold settles into your bones when the temperature is below freezing. It starts off fine, maybe a little brisk, but manageable. Then your nose, fingers, and toes start to feel frosty. Before you know it, you can't stop shivering, and can't even remember what warmth felt like.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you squeeze every ounce of oxygen from your lungs. Your brain prompts you to inhale. The breath comes as a shattered gasp, and your chest heaves, but the well of pain is too far underground. The tears don't come. You’re unable to tap into it and release the pressure that's been building for nine days. You're about to fucking explode.

Your gaze shifts to the window. It’s dark outside. You try to decide who to reach out to for support. Each person you consider would come over and sit with you as they awkwardly make conversation. They would probably try to talk to you about Ethan, or tell you about how their friend’s cousin had a husband croak on them and they did abc, then xyz, and voilà! They’re cured!

And you just can’t with that shit right now. You don’t want to be pitied. You want to have a normal conversation. One where you aren’t expected to cry and talk about it. You want to be how you were before. How you were before, but without him.

—

“Whiskey neat,” Dieter tells the bartender without looking his way. When he glances up into the mirror behind the bar, he sees the version of himself that Anika hates the most. Mop of curly brown hair stuffed under a baseball cap, sunglasses covering half his face, wearing sweatpants and whatever t-shirt he happened to pull off the hanger before heading out the door.

“Airport Dee,” her lip would curl up and touch the columella of her nose, “I don’t like him.”

“Airport Dee means Working Dee, which is better than Broke Dee, right?” he would try to reason, meeting her eyes over his sunglasses, tugging her closer for a kiss goodbye.

She would arch a brow and back away from him, her sneer firmly in place as she’d say, “I like Home Dee the most.”

The last few times he left, he didn’t even say goodbye. He thinks that maybe Airport Dee isn’t the version of him she hates the most anymore.

His phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pants pocket to see the text from his wife.

> ANNIEBABY:

> If u get on the flight, we’re done

An amused laugh trickles from his throat. The bartender, a handsome, tall, blonde man with terrific posture, slides a coaster in front of Dieter, then places the lowball glass on top of it. Just in time. Dieter picks it up and swallows it in one go, then tells the bartender, who’s foolishly walking away, “Another.”

The bartender turns on his heel and raises a well-kept eyebrow at Dieter, who responds by reaching into his wallet and slamming a $100 bill onto the bar, advising, “This is your tip if you keep ‘em coming and don’t fucking look at me like that again.”

“You got it, boss,” the man responds as he grabs a bottle of bourbon and flips it upside down over Dieter’s cup.

The phone starts buzzing again, but this time it’s his publicist. He picks up with a cheeky, “Darlene, it’s been ages, what in the world could you possibly be calling me about?”

“Just wanted to call and let you know you’re making my life a living fucking hell today,” she volleys the same faux-sweetness back to him.

“Welcome to the club,” he mumbles.

“How’s your wife?”

“Terrible, she’s leaving me,” Dieter drops this bomb, then tells her, “Hey, I’m boarding a flight for the, uhh- the screen test thing, I’ll call you later.”

“Dieter, don’t you fu-“

He hangs up and puts his phone in airplane mode. Morphine was such a good idea.

Instead of the all-consuming anxiety that typically accompanies one’s name trending on Twitter, all Dieter feels is an overwhelming sense of fuck it. That’s what morphine is good for, after all, according to him. Not for all the time, though. Just emergencies.

He imagines a bottle of MS Contin but instead of the prescription label it just reads EMERGENCY OBLIVION.

“Having a rough day?” the bartender asks, looking from the discarded phone to Dieter’s smiling face as he leans against the bar.

Dieter giggles and shakes his head, “Fuck off, you don’t care.”

“I- I care,” the bartender frowns, then pushes off and stands up straight.

“You don’t. Not really. You’re just nosy,” Dieter grins with a shrug. He downs the whiskey, slams the cup against the bartop, then points to it. The bartender refills the cup and fucks off. Dieter sighs with satisfaction and floats into the abyss.

————

DO YOU LIKE IT? I hope so, I do lol. I’ll probably start posting it later this month 🖤✨

[sunset-bridge]

thoughts on p3 sees characters? 🤠 hope ur having a nice day!

HI SORRY i have no idea what i was doing that day but IM HERE.

