#and i feel like just lying in my bed and rotting + i had 5 hrs of sleep lmao

[megumiifushiiguro]

How are you doing, bestie?

mehhhhhhh

[propertyofemilyprentiss]

red wine prompt 5, emily x reader, reader has depression and has a bad day

My sweetest downfall

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Emily is always there to guide you back to the light when a bad day comes.

A/N: Thank you for the request! You can join my celebration here!

TWs: none (i think?), just r being sad

Word count: 1.8K

You could sometimes feel it from miles away whenever a bad day was coming. It came in small waves, each one bringing you down just a little until it became too much. First, you could feel your shoulders slumping down in defeat; then your gaze would keep unfocusing from time to time, followed by an increasing heaviness in your chest. Smiling would become a necessary task rather than an involuntary gesture. By the end of it, you were left powerless, succumbing to this barely existing state of numbness.

Today wasn’t any different, you thought, starting to feel the signs from yesterday, a cruel reminder that you didn’t have any power over your mind and feelings. It was a lost cause trying to find a reason - it could well range from nothing to bad weather, to a meaningless argument or to work-related stress. 

When this happens, you always retract into your broken shell and block out the world until you feel like you can breathe again. You rotted in bed, barely moving the whole day, curtains closed and lights off - darkness always brought a weird sense of peace to your defeated soul. You ignored every buzzing of your phone, not having a single flicker of energy to even check who was reaching out to you whilst knowing that you will feel guilty about it later.

Today was one in which you just couldn’t function, instead finding the tiniest victory in the fact that you were still breathing, still alive and not entirely won over by this feeling.

You missed the numbness - it was much easier to survive with it. But on some days you weren’t lucky enough to feel it, instead forced to live into the made-up casket of your mind. 

—

After not hearing from you the whole day, Emily decided to stop by your place instead of going directly home. Something was clearly wrong, that much she figured already, but she couldn’t pinpoint what. You had been doing so well lately, smiling and laughing and having that spark in your eyes that she adored. So she didn’t waste any time once the clock hit 5pm, taking her jacket and bag, hurrying towards the car with a heavy heart.

The drive was almost a blur, doing it almost unconsciously from the many times she had done this route before. Grabbing her keys, she entered the building, going towards your apartment, her anxiety growing with each step. Once she reaches the front of the door, she doesn’t waste any second to unlock it, being met with the familiar sight that she had seen countless times before. Only now there was a stark contrast to it - the once lively, cozy place now was poorly lit and unmoving, like there was no soul living here.

She makes her way further into the hallway, careful not to make any sudden noises, until she reaches your bedroom door, which is slightly ajar. Her eyebrows knit into a small frown when she notices you still lying in bed, for a moment wondering how long you’ve been there. Pushing it a bit more, she quietly enters the room, silently making her way over and stopping right beside you, her frown growing deeper. A wave of worry immediately washes over her as she takes in the sight of you still in PJs, your hair unbrushed and no sign of food or water nearby.

With her eyes never leaving you for even a moment, she settles on the edge of the bed, her lips pursed and her heart breaking a little at the sight of you still unmoving, just existing. Taking a deep breath, she slowly reaches out, beginning to card her fingers through your silky hair, her voice lowered but laced with concern.

”Sweetheart?”, she tried to gently pull you out of this state, asking simple yes or no questions at the beginning, “how long have you been in bed, mi amor? Since I left for work this morning?”.

”Mhm…”, you let out, your eyes darting up to her face, regretting it moments later once you spotted her troubled expression. All because of you.

The frown on her face doesn’t disappear at your quietly mumbled response, the uneasiness in her chest tearing her apart at your confirmation. “But…that was more than ten hours ago…have you eaten anything at all?”.

When she was met with silence, Emily’s heart broke a little more, her mind already imagining the sight of you all alone, laying in bed for ten hours straight, not bothering to take care of yourself in the simplest ways. The most important question still lingered on the tip of her tongue, wishing nothing more than to be able to find out the cause of this so that she could make it better. She swallowed the lump in her throat, scared not to push you even further away if she’d ask it now, instead letting her fear and vulnerability out through her shaky voice while her fingers still moved in a comforting motion through your hair.

“Sweetheart…you’re really worrying me”, she expressed, trying to get any sort of reaction out of you, but getting none again. Her heart broke further.

