#I wish I was more open with people so I could ask if they just don’t like me anymore or if it’s all in my head

[solxamber]

Hello! How’s your day going? I hope well. I’m not really active in Tumblr but love your writing! For this event I have so many ideas but here are two that I think may be good. I hope any of these would give you inspiration. If not well.. that’s fine too!

1. [Malleus, Romantic, “La Da Dee” by Cody Simpson]

I feel like Malleus would be pretty obsessed with us, once you listen to it, it may make sense.

2. Would you ever write about dating both Leech twins? If it’s weird than it could just be one, this song fits Floyd more I think. [Floyd, Romantic, “Criminal” by Britney Spears] I think most people would hard core judge if you were to date any Leech twin so I think the song fits!

"You're the only one on my mind" || Malleus Draconia

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: La Da Dee by Cody Simpson

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 600

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Fluff

Malleus had allowed Lilia to drag him into the festival, letting himself be led through the glowing lantern-lit streets, the hum of music and chatter pressing in from all sides. He had made an effort, he truly had.

He let himself be seated at a table, let Sebek ramble about the historical significance of the event, let Silver doze off beside him. He even accepted a cup of some spiced drink, though it did little to warm him.

But none of it mattered.

You weren’t here.

He had thought it would be fine—just a single evening apart. You had mentioned being busy, something about finishing a project or catching up on much-needed rest. He had assured you that he understood, that you needn’t worry about him. And yet… he had barely lasted an hour before the emptiness settled in.

Every flickering lantern, every soft laugh from the passing crowd reminded him of you. The way your voice always found its way through the noise, the way your warmth filled the spaces between moments. Even surrounded by so many, he felt the weight of loneliness pressing down on him.

It was unbearable.

And so he left.

He ignored Lilia’s knowing smirk, Sebek’s startled protests, and Silver’s quiet amusement. He didn’t bother explaining—what was there to say? He simply walked, following the familiar path to your door, each step light yet heavy with something he couldn’t quite name.

For a long moment, he simply stood there. The soft glow from your window was the only thing illuminating the darkness around him. He hesitated, something foreign and uneasy twisting in his chest.

Would you be upset that he came unannounced? Would you turn him away?

The thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Still, he lifted his hand and knocked.

Seconds passed. Then—

The door creaked open, and there you were. Blinking up at him, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a loose sweater, warmth and familiarity radiating from you in a way that made the tightness in his chest ease, just a little.

“Malleus?” Your voice was soft with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He opened his mouth, but the words failed him. How could he possibly explain the restless ache, the way the entire evening had felt hollow without you? How could he tell you that he had never truly understood what it meant to miss someone until now?

Instead, he let out a quiet breath, his expression softer than usual. “I wished to see you.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a beat before stepping aside. “Come in.”

Relief flickered in his chest as he ducked inside, the warmth of your space enveloping him instantly. He watched as you moved to set aside the book you had been reading, clearing a space for him beside you on the couch.

“You left the festival early?” you asked, amusement creeping into your voice. “Did Lilia finally exhaust even you?”

He huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he sat beside you, watching as the firelight cast soft shadows over your face.

“…It was not the same without you.” The admission was quiet, almost hesitant. But he didn’t look away. “No matter how lively the night was, I found myself thinking only of you.”

A beat of silence. Then, you smiled. A small, knowing thing that sent warmth unfurling through him like a gentle ember.

“Next time,” you said, nudging him lightly, “just take me with you.”

His lips quirked upward, something deep and unspoken settling in his chest.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I believe I will.”

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[rdng1230]

In the movies, everything grows quiet when you see the love of your life across the room. Not this time.

Seeing Tommy tilting his head at another man just makes everything louder, drowning out hope, conversation, reason.

And whatever residual sense he had from the first glance is utterly demolished when the stranger leans forward and pats, no caresses Tommy's face.

Suddenly there's another shot glass in his hand and Ravi's clinking it with his own. "Umm, Buck you know you're staring right?" The sound barely reaches him over the din.

"Right?" Ravi calls again, and this time it's accompanied by enough of a shoulder nudge to snap him back into the bar. "Shit." He stares down at his own feet and clears the walkway he's probably been blocking for at least a minute.

Back in their booth, Buck leans onto the table to keep himself upright. Ravi is better company than he would've thought, keeping him pleasantly distracted and filling him in on all the war stories from his transfer over at the 122. Their gangling probies, crafty paramedics, and the gruff, but solid Captain keeping them (mostly) out of trouble.

It's a funny thing, to hear about other houses and see how they tick. Firefighting is Buck's calling, but his life could've gone so differently had he been assigned elsewhere.

"Speak of the devil!" Ravi calls, hauled out of his chair by none other than Tommy's... ok admittedly handsome stranger. "Panikkar, you don't call you don't write??" They exchange a handshake and a pat on the back and Ravi sits back down, scooting his chair in so the man can stand closer without blocking everything.

"Buck, this is Captain Deluca of the 122. Cap, this is Evan Buckley of the 118." Ravi waves his arms in between them and Buck has to fight biting off his own tongue when the Captain extends his hand. "Sal is fine, heard a lot about you golden boy."

"Wish I could say the same." He fires back, a little more forceful than he means to. "Well that answers that question." Sal says under his breath, taking the seat next to Ravi without being invited. Maybe that's this guy's deal, taking other people's.... everything. Without asking.

"Do I need to guard my ankles?" Sal laughs and the familiarity turns Buck's stomach. Is that what he is to Tommy now? A joke to tell his new flings? Only the way Sal caught Tommy's cheek earlier, he doubts that their relationship stops there.

"Easy, easy Buckley, we've got T minus 3 minutes before my boy over there realizes that his boy is over here. So let me be very blunt."

"All due respect Captain, I don't think you have another setting." Ravi giggles into his shot glass before tossing it back. Sal rolls his eyes at his former employee before continuing.

"He fucked up. He knows it. I know it. You know it. And this is the furthest thing from fair and you're well within your rights to tell me to fuck off, but I swear I can't handle his sad little kicked puppy face anymore especially when he's the one who did the kicking."

Buck's jaw falls open, leaning in closer to Sal like he's afraid he's misheard. "So here's what's gonna happen hotshot. I'm gonna grab the next round, and then flyboy is gonna handle the one after that. I suggest it be you he bumps into and not some rando. Up to you though."

He stands up and claps their mutual lightweight friend on the shoulder. "Good seeing you Ravi." Sal turns his eyes towards Buck and smiles, and he's happy to see the malice in Sal's smile isn't there at all, it's amusement, and maybe just a dash of commiseration. "Don't let him go kid." The graying captain joins the fray on drunkards, tossing a "Trust me." over his shoulder.

"You gonna take his advice?" Ravi finally asks once he realizes Buck has completely stopped paying attention to the story he had been in the middle of when Sal arrived. Buck feels glued to the vinyl seat, his head on a swivel waiting for Tommy to be in sight. "He-he dumped me." Buck finally gets out.

Ravi's shoulders slump like he's disappointed with the answer. "But you miss him?" He prods again, staring at him with kind and inquisitive eyes.

Words are entirely insufficient for the answer, so instead Buck just nods. Ravi points his finger onto the table, drawing his case to a close. "Well Tommy clearly misses you. Cap can be an asshole, but the upside is the man doesn't lie. Tact and him are like oil and water."

Ravi sucks his teeth and takes another shot. "Hey man it's your choice."

Buck tosses back a shot himself for luck. "I think I need another drink." He gets up awkwardly, positioning himself to be just a little too bump-into-able. It's not long until a familiar form collides with his shoulder.

"Tommy." He breathes out, a thousand pounds instantly lifted off his shoulder.

"Evan." His ex breathes out without thinking, not daring to pull away from the hand that's taken his.

[oh-phoenixx]

"Price" - Jegulus (sort of Black Brothers too) microfic @into-the-jeggyverse - 592 words

-

Regulus wanted nothing more than to be alone, far, far away from here. Instead, he was in the Potters’ garden, and the kitchen door slid open to reveal James, who insisted upon bothering Regulus whenever he wanted a moment’s peace. Holding two mugs in his hands, James sat beside Regulus on the steps and held one out to him.

“What is it?” Regulus asked, looking at the mug.

“Earl grey, I know how you take it,” James replied. Regulus took the mug, which was still hot, and brought it to his mouth as James watched him with an indecipherable expression. “Why are you here, Reg?”

“Because it’s too quiet in the house.”

“No, why are you here? Why did you show up at my house?” James clarified.

“To be with Sirius,” Regulus replied in an instant.

James seemed to consider this, furrowing his eyebrows and finally looking away. Briefly, their legs brushed, and Regulus flinched away as though he had been burned, making James frown.

“You didn’t leave to get away from your parents?” James asked.

“No. Well, sort of. But I think I would have stayed if Sirius had, or if Sirius wasn’t a factor,” Regulus said. “I don’t…I don’t agree with their views. But they’re my parents, at the end of the day. I’ll always love them. I’ll always want to make them proud.”

It was easier to confide all of this in James, facing forward in the dark, though Regulus found himself regretting saying so much once he thought it over and James didn’t say anything in response. But he had started talking, and he found that he couldn’t stop himself from attempting to explain further. He just wanted to be understood.

“That’s always been the price of Sirius’s love. Changing yourself,” Regulus mumbled. “He wishes I was in Gryffindor, he would find it easier to love me if I was.”

“That’s not true,” James said defensively.

“Yes, it is. Do you really think he’d like you if you were in Slytherin?” Regulus scoffed, then thought about it and frowned. “Though, I suppose he’s made exceptions. Dorcas, for example. He likes her. But me? No, no, he can’t make an exception for his own brother. Only when I ruin my entire life to be here with him.”

Regulus knew that James didn’t want to hear these things about his best friend, that it was far easier to pretend that Sirius wanted Regulus here for his safety and for no other reason, nothing selfish or prejudiced. But it had been so long since Regulus had truly felt he could be himself around Sirius. He wondered if it made Sirius sad, too, that Regulus could trust many people, and none of them were his own brother.

