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xf-cases-solved · 9 months ago

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headcanon/fic idea where during the cancer arc, mulder is over at scully's place on a saturday morning going over a case file (that probably could have waited until monday, but he wanted to check on her, and scully knows that, and mulder knows that scully knows, but they both just keep it to themselves). and at one point, scully checks the time and sighs and says she needs to call and cancel her nail appointment for that afternoon, and when mulder asks her why, she says it's bc her dr prescribed her a new med and it's giving her slight double vision, and "it's a common side effect and it's temporary, but i don't want to drive until i adjust to it, and it's not worth it to pay for a cab just for a manicure"

and mulder is like, "i'm not doing anything today, i'll take you"

and obviously scully dismisses the offer, but he keeps insisting, and the truth of it is, with all the constant med adjustments and (occasionally gross) physical side effects of medication and just being sick in general, she hasn't felt particularly attractive in weeks, and while it's not like she is trying to impress anybody, she takes a lot of pride in her appearance and how she presents herself to the world, and her nails are so brittle and the polish has completely chipped away from her last manicure, and honestly, this one little thing, no matter how inconsequential, really would go a long way to making her feel more like herself

so she eventually relents (which pleasantly surprises mulder bc she is stubborn af)

on the way there she's already apologizing for how boring he'll probably find it -- how frivolous and feminine -- and "it shouldn't take too long, i'll tell her to skip the hand massage," and mulder is like, "if you tell her not to give you a hand massage i will hold you at gunpoint until you let her do it" bc he is NOT about to let her skip out on some self-care bc she's worried he'll be judging her for indulging in something "girly"

(he knows she constantly walks a fine line between expressing her femininity and keeping it to herself bc she's worried it will make her male peers view her less seriously)

her nail tech immediately asks if mulder is her husband, even tho she knows damn well he's not bc she asks him if she's found a man yet at every gd appointment, and when she says no, the nail tech is like, "why not? he's handsome and he took you to your appointment, he seems like good husband material"

(they side step out of the conversation, but she is painfully aware of mulder's smirk)

her nail tech asks mulder if he wants a manicure too, and scully thinks she's probably joking, but mulder is like "hell yeah," and scully feels like how she does when he talks about aliens with random cops and witnesses with a straight face -- like, a little embarrassed, but also in awe of his complete lack of giving a fuck

so they are seated side-by-side and get manicures at the same time

mulder doesn't get any polish, but he lets his nail tech shape his nails and apply cuticle oil and, yes, give him a hand massage

he and scully have a brief debate about her nail polish, bc she always gets a super light pink or just a glossy finish (bc anything bolder would feel like overindulging in her femininity and she doesn't want to give any of her misogynistic peers more ammo), but mulder is mercilessly persistent, saying shit like, "that peach color would look good on you" (it wouldn't, she thinks, she's too pale for it) or "that burgundy one would match the new dark lipstick you got a while ago," and she's sat there wondering when the fuck he noticed something as trivial as the shade of her lipstick, and does that mean he's paid attention to other aspects of her appearance? and if so, what does he think of them?

(eventually she lets him talk her into an insanely light shade of baby blue, mostly bc he said it would complement her eyes and she was too caught off guard to tell him to stuff it, and the nail tech makes another casual quip about how good of a husband he would be, and a teeny tiny voice in the back of her head that she can barely hear is saying, "yeah, actually, he would")

when they're finished, he slips the nail tech his credit card while she is searching for her wallet in her overcoat pocket, and he does not look remotely remorseful when she reprimands him, that bastard

in the car, she can't help laughing at the way he keeps checking out his nails, tilting them so the sunlight hits them through the window and he can see how uniform and shiny they are (his nail tech talked him into a clear top coat)

he offers to drive to the chinese restaurant a few blocks from the lincoln memorial, bc she mentioned to him two weeks ago that whenever she is too nauseous to want food, she can for some reason always stomach that restaurant's egg drop soup, and even tho she's not nauseous rn and has also eaten enough egg drop soup lately that it actually sounds a little abhorrent, she says yes anyway, bc she's so touched that he remembered that small detail

they end up getting an order to go (she orders a full entree of vegetable shrimp along with her soup, and the look of relief and delight on mulder's face when he realizes she has an appetite for once makes her blush)

they go back to her place and watch The Thing, and then a rerun of jeopardy (they're pretty evenly matched in terms of useless trivia knowledge, but the final jeopardy question is "this man is the only doctor in history to have a 300% mortality rate," and scully was saying "dr. liston !" before mulder had a chance to process how that was even possible)

she gets drowsy early (another side effect these days), and mulder is discreet in not pointing it out, and instead makes an excuse about needing to feed his fish so he should probably get going, and once again, they both know what he's doing, but they both keep it to themselves

she walks him to the door, and before he leaves, he takes her hand. she lets him raise it up beside her face, even tho she's not sure what he's doing, until he says, "yep, i was right, these make your eyes even prettier," and like ??? what is she supposed to do with THAT??

in the end she does nothing except let him kiss the tips of her fingers, right on the light blue polish, and then lets him kiss her on the forehead. (she tries not to think about where else she'd like him to kiss her, and fails miserably)

they part with shy goodbyes, and it's only in retrospect that she realizes she hadn't actually thanked him, not really

when she is dressed and ready for bed, she slides under the sheets and calls his cell

"mulder, it's me," and somehow he sounds delighted to hear from her, as if they hadn't just spent the entire day together

"i just wanted to thank you for today. i really needed it"

she isn't able to express her gratitude in full, bc that would require being emotionally vulnerable and she's not v good at that, but she suspects mulder hears what she isn't saying anyway

"anytime, scully," he says, and she knows he means it sincerely. "my hands are so soft, i might have to make this manicure thing a regular occurrence"

she laughs

"goodnight, mulder"

"goodnight, scully"

in the morning, the first thing she notices is the blue of her fingernail polish, and the warm feeling it gives her stays with her through breakfast and all the way through the afternoon

#this was #supposed to just be a paragraph #but i am who i am ig #anyway i just got my nails done and it gave me Thoughts #i did not read this i just rambled and posted #so if it doesn't make sense then o well #(instead of doing my actual irl writing i'll just write long msr headcanons)#won't make me money but #at least it's cute #otp: maybe if it rains sleeping bags #msr #txf #the x-files #diz writes conspiracies #diz spouts conspiracies

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ratsummer · 10 months ago

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Shhhhh shhhhhh I'm getting carried away here, but...

Y'all ever think about Phantom being unphased by griminess when he's first summoned?

Or maybe not unphased, but he just doesn't make cleanliness a priority. Like this guy has been roaming the circles as best he can on his own, more concerned with finding food and shelter and the reluctant ally here and there than with personal hygiene.

Summoning as a general rule isn't a very tidy affair, so no one really notices that first day. Omega and Aether give him the typical, cursory wipedown to remove the worst of the summoning... goo... before bundling him up in soft, loose, flowy robes while his skin is still sensitive. And of course, when they show him where his room his, they introduce him to the baths and let him know he has the rest of the day to clean up and settle in.

Well, morning rolls around and Dew arrives to the breakfast table, ushering a very sleepy little quint along in front of him. Cirrus scolds him for so obviously waking him up before he was ready, but Phantom insists it's okay, please, I asked him to make sure I was awake for breakfast! Don't get angry at him!

And while Phantom explains that Dew stayed up late with him to help him find and organize snacks in his room, Cumulus comes to the table, yawning wide and clutching Aether's arm. She was so excited to greet Phantom and Aurora at their summonings, hugging them tight (despite the goo) and welcoming them into the fold. She's just as excited to see them at breakfast, purring and pressing a kiss into Aurora's hair first before shuffling over to do the same for Phantom.

He can't help but flinch a little as she approaches. Old habits die hard, and he immediately rushes to apologize when she stops in her tracks and frowns. But Cumulus is used to skittish ghouls - she typically accepts boundaries gracefully. No, what's caught her off guard is-

"Phantom, sweetheart, didn't Aether show you how the bath works?" Cumulus' voice is soft and warm, but she's got Aether pinned with a disappointed glare.

Phantom curls in on himself a little, squirming and wrapping his tail around his fingers. "He did... why?"

"Little bat, you've still got... goo... clumped in your hair. That can't feel very good."

And while Phantom is squirming and explaining himself, that he was focusing on getting used to his room, Cumulus starts looking him over more carefully.

She notices his claws, broken and jagged in some spots, dirt and goo clumped around them. Little scrapes, scratches, and bruises littering what little bit of his bare skin is exposed. Hair dry and frizzed up, with tangles and knots all around the base of his horns. And his horns... dried out, brittle, chunks missing near the ends.

Well, Cirrus doesn't call her Fussy Lussy for nothing.

"Oh darling, it's okay you didn't have time last night. I'll tell you what, I was going to have a little spa day today, I've got so many new things I want to try out. How about you come along with me and I'll help you figure out all the knobs in the tub and you can try out some of my soaps!"

Phantom looks a little wary and unsure as Cumulus extends her offer, maybe trying to figure out how to say no, until Aurora gasps and starts kicking her feet excitedly.

"Oh! Phantom! Cumulus helped me wash my hair last night and her soaps smell soooooo good! You're gonna love it!"

So, that's how Phantom ends up reclined neck-deep in deliciously warm bathwater not an hour later.

Cumulus is humming quietly, sitting next to him and lighting all the candles she lined up along the edge of the tub. "These candles are always here," she explains, "And the matches live in that jar tucked over there, so you can use these anytime you want if you like them, alright?"

Phantom just hums a little to let her know he's at least kind of listening. He rubs his toes through a little pile of what Cumulus called epsom salts, enjoying the way the grains crunch and swirl around his feet as they slowly dissolve. He can't remember being so comfortably warm and relaxed, maybe ever.

"Alright, sugar, I've got so many good things to try out. Are you ready?"

Phantom loses track of time quickly, but it must be hours that they soak together. Cumulus grooms him meticulously, and it stirs up achingly precious, half-lit memories from his kit days, when he still had his parents to look after him.

She scrubs his hair thoroughly with a sweet, sudsy shampoo. Her claws scratch deliciously over his scalp, sending goosebumps down his back. She works something called conditioner in next, using her fingers and a comb to tug and tease all the knots out of his hair. Not once does she pull hard enough to hurt.

She rubs a creamy, buttery substance between her palms until it melts into a sweet-scented oil. She massages it over his horns, cooing about how it's adding so much depth to their night-blue color. His claws are next, and Cumulus patiently explains what each of her little tools is for as she goes about trimming, filing, and oiling each one. She even rubs a cream into what she tells him are his cuticles, apparently to soften them or something.

She uses the softest cloth he's ever felt in his whole life ever to wash him thoroughly with a mouth-wateringly scented soap. She's thorough, getting behind his ears and between his toes. While she washes him, she tells him they should talk to Rain later about trimming up his hair so it doesn't fall in his eyes so much. She checks in with him constantly, asking if he's still okay with her washing him or if he'd like to take over.

Once they're out and dry, she helps him put on a creamy lotion before handing him big, soft clothes to pull on. She helps him roll the sleeves and cuff the pants, having stolen them from Swiss.

"He won't miss them, sweetie. That ghoul has the comfiest loungewear and he's always happy to share."

Cumulus insists that the most important part of their spa day is to immediately crawl into her nest to snack, snooze, and watch movies. It's called beauty rest for a reason, Phantom!

It's with a full belly and a clean, relaxed body that Phantom snuggles down under Cumulus' fresh, soft blankets and promptly passes out. It's the deepest, most restorative sleep he's had in ages.

And while he sleeps, Cumulus pets his hair, rubs his back, and generally fusses over whether the blankets are covering him properly. Her entire heart has totally melted for this sweet ghoul who's seen too much hardship, and she vows to make him the most rotten, spoiled little brat the ministry has ever seen.

#okay so maybe i get carried away thinking about soft lovey grooming ghouls #i cant help myself let me live #phantom deserves the world #cumulus is going to ruin him #phantom ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghoul grooming #just fluffy nothing #head empty

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mintmatcha · 10 months ago

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cw: cisfem reader, reader is part gnome, reader wears glasses, sacrilege,

One, two, three. You swirl the last bits of tea counterclockwise and let the bits settle into shapes, order forming from the chaos.

"Are you trying to read the tea leaves?"