Silence engulfed the room, carrying the heaviness of a thousand unspoken words between you two, like there’s a thick brick wall that Emily can’t get through.

”I’m sorry”, you finally spoke in a low murmur, feeling like it was the only thing worth saying at this moment.

“You have nothing to be sorry for”, she immediately replied, her voice as gentle as always, “just please tell me what’s wrong”.

“Bad day”, you sighed, not daring to make eye-contact with her again, your mind already conjuring the pained expression of her beautiful face that you didn’t deserve to look at.

Her gaze falls at the sound of your defeated tone, like you were trying to make yourself as small as possible until you could shrink away from her. It was never easy seeing you being a prisoner of your own mind, but alongside the pain that coursed through her veins also came the determination to make it all better. To assure you that she is here and that she loves you more than anything, even on your bad days.

“Please, baby, look at me”, her voice was as soft as a flower petal, bringing two fingers under your chin to encourage you further. 

When you finally did, her heart clenched a little more at your hurting, exhausted eyes. The motion of her hand was almost an unconscious gesture as she traced it over your cheek, her thumb moving in a gentle caress to soothe the pain that won over your soul.

“Did something happen?”, she asked with caution, her tone bearing the same tenderness.

You shook your head in response, a part of you wishing that something had actually happened, so that you could at least have a viable reason why you were feeling like this, why you couldn’t do more than just exist.

“No, nothing happened”, you mutter in slight frustration, “I just have this feeling that’s pressing onto me and…and I don’t know how to get rid of it”, your voice cracked a bit, enough to make your eyes glisten, “I don’t want to feel this. I want to be numb again”.

“Hey, no, sweetheart, it’s okay”, she responded affectionately, ignoring the aching in her chest as your words broke through her body, “Tell me what you need”.

You looked at her hesitantly for a moment, fighting between your desire and the voices in your head telling you that you don’t deserve it. But she was right there, her eyes pleading at you to let her in, to let her love you, making it impossible not to cave in.

“Can you…can you hold me? Please?”, you pleaded in a whisper, almost self-conscious from how pathetic you knew you sounded.

“Of course”, she gave you a smile - and you could see the spark of hope in her eyes that almost made you crumble before her arms even encircled your body.

And that was it, from the moment she noticed the tears in your eyes that were threatening to fall on your weary face, any shred of doubt completely dissolved, her hands immediately reaching for you until you were laying partially on top of her, her arms firmly wrapped around you. One hand resumed the smooth motion through your hair, while the other kept you against her, determined not to let go - not to let you go.

That’s when you ultimately fell into pieces, your body shaking with the force of your sobs, tears trailing down onto Emily’s shoulder, your own hold tight onto her body, terrified of scaring her away.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay. I’m here, I love you, I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay, just let it all out”, she mumbled into your ears, the softness in which she spoke breaking you furthermore.

Her voice continues to murmur the words over and over again, soothing and quiet, the only sound in the entire silent apartment beside her sweet nothings being the shuddering, heart-wrenching sobs that erupt from your body, causing her arms to hold you closer and her lips to find your forehead, placing loving kisses repeatedly.

She lets you cry against her until you have nothing left, her limbs wrapped around you, encasing you in a blanket of warmth and safety, the smell of expensive perfume and clean clothes filling your nostrils as her hold never falters, her chin resting on top of your head in between kisses.

That’s when the feeling goes away, its place being taken by the comfort and familiarity that Emily radiated - the feeling of being at home. Gradually, the heaviness in your chest disappeared, tears turning into sniffles and pain transcending into love.

“That’s it, you’re doing amazing”, she whispered, her thumbs wiping away the remnants of your teardrops.

“Thank you”, you managed to let out, still keeping your face hidden away in the crook of her neck.

“No need to thank me”, she gently moved a little bit to uncover your eyes, earning a little smile in response, “See? That smile is worth everything”.

Her words made your heart flutter, your lips curling further upwards. “I love you, Em”.

“I love you too, sweetheart”, she pecked your lips this time, your smiles reuniting in between, “Now, we need to do something about your empty stomach. Stay here, I’ll prepare something quickly”.

“Don’t…”, you protested as soon as you felt her pulling away, “let’s just order something”.