“I can’t hate him, even if I try. And I’ve tried,” Regulus continued angrily, though quietly. “Sirius has to try to love me. He has to put effort into it.”

James frowned and turned so his whole body was facing Regulus. “Reg, he loves you more than anyone else in the world. Even when he’s angry with you, he can’t help telling us how much he loves you.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but said nothing more for fear of being too vulnerable. He didn’t really think it mattered, though, not with everything he had already confessed. Looking to James, the older boy did not seem to be waiting for a response, just drinking his tea and looking out at the garden.

“Thank you,” Regulus whispered.

“For what?”

“For letting me…talk, I guess.”

“Anytime, Reg.”

[xxepherr]

.ೃ࿐DANCE WITH ME

summary — matt can't see the way you dance to your old vinyls, but he can imagine it. he doesn't have to this time when you invite him to dance with you

pairings — matt murdock x oldsoul!reader (established relationship)

pronouns —��none

word count — 1439

note — i have a million and one matt murdock ideas half written, but this one is a bit self indulgent :)

LIVING WITH YOU MEANT there was never a complete moment of silence.

not because you were loud, but because you always had your record player spinning. from bob dylan and joan baez to the beach boys to fleetwood mac, the air was never dull. matt could feel the change in the air better than anyone — the mood seemed to lift, your high spirits mixing with the pleasant sounds of calamity, successful in pulling him out of his head and into the moment with you instead.

he'd felt the extensive amount of vinyls you had, he'd bought the shelf for you to store them all on when you moved in after all. the smell of old dust that was impossible to scrub away made it so much more you. he liked that his apartment didn't linger with the scent of antiseptic or bandages, or even that metallic tang of blood on his tongue when he took a breath. matt murdock never thought he could like the subtle texture of dust so much, but he welcomed it with open arms and an open heart.

every day he wished he could see you dance the way he could hear you — the subtle shifts in the air leaving him with just enough description to hang onto, but never enough to satiate.

MATT could hear the music before he heard you, as always. the second he entered the apartment complex, he could usually tell what you were up to based on what you were listening to. tonight it was a record he hadn't heard before, no doubt one of the few he hadn't been around to hear spin on the turntable. he was almost sure he'd heard every single one by now.

the music was louder by the time he got to the door, not loud enough to be heard through the door by the average person, but just loud enough for only him to have a small smile pulling across his lips at the thought of you.

opening the door, he set his cane by the door and removed his jacket. he softly called out your name, "i'm home," he turned the corner, setting himself in the direction of where he could hear you in the kitchen.

with a smile, your humming fell short, dropping the wooden spoon in your hand down onto the counter. "how was work?" you asked him, making your way over to him. he wrapped you up into a warm hug before you got the chance to do so first.

"spent most of the day researching," he answered, raking his fingers through the ends of your hair. "how was your day off, hm?"

you were so comfortable you almost forgot to answer. "good! i cleaned the place up a bit for us . . . bought some more bandages for you," he could almost taste the edge of sadness in your voice, maybe even something bordering the same bitterness a lemon tasted of. he knew you hated fixing him up purely because that meant he got hurt in the first place. your disdain stemmed from all the years you spent growing up listening to anti-war bob dylan, he knew that. you would never turn him away, however. "now i'm making dinner."

matt didn't have to ask what it was — the herbs and spices you had open was a telltale sign you were making that family recipe pasta sauce while the tagliatelle boiled.

you pulled away first, a small skip in your step as you made your way back over to give the pasta a stir in the pot, a gentle ripple of movement a dance across your shoulders, every step in time with the beat.

there was no reason for him to be able to see you to be mesmerised by you. "which one is this?" he asked, turning to face the direction of the music, feeling around for the vinyl's cover on the table beside the record player. it was smooth with a rough edge, much like all the others you had, each weathered with age from the people who owned them before you.

"some of dinah washington's best songs," you answered mindlessly, a warmth flourishing in your cheeks from talking about it. you enjoyed talking about this with anyone, more so matt than anything, much more than you cared to admit. "it was a few bucks in a second hand store, i couldn't resist." it was a few days ago now, and it had taken as long for you to gain the courage to listen to it. you liked what you knew, and it always took longer for you to open up to the idea of something new — only now were you regretting that ( once again ) because dinah's old jazz music was heavenly to your ears.

you moved away from the stovetop once more, the sauce simmering while the pasta boiled, not needing to be touched at all now until the timer went off. matt's head tilted ever so slightly as he followed the soft sound of your socked footsteps, each one closer than the last.

your hands slipped into his, gently pulling him away from the record player and out into the open space between the lounge room and the kitchen. "come dance with me."

he'd never danced with you before, though you had asked almost every single time. he didn't like to dance apparently, but still had the audacity to try and get you to explain the movements to him. dancing wasn't really something you could just explain ( though you were sure he could picture roughly enough with all those senses ) and so you left it. now was your chance if he said yes.

a quiet sound of protest escaped his throat as he had no choice but to follow your direction. "no," he shook his head, his hands loose in yours. still, he wasn't pulling away. "i can't dance, come on . . ."

you just shrugged, shifting only slightly from foot to foot, following the jazzy rhythm. "you just gotta move with the music," you explained. "feel it. i know you can do that . . . i'll guide you."

matt supposed it couldn't hurt just this once. he was stiff, trying to seem completely uninterested as your movements became more fluid, moving his hands for him and hoping it would be enough to encourage him to try it on his own. he refused to let go of your hands.

a few moments of silence as the current song ended drew heavy, and you frowned, unfamiliar with the record. you were letting go of matt's hands in defeat knowing that there would be no use trying to get him to dance now that the moment had passed, but he surprised you by squeezing your hands. he refused to let go. your frown disappeared.

the next song kicked up to fill the void, this one slower than the previous. you were surprised when you looked down to see matt's feet shift, albeit awkwardly. you laughed, a sound that sat beautifully on his ears, showcasing a happiness he had only ever seen in you. "okay, work with me here," you warned, and before he could try and work out what you were doing, you had lifted one set of your connected hands as high as you could.

piecing it together, he held his tongue and spun slowly until he was facing your direction once again. who was he to deny you of your excitement? "gorgeous twirl, my love," you giggled, pulling him close. you wrapped your arms around his neck, and his hands naturally gravitated to sit on your hips.

"never again," he shook his head, but he couldn't help the laugh that tumbled out of him, tangling in with your own. "now this . . ." he trailed off, his head dropping down to rest in the crook of your neck. you kept your mouth shut as you swayed slowly in a soft slow dance, not wanting to spook him now that he was actively participating like he was some kind of small animal. "this i can do."

with his approval on slow dancing — which you couldn't believe had taken this long to find a style of dance he was willing to participate in — keeping you comfortably melting into him, you sighed softly, homely, enjoying every moment in his presence. "this is perfect," you agreed, all in all glad that you could spend such a loving moment with him.

it would only last until the end of the song when you had to check on the pasta, but it was enough, and now you knew exactly how to coax him into dancing with you next time.

[inardescere]

To prove he wasn't lying.

That makes him ponder for a moment, wondering what he could do to prove his honesty without giving away everything he had. Moreover, what could he prove when there were no definite answers? Just as he had said, he would do his best to lead him to his end as desired, but whether it would be granted in one final blow or if it would take more research, he is unsure as well. "You should restudy the temperament and nature Lemurians if you think I'd stoop so low as to toy with your heartfelt desires." He says with a huff, playful enough to push the topic aside. But he doesn't provide an answer just yet. He's unsure if he can trust everything he says either, if he should allow him the secrets of his culture and the fake sun, what they need to do in order to keep their peaceful land running.

It was far too soon to show weaknesses.

Rafayel opens his eyes, looking up curiously. An inflated ego? Little seashell? There were many things he wanted to poke at, complain about, or ask for an explanation- but he is very confused how calling him his disciple was considered egoistical when he... huh. Then he feels the poke on his forehead, which has him crease between his brows, and tilt his head back to look at him. "Did you not vow to be my disciple? You agreed to be my follower, or do you humans not call a follower of a God 'disciples'?" They may have a different language, but Rafayel knew Caleb's by heart, as did his people as they collected knowledge the same way they did with art. Besides, was language not an artform? Still, who knows what differences they had? Or, Caleb was just trying to find more reasons to tease him.

But... he could appreciate the sentiment. Just a gift, because he heard that Rafayel liked them. Taking his time to carve him out on the delicate shell, personally for him. He wonders how many shells he had to go through to get it done, or if he was lucky and did it first try.

The Lemurian is surprised his request is granted so easily, but he doesn't move from his spot, listening to his story as he wishes to tell it. Caleb was a lot older than he was. Understandably so, considering the desperation he held that fateful day he asked to be killed, as well as the curse locked upon his human body. Never has he heard of 'gravity' before, but he supposed it was something similar to the buoyancy of water, the pressure of waves, a force that either lifted sea creatures or sunk ships from the surface. Rafayel was intrigued, curious of this power he earned because he seemed proud of the power in itself. But he continues on, a much more tragic story that he speaks of in such a light tone, he cannot help feeling empathetic, unable to keep his eyes closed when Caleb was pouring out his history. I wanted to get rid of it, he says, and Rafayel wonders if he hated the power itself or if the experiments had forced him to hate a gift he was bestowed.

"I hope the woman got what she deserved." And it was impossible to mistake Rafayel's words for pity, condemning the woman who could do that to one of her own, pure rage bubbling over. He had always been expressive, not one to hide his emotions. Even when he had tried to do so as his people's leader, he couldn't help that he felt so deeply, more thoughts and feelings than he could completely control. A weakness of youth, the elders lectured him often. However, this was one trait of humans he could never bring himself to understand- how they could do such cruel acts to their own kind without remorse, or to any living being that cried tears and wailed in pain, screaming hoarse pleas.