You peek up over your glasses. Holm is watching you, head resting against one hand. His cheek is smooshed forward so far that his eye is forced closed in an exhausted wink, and you can't help but smile back at him.

"Maybe."

"Using my blessed tea? My holy herbs?" He frowns, mouth comically down turned, a upside-down U. "That's sacrilege."

You tilt the mug his way. "So you don't want to know what they say?"

That earns you a soft smile, warm and fleeting. It ends with a sigh. "Only if it's good."

It isn't. The leaves tell you of bad decisions, of regrets and heartbreak. You spin your cup once more and watch it all turn to flurries.

"Things are always good with you."

"Hm." He reminds you of a cat, emotions reserved and measured, lips lifted in the middle by his short philtrum. "Hm, hm."

You hadn't intended to end up here, but a couple glasses of wine and a couple bad decisions led you right to his door, a moth to flame. When he answered the door, you told him the inn was full, that other friend's places were too far. It was an obvious lie, but he let you in anyway, made you tea and threw wood on the fire.

He stirs his spoon until his tea swirls, spoon never touching the mug's edge. It's silent, methodical, perhaps a bit soothing.

"The neighbors are going to talk, though." Holm stays placid, voice soft. The silken fabric of his sleep clothes are wrinkled only on one side-- he side he sleeps on, you imagine. "I'm not supposed to be alone with a woman after dark."

He's more devout than most in this part of the country. Prayer at sun rise and sun down, a diet free of meats and alcohol, perfect celibacy; he's the paradigm. Common doesn't have the correct word for the position; monk, priest, shaykh: none of them are quite correct, but close enough that most get the idea.

A holy man.

Certainly someone that shouldn't be having you stay the night.

"They won't." You tilt your mug side to side and the dregs of tea leaves, still wet, catch the light. The shapes change and shift. They still aren't good. "The neighbors know you wouldn't do anything."

"They don't know that." Holm hums. "I// don't know that."

There's a dwindling silence between you, a tension you can't cut through. The unspeakable thing between you grows.

"If something was going to happen between us, it would have already happened."

The fire catches in his eyes as he looks your way, bouncing from one eye to the other, then down to your mouth. He lingers there for a long moment, lids so heavy that you finally understand how thought can be sin-

"Let me get your bed set up."

You take his mug to the sink as he goes down the hall, rustling in closets. The house's quiet is heavy and hearty, so thick you can't swallow it down.

"You can take my bed tonight." He calls down the hall. "Mickbell and Kuro didn't clean the futon last time they stayed over and it's covered in hair."

A headache is already starting to thrum at your temples. Tomorrow, you'll regret all of this, but tonight, you can blame the alcohol.

"I'm not going to ask you to do that."

Holm comes from his bedroom and just shakes his head. You don't fight it; the fire is low and the sun is only a couple hours away.

Even if it wasn't, you'd still stay.

"The sheets are fresh." He musses his hair and its delightfully fluffed, red touched brown has reminds you of your family's old hunting dog. "I'll sleep out here, so I don't wake you in the morning."

Neither of you move. The last bits of fire are dying in the hearth, painting shadows long. Darkness is threatening to engulf you both, swallow you whole, and you use the last bits of light to admire him and his casual, understated beauty-

"Don't." Holm's voice is brittle.

"Don't what?"

"Don't do it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You do." Neither of you move. "It's why you came here."

Your eyes are better than his in the dark. You can see how he seeks you on in the darkness, eyes slightly narrowed.

"My Gods are important to me." His brow is knitted firmly, but his mouth is soft, open. "My spirit is important to me."

"I know."

"If you start, I don't know if I'm strong enough to stop."

He steps closer. "So, don't." Another step forward, until you can feel the glimmer of mana around him. "We can't."

"Okay," you say. "I won't."

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm not."

"Good."

There's only a singular moment before he breaks. He draws you in like a breath, hands clumsily finding your cheeks and cupping them forcefully. The kiss itself is messy, with his nose bumping into your cheek and his lips missing yours, but he takes corrections well. You tilt your head slightly and he meets you there, mouth slotting into yours. You busy yourself with the front of his shirt, undoing just enough buttons to slide your hands against the warm, soft skin of his chest.

The kiss remains chaste, just the friction of skin against skin, until you part your lips more and more, him chasing the contact with wanton want--

Your tongue slides against his and he moans, unabashedly and unembarrassed, into your mouth. Holm pulls back, panting so hard that his chest bumps into yours.

"You-" He swallows, glancing down. His hands slide down your shoulders and to your chest, cupping them clumsily, meekly, hopefully- "You taste like wine."

And he dives in again to suck on your tongue.

The rest is a flurry. Your head spins, your chest aches like it might burst, and Holm keeps kissing you with that earnest, amateur passion that makes your heart sing. Your glasses are knocked halfway off of your face, drooping off your nose. Holm walks your down the hall step by step, in between gasps of breath and nips of teeth, until the cool down of his bed presses against your back.

His bed is fluffy pillows, white sheets, and down. They smell like musk and like they were dried in the sun,

Holm breaks away for a moment, jagged breath against your cheek. His tired eyes are barely open, but they still watch you with a gentle admiration.

"You look like an angel."

Your heart drops. No, this isn't holy. Not at all.

"Oh, Holm." You place a hand on his shoulder and push him away right before his lips find yours again. "We can't do this."

He doesn't move, but you can feel the resistance drain from his muscles.

"I'm choosing you," he whispers. "I know what doing this means and I'm choosing you."

He reaches for your cheek, pleading.

"Let me choose you." Holm's touch is heartbreakingly fleeting. "Let me worship you."

You almost break. You want to break.

"I can't let you do that."

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sophiacloud28 · 2 months ago

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Bayverse WIP Excerpt

Bayverse stuff because I realized I posted something for all the turtles save for Mikey. I feel bad.

Excerpt, Bayverse Mikey, bonding

She's so busy.

Four days into staying with them and he's barely seen her without someone around or doing something. She's always cooking, always working with Donnie, always training with either Raph or Leo. And while the others seem to be trying to make sure they don't ruffle her feathers, he's seeing exhaustion starting to line her body more and more as they leave for patrol, and he hates it. He absolutely loathes it.

"Pizza's fine for tonight."

And that's why, when she talks about dinner, he finally decides to butt in.

He doesn’t like seeing her upset. He doesn't like the fact that she goes quiet as they work on breakfast — cooking's a blast, he should do it more often. But he can see the shadows under her eyes and it's starting to bother him.

"By the way, I'm calling dibs on your afternoon."

"But –"

"Dibs."

So, for once in his life, he's going to take a little of what he's been seeing Leo do and try to apply it.

Won't stick, but at least it gets her out of the lair and away from his brothers for a bit, even if it means he's gotta anger Leo by grabbing her and taking off on his skateboard.

"Michelangelo!"

Along with upsetting her once he puts her down, flinching under the look.

"I called dibs."

"And I was talking to your brother about it! You know Leo!"

"Yeah, well. Mr. Fearless Leader is being overprotective, if you ask me," he says, spinning his skateboard under his hand.

"Mikey."

"Not to mention passive. I mean, how has he not noticed when he already did it twice?" he ignores her objection while grabbing his board to put it slide it onto his shell, deciding to continue when she doesn’t respond, "Not because I'm not around that I don't notice you being all over the place, you know. Other than when you pass out on the couch, have you taken a break?"

"I meditate."

He scowls, "Fat lot of good that's doing you. You looked more tired coming out of that session than going in."

"How would you know?"

Good old brittle defense, "Cooking sesh aren't just because I wanna help, you know?"

Which he hates seeing cave in, but he knows it to be necessary as she takes a slight step back, hands going behind her back in guilt.

"I didn't… I'm sorry, Michelangelo."

"It's fine. Just… someone's gotta do something and my brothers ain't doing it."

"Fair," she breathes before speaking up, "So, what did you have in mind?"

"You still owe me a movie, but I guess we can do that next time. Walk? I can show you what I found."

"Unless we plan a movie night, I don't think that'll happen, Mikey."

"There's one every month. Only thing is who gets to choose the movie."

"Every month?" she asks, making him nod.

"Yeah. Once a month we take a break from patrol and stay home. Family thing. I think this month's at the end of this week, actually."

"Who's choice?"

"Mine. But I can make it yours. Did you have an idea?"

"I think I might. What do you guys like watching?"

"Leo loves period stuff, Raph's big into action movies, Donnie likes documentaries, and Dad likes Eastern movies."

"What about you?"

"As long as it can capture my attention for more than five minutes, it's a winner."

She chuckles, "Something tells me that's not as simple as it sounds."

"Just from listening to my brothers' groans? Nah."

"I think I might have something, then. As long as you guys are alright with slight gore and weird visuals."

"Weird visuals?"

"It's animated, so some of the expressions are really exaggerated. But the story's interesting."

"… I don't think we've watched anything animated."

"You up for it, then?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sounds fun."

"I'll ask April to snag it from home, then. Do you guys have a DVD player?"

He snorts, "Wait until you see the setup, pretty girl. You won't wonder about that then."

She giggles, "Fair enough." Before coming to a stop along the tracks, "I'm sorry I worried you, Mikey."

And he tries waving it off, "Just remember to take a break every once in a while. It says something when Leo and Donnie catch more of a break than you do."

"You think so?"

"They get lunch and dinner. You don't."

"… Fair enough."

Before walking back to her, not liking the way she's holding onto her arm and not looking his way.

He might not know the full details, but he can tell she's got it rough. No one breaks their back to support another unless they know somebody else will, or they're looking for something. And from the way Stella reacts, she's in the latter camp.

"Hey Stella?"

"Hm?"

"I know the rest of my brothers are stingy about it, but... You're family, okay? You don't need to show us you're useful."

She smiles, "I know. Hamato-san said the same thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she echoes, "Said something about Leo and I being fated to meet."

"Well, I don't know about fate, but I do know that I'm glad to have you around. I feel a bit more useful now thanks to all those cooking lessons, so much so that I was hoping to ask you if we could trade off. I cook some, you cook some. And, well, if nothing else, you're making us happy, and that's enough all on its own, I would think."

"… Is that the reason you took my afternoon?"

He waves his hand in a so-so motion, rubbing the back of his head, "Kind of. I really think you need a break, and the fact that I wanted to ask you if I could try cooking lunch on my own tomorrow was secondary."

"Tomorrow's lunch?"

"Yeah. I think I got a good idea on how to get everything done. If you want, though, you can stick around and give me advice."

"I was planning on using the pressure cooker for tomorrow's lunch, actually."

… Oh.

"Pressure cooker?"

"The tall pot that's right next to the slow cooker. The pork shoulder has already been thawing in the fridge for a day, now."

He brings his hands in front of himself in a stop motion, "Is that the only thing that's new?"

"Yes."

"Can you give me instructions on how to use it?"

"More than."

"Then you sit at the island and tell me what needs to be done and I'll do it. How's that sound?"

"If the fact that you've been able to keep up with me during the chicken stew is any indication, I think you'll be more than able to."

"Really?"

She nods with a smile, "Really. The only thing is the pressure cooker since it's something you don't know, but with how you get in the kitchen, you should be fine."

And joy bubbles up to the surface as he grabs her and twirls her around. There's a gasp before giggles come pouring out while he settles her on his shoulder, and he pulls out his skateboard while keeping a hand on her.

"Let me down, Mikey."

"Nah. I got something I want to show you."

"Wouldn't it be easier in a fireman's carry?"

"And have you missing the show? No way. You get the VIP seat, pretty girl," he replies as he rolls his shoulder, getting a giggle and something warm laying itself on his temple. He looks up and blinks as he catches sight of her smile. Of something soft in her eyes that makes him grin in turn.

"Thank you, Mikey." Before he chirps, almost embarrassing himself if not for the gentle chuckle she gives at it.

taglist:

@silverwatergalaxy @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @thelaundrybitch @luckycharms1701 @thepinkpanther83

@avery73 @the-cauldron-witch @redsrooftopprincess @iridescentflamingo @ninnosaurus

@milykins @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @truffle-reblogs @adebauchedsloth

@raphsmuneca @theanonymousninja247

#bayverse tmnt #tmnt aged up #Bayverse mikey #my writings #because it's been a while

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azes-ocean · 5 months ago

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𝕲𝖔𝖑𝖉

Zhongli x reincarnated gn!reader Angst » comfort(?) An: Hi. Wow, my recent stories suck :3 Finals are tomorrow but I love procastination! Warnings: Reader death, graphic descriptions of blood and violence. Summary: Gold is a precious jewel that glimmers even in the darkness. It is able to withstand even the most powerful forces with mere dents that can be flawlessly fixed. It's only weakness is that when it's old and brittle, it shatters, if not thrown away first.