The look you gave her caused her to crumble instantly, never being able to refuse your pleading. “Okay, we’ll order something”.

God, you love her so much.

With Emily next to you the whole night, a bad day was just that - a bad day, not a bad week, nor a bad month. Just a bad day, which would be instantly perished by her presence, a constant guiding light in your life.

[gepardling]

late night R&R w/ gepard.

desc. : Gepard returns home late after his patrols, but the last thing he expects to see is you still awake, let alone your fingers stuffed in your sopping cunny... (wc : 2.7k)

tags / cw : nsfw, afab!reader, lots of kissing, tooth rotting fluff, sex, lots n lots of sex, cunnilingus, size kink (?), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it!), praise kink, pussydrunk!gepard, masturbation, lil bit of overstimulation, petnames (baby, good boy, geppie, my love), not proofread! i wrote this based on vibes alone

It was shameful how something as innocent as your kisses could get Gepard all hot beneath the collar. Your kisses were gentle, quick, and very, very numerous. They were passionate, fiery and filled with your love for him. They were supportive, caring and understanding. Everything that Gepard could ask for, he found in your kiss. 

That is, of course, until he remembers where else those lips of yours kissed him last week…

STOP. A blistering heat creeps up Gepard's neck as he tries to mentally will those invasive thoughts to go away. To focus on the task at hand. To finish his patrols and ensure the safety of the people of Belobog. But when he thinks of you all alone at home his heart goes soft, and his mind begins to wander again. 

He thinks about your gentle touch, your innocent doe-like eyes, your soft hair, your plush thighs, your pillowy breasts…

…

…

Okay, that's enough now. Gepard tugs at his collar, a pathetic attempt to dissipate the heat locked under his uniform. Just one more block. One more block and he could return home to you and your awaiting arms. It was getting harder to focus by the minute, with Gepard's mind becoming clouded by thoughts of you. He hadn't even realised he had walked straight home on autopilot until he was about to open the front door. 

His hand hesitated on the doorknob. He didn't even finish his patrols, but it was so late already. You must be fast asleep by now. Part of him wanted to turn around and finish his duties but… Gepard felt guilty. He had been very busy lately, working late nights and often not returning home until the next day. At least he spends less time on the frontlines, but even so it doesn't help his workload much.

With a heavy heart, Gepard pushes open the front door and steps inside. The lights are already off, so he figures you must be in bed. The clanking of his armour makes him wince, sounding much louder in the quiet house than he first anticipated. Carefully, he removes his boots and gloves, leaving them in their respective spots. He decides to retreat to the kitchen for a glass of water before bed. 

But Gepard stills in his tracks when he hears a faint noise. The softest of mewls peeling beneath the crack of your shared bedroom door. His immediate thought was to check if you're having a bad dream. But the closer he inches to the door, the more flustered he becomes. When he stops in front of it, the realisation fully sets in. First of all, you were not having a bad dream. And second of all, you weren't asleep at all. 

He needs a moment to prepare himself before he opens that door, knowing what awaits him on the other end doesn't settle his nerves in any way. It's not that he was scared but you always had this way of making his heart race, to challenge his fight-or-flight response. He takes a moment to still the thudding in his chest, to try and ignore the way his pants feel a lot tighter than they did 5 minutes ago. But what he hears next makes his head spin, 

"Geppie… Ahn-... A-Are you home yet?" your voice weakly calls to him through the door. Shit… 

He opens the door slowly, and the sight makes his breath hitch. You're lying on your shared bed, 2 fingers stuffed deep in your cunny and your thumb desperately rolling your puffy clit. You weren't wearing your usual nightdress, but rather one of his shirts, bunched up around your tits. It was almost shameless, the way you held eye contact with him, desperately gasping with teary eyes. 

For a moment he was glued in place, eyes fixated on the motion of your fingers, the way your arousal pooled around your ass on the sheets. You stop your lewd actions and move to sit up. But then he found himself moving, moving way too fast, and almost crashing onto his knees at the foot of the bed. In one swift motion, he scoots you forward on the bed and nestles his face into your soft thighs, quietly exhaling against your skin. 

"I'm sorry I'm late, my love," he begins. 

"I missed you, baby…" you reply, wrapping your arms around his head and pulling him in to hug you. 