A sigh escapes him, shaking his head. "I've never seen a Cilantro before. It doesn't grow here in Lemuria. Aren't you glad?" That last fact seemed so silly compared to the dark topic from before, he wondered if he was always this weird, or if he was trying to lighten up the mood.

"I went up to human land once."

A story for a story, he decides. "It wasn't long before my Coming of Age ceremony. I was a cute little Lemurian curious of the human world, so I decided to sneak out and enter a human town for the first time." Playful, and a handful as usual. "It was so much trouble finding a way past the gate without the elders finding out." Though it had taken accumulated years to succeed. "It was so hot and dry up on land, I passed out on the beach just a few steps away from the water. Then, a kind girl offered her help. She saw my Lemurian form and still took me in, taking care of me for a while." His eyes turn a little melancholic before he dramatically waves his hand outwards as a matter of fact-ly and huffing poshly.

"But she betrayed me, so I killed her and the people she brought. It fails to surprise me that your men attempted to do the same-" Truly, history simply repeats itself every time he meets a human. But... he lets his eyes meet Caleb's, a playful glint in his eyes as pink shined under the light. "Maybe, three will be my lucky number." The third time's the charm.

caleb simply nod at rafayel repeating his words. 'i said what i said.' nothing for him to correct, not even realizing it might come as disrespectful. but, truth to be told, his status as 'god' didn't really impressed him all that much so it was easy for him to express what he wanted and saw: a man appearing to be out of touch, filled with duties that might be overwhelmed at some point. however, caleb is unable to tell if he enjoys or dislike them, and that's something that doesn't concern him for now.

"hehe~ yours it's a bold claim." the statement doesn't seem to bother him either, instead, he runs his fingers through 'his owner' hair. "i am not saying it's wrong. it is me telling you that you are free to steal me way whenever you want." it would also help him to break free from the civilians and take a break for both of them, no one would refuse rafayel if he ever needed him. still, the aura of familiarity around caleb was too strong, after all, he is touchy and showing it wasn't exactly a problem. his voice grows softer for a moment, resting as the fake sun basked into his skin. "i already made my decision, though. you just need to prove me you are not lying to me." mutual benefit it's what he wants, making sure that this is not a trick, that rafayel is not toying with him and his curse to get what he wants. though, considering how needy he seems at this moment, he starts doubting he would deceive him, but with deities, nobody knew.

caleb has heard lots of stories before about humans meeting gods and getting deceived in all forms. humans were naïve, always blinded by their desires and being completely played by them. not that he didn't believe rafayel, but it was better to play safe and thread carefully.

"who said i am giving you an offering to be your disciple? wow... your ego is really inflated little seashell." his voice this time comes off as teasing, yet still soft, almost like a purr as he taps his fingertip on his forehead lightly. "i call it offering, because i heard you like that term. if i'm giving it to you it's because a little fish told me you liked to collect them." a gift from the bottom of his heart. really, he was just giving it not to gain a favor or to please him, simply because everyone told him rafayel had a things for shells. that even allowed him to come with a nickname without really realizing, so he should better start calling him like that from now on.

he notices how the other's voice come off as sleepy, realizing he was getting comfortable in his hold. so he decides to also enjoy the warm that the other was offering, something he hasn't feel in a very long time. it feels nice, not really feeling like a stranger's embrace as it should. he lets out a hum, trying to think what he should say. there's no much to tell, actually. "well, i have been 25 years old for... around 200 years by now? can't really tell, maybe it's more. i grew up in a town veeery far from here, an orphan since i can recall." he lets out a bittersweet smile. "i have always been a target for people because of my gift. i realized the weight of the heavens answers to me hand. i can crush a man under the force of the sky or leave him floating like a feather in the wind. later on, i learned scholars called it 'gravity' and that brought me issues, because they wanted to use me as a testing subject. i was adopted by a woman who conducted this painful researches on me, but left her as soon as i could embarking on a ship. heard lot of tales about a witch who could grant you any wish you want. i wanted to get rid of this gift, ended up with a curse instead." a story for another day, he thinks. "oh, and i hate cilantro." probably the most important fact about him.

[puppppppppy]

i feel shy talking here when i dont have anything worth sharing but i cant help feeling like ive said things in the tags that could be brought up in court

[iamthetruestrepairman]

does everyone feel alone or is it just me

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Okay sooo...in relation to my last post, which I will try and not verbatim, I am considering having this blog still be its own thing for Cars and all that jazz, still serving as my 'main' blog. And then having a separate blog(ONE. JUST ONE.) Where I put alllll my nonsensical ramblings or gushing or whatnot over other characters there. So it will be two blogs total. Just this one serving the same purpose it always has, and then a second one that will just be a jambalaya of "Oh I wonder what Kane has dug up in the mines this time. Let's go find out!"

How I am going to merge everything from my other blogs, I'm....not too sure. Since it'll all be just one big bang of different fandoms that'll sway a lot from how much I am or amn't fixated on them, I probably won't go too crazy with making different links to things like my S/Is story with them or whatnot, and I will just cut it all down to one carrd so there's not like five different ones to read through.

I think I will keep the other blogs simply as archives, if you will, just because sometimes I like to look back at myself losing my own mind. But I won't post from those blogs anymore, they will simply just be...floating around.

[eternal-reverie]

Something in the back of my mind has been bothering me for a long while, and I figured out what it was. I have this tendency of censoring myself when I speak? I dance around a subject, which I keep hinting at, but never explicitly say what I want to say, and when someone doesn’t pick up on that, I get disappointed when they don’t help me open up to the topic.

[artist-heart83]

I remember one night being so pissed about the idea of Boopkins being initially a Spike because: “of all the fucking Mario character they chose one that I don’t remember seeing underwater what the hell” yeah I overthink stuff, specially when don’t make sense

Like for the fankids (talking about the adopted kids) I have reason of why they look like that or just the theme

Example Hinata, with her I have to figure out how her design not human form would look like or have the concept of what she is supposed to be. The idea ~fish~ from Mario, following the idea of Boopkins original form; I choose a Cheep Cheep because I couldn’t find something and done!

only to when I finished her design remember the mermaids from Mario Odyssey fucking god I hate myself sometimes

Same goes to Gemma, which is a gerudo because Bob original design is from Zelda, a garo, so yeah everything is connected

Wait what I was talking about… OH YEAH!

So I went to the wikipedia to see if there was an explanation (considering that they are directs and stuff, come on the series is 13 years old, there must be a lot of information (also when I read Smg3 and Axol trivia sections I found some interesting information that changed everything)), for none surprise I found it

Now I don’t know what is Luke referring to, like, he mean good fish characters in the mario series or in general?

I mean obviously you visualize a fish, because Boopkins first appearance was in a underwater adventure you know and his name is Fishy and dad is an octopus and then he brother is a duck and LISTEN GET THE IDEA THAT EVERYONE OF THE FAMILY IS RELATED TO WATER BECAUSE THAT FUCKING FAMILY TREE IS ANOTHER DEAL AND I NOT FINDING A EXPLANATION TO THAT, GOOD? GOOD

[l0rd-0f-c0ws]

I frequently feel completely isolated no matter how much I talk to people. So that's fun

[gor3sigil]

Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.

I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.

Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.

I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.

5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.

I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.

I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.

I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.

I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.

I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.

But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.

I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.

It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.

If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.

Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.

It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.

You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.

Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.

Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.

[himbodruid]

Ancient Instinct

Sylus x Reader

-:-breeding kink -:- Sylus loses control -:- consent king -:- primal, carnal, frenzied -:-

Present timeline mirror to A Dragon in Rut

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI.

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“Hey…there’s something wrong with the boss.” Kieran’s voice was filled with concern, enough that you knew it wasn’t some weird ploy by Sylus to get you to visit. Plus, Luke was usually the one that called if Sylus wanted to casually bully you into visiting.

Your phone dinged and you quickly pulled it from your ear to view the message. It was a photo from Luke, showing the destruction of the front room of the base. Furniture was smashed, paintings torn from the wall, and other various decorations thrown about. The brandy decanter that’d been on a side table laid shattered on the ground, along with the two glasses that typically accompanied it.

“Kieran, what the fuck happened?” Worry sank into you as your eyes darted over the photo, hoping you wouldn’t find blood. There weren't really any signs of a struggle, just aimless chaos.

“We don’t know, we thought you might. He came home last night in a scary good mood and then halfway through the night, he just started wrecking the place.”

“We just had dinner and took a walk around the park, there wasn’t anything unusual about anything.” You tried thinking over the night and still couldn’t come up with an answer. “Where is he now?”

“He’s holed up in his room now, but we’re leaving. Before this temper tantrum, he asked us to go pick something up so there won't be anyone here.” There was a hint of uncertainty in Kieran’s voice, as though the twins were reluctant to leave Sylus in the state he was in.

“Okay, that’s fine,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I just got home from work, so I’ll be there in a bit to see if I can talk some sense into him.”

The call disconnected and you hastily packed a bag for an overnight stay in the N109 Zone. You were out the door and on your motorbike in a matter of minutes, speeding through the darkening streets to get to him as quickly as you could.

When you arrived, the house was eerily quiet. There was almost always something from Sylus’s collection of vinyls playing, the sound filtering through the halls from deep within the façade, but not tonight. It was dark, too. Not a single fireplace or lamp was lit. For all intents and purposes, the house was empty. But still you cautiously pressed onward.

“Sylus?” Your voice echoed in the house as you stepped gingerly over the debris, the light of your phone guiding your way. You made your way to his bedroom, knocking on the door.

“Sylus?” You called again when you cracked the door open. A single dim lamp let you see that the room was in similar disarray to the rest of the house. Still, there was no response, and you thought that maybe he’d left.

A feral-sounding growl emanated from the room. It didn’t sound human at all, and you wished you’d brought your weapon. Was all of the destruction the result of a wanderer? Your watch didn’t detect anything but-

“Leave.” Sylus’s voice was strained and…off. Instead of the usual gravel, there was a hint of something more, something beastly. You had heard stories of people turning into wanderers…was it possible that Sylus was a victim to this anomaly?