To Rex Lapis, you were an interesting soul. An Adepti with a profound curiousity in humans. Most of your kind hardly bothered with such things, deeming them trivial. Every week, without fail, you made it a point to drag the geo archon to Liyue, giggling at how he managed to seem surprised with your timing at every instance of this happening. "Aren't humans amazing?" You whisper in awe, glancing down from where you were sitting. This excursion had led you both to the quiet peak of a mountain overlooking Liyue. It was breathtaking, to say the least. "They have such short lifespans yet they manage to have so many industrious inventions!" You were pointing at the 'windmill' of the humans. A simple, yet valuable contraption, he supposed. Yet Rex Lapis's eyes were not focused on that human made object-no. His eyes slowly trailed to your gleaming features beside him, leaning close to the cliffs end. You were smiling... "You look beautiful when your excited." He hardly knew why he said that, it was a mere passing thought he should have kept to himself. Yet...the look on your face was well worth it. You gave him a teasing smirk, "Aww, but you can't switch the roles here! You'll be pretty, I'll be hot." He let out chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "You can be both." He mused affectionately, his hands settling beside him. His chest felt extremely warm, which was odd. He didn't recall any tea having this side effe- ...his cheeks were warm too now. His hand was about to cover his face in embarassment, already starting to turn away before your hands reached out to hold him. "Who knew you got flustered this easily?" You observed, pleased. It was undeniably cute, after all.

"Every journey has its final day. Don't rush." -- To Morax, you were a dearest companion. A trustworthy ally in battle, and a comforting presence over tea. He had witnessed great a many betrayals, both intentional and not. Yet you stayed steadfast by his side, his ever-loyal subordinate. Battles had already caught Liyue in fire within the span of a year. Friends, partners, even enemies met desolate ends at the hands of countless monsters emerging from the abyss. It was a horrific event, new wounds scorning the land so deep many wondered whether they would ever heal. Morax was not spared his fate either, forced to watch with a steady hand as his nation's people were slaughtered by the thousands infront of him. Blood painted almost sickeningly welcoming landscapes every battle, marking a grave for the deceased and scaring the survivors. As every battle closed, the remaining would slowly trudge away from the garish sights, making their way for 'home'. Morax was no different, dismissing his warriors before plodding to the home you shared, every step closer to you seeming lighter. Until he noticed the specks of blood on an open door. "Y/n?" His voice tensed as he quickly made his way to the front, hesitating to come inside. His mind started to conjure up the worst possibility, his thoughts still in the battlefied. No. That wasn't going to happen. He closed his eyes and braced himself, steeling his breaths. Taking out his spear, already in position to fight anything that may be threatening you, he burst open the door, breath heaving with almost petrifying fear. Morax was about to get into a offensive stance before- "...!" There was nothing to fight. The job was over, and he couldn't even attempt to stop it. "Y/n..!" Crimson pooled the area around you, painting the floor a gruesome work of art. Your face was pale, the usual welcoming smile brutally wiped clean. You...didn't seem to be breathing. "My dear...?" Morax whispered, his voice shaking as he knelt next to you, putting a hand on your pulse point.

He closed his eyes, desperately waiting, hoping for any sign you were alive. After all, you were the one who told him and promised him that eternity would be your bond. A few seconds passed like bricks, each one adding weight to his shoulders. Reality started to crash into his face. As if they the world needed one more person from him. No. No. If they did need another person from him then take them. Anyone. Please. Anyone but you. More time passed, the only sound in the area being the faint rustle of leaves and Morax's heavy breaths. "No...w-what? T-thats. No." Morax looked down, tears starting to fall from his eyes. The great geo archon started to cry, grabbing your shoulder, "No...no...Y-Y/n. I order you to stay a-alive. I'll reward you...I'll reward you greatly." He managed, burrying his face into your cold neck, his tears cleansing some of the blood littering your cheeks. His heart froze up in pure terror and denial. No, no. His wordless cries soon turned into a chant of your name being repeated like a mantra, over and over again. As if doing that would bring you back. Would stop this war. Idiotic of him. "My dear-my love, look at me. Please, please look at me. Live. Please." See? He was begging you. The proud god had never knelt so fervently to anyone before. So you'd definitely heed his request. You needed to. But no. You were a traitor too. You disobeyed him "Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remember... But where are those who share the memory?"

-- To Zhongli you were distant memory filled with love. One he'd remenisce about every day. He would smile as he passed by the cities of Liyue, knowing how pleased you would be with the human's growth. You would definitely light up and recite what you knew about them from books. All the other adepti had joked that you talked more than the geo archon himself. "..." Wouldn't it be funny to admit his knowledge he was prided for mostly came from you? You would have giggled. Thats all that mattered. "I love you my dear..." Zhongli whispered to the wind, a stray tear falling down his cheek. He had never mourned you enough, and will never, hm? Though in the moment,he could almost hear the breeze whisper back the affirmation. He chuckled, "Ahh...Perhaps I am going senile." " Should the day ever come that we are not together, you will continue to shine like gold in my memories."

"My dear."

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becausebuckley · 7 months ago

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michelle's buddie fic recs: week 41!

another excellent reading week <3 this list is spoiler free for season 8: for season 8 fic recs, click here!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading!

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

for thy true-love take | lecornergirl/@clusterbuck| 1.9k | T

Chimney Han and the ethics of slipping your coworkers love potions. chimneyhen bestieism!! this felt so them <3

from the ground up | blueberrytwoberry/@blueberrytwoberry| 17.5k | M

And so, really, the last thing he needed when he got home at the end of a long shift was to find a massive, weird-ass dog curled up on his front porch. And yet, there it was. just this morning i realised what a goldmine animal transformation aus can be and wow this was exactly what i was looking for!! the maddie scene had me giggling, such a lovely fic!!

i can't sleep without you | Buddiesmutslut/@buddiesmutslut | 1.9k | G

He can exhaust himself with a workout or a good shift or a night out, but by the time he climbs into his bed, he lays awake for hours, replaying his mistakes over and over again. He’s barely sleeping, beyond exhausted and he just wants to go home. so so soft and so lovely <3 exactly the comfort i needed earlier this week

i didn't know (that it could be good) | rainbow_nerds/@rainbow-nerdss | 27k | E

They're friends, that's all there is to it. Until Eddie lets himself into Buck's apartment unannounced, and finds him in a compromising position. That should be nothing, just something to laugh about down the line, except afterwards, it's like a switch has flipped, and neither of them can get it out of their minds. okay yes yes the smut is good the clothes sharing is nice the sexual tension is so there but can we talk about the butterflies?? just read this and you'll know what i mean it will be so worth it i promise. a new favourite for sure <3

i'll be the north star that takes you home | marviless/@marviless | 7.9k | G

in which eddie is moving back to el paso for the summer, and buck is deeply in love. listen the idea of eddie moving to el paso hurts me and also hurts buck BUT when it leads to fics like this i suddenly don't mind anymore <3 the airport scene!!

i'll keep your brittle heart warm | reeseofmind | 12.8k | E

5 times buck and eddie wear the other's clothes + 1 time they don't wear much of anything. i've been deep in the clothes sharing tag and this was one of my favourite finds <3

in synchronicity with the score | therainbowsedge/@therainbowsedge | 30.2k | E

“How long have you gone without scening?” And isn’t that a loaded question that Buck doesn’t even know how to start responding to. i have such a weak spot for fics like this. this has some gorgeous descriptive passages and looks into buck's mindset in this au!

love like woven thread | renecdote/@renecdote | 1.9k | G

the one where Eddie is a clothes thief and Buck kind of loves that about him. the ultimate hurt/comfort fluff clothes stealing fic <3 so lovely!! i reread this while working on this rec list actually hehe

steal my abuela (you already have my heart) | anarchyat4am | 4.6k | T

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, “You really showed up for me yesterday. Thank you.” “Course,” Buck says, “We had fun.” “Fun? You sat in the ER with my abuela for three hours.”. buck and abuela!! i love them together so much!! family feels indeed <3

vary my days | Chash | 12.6k | T

After Christopher leaves, Frank tells Eddie to get a hobby. Eddie picks Legos, Buck picks crochet, and they both wait for Chris to talk to them again. eddie and the legos my absolute beloved <3 such a fantastic working of these characters!!

you've haunted me so stunningly | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 9.6k | T

Five times Buck and Eddie hold hands, one time they do by proxy, and one time Eddie freaks out about it. holding hands!! so so hurt/comfort in the best way possible. i was saving this one for a bus ride home after a long day and it hit the spot exactly <3

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 fic #911 fic rec #michelle's recs #fic rec list #the links on this one were fighting me rip i hope they work properly now!

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procyonloser · 8 months ago

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(orc/elf Adamsapple mini. warning for mentions of childbirth and violence/bloodshed)

Adam was exhausted, his breathing was only now starting to even out, but he couldn't sleep yet. One of the taller elves handed him a round crying bundle, which he pulled up onto his breast.

The infant looked massive in comparison to the elven children that watched on from the entrance of the room - but it was minute compared to any orc children. His eldest child sat beside him on the birthing bed, sucking his thumb, not fully understanding what was going on, but he was just barely walking yet. Like his eldest, this infant had shorter pointed ears, somewhere between elf and orc, and a short tail, which the elven children found wildly hilarious. He knew his children would have a hard time growing up here, already being called names, like piglet. The alternative was impossible, his own village would kill them immediately.

Lucifer leaned in, pressing a kiss upon his brow, and then onto the newborn. A little girl, with a shock of blonde hair, showing she did take after him just as much as she did Adam.

"You've done beautifully, my love." Lucifer said, and Adam wanted to be happy, but the elven wet nurses looked at him with disdain at best, disgust at worst. They weren't supposed to allow orcs into their lands, and Lucifer was far from the most popular elf, even before he brought Adam home.

Maybe they'd find somewhere, someday, for their family - away from all the names and looks.

But how had he even gotten here? Well, it started two years back.

The orc village Adam was from was one of the largest, and Adam was the firstborn son of the current ruler. That, of course, didn't secure his position. He had to fight to keep it, and it was only a matter of time until someone challenged his father, or he was killed out on a raid. His sisters too seemed eager to get rid of him, but Adam wasn't about to let that happen. There were multiple ways to win favor within his village, but capturing an elf was always a big one.

They were fast, they could use magic, they had more advanced weaponry, and they had jewelry. They were always bedecked in things that glimmered, things that Adam's village had little of. Adam needed a wife to secure his own future as well, he needed heirs, and he needed gold to melt down and turn into a marriage dagger for the orc of his choosing. So, Adam needed an elf.

And, he'd just so happened to have spotted one in this area recently, an open glen within the woods. It was very far outside the line of their own territory, which meant the elf was either strong, or incredibly stupid - or as his mother Asherah, would say about Adam, a stunning mix of both.

Adam sat up on a high oak branch, one heavy enough to carry him, watching from above as his target made itself known. He couldn't tell if it was male or female, elves all looked the same to him, but it seemed short, even for their species. It walked around the glen, picking up sticks, bending them like it was testing the brittleness, before throwing them away. Elven bows were one of their worst weapons, the orcs had nothing so long distance besides throwing spears.

Adam waited until it was turned around, before he jumped down from his hiding spot, and swung his club hard into the elven figure with a cackle. It went flying, hitting a rocky outcrop, and collapsing as a cloud of dust rose around it. Adam grinned, resting his club on the ground, and waiting to see if the elf got back up.

"You shouldn't have come out so far, little one. You know, if you're not dead, all you need to do is give me all your jewelry and clothing, and I'll let you live." That was a lie. "You can go home." Adam wanted to see first if it was a male or female, then he'd probably trade them off to the humans.

The elf pushed up onto a hand, and Adam's grin spread. It was stronger than he'd thought. As the dust cleared, the elf got to it's feet, and made eye contact with Adam. Red eyes, that was uncommon.

"Somehow I doubt that," the elf said wryly, in a deeper voice than he'd expected. He had no weapons on him that he could see, not even a knife.