UHM helloooooo helloo i love p3 i love the Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad im the SEES #1 fan:

protag (im kinda talking about my guy here specifically, Reiji..): hes everything to me. angel boy. baby baby baby has done nothing wrong in his life... hes just a bit awkward and kinda pathetic but he tries so haaaard and life SUCKS so bad. fly high. i hope u have fun at the karaoke in paulownia mall. i feel compared to othe rprotags life is kinda dragging him around but he still tries his dammned hardest... hes SO AFRAID of death cuz who isnt but he WILL punch THAT GUY in the FACE !!! GRRRRAAAAAAAAAA BURN UR DREAD

yukari: GRRRRAAAAAAA i hope she gets to kill and destroy everyone that was ever mean to her. shes so. if u hate her u actually hate women i think yes. she keeps it so real and shes a cunt sometimes but so am i so likeeee. her fashion ssense is impeccable and i love how sarcastic but sweet she can be. shes having a gamer moment in her head all the time shes so strong hellooo

junpei: my friend junpei.. :3 ehehe hes soooo silly but sooo Real. like same bro i too would latch onto anything that made me feel like a hero like the protag of my own life i dont blame him at all for nothing he said or did he keeps it so real too. hes da man

akihiko: BARK BARK I LOVE AKIHIKO HES MY FAVORITE P3 CHARACTER HELLLOOOO HES SO. )(/&/(%$/#%&(/( ok hes. hes. so. so so so dedicated and strong and bold and brave but also so hard headed and can act on impulse or even be childish at times AND I AM SUCH A FAN !!!! He has to deal with so much but he keeps his chill cool senpai image up helloooo boy hellooo can i hug you. i respect him so much hes so cool. also hes so awkward and bad at talking (same boy). but i never lost the respect i had for him even after everything. i hope he wins everything forever AND I HATE THE PROTEIN THING ATLUS DID

mitsuru: EHEHEHEH MYyyyyy senpai mitsuruuuuu. GOD HELLO if aki and shinji have to deal with 5 things SHE HAS TO DEAL WITH LIKE 20 !!!! she has to keep everything in sees afloat especially after the Events and like. hello. shes literally 18 and she has to do somuch fucking serious and Very Important things and take decisions and act so mature but she Suffers too but who does the Boss go to when she feels down???!! she has to keep everyone together,,,, GRRRRAAAAAAAAAAA

fuuka: AWEEE fuuka my friend. :) i love her i havent thought as mucha bout her but shes wayyy to kind and sweet for her own good and god this was way too much for her i salute her for keeping her sanity

ken: I LOVE KEN hes so baby..,,, grrrr why do people not like him as much. he has such big feelings for sucha small person,,, and theyre just as valid as everyone elses !!! but hes also soooo small and he doesnt know how to handle things but he tries so Hard to keep it together BUT HE SHOULDNT BE DOING THAT grrraaaaaaaaa. my son. also he can be so funny helloooo little sir can i help you. luv him

koro: EHEHEH ouppy... but ok hellooooo hes so real also this is gonna sound delulu but since hes kinda like. young adult if he were human. his presence actually makes me feel more at ease because he tends to keep his cool when everyone else is freaking out and he like. Acts fast. also hes clearly smarter than an average dog so i have so many thoughts... does he find hanging out with normal dogs boring... does he have many thoughts about the grief he went thru after what happened to his owner... also hes the only one whos heart is relatively at peace since his persona never evolves .

shinji: GUUUUAAAAH shinji.,,,,, grrrrrrrm i HOPE HE EXPLODES (hes everything to me...). god god he makes me sooo frustrated because. i really like him but hes so fucking emo cringe loser bottling up eveeryhting forever DO U EVER THINK ABOUT UR FRIENDS u fucking lsoer. about aki. about mitsuru. ABOUT KEN he.lllooo what is your edge gonna fix here. i knnnoooow vulnerability is hard but like. use your words man.... yeah ur cool as hell but u become WAY LESS COOL when u try to act so tough... WUEEEEE

aigis: I LOVE AIGIS. ok maybe u guys dont know this but i love androids and robots in general. so aigis. instant fave shes literally so cool looking and so badass but also i love seeing android characters learn about their own humanity... also shes always based and funny and real i also want ryoji to explode cuz he failed my vibe check as well

thamk u

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Love:Benny x werewolf!female!reader x Frankie

Part 2/2 of Trust and Love.

Part 1

Masterlist

A/n: Inspirtion strikes at weird ass times Lemme tell y’all. Anyways hope y’all enjoy it.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, food, pregnancy mentions, 2 p in 1 v, werewolf transformations, arguing, fingering, kissing, angsty, fluff.

You huff and roll your eyes at the two men cuddling on the couch. You decided you’d cook and clean tonight giving Frankie and Benny a break. But really, you just wanted to be away from both of them. They’re constant cuddling and kissing started to piss you off. You try to hide it from them and you think you’re doing a good job considering you haven’t been asked by either of them what was wrong.