“Sy, is everything okay?” You dropped into his nickname out of habit, hoping that whatever had taken over his mind would recognize it.

“If you know what’s best for you, Kitten, you will leave right now.” His words echoed in your head, something familiar about them and this situation. You had brief flashes of tapestries and a cave before your mind returned to the present.

“Sy, are you hurt? The twins called me,” you said calmly, stepping further. You still couldn’t see him, but you could hear his ragged breathing coming from deeper in the room.

You had just cleared the archway that separated the sittig area from the sleeping space when you were pushed roughly against the wall. The side table holding the lamp teetered violently before falling over and taking the lamp with it, shattering the bulb. In the brief seconds the light was on him, you could see that Sylus’s pupils were blown wide and his face was flush. In the newfound darkness, his hot breath fanned across your neck in a series of shaky pants.

“Sylus, please. Tell me what’s wrong, you’re worrying me,” you say, raising your hand to cup his cheek. He made a sound like a barely restrained groan as he turned his face into your touch, inhaling deeply. He pressed his lips against your fingers, your palm, your wrist. You were certain that if he’d had a tail, it would be lashing about in agitation.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. “I don’t think I can be very accommodating or gentle right now, Kitten.”

His warning rolled off him, and yet he still pressed further into you. He buried his nose into your neck, inhaling sharply and his lips trailed your pulse.

“S-Sy,” you gasped as his teeth scraped against your skin, in a spot that held an echo of an ache that no longer existed. Worry was very quickly being replaced with something else, something that pooled deep in your core.

“Mmh,” he purred, nuzzling his face against your neck again. “Your scent…steamy and sweet, like cherry wine. It’s been driving me insane all day.”

“Sylus, what-“ your question was cut off when he slanted his mouth across yours. All thoughts escaped you as he consumed you, plunging his tongue into your mouth the moment you opened for him. Worry and doubt fled from you and every sense was filled with him. You’d even forgotten why you arrived at the base in the first place as he hoisted you up against the wall. Your legs hitched up to wrap around his waist and your arms folded around his broad shoulders. He growled in approval, still devouring you as he pressed impossibly close. You could feel him standing at attention, hard and ready, and you wondered how long he’d been in that condition.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice a breathless whisper against your lips.

“Well, I am here. What’s going on with you, you’re worrying me.” You had to tug at his hair to get him to back off just the slightest bit. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, his face was too far cast in shadows. He was definitely still Sylus, though- you didn’t see any signs of him transforming into a monster. Just the raging hardon that was pressed against your core.

“Kitten,” he whined, dropping his head against your shoulder. His breathing was ragged, sharp inhales let go as shaky exhales. “This need I feel…it’s like I crave you on some primal level.”

He groaned when you tugged at his hair again, just a gentle pull to guide his mouth back to yours. His chest rumbled in what felt like a purr, the vibrations rolling through you to gather at your already wanting core. You gave your silent consent to him by pulling him closer, devouring his mouth in equal fervor. You gently caught his bottom lip between your teeth and his entire body shuddered.

“You should-” lips found your leaping pulse.

“Run away-“ his teeth scraped the slope of your neck.

“While you still can-“ he latched onto your collarbone, sucking at the spot with a hard draw to create a mark there. You gasped and squirmed as best you could while crushed against the wall by his bulk. The action ground your core against his length and he groaned when he released you from his mouth.

“Take me,” you breathed into him. “Use me. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

He groaned again and hauled you against him, pulling away from the wall to stumble blindly to his bed. There he dropped you onto the mattress, bathing you in the pale lights of the city filtering in from the window. His eyes were still cast in shadow, but you could still see the desire that darkened his expression. He was silent, save for the sound of his heavy breaths, as his hand stroked from calf to hip. Heat blazed from his touch, sinking through the fabric of the leggings you wore.

“Last chance, Kitten,” he growled, the sound rumbling low in his chest. Hands rested at your hip, teasing the waistband in silent question. Though you had already given explicit consent, he waited.

Rather than voicing your answer, and rather than giving in to what he so very clearly wanted, your hands found the collar of his shirt. With slow precision, you unbuttoned his shirt while keeping your eyes locked on his. His breath came in shuddering bursts, his body trembling as you teased him. It was a cruel test of his control, even knowing how close he was to snapping. But you couldn’t help yourself. There was something about seeing carnal desire written in every feature, in every motion, that made you want to take advantage of it.

A sharp inhale, followed by a shuddered exhale when your hand trailed down his newly exposed chest in a tantalizing sweep. He caught your hand before it could trail too far down his abdomen, bringing it to his lips and laying a kiss across your knuckles, and another at your wrist.

And then his lips found yours in a searing kiss to seal your agreement. There was nothing short of passion in the way he devoured you, the way he coaxed you open to tangle his tongue with yours. The heat of his mouth trailed along your jaw, down your neck, searing into any exposed skin he could access until he was stopped my the lapel of the button down shirt you wore. Without warning, he grasped the overlapped edges at the front and ripped your shirt wide open. Buttons flew in every direction and all you could do was muffle your moan with a gasp. Because damn, that show of strength was not one you expected to be so hot. You didn’t even care about the loss of the shirt, you wanted him to do it again.

With the obstruction out of his way, Sylus continued the forge a blazing trail of kisses down your body. The bandeau you wore as a bra was shoved down so that he could swirl his tongue around one nipple and then the other. Soft bites to the undersides of your breasts as he continued downward elicited a sharp inhaled gasp from you. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your leggings at each hip and then tugged, removing them and your underwear in one swift motion. Shyness coursed through you when you were finally fully bared to him, but you didn’t fight him when he held your legs in place, spread for him, so he could rake his eyes up and down you.

His lips found the inside of your knee, teeth finding your thigh, and then his face was dangerously close to your core. You swore you could see his eye flash a quick glow, but the next moments pushed all thoughts and reason from your head.

“I’ll start with your warmest spot…” he murmured against your skin. And then he dipped his head further, his breath fanning against your slick folds. “And until I’m finished, you’re not allowed to stop me.”

And then he descended, overwhelming your cunt with precise strokes of his tongue. You tried to twist away from him, crying out in pleasure, but he held you fast. His gaze bored into you, even as your hands sunk into the silky strands of his hair. He worked you until you were right on the precipice, but then pulled away with a devilish grin before you could crash over the other side. You whined at his unfair treatment until he set about removing his own clothing. Your own gaze devoured him the more he exposed of himself, and fuck he was perfect in every way.

He crawled languidly up your body and settled over you, reclaiming your mouth in a hard, punishing kiss. His knee wedged between yours, pushing and coaxing until you had enough thinking power to wrap yourself around him. This put the head of his cock right at your entrance, and you strained your hips towards him in a desperate bid for penetration. A dark chuckle escaped him when he realized what you were attempting.

“All mine,” he growled. Your knee was hooked over his elbow, one at first and then both as the kiss progressed to a carnal need. You were open fully to him now, and all that was left was for him to take that plunge.

And fuck, did he ever.

His hips snapped forward without hesitation, not even affording you the time to adjust to his girth and length. Not that it was necessary, not when he glided into you easily on the slickness of your arousal. He slammed against you, sinking into you to the hilt, and you couldn’t help the pleasured sound that escaped you. You folded your arms around his shoulders, nails biting into his skin when he tried to pull back. He didn’t get far before his hips jerked forward again, almost off their own accord.

It was as though there was some primal instinct that drove him into you so impossibly deep. You couldn’t understand where it came from, but fuck it felt good. The sensations of his cock slamming into you paired with the guttural moans erupting from him brought you back to that precipice rapidly. So rapidly that you barely had a moment's notice before you came apart around him. Pleasure zipped up your spine, turning your mind blank. All you could do was arch beneath him, crying out his name even as he continued to plunder your body.

He so easily folded you in half and set a pace that was bordering on punishing. What little control he could claim to have had in this moment was gone as he rutted into you. The sounds of your bodies colliding over and over rose to join your pleasured cries and his own grunting moans. You were glad the base had emptied due to his tantrum, because it would be very obvious what was happening should anyone step on the floor landing. Hell, even floors below could probably hear your loud, frenzied mating.

Feeling bold, maybe even mischievous, you lifted your mouth to the jumping pulse at his neck and scraped your teeth against it. Sylus let out a shaky, breathy moan and tilted his head away to grant you more access. With a grin, you bit down on that corded muscle that made up the slope of his neck.

His head fell against your chest with a deep moan, slamming his hips into you hard. Your bite turned into sucking on his neck, raising a mark to show your claim on him to anyone who would dare to look. And he also latched his mouth to your skin, drawing out the same kind of mark.

With a growl, he released your neck to observe the purpling mark he made. His gaze darted to yours, locking eyes with you as his thrusts increased to a breakneck pace. Pleasured expressions flitted across your face and you were almost certain that’s what he was looking for. And then you were arching into him again, crying out his name as your walls pulsed around him. The edge he had been chasing came and went, and he spilled into you with a guttural cry of his own. His hips jerked and slammed into you, his cock twitching as you milked him for everything he had.

He kissed you feverishly, and even as you came down from the high of release, he was still impossibly hard inside you. He rocked into you with small thrusts and you could feel his heart hammering beneath your touch.

“Fuck, how do you feel this damn good,” he whimpered against your lips. His body crashed against yours when you whimpered his name in response, over and over as he chased another release. It came to him with a sharp snap of his hips against yours, a shudder that swept through his entire body, and then more hot ropes of cum were flooding your cunt again.

And he still somehow wasn’t done with you.

A brief respite was all that was granted before he was thrusting deep into you again. At this point, you weren't even sure where you ended and he began. You were beginning to wonder if you would be leaking his cum for days after this encounter, even moreso when he slammed into you again with a guttural, primal cry of ecstasy. This one brought you over the edge with him, the feel of his cock pulsing and twitching inside you drawing release from you without warning.