"Are you male?" Adam asked, and the elf gave a small nod. "Well, I have to admit that's less interesting."

Adam raised his club again, ready to finish the job. "Make your choice, elf."

The elf raised an eyebrow, dusting himself off, like he was entirely uninterested in Adam's threats.

Maybe because he was.

With a flick of his wrist, Adam went flying backwards, dropping his club, and falling down the side of a riverbank. Immediately, he knew something was wrong, he'd not expected such powerful magic out of an elf so small. Adam coughed, and coughed until it came up red as he landed, feeling a sharp pain begin to radiate from his center. Adam looked down, and felt cold. He'd landed on a downed tree, and a jagged broken branch had impaled him through his stomach.

The elf appeared at the edge of the riverbank, expression going from tired, to shocked. In an instant, he'd silently jumped down beside Adam, looking over the wound. "Oh no...I didn't mean for this to happen..." He whispered to himself, chewing on his lip.

Up close, Adam could see he was very pretty. A small heart shaped face, large eyes, long sharp pointed ears covered in dangling gold and gems. Adam's breathing got more haggard as he watched him move around, as though he was trying to find some angle where Adam wasn't going to die.

"Hey, what's your name?" Adam asked quietly, and the elf looked up, startled.

"Lucifer."

"I'm Adam. Could you do me a last favor? You elves have honor, right?" Lucifer paused, but nodded. "Could you give me one of your necklaces? When my people find my body, I want them to know I fought. I want my mother to have it."

Lucifer watched him, brows knit together as Adam spoke. He looked more pained than Adam felt, because, in truth, he'd started to not feel much of anything. He was cold, that's all he felt.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, why did you have to-" Lucifer shook his head, before he raised a hand, and Adam began to raise off the branch. Blood began to pour out of his open wound, as Lucifer lowered him onto river stones. A golden glow surrounded delicate fingers, and he pressed them against Adam's stomach.

"I'm not going to let you die, Adam. I'm going to heal you, then you can see your mother yourself." Lucifer said, meeting his eyes with resolution on his face. He raised a bloodied hand to Adam's cheek, caressing it just briefly, before returning it to start the healing work. Adam closed his eyes at the soft touch, and waited for death to take him, but it never came.

Adam woke up, who knew how much later, weak, but alive. They were in a cave, illuminated by a soft red glow, and he heard gentle singing, and felt a hand running through his hair. He leaned into the touch.

It was the beginning of their life together.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #my fics #orcelf

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hpowellsmith · 9 months ago

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Heart's Choice WIP announcement: Heart of the Mountain by Fay Ikin

Heart of the Mountain is a new Heart's Choice text game by Fay Ikin, the author of Heart of Battle and Asteroid Run: No Questions Asked. It's in the same setting as Heart of Battle, with a new MC and totally standalone.

Play Chapter 1 here! Fay would love to hear whatever feedback you have if you have a moment - either on the forum, or send it to me and I'll pass it on to her as she's not on here.

The war between the Coritan Republic and Messimera has been over for years, but as a magician you’ll never be free of your duties to your country.

With control over warmth and heat energy, you’ve been sent to a remote Messimeran outpost, where a small group of soldiers from both sides have been tasked to cooperate and guard the northernmost demilitarized zone…where your predecessor went mysteriously missing.

If anyone crosses the mountain pass or the frozen waterway, the peace treaties could fail. It’s frigid, isolated work, and monotonous until a mysterious fellow magician falls at your doorstep hiding dangerous secrets. Will you welcome your kind, or support your colleagues’ suspicions of them?

Everyone has their own agenda - and their own secrets to guard. When their goals oppose each other, who will you support and who will you stand against? Who will you keep close when your magic starts to fail, when paranoia and fear strike the outpost? A mysterious force within the mountain threatens to topple everything your country has worked for. What are you willing to lose to survive - your livelihood, your love, or your magic itself?

Heart of the Mountain is set in the same setting as Heart of Battle, 4-5 years later. All of the characters are new for this game, though backstory elements can have some familiar notes from the previous game. You won’t need to have played Heart of Battle to play this game.

I’m aiming for 3 or 4 chillies - some sex scenes are very explicit, and some will (at the reader’s choice) feature some intense kinky experiences.

As with Heart of Battle, it’s v/v. The MC can be a man (cis, trans or non-specified), woman (cis, trans or non-specified) or non-binary person (AMAB, AFAB, or not specified); the love interests are selectable between cis man/cis woman/non-binary.

There are four characters alongside the MC - everyone the MC interacts with is romanceable and plot relevant, and the conflict between different love interests’ goals and ambitions drives the plot.

All the characters have the possibility of a happy ending, but on some high-conflict routes some characters can become hostile antagonists

There are currently some polyamorous options planned: Eleri/Felician/MC, and Stelare/Theano/MC.

Romance Options:

Captain Felician Resende

GRIEVING OFFICER from the Coritan Republic

Felician’s magician best friend, the MC’s predecessor, went missing a month ago: a devastating loss Felician is still struggling to accept. With bad experiences with magic in the war, and a lingering deep distrust of magic, Felician’s trying hard to keep it out of the way of professional - or personal - relationships.

Best Felician: honorable, go-getting, enthusiastic

Worst Felician: inflexible, manic, controlling

What to say: “I agree, a five mile hike is a perfect team-building opportunity!”

What not to say: “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve made some amendments to your chore chart!”

Sergeant Eleri Katsaros

CONFLICTED ENGINEER from Messimera

You can’t get secrets out of Eleri with a prybar, but it’s still obvious that Sergeant Katsaros bitterly regrets whatever happened during the war. So now, here’s someone committed to being kind while frozen with shame. Eleri can’t imagine being called a good person, let alone believing it.

Best Eleri: Idealistic, practical, reliable

Worst Eleri: Fatalistic, brittle, volatile

What to say: “Let’s stay up until four in the morning to do inventory. In silence.”

What not to say: “I’ll only give you your toolbox back if you can name five things you like about yourself.”

Doctor Theano Leventis

MISANTHROPIC PHYSICIAN from Messimera

“Doctor Leventis has the potential to be a shining star of the Messimeran Army…if only Leventis could match talent with compassion”.

This, like other performance reviews, Theano has disregarded as ‘pointless sap’. There’s little point in babying other people’s emotions when there’s any number of things to do instead: music, reading, gambling, scientific analysis…you name it, Theano can do it. Unless it requires a bedside manner.

Best Theano: Creative, progressive, perceptive

Worst Theano: Bitter, destructive, dismissive

What to say: “Why would we be emotionally vulnerable with each other when we could get drunk and pass out instead?”

What not to say: “I’m sorry, but the future of the outpost relies on your ability to give me a convincing hug.”

Stelare Belmonte

FLIGHTY MAGICIAN from the Coritan Republic

Magic academy washout, army washout, an Illustrious’ magickeeper’s washout, an arena designer washout…is there anything Stelare can’t get fired from for ‘wilful disobedience and lack of adherence to basic safety’?

Stelare has telekinetic magic: the application of force to move and manipulate the world. But instead of being indispensable, Stelare has happily embraced the label of ‘massive liability’ and the freedom that comes with it. But what exactly is the plan on this remote, classified mountaintop?

At their best: Passionate, ambitious, protective

At their worst: Unpredictable, careless, vindictive

What to say: “I made you some hot chocolate, the others are so jealous!”

What not to say: “You don’t scare me…you’re just mediocre.”

#interactive fiction #choice of games #heart's choice #choicescript game #text game #fay ikin #heart of the mountain #heart of battle #choicescript #romance games #amare games #if wip #dashingdon #dashingdon wip #interactive novel wip #I am an absolute wife guy about this incredible game <3 #incredibly proud of my wife's hard work #and incredibly normal about the characters

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winchesterwild78 · 2 months ago

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The Unspoken Promise

Characters: Jensen x Reader

TW: Death of a parent.

A/N: For a dear friend who is having some rough days. I love you and hope this helps a little. ❤️

Minors DNI 18+

The rain was a relentless, grey curtain, mirroring the storm inside me. Three years. Three years since the phone call, the hospital, the empty chair at the head of the table. Three years since I lost my mom.

Jensen's voice, warm and familiar, crackled through the phone. "Hey, babe. How's my girl doing?"

"Fine," I managed, the word a thin, brittle thing. "Just…fine. How's filming?"

"Long hours, but it's going well. I miss you." He paused. "You sound…off. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just tired. You know, work's been crazy." I forced a laugh, a hollow, echoing sound. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"Okay," he said, but the single word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken questions. "I'll call you tomorrow. Love you."

"Love you too," I whispered, and the line went dead.

I curled up on the couch, the silence of the apartment amplifying the ache in my chest. The rain hammered against the windows, a constant, mournful rhythm. I knew I hadn't fooled him. Jensen knew me too well.

He’d always known.

Hours blurred into a haze of grief and exhaustion. I drifted to my bedroom, the cool sheets a small comfort. Sleep came, but it was a restless, tear-streaked slumber.

The soft click of the front door woke me. I blinked, disoriented, my heart pounding. It couldn't be...

A figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim hallway light. Jensen.

He moved silently, his footsteps barely audible on the carpet. The sight of my tear-stained face seemed to stop him in his tracks. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out, gently brushing a stray tear from my cheek.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice thick with concern.

He didn't ask questions. He didn't offer platitudes. He simply pulled me into his arms, his embrace warm and strong. I clung to him, the sobs I'd been holding back finally breaking free.

He held me until the storm inside me began to subside, his hand stroking my hair, his presence a steady anchor in the swirling chaos of my grief.

"I knew you weren't fine," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I knew."

"I didn't want to bother you," I mumbled, my voice muffled against his chest.

"You could never bother me," he said, his voice firm. "Never. I'm here. I'll always be here."

He held me tighter, the silence filled with unspoken words. The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the unwavering strength of his embrace – it was a promise. A promise that no matter how dark the days, no matter how heavy the grief, he would be there.

He stayed with me, his presence a silent reassurance, a beacon in the darkness. He held me through the night, a tangible reminder that even in the face of overwhelming loss, I was not alone. Jensen was here, and he would always be.

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.

Tags:

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573

@k-slla @jackles010378

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

@roseblue373 @cheynovak

@jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

@spxideyver @reignsboy19

@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

@ladykitana90 @quietgirll75

@superrey @kamisobsessed

@obliviousap @ninii-winchester

@mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @whimsyfinny

@bobbdylan @star-yawnznn

@reignsboy19 @monkey-d-hoshizora98

@depressionbarbie2023 @livingdeadblondequeen

@mandee7 @barnes70stark

@spnaquakindgdom @djs8891

@pughsexual @spnaquakindgdom

@lunaleah @amberlthomas

@rebecca-hvnstn

#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jensen ackles x reader

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sourbites · 7 months ago

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What Remains After Fury

You knew Metallica, and everyone involved, were stressed for weeks building up to the Seattle event. It's been built up in everyone's minds to be this huge thing, and it's honestly really freaking James out. He's been restless, and sleepless, and his temper is more brittle than ever. Which has rubbed off on the others. Lars and James are fighting like never before, Jason's everyone's punching bag, and Kirk can't keep them calm and together forever. With that awesome environment, everyone on the team has been just as brooding, skulking around the venue at rehearsal as if they're being forced to show up.

That's why you're so surprised when you see James, a giddy James, floating around backstage when he's got an encore to show up for in a dozen minutes or so. You know it's James, even with his back to you. You'd recognise him off the beating of your own heart if you had to.

Gently, mindful of his recent mood, you remind him. "Don't forget your encore, James." You say coolly, masking the schoolgirlish sigh you want to swoon out at the sight of him.

Beer in hand (as usual), he turns to you: "I won't. Just wanted to come see you. How you doin', darlin'? Workin' hard?"

It's funny how he almost sounds southern, despite living in California for most of his life. That bluesy purr of his voice does nothing to cauterise the red-hot lust spilling out of you as if you have a bleeding head wound. It certainly feels that way sometimes, as if your mind fogs. Grinning, James raises his brows at you expectantly. Oh fuck, he's expecting an answer.

You swallow dryly, almost stupefied. "Shut up, that's not nearly as smooth as you think it is."

He laughs, his shoulders shaking subtly as the air enters and exits his chest. A thick bicep curls around the top of your shoulders, bringing you to his side for a quick hug. His skin is warm, molten hot — a little clammy from performing for at least two hours by now.