"Missed you too," he breathes out, muffled by the skin of your tummy. The sensation tickles, and you giggle a little before tilting his head upwards. 

"Geppie… You seem exhausted…" you tut, gently raking your nails across his scalp. Almost instantly, he relaxes in your embrace.  The small act makes his nerves melt away. 

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes closing momentarily. But when he opens them again, the light in them changes to something a little… bolder. "Are we going to ignore the state I just found you in?" 

You gape your mouth a few times, probably akin to a goldfish. A deep blush crept up your neck, and your loins felt a little bit hotter than before. You honestly forgot about that for a moment, being caught up in Gepard's emotional state. You bit your lip before replying, "I- uhm… It's nothing. You're tired, we should go to sleep." 

"Don't wanna neglect you again…" he whines, nuzzling against you. Before you could tell him otherwise, he starts trailing gentle kisses down your stomach, onto your thigh. Lips hovering so close to where you know you need him, but…

"Gepard… It's fine. You don't have to- Ah..!" 

He latches his lips onto your clit, and begins to gently suck the tiny bud. You subconsciously find yourself gripping his hair, pulling his face closer to your pussy. He lets out a groan at the sensation, the act sending sinful vibrations across your womanhood. He brings a hand up to your clit and pops his mouth off, darting his tongue out to meet your hole. He starts off slow, gently licking your mound, before nearly stuffing his face into your cunny to fuck you with his tongue. 

The movement is sudden and it has you jerk forwards, letting out a loud moan at the feeling of his mouth on you. The longer he goes, the sloppier he gets, making a mess of his spit and your arousal across your thighs. You're nearly folded double, arms holding his head to keep your grip on reality. The sound of him eating pussy like a man starved is obscene, and only adds to your moment of bliss.

But when you start to see a light, what starts off as a white pinprick in your vision grows to a blinding flash. The knot in your core that builds and builds suddenly snaps and you come undone with a hoarse cry. You fall backwards onto the bed as Gepard helps you to ride out your high, placing gentle kittenlicks on your cunny. But when be doesn't stop there and keeps going, your post-orgasm bliss is interrupted. 

"W-Wait… Geppie, what are you- Ah… Ahn!" Your voice cracks feebly and you try to push his head off your overstimulated clit, but your arms are too weak to make any difference. You try closing your thighs and scooting back on the bed, but Gepard has you locked in place. He wraps one hand around your thigh and places the other on your abdomen, lightly pushing down. 

The sensation is far too much, and you're left arching your back and gripping the sheets behind you. You bite your lips in a poor excuse to try and die down the sounds bubbling from your chest, and subconsciously buck your hips against his face. All coherent thoughts are torn from your mind as you reach your second climax, Gepard's name ripping from your throat. 

When he sits back up, his chin is practically glistening with your juices, and his breathing is ragged. A crimson blush is spread across his cheeks, nose and ears. You could swear he has hearts in his eyes as he looks at you with the most adoring, innocent gaze, something almost unbelievable given the acts he just committed. 

"D-Did I do well?" He huffs out, almost somewhat embarrassed to ask. You nod your head and thread your fingers through his hair. 

"Yes, baby… Did so good f'me…" your reply comes out slurred.

Gepard places one more kiss on the inside of your thighs before he stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, the sight alone making you press your thighs together. A new warmth bloomed between them, but you were too shy to admit that, already feeling guilty about keeping your lover awake. He discards his uniform and gets back on the bed, taking his place next to you with an arm draped over your middle. 

You hum, turning to face him before planting a kiss on his nose. But one kiss turns into many, and before you know it, Gepard's flustered gaze meets yours. Gently, you trail your hand down his chest, coming to stop just above his member. 

"You don't have to," he almost stammers, but you press a kiss to his lips to silence him.

"It's my turn to take care of you, Gepard." You whisper against his lips as your hand finally meets his throbbing length. He's already so worked up, just from eating you out, immediately letting out a gasp as you thumb his tip. Tiny pearls of pre bead at his tip, which you eagerly swipe away as you massage the head of his cock. Your hand drags up and down his length tantalisingly slow as you press open mouthed kisses against his neck. 