Finally, after one more orgasm ripped through both of you, Sylus slumped against you. He nuzzled into your neck, soft kisses peppering your skin as you both attempted to regain your breath. He released your legs from his pressing hold and you ran your thighs down both sides of his body, delighting in the way he shuddered again.

You were both a sweaty mess, and you were certain the sheets needed to be changed once he slipped from your body. But he took his sweet time with you, giving gentle kisses that were a stark contrast to the primal possession he just exhibited. The weight and heat of him pressing you into the mattress felt like heaven, and you made a mental note to request this kind of skinship again in the future. Maybe with a little less mess. Or maybe with more, who knows.

You complained when he removed himself from the bed, grudgingly allowing yourself to be carried by him to the bathroom. You were exhausted and couldn’t work up the energy to feel embarrassed as he cleaned you up in the shower, but you were delighted in the way his hands massaged your scalp as he washed your hair. You nearly fell asleep when he blow dried your hair, making him have to carry you back to bed. He slipped you between fresh silk sheets and climbed in behind you, trailing kisses along the back of your neck and shoulders as he wrapped himself around you.

Safe and cozy, you fell into the deepest sleep you’d ever experienced.

And when you awoke to Sylus being gone, you couldn’t help but pout. Until he pushed through the door with a tray in hand, wrapped in his favourite brocade robe. He wordlessly set the tray down in front of you, and you saw it was filled with various crackers, cheeses, and fruits.

“Consider this my apology,” he said with a chuckle as you eagerly dug into the tray. He sat next to you in bed, allowing you to feed him. He was content enough to watch you enjoy the tray, but couldn’t say no when you turned to offer him bites.

“What was that all about anyway?” You ask finally, after working up the courage to not be shy. Sylus’s brows drew down in thought.

“I’m not entirely sure, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something like that before. I came home to being surrounded by your essence, your scent, and it's like a switch flipped in my head. Like I was possessed. Like some sort of primal instinct that wouldn’t leave until I had you flat on your back with my cock driving into you.”

You blushed furiously at his casual words, occupying your hands and face with more food, so that you wouldn’t put those hands and your mouth all over him in some sort of retaliation. He chuckled darkly and leaned close, inhaling deeply at your neck.

“Mmh. I think I like my scent being intertwined with yours,” he growled into your ear.

Neither of you left his bed for a while following that, and you were grateful it was your weekend.

[moonsgemini]

nobody knows - rafe cameron

summary: a secret relationship between the kook king the sweet innocent kook & bathroom sex

warnings: 18+, cursing, reader being jealous, alcohol, SMUT, slight choking, semi public sex, pinv

an: hiiii hope y’all enjoy <3 this is a lil shorter than my usual stuff. I need drew starkey bad !! Might turn this into it’s own lil universe

-

This party was going to kill you. The scene in front of you calling for you to do something irrational. It was almost as if he wanted you to accidentally spill wine on Lindsey’s head.

The way her hand constantly found a place on his bicep has you gripping your glass a little tighter. The friendly smile on Rafe’s lips not helping ease your jealousy. Neither was the way he kept leaning down so he could hear her better, as if they were at a rave. It was a fairly small party for crying out loud there was no need for that.

If you had super powers the entire back yard would be lit up in flames with the way you were glaring at the pair. Of course he also wore that shirt you loved on him. The one you had mentioned on multiple occasions that it was your favorite.

You wished you could go over there and yank him down by the collar and smush your lips against his. Let everyone know that it’s your name he’s moaning at night and his lips and body that have your coming undone almost every night.

You wished everyone knew exactly what was going on between the two of you. Then you wouldn’t have to disguise your jealousy as a head ache. You knew it was because of you that the two of you snuck around but you’re starting to want things to change. You couldn’t stand the sight of your man giving another woman attention.

“Garrett is such a dick I can’t believe I didn’t dump him sooner,” Your friend Nessa mumbled.

You hummed and nodded in agreement while finishing off the last of your wine. Not really paying attention to what your friend was saying.

“You’ve been quiet today. More than usual, all good?” Nessa asked.

You nodded, “Yeah just have a head ache again.”

“Then lets get you another glass, being drunk will help with that,” Nessa grabbed your hand. She led you back over to the small cocktail bar that was set up which was right past Rafe and Lindsey.

As the pair of you passed them you pretended not to see Rafe. Obviously Rafe’s eyes followed you, not really paying attention to whatever the girl in front of him had been yapping about.

He was trying this new thing where he wasn’t going to be an asshole to people. Unless they deserved it obviously, but it was really fucking hard when all he wanted to do was talk to you. The old him would have just ditched her mid sentence but that’s not who he wanted to be.

He watched as you poured yourself some more wine, your friend going on about something as you nodded along. His pretty girl always being the best listener.

After a minute you said something to your friend before walking into the house. After a few seconds Rafe said something about going to the bathroom and left the babbling blonde behind. He didn’t care he wanted to find you.

When he stepped inside he saw your half empty wine glass on the kitchen counter. He walked down the hall to the guest bathroom and knocked.

“I’ll be out in a minute Ness!” You shouted from behind the door.

“It’s Rafe,” he said.

The locked clicked and the door opened to reveal your pretty frame. You had chosen to wear that dress he loves in the color he loves on you. He wasn’t the only one who chose what they’re wearing for a specific reason. You poked your head out and looked both ways before tugging him inside by the collar of his shirt. He chuckled at your antics

“Don’t you think it looks more suspicious if we’re in here together?” He smirked with a raised brow. In all honesty he didn’t really give a fuck if people saw you two together but he knows you aren’t ready.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not like you were flirting it up out there with Lindsey.”

His smirk widened at the realization that you were jealous. He liked how around everyone you were always sweet and polite, sometimes even a little timid. But with him it was a different story. He loved the way you talked back to him and rolled your eyes at him. He loved the dirty things that sweet innocent mouth said to him when he was relentlessly fucking you.

“You jealous baby?” He stepped forward so the small of your back hit the counter.

Your scowl deepened as you crossed your arms, “No.”

He reach up stroked your cheek gently. His eyes going down to your lips, “You being a tough girl now. Come on baby you know she doesn’t have anything on you.”

Your scowl softened, “Well it doesn’t matter because it’s not like she knows that.”

Rafe leaned forward and kissed your cheek then your jaw and continued his way down to your pulse point, “I’ll let her know, we can let everyone know princess. I can fuck you right here right now.”

You gasped at his words and at the scrape of his teeth on the sensitive skin of your neck, “Rafe,” you practically moaned.

“Doesn’t sound like you’re too opposed to that,” His finger slipped under your dresses strap and pulled it down. His lips kissing the newly exposed skin as he went down to your chest, “Make you scream my name as I bend you over.”

You wanted to talk back to him but you couldn’t as your eyes fluttered shut. His hands had moved down your waist and to your thighs. Slowly dragging his fingertips up them until he plucked at your stringy underwear letting it snap back against your skin. He made you such an incoherent mess and you loved it.

With everything in you you mustered back a reply, “You sure you want Lindsey to hear.”

He chuckled against the top of your breasts that were exposed. His fingers now pressing against your wet clothed cunt.

“It seems like you want her to hear baby,” He pressed his fingers against your clit and rubbed soft circles, “look at how wet you are huh. My dirty girl.”

A whimper escaped your lips at the sensation. His fingers slipped under your tiny panties and he slid them through your sopping cunt and groaned against your neck, “God I love how you feel.”

You tugged his face up to meet your desperate eyes as you pulled him in for a kiss. You both moaned at the feeling. You loved when Rafe fucked you but you loved kissing him even more. His fingers picked up the pace a little against your throbbing clit. You could feel your wetness dripping down your legs.

“Please let me fuck you right here baby,” He mumbled against your lips, “I’ll do it so good. I’ll make you cum all over my cock.”

That whole being more nice thing Rafe was working on never applied to you. You were probably the only person on the island who had ever heard the kook king say please and thank you. Sometimes he even practically begged to fuck you or eat you out. You lived for it. It made your skin tingle and your tummy flutter.

You nodded your head, “Yes Rafey.”

He pulled his fingers away from you and practically shoved them into your mouth. You loved it though, tasting yourself on his long thick fingers. Your tongue licking them clean. He bit his lip and groaned with hooded eyes. Rafe was utterly obsessed with you.

He pulled his fingers out with a pop and leaned in capturing your mouth in his in another searing kiss. It was sloppy and made your head spin. He pulled away spinning you around. Your hands landed on the counter to steady yourself as he hiked your dress up to your waist.

Rafe gave your ass a firm squeeze and took a few seconds to admire you on this position. He loved that he could still see your pretty face in the mirror, he could see just how fucked you were for him. Your swollen lips, hooded eyes, and messy hair all because of him. It made his heart beat faster and his ego grow. He loves that no one else has known you in this way until he came around.

You watched as he began to undo his pants and pull his thick cock out. You whimpered at the sight of him stroking himself a few times. Grabbing the tiny string of your panties he pulled it to the side before lining himself up with you.

“You’re a fucking dream,” He groaned as he slipped his tip in. The warm wetness of your pussy making him throw his head back. Slowly he slotted himself in you. The feeling of you clenching around him already getting him so close.

“Fuck you’re coming home with me,” He groaned as he began moving in and out.

You nodded with hazy lust filled eyes. You’d do anything he asked of you. The feeling of him stretching you out was out of this world. You didn’t understand how he was always able to hit that spot that had your back arching and mouth forming into an o.

He fucked you as quietly as he could. Rafe didn’t give a fuck if people heard but he knew you did. It’s not like you were embarrassed of Rafe and he knew that. It would just make things complicated if people knew. There’d be constant prying and knit picking at everything you two did and how you acted.

“Oh Rafe,” you mumbled standing up so your back was against his chest. He groaned and wrapped one of his hands around your throat. Your head fell back against his shoulder.