"I'll take your word for it," He hums, slowly slipping his hand down low, low, low. Dutifully following the surface of your back, the dips of your spine, until he reaches the small of your back. Thick fingers grope into your shirt, rounding out around the swell of your hips.

There's a heavy pause for a moment or two. His hair swooshes around as he looks around backstage. Most other crew members are tuning stuff and messing around with lights. AKA: doing what you should also be doing.

"Fuck it," You hear him murmur lowly. "You wanna take your break right now?" The question is directed at you.

You wring your hands in excited nervousness, despite finding yourself nodding. "We shouldn't take too long, though." You remind. The clock's still ticking, and there's a mass of fans preparing for an encore, crowding around the stage restlessly.

"Don't you fuckin' worry about that," James' hand is already rushing you into some emptied-out storage room, hot on your heels himself.

The door to the little room slots closed, the lock following soon after. The four walls are bare save for a shelf where James is already surrendering his bottle of half-savoured beer. The light is an old, warm-toned fluorescent that flickers painfully every few seconds— as if it's sighing in exhaustion.

With both of his hands aching with idleness, James busies himself by slipping his warm, big palms over your figure, drawing you in with both his index fingers hooked around the belt loops of your skirt. You walk the three steps towards him until your frame bumps into his. Greedily, his hands cup your waist, gathering the material of your shirt into fists. His hot mouth is on yours, devouring your every breath. Your skin rasps against his moustache, a cool nose nudging into his. Just to make matters worse and get you further under his spell, he grazes his teeth against your lower lip, heavy-handedly groping your ass through your skirt.

You don't have time for the slowness, and James doesn't have the sobriety for the tenderness. Skirts are bunched up around the waist, and fly zippers are hatefully yanked down. Tongues swipe over lips, and corners of mouths, getting tasted indulgently. His tongue's in your mouth, and you react on instinct, sucking around it as your palms slip under his shirt, venturing up, and raking your nails back down. He shudders, patting you on the ass in his approval. You smile inwardly, nipping at his neck before you sink to your knees. It's a Pavlovian reaction, to kneel around James' thighs or at his boots.

With prying hands, you manage to tug down his boxers enough. His cock is already heavy and hard, springing up and smacking into his abdomen. Wrapping a hand around his base to secure him, you lean in, your soft breath hot against his skin. You can see the chills on James' arm before he reaches to you, threading thick ringed fingers through your hair reverently. You mouth at his head for a few moments, your lips sliding over his ever-wettening tip. With a few kisses, you sink further onto him. Your tongue flutters around his shaft, tracing the art of the vein that runs along the underside of his impressively thick cock.

James hisses once your drooling lips take him into your mouth. Precum beads a pearly, translucent shine around his peachy-skinned tip. The bluntness of his short fingernails scrape along your scalp, fisting your hair at the crown of your head. You can feel his pelvis and hips flinching. He's holding back. You try to ease him into the hollow of your throat, knowing that eases him.

"Nah, sweetheart. No time for that." James sighs, before practically scalping you with how much force he uses to yank you off him. You follow, jerked backwards with a throaty gasp.

He cups your cheek, stroking down your messy hair. "Later, alright?" He promises, grinning again.

You're guided to stand up, your back firmly pressed into the wall. His breath mingles with yours, and you can almost taste the deeply malted beer on his breath. Fuck, he makes you dizzy. James cups your thigh, steering it around his hip. With his other hand, he gathers your panties and ushers them to the side.

You find your place in the crook of his neck, sighing as he glides his now glistening cock over your wettened slit. In a dull, ache, tingle, James bullies his way into you, his fingers splayed and gripping onto where your hip meets your thigh in vehemence. He bumps against your cervix, his hips jutted forward as if he wants it to bruise you. Shuddering, your breath stops with every time you meet.

Golden, shining locks are swept to the side as you sink your teeth into James' flesh, tongue swiping over the slab of meat that connects his neck to his broad shoulders. You can almost feel his rock-hard cock in the pit of your lungs each time you ambitiously try to breathe. God, he's a monster.

Heated limbs wrap around heated limbs as he carves his hips into yours as if he's a worshiper of some deity, and you, his worshipee. A cry is forced out of you as James withdraws himself, only to pour into you, burning your bruise-tender skin as he goes. He stumbles faster and faster into you, smothering a palm to your mouth to muffle the sounds of your noises. As if that makes anything more subtle. The room is full of heavy breaths, skin punching into skin, and the obscenely vulgar sounds of slicked arousal drooling and bubbling from your puffy cunt with each schlick and schlock of James' thrusts. But sure, you need to keep your noise down.

Tears prickle at your waterline. Each shaky inhale is gutted out of you, your moans stuttering every time you're fucked into the wall.

"Shh, attagirl. Keep quiet f'me," James rasps out, grazing his teeth into the shell of your ear for a moment, dipping further into your warm bubble of space. Furiously charmed, you lean into him; maybe to take some weight off of your one leg that's not wrapped firmly around his waist.

James' hips are snapping into yours, bucking and pressing as if he intends to flatten you. You feel malleable anyway: like hot clay, a pile of mush that's bolstered up with every nasty hurl of his aggressively penetrating cock.

As if you weren't already close to going into cardiac arrest, you can hear the winding corridors quickly fill with hustling and bustling. The encore must be close. And James is missing (or busy, is a better term for it). And the man in question doesn't even seem to notice. His chest rumbles with a deep, rich moan. He bows his head down, caressing the base of your neck with an open mouth. Your pulse is thrumming. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage. You're not sure what will remain of you after James' fury.

"C'mon, sweetheart," He coaxes between smoky gasps of breath. "I know you're close." He goads. You can feel his smirk against your skin.

His calloused fingertips sweep up your throat, cupping your cheek. Uncharacteristically tenderly, he plants a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You grip him, any part of him you can manage, in a blind panic. His hair, his shirt, bicep, forearm, shoulder. Anything and everything that will help anchor you to reality as the sheer consciousness is viciously and thoroughly fucked out of you. Brain melting and going straight to that wild, fluttery pit in your stomach that thirsts to boil over.

You throw your head back against the wall, otherwise limp with jellified limbs if not for James being your pillar. Sensing what you're about to do, he cements his hand to your mouth again, forcing you to swallow the lewd moan that's heavy on your sex-liquored tongue.

"Jesus Christ," James marvels at you, his gaze falling to watch your soaked cunt withstand every vicious stroke of his cock into the channel of your insides. You squeeze your eyes shut as James' rhythm falls faster in a never-ending inward thrust. The pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, and gives it a few overzealous swipes. Your body replies with a wobble. Then the squelch of cum as your aching hole gushes around him, pulsing and milking his cock to follow in your actions and just let go.

Your head swings back and forth between keeping James here for a little while longer and finishing him off to send him back onstage. If you concentrate hard, you can hear Lars' yells for James sandwiched between panicked "fuck"s.

James is hitting something tender and spongy when he finally finishes. His whole body shudders, his shoulders tensed, and his hands locking around you, iron-gripped. He gives a few shallow, half-hearted thrusts just to get it all out of his system (until tonight, inevitably).

"Fuck," He sighs, easing out of you with one hand, the other gingerly guiding your leg down. He fixes himself up, tucking his half-hard dick into his jeans. He swipes his beer off the one lonely shelf mounted on the wall, greedily swallowing it down his throat.

"Keep that pussy juicy, sweetheart. M'gonna eat it later." He grins, giving you a pat on the hip before reality hits him, and he rushes out of the room in a blur for his encore. You're left with the reek of sex and the syrup of mingling cum between your legs.

#metallica #james hetfield #metallica smut #metallica x reader #metallica fanfiction #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield x you

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asha-mage · 3 months ago

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Assimilation; Tigraine Mantear

[Send me a fandom, character, or pairing and a one word prompt and I'll write a quick drabble for you! Still taking these by the way!]

From where she crouched on the bank of the River Erinin, Shaiel gazed out at the Andoran shore and tried to recall being Tigraine Mantear.

It was a cold morning, and she had wrapped herself tightly in the coat of her cadin’sor, her veil raised as much to keep a chill from his cheeks as to be ready to kill. First light was just beginning to break, turning the Erinin from black to a pale glassy blue and illuminating the small town on the opposite side.

Walls that had been indistinct shapes an hour before loomed now, solid and two stories high. There wasn’t enough light yet for Shaiel to make out the banners that waved above some of the squared watchtowers- but she knew it would be the white lion on red, followed by the sigil of whichever house claimed the town as its own. That was the custom, this side of the Dragonwall.

She wondered absently who had ultimately prevailed in the Succession and if they were the ones holding this town. There had been a Succession- she had learned that much since crossing the Dragonwall, though she did not know the details. She had not tried too hard to learn them. She had told herself that it was because she didn’t want to know how many had died for her choices. But maybe that had just been an excuse.

She hoped Galad was well. She hoped for that desperately. But she knew it was not likely. Not the way Taringail had been raised to play the game. And he would have been in the thick of it- Taringail would as soon give up on breathing as give up on his hopes of power. She longed to see him on the battlefield almost as much as she feared seeing Galad.

But if either her former husband or her son were fighting, it would not be in this town on the border- where no one expected the Aiel to strike.

Do you know its name? Janduin had asked her in the small hours two days ago, when Waterseekers had returned with reports of the river, and the town beyond. He had waited until they were alone, so as not to put her in an uncomfortable position before her spear-sisters, something she was thankful for.

Shaiel had not. Tigraine Mantear would have. Tigraine had known the name of every town in Andor large enough to have tower walls, especially those on the border with Cairhien or Murandy. But Shaiel had needed to forget so much of being Tigraine Mantear- not because she had wanted to, but to make room for all the things that came with being Shaiel. Hand signs and spear work techniques and which plants indicated water and how to treat a garra bite and- the list went on and on.

Was there really a time when I thought I would never fit my new life? She wondered, running a finger along the edge of her spear. She could remember those doubts and fears- at first that she would be too brittle, too rigid in herself to become Far Dareis Mai. Then that she would be too soft and weak, that she would never measure up to even girl children with skirts above their knees, never mind her teachers and spear sisters.

And now…

“You don’t have to do this, sister.”

Shaiel blinked and looked up. Sulin had moved out of the brush to crouch beside her. All along the river bank were two scores of other Far Dareis Mai and another of score spears from other warrior societies. Tigraine would never have known the signs- no wetlander noble girl could hope to spot an Aiel that did not wish to be spotted- but Shaiel could see the faint shadows, the careful rustling of leaves and brush, spot the occasional flash of cadin’sor shifting, that told her the truth.

Sulin had been one of Shaiel’s most faithful teachers. She was Goshien, not Taradad- but in Chumai for her brother’s wedding when Shaiel had arrived there. Sulin had insisted on being among those to oversee Shaiel’s training. All Maidens had pride in being Maidens. But Sulin had pride in Far Dareis Mai as an ideal and would not accept the slightest degeneration in the society’s standards. She had been the most brutal and exacting of all those who taught Shaiel- accepting no excuses and expecting not one whit less then she would any prospective Maiden. If Shaiel were blindfolded at midnight, one punch would be enough to tell her if it was Sulin attacking her not- she would know the woman by the shape of her fists alone.

But never once had Sulin suggested Shaiel give up on her quest. Shaiel loved her for that alone.

It made her words now sting all the more.

When Shaiel did not acknowledge she had spoken, Sulin repeated herself.

“You do not have to do this, sister.” Sulin said. Her words would not have reached even another Maiden unless they were crouched knee to knee with Shaiel and Sulin.

Instead of answering, Shaiel tapped two of her fingers to the heel of her hand twice. I do not understand. One of the hand-talk signs she had learned first and used most often in her first year.

Sulin frowned, glaring over her black veil.

“Sister, I have spoken with-“ Sulin began and Shaiel turned away, glad her expression was hidden by her veil.

“With Janduin or Bair?” She demanded.

“No.” Sulin said quietly. “This is the business of Far Dareis Mai and none of chiefs or Wise Ones. I have spoken with the others who lead the spear sisters, and we are in agreement. Far Dareis Mai has never asked a sister to break clan. We will not start now.”