Gepard can barely keep himself sane, small gasps echoing into the night. You move to sit over him, straddling his hips on either side with your thighs. You continued stroking his length, fingers dancing across his girth as you supported your weight with one hand on his chest. His expressions were absolutely divine, he looked ethereal. The moonlight cast a halo over his golden hair, your good boy taking all the love you lathered over his cock.

"You're so pretty like this, Gepard…" you breathed out, hand increasing the speed with which you stroked him, drawing out more and more cries of bliss from his lungs. Seeing the way he reacted to you, and you alone, was enough to make your heart flutter and pussy clench around nothing. You maintained your pace, unfaltering, until with a groan Gepard released white ribbons of cum into your hand, over himself and the sheets. 

"Such a good boy for me," you whisper, leaning down to place a few more open mouthed kisses on his lips. He whines and meets you halfway, reciprocating your sweet love with no hesitation. You can feel his half-hard cock press into your thigh, and he does too. His hands grab your hips and slowly push and pull your folds across his length, still not quite satisfied. You gasp and moan when the head of his cock catches onto your clit, with every drag of your soft body over his lean one.

It takes all your willpower to push yourself up off of him, before reaching down to align his tip with your entrance. The blunt head rests snugly against your hole, and the size makes you hesitate for a moment. Gepard gives your hip a reassuring squeeze, and you slowly begin to sink down on his cock. The stretch burns, a dull ache reverberating through your lower half as you try to fit him all inside. Crystalline tears bead at the corners of your eyes, and Gepard immediately takes notice of them. 

"We don't have to-," he begins, worry laced in his tone, but you cut him off swiftly before he can pull out.

"I want to…" as you grab at his free hand, guiding it towards your clit, gently rubbing it in slow circles. Your pussy clenches around him, and you both gasp at the sudden tightness, but eventually your walls relax. Gepard was worried he might cum prematurely at the sight of you trying to stuff yourself with his cock, the way your pussy fluttered around him each time you sank a little lower was almost too much for his brittle resolve. Bit by bit the stretch eases as you seat yourself fully on his cock, and he lets out a low groan when it disappears entirely from his vision.

You both still momentarily, attempting to catch your breath and get used to the way he splits you open. Then, you slowly rise, leaving only the tip inside before dropping back down. The head bumping your cervix is almost enough to cripple you with pleasure, he's so big it's unavoidable. You set a pace for yourself, riding his dick with vigor. The burn in your thighs felt good, each hump rewarded with the grind of his head against your spongy spot that oozes the love juice out of you. 

Gepard's jaw goes slack with pleasure, head tilted back into the fluffy pillow. His hands had an iron grip on your hips, helping you along and stuffing himself deeper into your core with every thrust. The pressure was building up again, it was blistering hot, getting closer and closer to your release but not quite making it. It's messy. It's sticky. It's wet. With every rise of your hips he can clearly see the white ring at the base of his member. Both your mixed arousals coating his abdomen and leaving dainty strings in its wake. 

The ache in your thighs had started to overpower the pleasure, and Gepard noticed the way your pace faltered. Despite being barely coherent himself, Gepard could tell enough to pinpoint that you must be getting tired. He couldn't really think straight in the moment either, but his natural instinct was to help you out, yeah? In one swift move, he has you underneath him, one hand pushing your thigh up to your chest and the other holding your wrists together, tugging you into him with every thrust. 

The sudden change startled you, Gepard was never really this forward to  begin with. But you couldn't deny the way you loved to be at his mercy for once. This new position squeezed your tits together even more, and every thrust dug deeper into your core. You turn your gaze upwards and meet Gepard's eyes, who is absolutely drunk on your cunt right now. There probably wasn't a thought in that little head of his, other than railing you into next Tuesday.

The way he groans and whines makes the room heat up a little, slurring out little please's and thank you's. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find it incredibly endearing, his worship and praise for you was unending and overflowing. You could barely keep up with his pace too, leaving you a mewling mess sprawled beneath him. Just a few more thrusts until you'd-...

With a sudden cry, Gepard's name dancing on your lips, you come undone once more that night. Your throat was hoarse by now, kiss-swollen and bitten lips pursing together pathetically to silence your cries. The way you clenched around him led Gepard towards his tipping point as well, thrusting one - two - three more times before he buried himself as deep inside your cunny as possible. 