Rafe’s other hand found it’s way to your chest. He pinched one of your nipples and squeezed your breast. He did the same thing to the other one before sliding down your stomach and to your clit. He rubbed circles as he continued to thrust into you.

He moved the hand that was around your throat to hold your jaw. Tugging your head down to look in the mirror.

“You see that baby, He nodded towards your reflection, “see how good you look when I’m inside you. My girl takes me so damn well.”

“I-I mmmph oh Rafe,” you mumbled incoherently but he knew what you were trying to say. He could tell you were close by the way you tightened around him and the way you dripping down him.

“I know,” He groaned, “I’m there too.” A loud moan began escaping you but rafe moved his hand up quickly to cover your mouth.

“Shit look at you, no one will ever compare. Fuck I’m all yours,” He grunted.

Your moans were muffled by his big hand as you came. He wasn’t farm behind as he buried his face in your neck as he came inside you.

“Well we’ve never done that before,” you giggled.

He huffed a laugh, “I’m pretty sure we’ve done that plenty of times before.”

You shook your head, “We’ve never done it in a bathroom at a party.”

He smirked as he pulled out of you and adjusting your clothes for you. He gave your ass a gentle slap, “I should make you jealous more often.”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to face him, “So what if I was jealous.”

He kissed you, “You have nothing to be jealous of. I’m yours.”

You smiled softly as your heart swelled, “Rafe maybe we should tell people.”

His eyes widened slightly, “Really?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement, “mhmm I want to go on dates here in town. I want to be the one who has your attention all night and when I get too drunk you drive me home.”

He smiled, “Sounds perfect.”

After fixing yourselves to look presentable again you opened the door and led Rafe out not really thinking. But before you could even step through the doorway you were face to face with Lindsey who had a scowl on her face.

“Finally,” she rolled her eyes but then she saw the person standing behind you, “oh that’s where you disappeared to?” that scowl never leaving her.

Rafe nodded with a smirk, “My girl needed me.”

You blushed as you stepped past her with Rafe’s hand in yours with smiles plastered on both your faces.

[darkbluekies]

What do you want from me?

Yandere!mafia oc x reader

Summary: the cops take you away from Silas

Warnings: mafia, kidnapping, killing, blood, Stockholm syndrome

Word count: 5k

The candles are lit. You and Silas are having dinner in the dining room, finally. He’s been wanting this for weeks, just you and him together, no one interfering. Not a minute has gone by where he hasn’t thought of you, fantasized about you, but now he finally has you. Every time he’s been trying to get close to you, someone has butted in and demanded him to do something else. There’s always something, someone, that needs something. SIC has tried to take care of a few things, but the final say always belongs to Silas. 

“I wish we could do this more often”, he says and takes a sip of his red wine, scoffing. “Without people pulling me away from you. One more person disturbing me and you’ll have to sedate me—I’m not joking.”

Your lips tug on a smile as you poke the food with your fork, trying to make it look like you’ve eaten more than you have. Silas picks up on it immediately. 

“Are you not hungry?” he asks. 

“I am, just …”

“Didn’t you like it?”

“I did, I’m just not feeling like eating right now … but I don’t want to ruin your dinner … you’ve been thinking about it for so long. I feel bad.”

“Baby, sulking won’t make me any happier. Tell me what’s wrong instead. The quicker I can make you happy, the quicker our date can be good.”

“There’s no particular reason … that’s why I’m feeling bad.”

“Come here.”

You stand up and make your way over to him. He pulls you down in his lap, hands holding you firmly. His hands always finding the most sensitive parts of your body, as if to mess with you. 

“Does my pretty baby want to eat something else instead?” he smirked. 

“Don’t get any stupid thoughts”, you scoff quietly, but couldn’t help but smile slightly. 

“Stupid thoughts? We are married—fucking thankfully—and you think I don’t fantasize about my heavenly spouse going down on me at every waking hour?”

“You’re not a poet, that’s for damn sure.”

Silas chuckles and looks up at you. “Oh, really? Have you heard me recite poetry?”

“No, and I don’t want to either.”

His grin widens at your smile. He pulls you down by the back of your neck and captures your lips in a kiss. His hands wander, wrapping you closer, digging into you. He needs this. Needs this more than you could ever understand. His hands press you close to him. You can feel his heart through his clothes. 

Hurried footsteps run into the room. 

“Sorry to interrupt, boss-”

“Oh, come on”, Silas breathes out in frustration and runs a hand through his hair. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He glares towards the door. SIC stands by the table, looking stressed. 

“I’m busy”, Silas says, giving him a gaze full of annoyance and tightening the grip on you. “Do you mind?”

“There’s cops outside.”

You feel how Silas’s arms around you stiffen. His black eyes seem to shift twice as dark. 

“Who lead them here?” he asks, not sounding as sweet as he had been towards you just a minute earlier.

“No idea, boss”, SIC replies. 

“We need to leave.” Silas grabs your hand. “Come with me.”

He walks too quick for you to keep up and you almost stumble behind him. Silas drags you with him out of the dining room. SIC walks close behind you, as if to protect you in case something jumps out from behind. 

“They want to take what’s in the attic, Silas”, SIC says. “And if they get a hold of you too, I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic. You need to be taken away from here.”

Silas knows that there are three people the police want—him, SIC and you. The three in the most inner circle. The goldmine. 

SIC leads you to the back door. The front door bursts open and Silas’s other men try to stall the intruders. Silas pulls you with him as SIC stays behind to deal with the cops. He’s a master talker. 

Silas realises that he doesn’t have any weapons. He’ll have to use his fist, like he used to do when he was a teenager, if anyone decides to attack him. 

“Silas, what’s in the attic?” you ask as you walk out into the backyard.

“Nothing”, he says and looks around. “Come, we have to get to the car.”

He moves you in front of him. Someone in an uniform jumps out behind and Silas is quick to act. He attacks him. The cop falls over but is quick to start fighting back. They roll around on the ground and you watch on in horror, unable to do anything. You can’t join in, it wouldn’t be wise and Silas would be angry. 

The car … I need to get to the car. 

You decide to sneak towards the front side of the house, keeping close to the housewall to not blend into the darkness. Your heart hammers in your chest, but you make your way along the wall. Silas will be fine, he always gets out of these things with only a few scratches.

Someone grabs your arm. You gasp out a scream and meet a police’s eyes. 

“Let me go!” you shout and try to rip your arm back. 

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you”, the cop says and tries to pull you with him. “I’m here to help you.”

You throw a glance behind your back. You can’t see Silas. 

“No, let me go”, you breathe out. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

The cop doesn’t listen. You feel your chest move heavily, head spin. A few months ago you’d done anything to be rescued by the police, but now? Now you want noting more than to be left alone. You can’t help but mourn the person who wanted out, who still believed in a hope of returning to a normal life. That person is gone. Forced away by Silas’s harsh punishment methods. You have no idea who this new person who emerged after your brain snapped, but you know that they’re connected to Silas … so if Silas isn’t here … who are you then? The person you were before Silas is gone and this new one is nothing without him. 

The cop pulls you towards a cop car. 

“No!” you scream. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you! Silas!”

Another cop comes running to grab your other arm.

“We’re here to help you”, they both insist. 

But you just shake your head.

The one you should have helped is already gone.

“Silas, help me!” you scream once more.

You’re pushed into the backseat of a police car. You scream again and finally, you see him. He comes running from the backyard, blood on his face, but it’s too late. The car door is already shut. You rip at the handle, press at the window, but the child lock is forcing it closed. Silas eyes widen, but before he can do anything, the car has driven off.

You scream and claw at the window as the car drives away, eyes glued onto Silas until he disappears. Your panic directs towards the cops in the front seat. You scream, kick hit and plead, but the bars separating the front and back seat leaves them unharmed. 

“We just want to help you”, the driver says. 

“No!” you scream. “I want to go back! Let me go back! You don’t understand!”

“Whatever you’re scared of, you don’t have to worry. We will protect you.”

You give up trying to talk to them. It’s no use. They won’t understand. 

When the car stops, you refuse to get out. You’ve curled up in the corner of the backseat, hugging yourself tightly. The two cops have to pull you out. You fight them, but whatever you do, they’re stronger. 

“Let me go!” you scream. 

They must have an ability to turn off their ears, because your cries fall on deafened ears, as they pull you into the police station. 

“Sir”, one of them said. “We got them!”

An older man looks up from a couple of papers. His eyes glow as they fall on you. You glare at him. 

“Great job”, he said. “Put them in the interrogation room and I will be there soon.”

The two cops drag you through the police station. They’re not rough, but they’re not gentle either. It’s a silent promise, you will come with them. The interrogation room is small and sterile, grey and dead. You get to sit down by a table and then, you’re left alone. With nothing more than a constant ticking from the clock on the wall.

What do I do? Oh, no, what do I do? 

You rest your heavy head in your hands. You want to claw out your eyes, rip your hair. This can’t be happening. He’s going to put you into the basement for months for this. You have done everything to not end up there again. You’ve acted so well to avoid ending up in there … and now all of that was for nothing. And it hadn’t even been your fault. 

The door creaks open and you look up to see the man come in. He closes the door behind him and sit down. In his hands, he holds a yellow file. 

“I’m sorry to have to keep you up so late at night”, he apologizes. “But we have to talk to you.”

“What do you want from me?” you ask, voice weak. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N, I just—”

“How do you know my name?”

The older man opened the file and gave you a paper. 

“Your family filed you missing a few years ago”, the man says. This is you, isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer. It was you on the photo, but you don’t recognise yourself. It was you, but it isn't you.

My family … I haven’t seen them in years. Not since Silas …

“We’ve been searching for you”, he continues. “And after the rumour that you were kidnapped by Silas Achilleos, we doubled the search for you. He has been very good at keeping your whereabouts hidden. If we weren’t looking for you day and night we wouldn’t even know if you were in his care. It took us years only to confirm that you were, indeed, in his hold.”

“How are they?” you find yourself whisper.