Shaiel went quiet, turning her gaze over to the town. Annoyance flared hot and itchy in her ribcage. Creator curse all men and their sly tongues. She should never have told Janduin the name of her birth country. Of course that bit of knowledge had made its way to Sulin and the others. Janduin knew he could not ask her this without shaming her. But her spear sisters were another matter- and Sulin had a first sister married to one of Janduin’s second brothers. Bloody men.

For a moment Shaiel let herself consider the possibility. She had prepared herself for this, knowing that it would likely come to fighting Andorans. But that didn’t mean the idea sat easy. These were soldiers who would have sworn their swords and their lives to her if things had gone the way they were supposed to. And even if that hadn’t been the case…she could never be easy spilling the blood of her countrymen.

Framed this way- as a matter of not breaking clan by her spear sisters- it would not be a great shame to accept if she truly wanted to. It was not as if Andor was the only ally who had come to fight at Cairhien’s side- there would still be much ji to be won. And it would not breach her promise to Gitara. She had not even promised to fight at all- only to stay with the Maidens until they went to Tar Valon.

The question was…was that what she wanted? It should be. The memory of Tigraine Mantear was not so distant as to want to kill Andorans. And even if it was, wasn’t that memory still owed something?

And yet the thought of standing aside, even for a single battle made her skin itch. The possibility that she would watch her sisters and her comrades clash and she would not be there to fight beside them- to watch Sulin’s back, or cover Savric, a Waterseeker she called friend, on the side where old battle wounds made him a little slower – it made acid bubble in her throat.

The Queen’s Guard would have died for her, in another life. But she had shed blood beside the Aiel in this one and that mattered more.

To refuse to stand beside them when she could…If she did that she would have great toh.

“I am like water.” She muttered. Sulin blinked, not understanding. It was a mantra Shaiel had recited to herself again and again- when it had felt as if all her skin were one large bruise. As if she could not take another step.

I am like water. She would tell herself. I will take the shape of the place I find myself.

“Sister.” Sulin said seriously. “The Maidens have never asked me to shed Goshien blood. There is no shame in-“

“Are there Taradad in that town?” Shaiel asked coldly. Sulin recoiled slightly. Shaiel waited.

“No.” Sulin said, finally lowering her eyes.

“Am I not Shaiel, of the Chumai Sept of the Taradad Aiel?” She asked, letting a little savageness leak into her voice.

“You are.” Sulin said, lowering her eyes further. She made the second hand talk-sign that Shaiel had learned, the one that most Maidens usually learned first and used most often that first year. First and second finger and crossed and pointed back to herself.

I have toh.

Shaiel felt a stab of guilt, but she did not make either of the gestures that would have alleviated Sulin’s shame- small or I see nothing. She only wanted to have this conversation once. Instead, she made the gesture for later and turned back to the town.

It was light enough now that Shaiel could make out the sigils on the banners. She had been right- the Lion of Andor, above the Keystone of Trakand.

Three sharp bird calls cut through the early morning gloom- black heart sparrows. A bird not found this side of the Dragonwall. Shaiel and Sulin did not move, but both tensed as their eyes swung south, along the bank.

Two Thunderwalkers had appeared, lopping along at a careless easy pace. The Andorans would not see that though. They saw as poorly as Tigraine Mantear- they would only see men racing for longer and faster than most of them could manage and know fear. The trap was so obvious to Shaiel now that she wanted to scoff, as the pursuing cavalry appeared, half a league back in pursuit of the pair, charging ahead blindly. A horse could overtake an Aiel in a short dash, but the mounts were clearly flagging from a longer chase.

Showoffs. Sulin signed as one of the Thunderwalkers actually backflipped over a rock and waved at the pursuers before falling back into pace beside his fellow.

Shaiel signed her agreement, but it was more exasperated than frustrated. Janduin was a Dawnrunner, and they could make Thunderwalkers look positively demure.

The two Thunderwalkers started to veer towards the fjord in the river. Their strides faltered for a second, but both recovered quickly, their shoulders setting. They had crossed the fjord once already- but she doubted they would ever be easy crossing that kind of water.

The pursuers veered after them, blindly charging ahead. They were close enough now that Shaiel could make out the red of their coats and the glint of their helmets. The Thunderwalkers were moving with such caution- none of it faked- it was obvious the soldiers would catch them in another minute, maybe two.

It is time. Shaiel signed. Sulin nodded and let out a shrill single whistle, just as the Thunderwalkers reached the center of the fjord. It was echoed back three times.

The Queen’s Guard reached the fjord just as the Thunderwalkers were almost across. She could almost taste their triumph, their certainty they would be dragging prisoners back to the town. They were fools.

The moment the first soldier reached the bank and began to wade his mount into the water, Shaiel and Sulin stood and began to glide onto the beach- joined by three scores of Algai'd'siswai

Taking a deep breath, Shaiel began to sing.

#WoT #Wheel of Time #WoT Fanfic #Wheel of time Fanfic #WoT Book Spoilers #Wheel of Time book spoilers #LoC Spoilers #Lord of Chaos Spoilers #Tigraine Mantear #Shaiel #Aiel #Janduin #Sulin #word count: 1979 #this is pretty short still just in case the Read More scares you #drabble challenge

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4urvalidation · 1 month ago

Text

A CASE OF LIMERENCE | Chapter Thirteen

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

A/N: Phew! Well - this is a long one. Mainly because I went insane and decided to put two chapters into one instead of splitting them like I originally planned on doing. Anyways what's done is done and what I've done is.... well - a mess. Incredibly proud of how everything turned out obviously, but things got messy in ways only a summer finale could do.

Hope y'all enjoy.

That being said, I'm going on a work trip in a little over six hours. My flight is in the early hours of the morning and doing what I do, I'm not sure just how much free time I'd have to write. I will be taking my notebook with me, just so I can jot down ideas for future scenes and dialogues whenever I can, but I don't believe any actual writing will be done. At least not until after I come back.

I'll still try my best to remain as active as possible on here. Relax reading fanfics and looking at pretty pictures as well as chatting with y'all - that is, if you'd be into that. I'd love to get to know my readers more; see what they think of ACOL so far (forever grateful to the anon who gave it this nickname) and whether they have any questions, ideas for future works or just in general.

Okay. Tuning out now because this author's note has gotten as long as this chapter. Love y'all. Thank you for reading the shit I put out.

T/W: I'm gonna be fully transparent, the smut part of this gets DARK - I'm talking borderline DUBCON so please read at your own risk. And ofc MDNI!!!!!

Mentions and slight graphic descriptions of vomiting, as well as violent unruly behavior; alcohol, drugs; sexting, implied masturbation, graphic sexual content (grinding, dirty talk, slight choking). Characters being horny and fantasizing about weird questionable things because of it.

Three am and Leni can barely fall asleep. Her mind is restless, constantly reminding her of the texts Rafe has sent her. The mysterious contents of the voice message. And the photo. Fuck, the photo - it’s the thing that’s torturing her the most; forces her entire being to itch with curiosity and robs her of much needed shuteye. Weary and frustrated, she tosses and turns - annoyed at herself for not letting Cleo sleep well, but judging by the soft sound of her even softer snoring, her friend seems to be having a good enough rest for the both of them.

Her phone lights up just then - illuminating half of the pitch dark room and grabbing Leni’s attention for god knows what time in the past couple of hours, but unlike all those other times before, now she reaches for it immediately.

The bright screen burns her eyes.

A text from JJ.

Tons of texts from JJ.

Sweet, caring and considerate JJ.

Who looks after her.

Who never has and never will do anything to scare her.

And yet, her entire being aches to find out what Rafe said in that voice message.

Suddenly exasperated, she storms to the bathroom, back pressed against the tightly closed door; the tips of her fingers prickling as she finally opens his text.

Leni’s throat goes dry.

Her heart raging against her brittle ribcage.

Swallowing, she presses play.

“Fuck… Leni… don’t you dare ignore me again… please… baby… don’t do this to me… don’t send me shit like that and ignore me… let me make you feel good…” The sound of his rough, bated breath vibrates through the speakers of her phone and straight into her ear. Her heartbeat quickens at the rasp in his voice; the way he’s so obviously struggling… Probably - no - most likely touching himself over the fabric of those grey sweatpants. Desperate. Needy. Aching.

Now he knows how Leni’s felt all along.

She exhales.

The thought of Rafe being driven mad by lust makes her weak in the knees. The thought that she’s the reason why he’s sending her all of these intense borderline whiney texts forces her legs to give out and before she knows it, Leni finds herself sliding down the door and falling straight onto the cold tiled floor.

She presses play.

Again and again and again.

Closes her eyes.

In her mind, a half naked Rafe is straining against stark white rumpled sheets; one hand clenched tightly around his phone while the other runs over his face before slowly moving towards-

No.

With a slight quiver in her knees, Leni pushes herself off the floor.

She’s done.

She’s done with this.

She’s done with him.

And then her finger finds the button again. When she’s finally had her fix, Leni notices there’s a brand new message waiting for her on the bottom of the screen.

She swallows.

That’s not true.

The only person Leni has ever enjoyed torturing is herself. But since he seems so desperate for it - there’s nothing more she wants in that moment than to show him what actual torture looks like. To burst out of that stuffy bathroom, put on her skimpiest, tightest, borderline fuck me dress and head on over to Tannyhill where he is desperately waiting for her.

Yes, she can see it all oh so clearly now. Her dark silhouette standing still in the entrance of his large home; the upstairs bedroom, the one she never dared stepping foot in ever again beckoning her and like under some kind of spell, Leni finds herself walking towards it. An expectant Rafe waits for her inside in the dimly lit room; grey sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips as the sight of her makes that perfectly sculpted chest of his rise quickly.

“You came.” She hears him exhale. His voice identical to the one from the voice message and he’s getting up now - slowly, slightly - just enough so she can stand there, right between his open legs. Her breath catches when his hand brushes against her bare leg; travelling lightly over her thigh, under the hem of her dress before finally stopping at her hip.

Rafe sucks in a breath - she’s not wearing any underwear - and he grins: widely, wolfishly; like he wants to fucking eat her alive and there’s nothing more in the world Leni wants than for him to do exactly that, but that’s not what she came here for.

She climbs on top of him, straddling his lap and he’s barely even touched yet and she’s already soaked in need. Practically dripping down her thigh, she starts riding him; fingers dancing along his chest while his ragged breathing heats the crook of her neck. He starts kissing her; leaves a trail of wet, desperate kisses all along her chest and collar bones as she moves her hips in a tantalizingly slow manner.

“I want you. I want to be inside you.” His pleading turns her on more than she could ever imagine and Leni realizes she quite likes this version of Rafe. “Please baby, please.” Moaning, she lets him run his hands under her dress; grasping at her skin like he’s holding on for dear life and pushing her body further into his own.

Groaning, he kisses her lips and it’s such an aggressive sound, she can almost feel it in her throat and she’s throbbing; dripping senselessly over the material of Rafe’s sweatpants but she cannot let him win. Not now. Not when she has him practically eating from her palm. Grinning, Leni pushes Rafe onto the bed. The blue in his eyes has disappeared completely and all she can see now is a pair of pitch black holes and her very own reflection looking back at her.

“You want me?” She whispers into his ear and feels his fingers dig harder into her flesh.

“I want you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow, but then her fingers begin moving down his chest and he almost immediately relaxes. Teasingly, she plays with the hem of his sweatpants; his hard cock straining against the rough material. She grinds her body against it; lets it linger against the place where she wants him the most and then just as she’s about to set him free, Leni stops.

Slides herself off of him and then finally off the bed. His haunting gaze burns holes in the back of her head and she stops - suddenly eager for one last round of taunting when suddenly, she feels herself being pulled back by her hair. Her body drops onto the mattress with a dull thump; Rafe’s perfect body hovering over her, while his fist is still wrapped tightly around her loose braid.

“Where are you off to Sweetheart? I don’t remember telling you to leave just yet, did I?” He pushes her harder against the bed; his weight and hardness pressing into her. “Did I Elena?” She swallows, shaking her head. The corners of his lips perk up - forming that leering, shit eating smirk that instead of turning her on, suddenly has Leni recoil in fear.

Rafe moves, brushing his hips against her own and eliciting a moan from her throat that she should’ve swallowed a very long time ago. “You are such a good girl. Such a good fucking girl. I really dunno why you keep trying not to be. Is it cause you like torturing me? Do you like torturing me Elena? Cause two can play that game, but just so you know, I’m a real competitive guy.” He whispers the last sentence directly in her ear and Leni hates the way her body reacts to it.