You wipe off the last dish and place it in the plate cabinet before almost walking away into your room.

“You don’t wanna join us Perrito?” Frankie asks, you stop in your tracks. Frankie had called you that since before he knew you were a werewolf. Very ironic. That nickname always makes your heart beat faster, so did Benny’s nickname, Sparky. You had to look it up to see what all that heart hurting in a good way meant and it had something to do with being in love with both of them. Unfortunate.

“No, I’m kinda tired. Did a bunch of laps around the block. You know how it is.” You force a small laugh out. “I think I’m just gonna go to sleep.”

You couldn’t even look at them. That stupid love shit. You should’ve been there with them, yet you weren’t. You’re alone. You crave being fully in their family, yet you know it’ll never happen.

“Oh, well goodnight.”

“Night.”

You slam your door shut. You lay on your bed and growl lowly.

You hate this love feeling. You hate this jealous feeling, you have this feeling that you’re going to explode into a million tears, starting at the face and making its way to your fists. Yet your body won’t do it. Cowardly shit. So you lay there in your own dread, hoping it’ll go away.

-

“I don’t know Benny, do you think she even loves both of us in a romantic way? I bet she’ll think we’re weird for wanting that.” Frankie sighs. Benny stretches the arm around Frankie’s shoulder, rolling his wrist while thinking about it.

“I don’t think so. I think she wants it as much as we do. She doesn’t exactly clear her search history on my laptop.” Benny chuckles a little. “Even if she doesn’t, I’m sure she wouldn’t think anything of us. It’s not wrong even if others view it that way she sure as hell wouldn’t.”

Frankie nods and turns back towards the tv.

-

Frankie watches you stab into your breakfast sausage angrily and stuff it into your mouth. You repeat the cycle, over and over until you move to your eggs.

“Perrito?”

You look up at him, lips pursed in frustration. Your fork clatters on the plate. You want Frankie to stop staring at you, you didn’t even want breakfast but you knew you had to eat. You hate Frankie right now. You hate Benny too. They had both been looking at you these past few days and you hate it, you don’t want them to look at you. You want them to ignore you, you’d prefer that. You want to disappear, for them to just forget about you, leave you behind like some stray dog.

You hate them, you hate their relationship, you hate how they’ll never see you as nothing more than a friend, or a burden. Someone they were basically forced to take care of, who can barely survive in her own. You’ll never be theirs. You’ll be some stupid third wheel.

“Perrito?” He repeats.

“What?” You growl, teeth bared. Maybe if you show signs of aggression they’ll fuck off. Frankie doesn’t flinch though, instead he sighs and looks down at his plate.

“I just wanna know what’s wrong, you’ve been aggressive this past week, really this past month. Benny and I just wanna know what’s wrong or if it’s just something to do with you being a werewolf I guess.” Frankie shrugs and leans back in his chair, looking away from you.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You roll your eyes and get up, leaving the kitchen and walking back into your bedroom. You slam your door again and bury your face in a pillow. You growl into it.

-

Frankie sighs, he leaves your plate at the table and washes his plate and Benny’s that he left there before work.

Something was clearly wrong with you. He didn’t want you to feel like you needed to force it to come out but he so badly just wants to know what’s wrong.

-

You stare at the picture frame on your dresser, it holds a photo of you, Frankie, and Benny. You’re in the middle, Benny is on your right and Frankie on your left. They’re practically burying you in a hug.

You need that again. You need a hug. In fact they should just take it a step further. Give you a kiss. Cheek and lips, all over your body maybe. They should just fuck you while they’re at it too.

You feel like a degenerate for even thinking this but, you hear them at night sometimes. You want that so badly. You crave it. You crave whatever comes after that too. You just crave them, you crave being in a relationship with both of them. You need them both more than anything. You wish you could tell them. You wish they understood.

You pace around your room. Your stomach aches, your heart aches along with it. You feel a tear run down your face.

Your gross. You shouldn’t want both of them. They’d think you’re even more of a monster. But you can’t help it. You wanna carry their babies after awhile. You wanna marry them first though, then you wanna dance with both of them. You want, you want, you want. Yet you’ll never have.

The front door shuts. You leave your room and go to finish your breakfast.

-

“Sparky?” Benny knocks, you sigh and roll your eyes. Could they fucking leave you alone it’s not hard.