“Your family misses you.”

Your heart breaks. You’d give the world to hold them in your arms again. 

“Don’t let them come here”, you mumble. “I don’t want to see them.”

The man seems surprised. 

“I thought, after so many years in captivity, you’d want to reunite”, he says. 

Yes, yes, I do, so badly. 

“I don’t.”

The man doesn’t say anything. 

“Can’t you tell me what Silas did to you?” he asks instead. “We just want to help you and make sure he can get what he deserves—”

“Why?” you whisper. “You won’t be able to catch him anyway.”

“You seem to know how hard he is to get … which brings me onto my next point. The ring on your finger, you’re married. To him, am I right?”

You look down at the golden ring on your finger, stomach dropping. 

“I think you know why we need to talk to you”, the man says. “You are the closest we can get to Silas, except for Silas himself.”

SIC, then? Don’t they know about SIC?

“I don’t know anything”, you say shortly.

“You don’t have to be worried”, the cop says. “You can speak freely with me.”

You give him a look. 

“Listen, Y/N”, he says. “We know that you’ve been through some horrible things, and we want to help you, but to do that you need to work with us. You need to tell me what happened, what he did to you.”

You don’t want to think about it. The man waits for you to say something, but sighs. 

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about that yet”, he says. “Can’t you tell me something else?”

“What?” 

“Has Silas ever told you something about his enemies or shown you where he hides his things?”

“No.”

“Nothing?”

You sight back a heavy sigh. “No.”

“Nothing at all? Are you sure?’

“Yes, I'm fucking sure.”

“No need to become defensive, I just want to help you.”

Help. Help. Help. Help. When did that word lose meaning?

“I know nothing”, you sigh. “Absolutely nothing and the further you press me on information I don't have, the dumber you look.”

“You must know something, with the amount of time you spend with him.”

You hide your face in your hands. “I know that he's Silas, but you do too, so that won't bring you anywhere.”

The cop doesn't seem too pleased with you. He had hoped to pull something out of you. 

“Well, I suppose we're all tired”, he says. “How about you sleep on it and we'll meet again tomorrow?”

You don't answer. Instead, you're led to a small cell and left there with nothing more than a bed. If you are innocent, why are you kept like a criminal?

You sink down on the bed. Why did Silas have to take you? Why did he have to ruin your life? All for selfish reasons? 

No one bothers you for the rest of the night, but you’re not sure if the silence is better. 

“Boss—”

His head is missed by centimeters. SIC looks tot he side, seeing the whiskey drop down the wall, the glass shards on the floor. 

“Not a single word from you”, Silas mutters from the desk he hasn’t left all night, voice enough to kill. 

SIC stands quiet, embarrassed. He watches Silas hover over a newspaper, drunker than a sailor. 

“Look how quick they are”, he mutters. “Already writing about what’s mine as if they were some kind of charity event. Look.” He sends the newspaper over the table. “Look at what bullshit they’re writing about them!”

SIC glances down. In bold, black letters, he sees the headline “Infamous mob boss’s spouse in police custody”.

“Writing about them like they’re some kind of criminal”, Silas spits. “Disgusting creatures, I should kill all of them.”

“For the moment, I don’t think you should be doing anything at all”, SIC says. “Not until you’ve sobered up—”

Another glass is launched at him, and if he didn’t duck it’d hit. 

“Do not fucking tell me what I should and should not do!” he shouts. “You can boss me around when your spouse is on the national news for everyone to see! Everyone can see this! Everyone will be interested! My enemies will go to kidnap them right away!”

“Then we do it before them.”

Silas groans and lifts his head. “That might be the best thing you’ve said all morning.”

“Do you think they’ve said anything?” SIC asks. 

“About what? They don’t know anything.”

“Of what happens … down there, I mean.”

Silas seems to sober up.

“They wouldn’t dare.”

"Let's try this again", the cop says.

You want to smash your head into the table under you until you bleed out. Four days have gone by. You hate the little room they’ve spent hours interrogating you in, but you hate the cell even more. The almost unnoticeable flickering light makes your head pound in pain. You've cried more than you've done in a long time, and funnily enough because of the same man—only opposite reasons. You haven’t been away from Silas this long before, and you know that the longer you’re away from him, the worse it’ll be when you return. You have accepted the person you’ve become in Silas’s hold, and now that you're not wit him, you don’t know who you are … or who you will be once Silas finds you again. Because he will, you know that. He will find you again.

You look at the cops again and groan. They’ve been asking you the same questions—what does Silas do? Who is in his most inner circle? Why did he take you? What do you have that could be beneficial to the police?—and still refuse to listen when you say that you don’t know, still refuse to listen to you. Because who wouldn’t think that you were lying? Someone married to someone like Silas should know information, shouldn’t they? You find yourself thinking if this was the plan all along, to deprive you of information to make sure that you wouldn’t be able to tattletail if you got caught?

"Let me go back to him", you beg, for what feels like the hundredth time, with your head in your hands. "This is a waste of time!”

"You don't have to be afraid anymore, you're safe", the other cop says—the idiot still without a clue. "We will keep you safe. You can tell us what happened now."

They really don’t understand, do they?

"I want Silas. I don't want to talk to you!"

To your surprise, being away from him for the first time has given you the time to miss him. When you were with him, he was always there, always around, always messing with your head to the point that you didn’t know what you thought about him. But now that you’re away from him, and actually think of him from an outside perspective, you miss him unbelievably much. You’ve been spending too long with him now not to miss him. You frown. That can’t be good, but what is good anymore? Who is good? Who is not? Who are you?

They tell you to trust them, that they’re here to save you, and yet treat you like a criminal. How can they ever believe that you’ll trust them? If you had the information, why would you ever tell it to someone that treats you like an accomplice? What if you wanted to escape from Silas? What if you had wanted the help? Would you have felt safe here?

You suppose that they hope that the gray room will be enough to break you enough to tell them. But you’ve already broken and they still don’t let you be, because you don’t have the information. 

You're placed into the "bedroom" for a break where you succumb to your tears. You want nothing more than for Silas to come get you and get you away from these people. If these people are supposed to be “good”, you wanted to go back to the bad side. 

The door was unlocked. You flinched back as an officer came into the room, the same as from the first night.

“What do you want?” you asked quickly. 

“Let’s talk a little, just you and me”, he says and crouches down in front of you. 

You watch him cautiously. The door is closed behind him. 

“I know that you are scared”, he says, but doesn’t say it in a comforting or reassuring manner, almost like he wants you to drop the act and stop being difficult. “It’s perfectly understandable. You’ve probably been through more than anyone here can ever imagine.”

“What do you want from me?” you mumble. “Why don’t you let me go?”

“You are a golden opportunity. You might not understand it, but you are the closest we can come to Silas Achilleos without taking him. You are, from what we’ve been told, the most valuable thing in his life, and also the most important to him. He does everything in his power to erase any traces of you, to make sure that no one knows where—or who—you are. And that’s why you’re a golden opportunity. Someone in a position like you should know things that no one else does. You know Silas better than anyone.”

“You’re wrong”, you say. 

He raises his eyebrows. “How come?”

“He has another”, you say. “Someone that has known him longer than I have.”

“Oh, yes, that one. I have heard about him. There’s next to none information about him. Some don’t even believe that he exists, but we saw him at Silas house.”

“I don’t know anything”, you try, yet again. 

“You’ve said that—”

“Why don’t you believe me?!”

“Don’t yell. I’m trying to talk to you.”

“You’re trying to pressure me for information I don’t have! I’m useless to you, you took the wrong fucking person! If you wanted to know things, you should have taken SIC!”

“SIC?”

Fuck!

You sigh out and lean your head back against the wall. Maybe this is why Silas didn’t want to tell you anything—you can’t even keep the little information you know. 

“Is SIC the ‘mystery man’?” the officer asks. 

You don’t answer. 

“Y/N, who is SIC?” he pressures you. 

“Guess”, you hiss. “You’ve already talked about him, why do you need me to confirm anything?”

“What does SIC know?”

You groan and hit your hands against your head. 

“Where can I find this ‘SIC’? Where does he usually roam?”

“Why the fuck are you asking me?!” you shout. “I don’t know anything!”

Finally, he stops asking. 

“Everyone here just wants to help you”, he says. “If only you decide to accept the help and work with us, we’ll make sure that you’re safe from Silas. You don’t have to be afraid of saying anything, he won’t be able to reach you for it.”

You scoff. 

“You don’t know him”, you mutter and feel your voice die out. “He has—and always will—find me whenever I’m gone. I’ve tried before. Multiple times. I’ve run away, I’ve hid, I’ve prayed and begged. I tried to go under another name and move away. He always finds me. I’ve given up, don’t you understand that? I know that the more I fight against him, the worse it’ll be for me in the end, because word will get back to him—and so will I. I don’t have the energy to it anymore. I just want to be left alone.”

The officer listens closely. 

“Don’t you get that you could have your life back?” he asks. “With our help?”

“You’re so stupid—all of you. You don’t understand. I can’t get rid of him. I never will.”

You hug your knees close to your chest and refuse to answer anymore questions. The officer leaves a few minutes later, understanding that you’re not going to talk to him anymore.

You think of Silas, thinking of everything he’s done to you, and everything he’s done for you. It’s a storm of messy memories that sends waves of unexplainable emotions over you. You find yourself missing your bed. 

You must have zoned out, because you're suddenly brought back to life by gunshots. Your heart skips a beat. You know only one man that gives an entrance like that. You run over to the door and bang on it with your fists, shouting for him, hoping that he's going to hear you.

“Silas!” you shout at the top of your lunges and slam your fists against the hard surface. “I’m in here!”

Your hands will bruise from the force, but you can’t be left here, can’t stand to be in this room a second longer. You hear a gunshot closer to you, and see the door swing open, its lock smoking. SIC stands out in the corridor with a gun in his hand. He gives you a quick look, as if to check that it is you before turning his head. 