She’s on fire, leaking with desire and so needy and desperate for him to fill her in, she’s almost on the verge of tears. “Fuck. You.” The words scratch at her throat, propelling out of her mouth in a sound that can barely be registered as a whisper and Rafe grins; thrusts his hips even harder against her own.

“Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me that your sweet little cunt doesn’t throb for me. Tell me and I’ll let you go.”

Their eyes meet.

Leni knees him in the stomach, but it doesn’t do anything.

She kicks him again and again and again, but all it does is make Rafe chuckle and the low, rumbling sound makes the butterflies in the pit of her stomach flutter in fear.

Her breath catches - he’s got his hands pressed against her throat now, choking her and pushing her further deep inside the mattress, “You think it’s that easy? You think leaving me is this fucking easy? Well news flash baby, I make the rules now. I tell you when you get to leave. And if you pull this shit again, next time you wake up, it’ll be with your braid in your cunt!”

Thick, bitter tears cloud her vision, her entire body lurching forward and before she knows it, Leni has spilled her entire guts all over the bathroom floor. Slowly, she drags herself towards the toilet; the entire room echoing the awful, guttural sounds that rip from her throat.

The next time she opens her eyes, Leni’s in her bed again - last night’s thoughts only a horrible product of a very bad dream until she notices the awful taste in her mouth. Every single muscle in her body aches as she pushes herself off the bed. The place where Cleo slept is empty and she searches for her, hoping to find her friend in the bathroom, but all that’s there are remnants of Leni’s shame-filled vomiting session. And that god awful stench.

She almost throws up again, but decides to suck it up and get rid of it all until Cleo comes back. If she comes back that is, because if Leni were to wake up to a bathroom full of sick, she too would probably be disappearing in the middle of the night.

Except Cleo is nothing like Leni.

Not even ten minutes later there she is - coming through the door, her face alight with a smile and her hands full of coffee and pastries. “I see you’re having a busy morning.” She chirps, gaze focused on the mop in Leni’s hands.

“Yeah. I’m sorry you had to see all of… this.” “No! I’m sorry! I should’ve been there! I should've been holding your hair back! (“Cle, it’s okay.”) No it’s not! I’m usually a very light sleeper. I genuinely dunno what happened to me last night, like - I slept like a literal corpse.”

The entire room smells like coffee - a nice change from the previous wafting stench she woke up to and her head throbs, from both the wine and ever encompassing guilt that comes from the way she behaved last night. Not to mention all the messages from JJ she willfully ignored and she can see it - him crying to Kie about it; sending a myriad of texts that will most likely be brought up once their shift starts today.

Maybe she should just end things now – rip the band aid off until the wound hasn’t started festering or whatever. The last thing she wants is for JJ to hate her or have Kie break her back or worse - ruin her friendship with Sarah, Cleo and the others just because she woke up one day and decided to blow up her entire life.

“What do you wanna do today?” Cleo asks, plopping onto the bed beside her, a half eaten croissant steadily between her fingers.

“Die.”

“Oh come on! You didn’t even drink that much!”

“I know,” Leni groans, the memory of Rafe’s rumbling, borderline needy voice playing in the back of her head like some kind of a broken record. With a lump in her throat, she reaches for a cup of steaming hot coffee; burns her tongue on it and continues, “I did something bad last night.”

Silently, Cleo stares at her; brows raised so high, they’re practically reaching her hairline and that’s when Leni pulls out her phone: Rafe’s messages on full display - raunchy photo and all. She swallows the lump; her gaze steadily focused on her friend; on the way her eyes grow bigger and bigger with each passing second before, “No, no, no - don’t press… play.”

But it’s too late.

“Fuck… Leni… don’t you dare ignore me again… please… baby… don’t do this to me… don’t send me shit like that and ignore me… let me make you feel good…”

Leni shuts her eyes in embarrassment. Hides her face in the heels of her palms as Rafe’s labored breathing and rough whining echo across the entire room.

“Girl.” Cleo sucks in a breath.

“I’m gonna kill myself.”

“Girl.”

Their eyes meet.

Cleo’s brows have now become one with her hair.

“It’s all I can think about.”

“Well - let’s get you a distraction then. Let’s go out. Have fun!”

“I can’t.” Leni cries, “I have work in like two hours.”

“Call in sick! Tell Mr. Carrera you have a migraine or something!”

That’s not actually a bad idea.

She texts him almost immediately and as expected his response is cold and lackluster, but Leni really doesn’t fucking care. She hates her job. She hates how bad the tips are and just how much Kie and her dad expect from her. Getting fired would be a blessing, even though she desperately needs the money for that plane ticket back home.

“So, what are we doing today?” Cleo’s bright smile is contagious. The joy radiating from her face even more so and Leni can’t help but mimic it.

“Polly invited me to join her and Tess at the Island Club today, but-”

“Oooh, I’ve never been there! Let’s do that.”

Leni grimaces, “I dunno, Cle. Tess and I are not exactly on best terms right now and Polly-” She sighs, memories from the day they spent together shopping on Mainland flashing before her eyes. “She posts everything on her stories. Like, literally everything.”

“And that’s a problem because?”

“Rafe follows Polly.”

“And?”

“He’s gonna know where I am. And most likely show up.”

The corners of Cleo’s lips tug into a smirk. “Oh yeah, we definitely don’t want that happening now, do we?”

Another rumbling sigh tears through Leni’s throat. Every single atom in her body aches to see Rafe, but she’s not sure if she’s ready to face him. Not now. Not yet. As a matter of fact, she’s not sure if she ever will be. At least not until her brain stops sticking him in the spot between lust and fear.

“Look,” Cleo says, taking her hands into her own. “If Rafe shows up and you’re still not feeling it, we’ll just get up and leave.” Leni nods. Her friend is right. She is always so painfully right. “Don’t let this tiny power he has over you control everything you do. If you don’t wanna see him, no one is forcing you to. It’s not like you live with him.”

Leni’s brows perk up at this.

She smiles.

“Speaking of,” She chirps, both out of curiosity and desperate need of a topic change, “How did that happen? You and Pope living together?”

“Long story.” Cleo groans. “But basically, Terrance - my adoptive dad - and Mr. Heyward are old friends. When I got into ECSU, he offered I stay with his family instead of, y’know, bunk with a bunch of strangers… Which, now that I think about it, is super ironic considering how before that I’d only met Mr. Heyward twice.”

“And Pope?”

“Pope was… ugh. He was weird and scrawny and even then super obsessed with Kie. I remember him talking my ear off about the dumbest shit like - just silly childish things and… Okay, do you know he wants to be a coroner? (“What?”) Yeah, he wants to work with dead people when he grows up and he was telling me about it constantly! Day and night, all he talked about was how fascinated he was by it and I was like: this kid is so fucking weird. Anyways, flash forward to last year. I come home from spring break and there he is: shirt unbuttoned, braces off, gold chain round his neck and I’m like fuck - when did I start having a crush on Pope?”

Leni laughs, “Probably when you realized he got hot.”

“But he wasn’t supposed to get hot! He was supposed to stay scrawny and awkward! Just like he was supposed to be having a crush on me! Not the other way around!”

“Well, maybe he did.” Leni says innocently and almost immediately, Cleo looks up at her - eyes wide and sparkling. “Think about it - why else would he have spent so much time talking to you about stuff he liked? He was probably trying to impress you, but you were too busy dating cool college boys.” This makes Cleo groan again except this time it’s a far more dramatic one; the kind that has her throw herself against the mountain of pillows and bury her head in them in what can only be described as sheer embarrassment. “But hey - if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty much in the same boat as you.”

Their eyes meet.

“Yeah. But like I said - at least you’re not living with him.”

As expected, Tess is giving her the cold shoulder; ignoring her questions and rolling her eyes everytime Leni does something as little as breathing, but at least she’s nice to Cleo.

“You go to ECSU? No way - that’s where I’m going this fall! What’s your major?”

“Aviation.” Cleo grins.

“Shut up! I have my eye on Psychology, but my dad’s pressuring me into doing Sports Management instead.” Tess rolls her eyes, “Wants me to take over the family business once he retires, but I literally don’t give a fuck about sports.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve literally won the golf state championship two years in a row.” This earns Leni a particularly icy stare from her so-called friend. Slightly defeated, she sighs, turning her attention to Polly, but Polly is too busy taking photos of her cleavage.

And then she squeals. Slaps Leni’s shoulder so hard it actually stings, “Rafe! Rafe Cameron is here!” Her whispered shouts grab Cleo and Tess’ attention and now, all four of them are watching him saunter towards a deck chair right across from them. Topper’s right there too, but no one seems to be paying attention to him. Well, no one other than Tess. “Wanna go and say hi?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” Tess replies coldly, her gaze suddenly pointed towards Leni.

“Oh come on! You can’t be mad at him forever!”

They go back and forth for what feels like ages - Polly with her whining and Tess with her stern headshakes and Leni… Leni is so fucking grateful for her dark shades because all she can do in that very moment is stare at the person she not so long ago swore she didn’t want to see.

He’s not in his suit today. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of teal colored shorts and a polo that hits the ground as quickly as Leni’s guard does every time she sees him. His skin is golden; practically glistening in the hot July sun and no matter how hard she tries, she simply cannot stop herself from ogling at him.

“God he’s so hot!” Polly takes the words right out of her mouth, “Why does he have to have a girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” Cleo quickly glances over at Leni, their gazes meeting for a brief fleeting second, before turning back at Polly.

“Yeah! Didn’t you see? He soft launched her the other day on his story! (“I… don’t follow him.”) Ohmigod, wait! I’ll show you, I took a screenshot.”

“You took a screenshot you psycho?” Tess barks.

“Yes! I had to make sure it wasn’t Sofia!” Polly exclaims all wide eyed and exasperated, before shoving her phone straight in Cleo’s face, “Here, look. She’s even wearing his blazer so they must be serious.”

Tess rolls her eyes, “You do realize that doesn’t mean shit, right? Topper lets me wear his clothes all the time and still-”

“Won’t leave his girlfriend for you?” The tone in Polly’s voice is uncharacteristically cold. They’re glaring at one another now; the sudden silence between them - violently deafening and feeling like it might go on for ages. “We know, Tess. But this is different.” She turns to Cleo again, that unexpected iciness completely melted away, “Do you think you might know her?”

Leni feels her friend’s glance pass through her once again, “No. Sorry.”

“What would happen if I start telling people it’s me?” Polly chirps, sticking her tongue out, “Do y’all think that maybe then Rafe will finally text me back?”

“Yeah, with a restraining order.” Tess deadpans and Leni can’t hold it in for much longer - she guffaws. Their eyes meet just then and suddenly there’s an appreciative spark dancing behind the gaze of her now maybe-friend.

She can feel the weight of Rafe’s persistent stare even through those dark shades of his. It’s distracting; borderline bothersome and she can’t help but wonder whether others can sense it too. If Cleo, who never in her life has given two shits about him can, Tess and Polly certainly will, but the latter would most likely think all that gazing is meant for her.

Leni sighs, slumping further into her deck chair and doing her best to ignore Rafe while the trio next to her chatter about nothing and everything. She wants to join in on the conversation, she really does, but her head is pounding and she’s far too hungover to be basking in the sun like this. Her phone is blowing up: packed with hoards of unread texts from both JJ and Kie and she wishes she could just throw it in the pool and never think about anything ever again.

Rafe removes his sunglasses - stormy blue eyes blazing straight in her direction and Leni feels her heart skip a beat; the thousand of many he’s caused ever since she’s stepped foot on this godforsaken island and perhaps leaving isn’t such a bad idea after all.

But what if it is? A trail of shivers run down the parts of her body Rafe’s gaze has lingered onto the most, causing that funny feeling between her thighs to spring up back again. Heart racing, she purses her lips; ignoring the rotating images of daydreams in which he does the most heinous, most godawful things to both her and her sanity and fuck-

Leni stares at the message. Feels a surge of heat rush straight into her face, painting her cheeks rosy red and making her heart beat faster than before. She tries not to let his empty words get into her head; tries to keep them away from erasing every bad thing she has ever heard about him. Tries not to fool herself into thinking he’s worth it. But then she looks at him; sees the way the corners of his lips perk into a small, gentle smile; those stormy blue eyes and wide perfect shoulders and… melts.