He peaks in. “Hey hun, Frankie said you were in a mood. I brought you some of those chips you like and your favorite drink. I hope that’s alright.” He sits on the edge of your queen sized bed. You turn over and stare as he places the chips and drink on the nightstand. “I’m not gonna pressure you into telling us but I will ask. Is something wrong?” He puts his hand on your leg and rubs it in a comforting way.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You repeat that same phrase. You’ll continue to repeat it.

“Okay, you just haven’t been out of your room other than to eat. You haven’t talked to us and if you’re feeling like shit we wanna help.” Benny looks away from you. “I’ll leave you alone though now. Just wanted to drop that off.”

He gets up and leaves.

You go back to sulking immediately.

-

You have a week before your next heat. You started a routine where the two men would cuddle you and bury you in blankets to keep your cramping at bay during heat cycles. A cramping you had no idea was actually arousal, that was until this month. So you had to come up with a new idea. You couldn’t have them close to you.

Slick already slips down your leg. You moan lightly and squeeze your thighs together. This isn’t fair. It’s never been this bad. You haven’t even transformed yet. Not that you would’ve, but two weeks of this stupid arousal. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t…

-

Frankie and Benny come home to you’re moaning and whining. They furrow their brows and stare at one another before making their way down the hall.

They haven’t heard your panting unless you were about to transform, but you’d normally let them know. So Benny slowly turns the doorknob and walks in.

“Get. Out.” You growl between gritted teeth.

“Sparky… what’s wrong?”

You hate him, you hate both of them. Your back is turned away from them and frankly you like it that way. “Nothing is wrong.”

“Stop saying that.”

You turn at Frankie’s firmness and immediately try and get out of the bed to intimidate him. Your legs wobble but your face stays pissed. “It’s none of your fucking business what’s wrong. Even if it was I’d never fucking tell you. I hate both of you.”

It was childish, you saying that. You sounded like a bratty fucking child and Frankie didn’t back down from it. “No you don’t.”

You growl lowly.

“You’re acting. Get the fuck out of your goddamned head and explain what the fuck is wrong. Clearly this shit is bothering you. Whatever the fuck it is.” Frankie looks down at you. You feel small again. You whine and let out a small moan before covering your mouth. You’re embarrassed. Your body is no longer in control and you fall onto the bed. You sit, legs crossed, hands in your lap.

“I can’t say it. You’ll hate me. Think I’m some perverted bitch.” You can’t even look at them, you turn your head away from both of them. They both crouch down to attempt to get on your level, make you feel comfortable.

“We would never think of you any different Sparky. I wish you understood that. We aren’t gonna judge you for shit.” Benny smiles sadly, you can see it from the corner of your eye. This makes the dam within your eyes break.

“I- fuck.” You feel sick. You look up and wipe your tears before your fists hit the bed. “I can’t say it. Fuck I’m scared. Fuck… help me. I’m gonna die… fuck… I want you, I want both of you and I fucking love both of you but I can’t have you now can I? I want you two to fuck me and I want everything you guys do… I want to cuddle with you two on the couch, I wanna kiss you two, I wanna do whatever the hell you two do after sex. I fucking need you two.” Your stomach twists and turns your heart going the opposite direction. As if it’s being rung out. You bury your face in your fists. You wanna puke, you wanna disappear.

“That’s what this has all been about?” Frankie asks, you nod and sniffle, knuckles balling and unballing.

“Fuck Sparky. We’ve been waiting for you to calm down or tell us what’s wrong. We wanted you to be in a good mood because we wanted to ask you to be in a relationship with us. We love you so much Sparks.”

“We do. We love you so much. Thank you perrito for telling us. I cannot believe you bottled that up baby. Please we wouldn’t judge you no matter what.”

They both bury you in a hug, laying you flat on the bed. You smile and laugh. “Oh gosh… I’m sorry.”

“No, no hun. Don’t apologize.” Benny kisses your neck, Frankie your cheek. They hold hands and hold onto you.

-

You groan, arching your back. The slick getting into your fur as your body changes. Frankie and Benny come and they sit next to you. It feels good when they pet your fur. It brings a relief to the pain this transformation causes. It always hurts more during a full moon. You never understood it but it just did.

Before hand you explained how bad this heat was. How badly you needed both of them. This past week you’d been so lovey after your talk with both of them, biting your self in their scents. You tried so hard not to hump them to get some kind of relief. It was hard and you straight told them you didn’t know how you would be in your wolf form. You stood tall but not taller than Benny, you were probably about the same strength as him too. Maybe stronger.

They didn’t care though. They’d stay with you and make sure everything was fine.

You huff and howl rolling over, practically on top of Benny. You begin licking him before reaching over and grabbing Frankie by the shirt. You lick his neck and start tearing his shirt in half with your claws.