Ribbon after ribbon of his cum shoots into your womb, and Gepard rides out his high with shallow grinds against your pelvis. Your already-overstimulated clit burned at the feeling, but you were too breathless to let out a peep. Gepard stills in your cunt for a moment to catch his breath, "S-So good f'me, you feel so good," he babbles incoherently. When all is said and done, he pulls back and sees the way his cum spills from your messy folds. 

It takes everything in him to will his dick down again. "... Gepard?" Your innocent little voice bores it's way into his mind. 

"I'm… uhm…" he coughs awkwardly before his hands find your hips again. "S-Sorry…" he stammers. Your eyes widen in alarm. That can't be… 

"W-Wait what are you- Gepa-AH!" 

(It's safe to say you didn't get much sleep that night)

i kinda like this interpretation of geppie 🥺🥺 soft n shy but sometimes his more duty-driven side comes out in the bedroom... I imagine you've been together 4 a while so he's more comfortable doing these tings ♥︎

[circle-with-me]

‘tis the damn season - part 5

Pairing: Will Ramos x OFC (Gen/Viv/Vivvy)

Content Warning/Tags: 18+ MDNI!!! nightmares, psychological abuse, verbal abuse, implications of physical abuse, menacing/threatening behavior, toxic relationship with parent (father), mentions of death, mentions of car wrecks, mentions of alcoholism, panic attacks, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie.

First part of this may be rough for some but after that is pure FLUFF I swear! Tooth rotting. They’re adorable, I love them so much.

Word Count: 3k

tag list: @concretenoah @deathblacksmoke @sitkowski @bngurngheart @malice-ov-mercy @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @cookiesupplier @lilrubles @meekahy @lacktoesandtoddlerants @sammyjoeee @collective-heartbreak @agravemisstake @catharsis-in-darkness @0fth34byss

Authors note: PLEASE PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE YOU READ THIS PART!

There is a nightmare scene that can be pretty rough for some and I want to make sure everyone is prepared. You do not have to read that part to know that is going on with the rest of the story so I have divided it up so you can scroll through it. The scene is in italics. Once you reach the snowflake divider you’ve made it to the rest of the story. Love you guys and thanks as always for reading my thing ♥️

thank you to @deathblacksmoke and @concretenoah for being the best beta readers/listening to me go on about this fic incessantly. They’re my biggest helpers and supporters and I wouldn’t know what to do without them 🤍

warning divider by @cafekitsune, snowflake divider by @saradika-graphics, t. swift lyrics dividers by yours truly

“Genevieve! Get down here NOW!” 

She stiffens at her father’s booming voice calling for her downstairs. Even with her door closed it sounded as if he was right next to her. Gen sits at the edge of her bed, dreading what would happen next. He would become angrier the longer she made him wait but fear kept her frozen.

“GENEVIEVE!” The voice boomed again. “Don’t make me come up there!”

She whimpers at the threat, knowing if she doesn’t get up immediately he’ll make good on it. Wiping the tears from her cheeks she gets up and opens her door, padding down the hallway to the staircase.

Gen stands at the top of the stairs and peers over in an attempt to catch a glimpse of him. She hears noises from the kitchen, shuffling around followed by shattering glass and a string of curses. He’s drunk, but what else is new? 

“God dammit Genevieve, you don’t fucking li-” She jumps as his large frame stampedes out of the kitchen and to the bottom of the stairs. He halts when he sees her, the fury in his eyes turning to annoyance. He grips the railing, taking a step up. 

“Mija, why did I get a call from school today telling me you’ve been skipping class?”

Gen feels her heart start to race. 

“Daddy, I-I..” She stammers, tears welling up in her eyes. “I only skipped class once so I could..”

He slams his fist against the railing and Gen freezes in place, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. 

“Don’t lie to me, bitch.” He spits.

“I’m not lying to you, daddy! I promise. It was just one time! I wanted..”

He takes another step up.

“What the fuck is so important that you had to skip class for, huh?”

Gen whimpers, she knew he’d be furious to find out the truth but if she lied it would be ten times worse. She doesn’t even look up when she speaks.

“Tomorrow is Will’s birthday and I wanted to get him something special. He likes manga and the only place that sells it around here closes early. So, I left before the last period started so I could get there on time.” 