Fuck.

Her chest feels heavy; heart rabid and she turns - swiftly and in one single movement, plops herself down on her stomach. Away from the distractions. Away from Rafe’s gorgeous, sullen gaze…

She types and deletes, types and deletes at least a dozen replies, but simply can’t settle on a final response. It’s a rare thing - having someone leave her completely speechless and yet Rafe seems to be capable of doing it over and over again.

She sighs.

Puts her phone away and turns to the side - that way her gaze is now focused on the girls, but every now and then, the corner of her eye catches movement. Him walking around, stretching and slapping Topper’s shoulder. When the chatter dies down, she can hear his laugh - low and rumbling echo in the near distance and her heart predictably skips again.

“Guys, I’m literally going crazy. He won’t stop staring at me!” Polly says in a whispered squeal. “Should I text him? Or should I just go over there?”

“Please don’t go over there! Or text him! (“But, Tess!”) Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough? He doesn’t like you. Never has and never will. He just used you for sex. End of discussion.” Tess slams her back against the deck chair, covering her icy glare with a pair of dark designer shades while Polly just sits there, shaking.

“Used me? You think Rafe used me for sex”?

“I told you - I’m done having this conversation.”

“Why? Cause Topper does the same thing?” The uncharacteristic chill in Polly’s voice has returned, prompting a confused glance from Cleo and a shrug from Leni. They will talk about this later; tell Sarah all about the explosive fight the two had and gloat quietly, but for now they suffer silently in the awkwardness. “Face it, Tess. What you’re doing is far worse than mine. At least when I fucked Rafe I wasn’t all buddy-buddy with his girlfiend.”

“Ohmigod, how many times do I have to tell you! I am not replacing you with fucking Ruthie!”

“This is not about fucking Ruthie! It’s about you judging me and then doing the same exact things that you judge me for!”

Tess springs up from her seat, “Pauline, I’m not judging you for sleeping with someone’s boyfriend! I’m judging you for sleeping with Rafe Cameron!” Her whispered shouts rattle in the small space separating their deck chairs, “And yeah, Topper is a piece of shit too, but at least he didn’t kick half his family out on the street! Isn’t that right Leni?” Their eyes meet and a chill runs down Leni’s entire spine. She swallows. “Isn’t that junkie is the reason why Mrs. Cameron is now slumming it in some random shed in Greece?”

What?

Every single drop of Leni’s blood goes cold. The words replay in her head in hopes of making sense, but instead, all they do is lose their meaning as she hears herself repeat the question out loud, “What?” She hears herself croak, a sudden bitterness gathering in the middle of her throat along with a large festering lump.

“Go on. Enlighten us. Maybe if Polly hears it from your mouth, she’ll finally believe all the things Rafe did to Sarah and Mrs. Cameron when his dad died.”

“Maybe this is not the right place to do all of… this.” Cleo’s voice echoes and even though she is right there, sitting mere inches away from Leni, for some reason she feels like she’s miles away.

Leni swallows.

Rose is in Greece?

She blinks.

Her left temple is pulsating.

She feels sick.

Dizzy.

“What did he do?” Polly says, quivering. “Leni, what did Rafe do to Sarah and Mrs. C?”

“He kicked them out, you dumbass! Left them on the street! Froze all of Mrs. C’s bank accounts! She had to ask Jessica for money! Remember?”

Of course.

Her eyes meet Tess’.

Of course Tess would know where Rose has been all along. Her stepmom used to work with her. They were practically attached to the hip. The closest friend Rose has had since Leni’s mom.

Shaking, Leni jumps from her deck chair.

How could she forget?

How could she forget that crucial fucking detail?

“Hey,” Cleo’s got her fingers gently pressed against her elbow and when their gazes meet, hers is drowning in concern, “We can leave.”

“No.” Leni shakes her head, making herself even dizzier and puts on her shorts. “I just… I have a headache. I’m gonna go splash some water on my face.”

“You want me to come with you?”

“No, I’ll… I’ll be quick. I promise.” She manages a smile, but that doesn’t wipe away the worry in Cleo’s eyes. “And maybe… maybe then we can leave?”

With her heart in her throat, Leni sprints towards the closest bathroom; grips the edges of the sink for balance and stares at her pale reflection. She looks ghastly; worse than the cadavers Pope wants to work with when he grows up and there it is again - the bile rising up her throat; that incessant need to vomit all her worries and stress away, except when she tries - nothing comes out.

She stands there - pulsating with both sweat and panic; fingers numb from all that prickling; knees shaking; throat dry and she feels so stupid. She never should’ve come here. She should’ve listened to her mother and bought that train ticket to Paris and let Rose find someone else to use as a scapegoat. She should’ve been stuffing her mouth with croissants and reading badly written books in parks; head free and empty from Rafe Cameron and those haunting blue eyes of his.

Yes, not having Sarah around would’ve hurt, but having her so close by and not being able to see her all the time hurts even more.

Sighing, Leni splashes ice cold water all over her face and neck - letting its chillness sooth her.

She’s leaving.

She doesn’t know how and with whose money, but the moment September comes rolling in, Leni is going to board that plane and never ever look back.

“Hey,” The sound of a familiar, rumbling voice startles her and before she knows it, Leni finds herself face to face with the only person she both wants to avoid and spend the rest of her life with. “Been looking for you.” With her breath catching, she watches the corners of Rafe’s lips tug into an easy smile as he saunters towards her, closing the distance until the only thing separating their bodies is tension. “Grab your stuff. We’re getting outta here.”

“We? Who’s we?”

“You and me.”

Leni sighs, “Rafe-”

“There’s this really cool place on Mainland. Been meaning to take you there for ages.” She feels the tip of his thumb brush against her hand. His touch sends a shiver across her entire body; causes goosebumps to erupt on every inch of her skin as she stands there, hopelessly drowning in his gaze.

“You need to stop.” The words tear at her throat.

“Stop?” Rafe blinks, “Stop what?”

“Stop this.”

“This?”

“Yes! This. Whatever you’re trying to make happen here!”

“Whatever I’m trying to make happen here?” He nods, chuckling bitterly, “Last time I checked, you were pretty into this too.”

“Yeah. I was… And then I found what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done?”

“Jumping Pope, bringing a gun to a party, blaming Sarah for your dad’s death… kicking Rose out in the street-”

“Look, those other things, especially the way I treated Sarah… I don’t feel good about it. Okay? I’m never gonna feel good about the shit I said and did to my sister, but I’m working on it. I’m working on it with her and I’m working on it in therapy, but Rose… that bitch deserved it.”

“Don’t call her a bitch!”

“I’m gonna call her whatever the fuck I want, Elena!” Rafe raises his voice, his eyes wide, nostrils flaring. “For all the shit she and my dad put me through for years… for all the beatings she turned a blind eye on… I should’ve done more than just kick her out of Tannyhill. But hey… it’s nice to finally know where your loyalties lay.”

“Where my-?” Leni scoffs, her distress suddenly replaced with cold, blind rage, “Where my loyalties lay? What the fuck is wrong with you? Of course my loyalties lay with Rose, Rafe! She’s my Godmother! (“Your Go-”) Don’t interrupt me! Don’t you dare interrupt me - cause… cause if you think that a couple of shirtless pics and calling me baby is what’s gonna get me on your side you’re dead wrong!”

Chest heaving, she watches him take a single step backwards and the sudden distance between them is killing her. It shouldn’t be; she’s supposed to revel in it or perhaps even hit the ground running and yet, there she is - standing still with her gaze permanently glued on his slightly parted lips.

“Okay.” Rafe nods. Runs a hand through his buzzed head and the next time their eyes meet, a flicker of something alien; something borderline desperate flashes across his eyes. “Tell me, then. Tell me what I gotta do to get you on my side.”

Leni’s heart leaps inside her chest. Cartwheels between her ribs and stumbles - breaking a little. She swallows. The thumping in her left temple increases. So does the prickling in her fingertips.

“I think it’s a little too late for that.” She whispers.

“No!” Rafe’s voice bellows across the empty hallway, “It’s… It’s not. Ba- Leni, listen. Please.” He closes the distance again, allows for his hands to hover over her arms, waiting for her to push back and when she doesn’t - he touches her. He feels warm against her skin; comforting almost and if this were any other scenario; any other boy Leni would completely allow herself to melt in him.

But no other boy will ever make her feel the way Rafe Cameron does.

Never in a million fucking years.

“I’ll tell you everything, okay? Even the shit those Pogues don’t know about. I’ll tell you everything! Just… please.”

Leni swallows. Nods. And finally, watches as every single one of Rafe’s defenses begin to crumble right there in front of her. In a matter of seconds he’s somehow managed to turn himself into the awkward scrawny boy she met nine years ago. The one with the messy, greasy bangs and a forehead full of pimples he cleverly hid underneath all that unkempt hair. The bloodied knuckles and fading bruises. The way he never gave her or Sarah the time of day and yet there he was, constantly hovering around them.

Rafe sighs.

And then begins.

He tells her about the bender. About being in such a complete shock over his dad’s death that he spent the days following it with his face pressed against the coffee table, snorting line after line and drowning himself in whatever he could find in Ward’s old liquor cabinet. He tells her about the funeral; about how he barely remembers a thing, except the fight he had with his ex; about the bottle of whiskey he threw right next to her head; about the way it shattered against the wall and had her running away from the house in tears. He tells her about the cheating; the girls and the sex he barely remembers having with any of them. About how he almost ruined his friendship with Topper and how his stupid, erratic behavior made his ex leave without even saying goodbye.

And then…

Then Rafe admits to hurting Rose. Admits to pushing her so hard, her entire body slammed against the neighboring wall. “But you gotta understand Leni… she grabbed me. She had her fingers in my hair the same way Ward used to. Yanked my head back so hard, she ripped pieces of it. When I went to help her off the ground, there were clumps of my hair in her fist… kicking her out… it just… it felt like the right thing to do.”

“And the gun? Why the fuck did you bring a gun at the Chateau, Rafe?”

“The Chateau?”

“John B’s house!”

“Is that what he calls it? Y’know - never mind, I… I actually don’t remember any of it. Sofia had just left me and blocked me from everywhere and I… I just remember doing drugs. Loads of them. And then Sarah was suddenly there yelling at me about doing it in front of Wheezie and I… all I know is next thing I’m waking up at a hospital and my sister and her dumbass boyfriend are hauling my ass to rehab.”

Leni’s heart skips a beat.

Wheezie.

“You did drugs in front of your baby sister?”

“Leni… I was so fucked up, I…”

“But you did, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Rafe nods, his entire face basking in shame, “I did.”

She scoffs, “And you still think Rose had to come up with some bullshit story to drag her away from you? Newsflash Rafe, people don’t need to be told you’re bad news in order to leave you!” The words leave Leni’s lips before she barely has any time to process them. Her callousness startles her, but she’s not the only one.

Right in front of her, just a mere inch away from her, Rafe blinks - looking like he’s just been slapped across the face. Suddenly filled with guilt, Leni says his name; listens as it leaves her mouth in a form of an embarrassing croak and watches as his gaze shifts from hurt to stone cold.

“Alright.” He dips his head, “What are you waiting for then? Leave.” His breath feels warm against her cheek; sends heat between her unexpectedly quivering thighs and leaves her lingering in his touch. For a brief moment he looks like he’s finally going to let go of her. Either that or she’ll eventually come to her senses and fuck right off, but neither seem to be doing any of that. “But before you do. I’m gonna need you to tell me something.”

Rafe pulls back, lets his stormy gaze clash forcefully with her own and for the millionth time, Leni’s heart skips a beat.

“What?” She whispers. Flicks her eyes towards his pink, sexy lips and then back towards those haunting blues. “What do you want me to say?”

“To tell me that you don’t want me.” The sound of his deep, rumbling voice courses through every inch of her body. “Say it, and I’ll leave you alone forever.”

Leni’s breath catches in her throat. “I don’t…” She swallows, “I don’t want you.”

For a moment there she thinks her response would elicit a similar reaction to the one he had mere seconds ago, but for some strange reason all her words manage to do in that moment is have a strange flicker pass through Rafe’s suddenly bright blue eyes.

“Alright.” He nods, finally pulling away from her and she can’t help but notice the slight perk that rises in the corner of his lips. “Call me when you learn how to lie.”

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