“Silas!” he shouts. “Here!”

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before he comes running down the corridor. He threw himself into the room and embraced you in his arms. 

“Oh, my god, my Y/N”, he breathes out and hugs you tightly, feeling his hands over your body, as if to reassure himself that you are real. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

You try to open your mouth and form an answer, but you're unable to. Your voice isn’t there, and only a choking sound comes out of you. He cups your cheeks. 

“You can just nod or shake your head”, he reminds you. 

You nod. You have no physical wounds, but you're undoubtedly hurt. Silas sighs and kisses your forehead.

“I didn't kill them for nothing then”, he mutters and studies your face. “Little thing, oh fuck, what have they done to you?”

“I didn't say anything”, you reassure him with a strained voice. “Nothing, I-I promise.”

“That’s my good baby, I know you haven't”, he reassured quickly, caressing your face. “What could you possibly have said? I made sure you wouldn't know anything I did.”

“Not about that, either …”

He clenches his jaw and nods shortly. “I see. We'll talk more about it later, we have to get away before other police patrols arrive I can't bear to see you in jail.”

I can't bear to be in jail. What the fuck did I do?

He removes his coat and hangs it around your shoulders, wrapping it shut to make sure that you're warm enough. He gives SIC a look, nodding at him to move out of the way. You're not sure what you're going to see once you exit the room, but knowing Silas, it won't be pretty. He walks beside you, keeping an arm wrapped around your neck, the same hand held over your eyes. The smell of blood is still there, grotesque and strong.

“Fucking idiots”, you hear SIC mutter behind you. “They’ve written my name on the white board!”

Silas chuckles breathlessly, but there’s too much stress in his voice to be fully genuine. 

“They’ve spelled it wrong”, SIC says and you hear him popping open a marker. “S-I-C. Not a fucking ‘K’. I’m not sick.”

“Was it you who told them about SIC, little thing?” you hear Silas ask closely to your ear, his hot breath fanning your ear. 

“I-I’m sorry, I accidentally mentioned him”, you mumble embarrassedly, visions of the basement flashing before you. “I didn’t say anything about him.”

“Nothing else?”

“No, I promise, Silas. I promise, please—”

“Okay, I believe you. Let’s get out of here, I’m sick of looking at these disgusting creatures. I want to go home and be with my baby who I haven’t seen for four days,”

“I hate them”, you whisper. “I hate them all.”

“They hurt you and I will never forgive them for that, but don’t worry I’ve already made sure they’ve paid for it. But you won’t see that.”

“I can smell it.”

“That’s enough.”

He removes his hands as soon as you get out into the open air. Your knees buckle and he’s quick to catch you. 

“These fucking people, eh”, he grits out. “Hurting such an innocent thing. They should be ashamed of themselves.”

“Can’t trust anyone, nowadays”, SIC says and opens the car door, allowing Silas to help you in the backseat. 

Silas sits down beside you. He wraps his arms around you, bringing you close. His normally suffocating presence a big contrast to the coldness you’ve felt the past four days.

“Your pretty hands …”, he pouts and caresses the hands that had been banging at the door with all their might. “I don’t ever want to see you hurt yourself again. Even if you did it to catch my attention. Never again, you hear?”

You nod. 

“What did they do to you?” he asks worriedly. 

“They tried to pressure me eon information I didn’t have …”, you whisper. “I couldn’t answer them. I didn’t know, btu they … didn’t care. They kept pressuring me. I thought my head was going to explode. A-And when I accidentally relieved something—a little—they were on me like snakes, forcing me to say more. I thought that they would think I was involved. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

Silas clenches his jaw. He wishes that he could go back and kill them again, this time do it even worse. 

“I’m so tired, Silas”, you mumble. 

“I know, baby, I know”, he coos sweetly. “I hate to see you like this. Seems like the only time you’re safe is when I’m with you. Sleep on my shoulder, little thing. I will take care of you, and when you wake up you will be safe and sound in the bed where you belong.”

The thought warms, for once. You shut your eyes and allow yourself to fall asleep, waking up in a bed softer than the one in the police station. You don’t have to open your eyes to know that you’ve been carried up to your shared bedroom. You open your eyes slightly. Silas is lying beside you, dressed in lounge wear. He looks straight at you with his dark eyes. His hand caresses your cheek. 

“Slept well?” he asks softly. 

You nod. Better than the last four days.

“I’m so relieved to have you back in my arms”, he says and pulls you back into his embrace. “And the fucker that dares to steal you away from me next time will have their eyes pulled out of their sockets. You belong to me, and me only. And no fucking cop, or criminal, or anyone else, will ever get to put their greasy hands on my baby.”

He cups your cheeks. 

“Ironic, isn’t it?” he scoffs. “All I wanted that night they took you from me was to have you to myself, but the only time I get to have you all for myself is after you’ve been kidnapped and we've both been through Hell. If only I could get to have you without that happening as well, huh? All to myself.”

His words have always been frightening you, given you a stone in your stomach … but for the first time, they don't. You're not sure what it is, and you're not sure if you're afraid of not being afraid of it. If the cops did that to you, then you’re unsure you ever want to go back. 

Those cops had no idea that they’d do more harm than good. You’re deeper in his claws than ever.

[augustinewrites]

yesterday afternoon - after an unsuccessful coffee shop date - you’d decided that dating sucked. it was much too awkward and formal and not at all like it was in the movies, putting too much pressure on the people involved.

last night - after watching shoko flirt her way into free drinks - you’d been tipsy enough to take her advice. 

casual sex! it doesn't have to be with a stranger, just pick someone you know. someone you’re sure you won't fall in love with.

this morning you’d woken up to find gojo laying in bed next to you.

you lay shoulder to shoulder with the one person you should not have picked, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak. 

“did we really–” 

“three times,” satoru confirms happily, rolling onto his side to grin down at you. “i'm surprised we didn't do this sooner, really. our sexual tension has always been off the charts.”

when he leans in to kiss you, his lips meet your palm as your expression wrinkles. “don’t get familiar.”

“we’re naked together in bed– we slept together in more than the literal sense. can’t get more familiar than that.” 

“and this never happen again,” you promise, refusing to look at him. 

“why? because you’re afraid you’ll fall in love with me? it’s okay to admit it. i'm extremely lovable.” 

you’ve seen the way girls fawn over him. how they swoon over his pretty eyes and confident smile. he’s satoru gojo. a legend amongst jujutsu society. you’re no one in comparison, not a user of an otherworldly cursed technique, not from a major clan. 

people like him don’t fall for people like you. you’re afraid of rejection, afraid of being hurt. 

“we’re friends,” you tell him honestly. “i don’t want to risk ruining our friendship over something like this.” 

he tilts his head as your look at him. “shoko told you to try casual sex, didn't she? why not with me?”

“she told you?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face and making a mental note to never ask your roommate for advice for anything ever again. 

“hey, look at me,” he urges, grasping your hand. you do as he says, meeting his earnest gaze. “i can be casual and chill, it’s not like i have a huge crush on you or anything.” 

it’s so hard to say no to him. you really wish you could.  

“i’ll think about it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes when he fist pumps. “but you need to go home before shoko sees you.” 

but you’re dealing with satoru gojo, who almost never does what he’s told. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily. come here.”

he winds an arm around you, pulli my you in so you’re snug against his chest. explicit memories of last night flash through your mind, sending heat through your veins.

 “i can’t.” you tell him (though you’re mostly reminding yourself.) this is insane— satoru, what are you—”

you’re cut off when he shushes you, whispering let’s sleep in for a little while longer. 

he starts to drift off again as you struggle to escape his grasp, but your efforts are futile. even on the throes of sleep, satoru is stronger than you. 

so you give up, resigning yourself to a few more minutes of…cuddling. shoko isn’t a morning person anyways.

after a minute, you find it's not entirely awful. it’s a purely physical reaction. gojo is good looking, even with his hair mussed with sleep and his mouth hanging open. because you know that under the softness of his skin lays defined muscle, and spending the morning in his nicely toned arms isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

(it’s purely physical, is what your head tries to convince your heart, which is beating a little faster than usual.)

a very soft, content sigh slips past your lips. 

then, shoko knocks on your door. 

“hey! don’t tell me you’re too hungover for grocery shopping.” 

“shit!” you whisper harshly, shoving him away from you. “she cannot see you in here.” 

“afraid you’ll have to share?” he teases, narrowly avoiding being hit with a pillow. “okay, okay! where do you want me?”

“closet!” you instruct, scrambling my around the room to make sure none of his clothes are lying around. you thrust them into his hands, pushing him into your closet. 

he catches the door before you can close it, smiling down at you. “aren’t you glad we’re doing this?”

you shove him inside, slamming the door shut just ask shoko bursts into the room.

“hey,” you greet, trying your best to appear casual as you lean against the door. your heart beats in your throat, as she squints at you, then lets her gaze sweep across the room.

“did you bring someone home last night?”

“no.”

she looks at you. really looks at you, you think. 

“okay,” she finally says, though you can’t tell if she believes you. “i just– i thought i saw you leave with gojo. suguru said you two were flirting all night.”

“gojo and i?” you try to laugh, but it comes out a little strained. “never in a million years.”

shoko only shrugs, and you let yourself relax when she turns to leave…

…only for her to turn around once more, leaning the the doorframe. “well if you really don't like him, just let him down easy, alright? suguru told me he has a huge crush on you.” 

wait–

“gojo?”

you hear a sharp inhale through the door. 

“yeah,” she nods. “you really couldn't tell?”

gojo…has a crush on you. it takes a few seconds to truly sink in. “i had no idea.” 

“of course you didn't. he’s definitely got a really weird way of showing it.”

she turns to leave for real this time, but you wait a couple extra seconds before opening your closet, finding a wide eyed, blushing satoru staring at you. 

you can't help but laugh. at his expression, at shoko’s revelation, at this entire situation.

dating sucks, but maybe it won’t be that bad if it’s with him.