“Baby, you’re not fucking up my clothes. Especially if we do this every heat hold on.” Frankie laughs, you growl a little as he gets up and gets undressed. Benny nuzzles into your fur. A small whine comes out of you. He kisses your muzzle gently. You crawl on the bed and move him so he’s against the headboard.

Frankie comes up after you and starts kissing your back gently making you almost give out and crushing Benny, the feeling, well all of these feelings are foreign to you. He chuckles softly and moves his hands towards your folds that were quite literally, dripping with slick, it ran down your thighs and onto Benny’s leg.

Frankie pushes a finger into you forcing a moan out of you. “So wet perrito… This was all for us?”

You whine, Benny finds a way to slip from under you and you find more fingers buried in your cunt. You fall forward and whine louder, the feeling of your cunt being stretched out driving you wild.

You buck back into them, then feel a thumb circling your clit. Your eyes roll back. You’ve never felt any of this you know if won’t be the last time but you still savor the feeling. Your pussy clenches. They kiss your fur and you hear them kiss each other for a bit while working you.

“You’re doing so good Sparks.” Benny says.

You whine out a response feeling something inside of you building up. Your thighs felt like they were tensing and something warm was in your stomach.

Suddenly you let out a loud squeak, your body arches and your vision goes white.

You pant and look at Benny and Frankie. By the looks on their faces this was far from over.

Frankie gets on the bed and moves you so he’s leaning against the headboard. You tilt your head in confusion and look over at Benny.

“Come here and sit.” Frankie demands. You look back and forth between the two before ultimately deciding to listen to him, sitting on his lap.

“Good girl.”

Your stomach flips.

Benny goes behind you and starts brushing gently up and down your body with his fingers. He kisses your shoulders and Frankie touches your thighs. You were in absolute bliss right now.

You feel something hard on your stomach and back as they continue to feel you, kiss you, kiss each other. They stop and look at you.

“Are you okay with us fucking you at the same time?” Benny asks. You want to roll your eyes. No shit you were okay with it. But you nod and pant a little before leaning down and licking Frankie’s chest.

Frankie then pushes you up so your hovering over him, his cock thick and long. You couldn’t turn your head enough to see Benny’s but you felt it slide against your folds.

Frankie aims his cock for your hole and you sink slowly down on it. It stretches you out making you whine. “Slow down perrito. We don’t need to rush.” Frankie looks into your eyes. You nod.

When your body gets used to it you slide down the rest of the way before feeling something else near the same hole. You lean forward a bit and Benny slides in a little easier. It stretches you and you feel like you’re going to be split in half.

“We won’t go til your ready hun.” Benny says.

You nod.

Benny begins thrusting into your gently while Frankie moves you up and down on his cock. You start getting a rhythm and move on your own as you let out whines of want. You love this feeling. Both of them inside you.

“You feel so good. You’re doing so good hun.”

Benny is babbling as he starts a rougher pace while Frankie just moans, holding your hips, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

You feel the same feeling as before again. A warm feeling in your stomach and like your thighs are gonna give out on your any second.

You begin to pant and clench your pussy around the two cocks.

“You gonna cum Sparks? Fuck you feel so good, go ahead and cum around out cocks.”

You lose control and let out a loud moan, your eyes roll back. Your body begins to hurt and you get smaller. You groan in pain, turning back into a human slowly. They both pull out and you fall to the side.

“Please cum on me.” You whine softly.

They fuck their fists until cum covers your stomach. It makes you feel warm and dirty. But it was in such a good way.

Frankie gets up and leaves the room. You tilt your head and Benny comes to kiss you gently.

“Aftercare.”

-

You lay in between the two men, they cuddle into you and kiss your head and face and then try and get you to drink water before kissing each other’s faces and nuzzling into your neck. They hold hands over top of you.

“Thank you… I uh, obviously have never done that before, didn’t realize it would cause my heat to Uhm go down I guess. I wanted to also apologize for a week ago and all the weeks before that. I don’t understand relationships… I know you guys know that but it felt selfish wanting everything you guys had and wanting both of you. I’m going to try and communicate my feelings better. I was just so afraid of rejection.” You explain, looking between the two men.

“You’re okay. We promise we weren’t mad and we will never get mad we just worry is all. We didn’t know if it had to do with being a wolf or whatnot. We want you to feel loved and like you can talk to both of us for anything. We’ll never reject or hurt you. You mean to much to us.” Frankie explains back. Benny nods in agreement.

You smile and kiss both of them on the noses.

“I love you guys so much.”

“We love you too.”