“You skipped school to buy that stupid boy a comic book?” Gabriel sneers, narrowing his eyes at his daughter. 

“Daddy, he’s not..”

“And whose fucking money did you buy that with?” 

“Mine.” She sniffles. “Mrs. Hart has been having some trouble getting around so she asked me to help her with some housework. I told her not to but she insisted on paying me.” 

He barks a laugh but there’s no humor behind it. In fact, it’s so cold it makes Gen’s skin crawl. 

“Always taking advantage of people. What would your mother think of you?” Gen winces. He loves to use her mother against her. “I bet you went over to the neighbors begging for money. Just like when you cry to Will about how terrible I treat you.”

Gabriel ascends the step once more, taking two steps this time. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t drink all the time or be so ‘terrible’ if I had a better daughter. Did you think of that? I lost my wife and I get to look at her spitting image every single day. You will never be half the woman she was… It should have been you that died in that wreck.”

If he had said that a year ago, his statement would have devastated her. She reasons that in some way it probably still does, but her bitterness and hatred for the man she calls her father usurps that feeling. 

Gen looks in his eyes— eyes that have been lifeless and cold for years. She knew the risks, the consequences, the days of recovery ahead of her but she didn’t care. If he was going to sink that low then so was she.

“No, daddy. You can blame your drinking on me if you want to but you had a problem long before mom died. If you weren't such a drunk that wreck never would have happened. It should have been you that died.”

Gabriel’s lips curl in anger, a snarl coming from his chest. “You little fucking bitch!” He bounds up the stairs towards her, reaching out to grab her and—

Gen’s eyes fly open and she pants looking around the room. Her vision is so blurry she can barely see anything and it doesn’t help her racing heart. She lays her head back against the pillow, trying to slow her breathing. 

“It was just a bad dream. It’s over. Breathe.” She whispers to herself. After a few minutes, she opens her eyes, her vision much clearer. She feels something shift slightly next to her and she looks over.

Beside her, as far away from her as he possibly could be, was Will. His brown eyes stare at her like she’s a wounded puppy and he wants to rescue her. From day one, he was always her protector, but he had witnessed enough nightmares to know he needed to stay away until the coast was clear.

Gen smiles meekly at him, body still trembling and tears falling freely. She stretches her arm out towards him. He was so far away from her that her fingertips barely brush his chest. 

A strangled “baby” is all she can get out but that’s good enough for Will. He envelops her in his arms, pulling her into his chest, softly kissing her face. She sobs into his arms while he rubs her back, soothing her with sweet words. 

“I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.” He whispers. 

Will doesn’t need her to tell him what happened. The whines and cries in her sleep were enough. He remembers all of the sleepless nights for both of them, navigating through the nightmares and trauma plaguing her. Will thinks about the years of nightmares she has had with no one to comfort her like he is now and his heart aches.

Gen clutches onto him, burying herself deeper into his chest, gasping sobs wracking her body. Will holds her tightly, knowing it always gets worse before it gets better. He gently strokes her hair, crooning a song he’s done his best to forget in her ear.

“I look back to the one and only summertime

When my girl was the envy of every friend of mine

She slept safely in my arms

We were so young and invincible”

Will feels her shuddered breaths calm a little. The grip she has on him relaxes, her hands still shaking but lightly rubbing at his sides. He takes that as a hint to keep going.

“Closed lips

She was never one to kiss and tell

Those trips in the summer never went so well

Young love was such dumb love

Call it what you want

It was still enough”

Gen’s body continues to calm as he sings. He stops singing and hums as he takes a peek at her. He notices she’s not crying anymore and wipes the remaining tears from her face. She cracks an eye open and sniffles, hugging him even closer and nuzzling into his neck whining for him to continue. He smiles softly. There’s my girl. He thinks.

“And it's still out of my reach

And you're still

All of the things that I want in my life

How could I ask you to leave me?”

And we were just kids in love

The summer was full of mistakes

We wouldn't learn from

The first kiss stole the breath from my lips

Why did the last one tear us apart?”

His singing becomes quieter as he processes the lyrics. They were fifteen when they first heard this song. It came out the summer they started dating and it seemed perfect at the time. Will heard it first and declared it “their song” immediately. Gen had complained at first that the song was too sad but Will told her to focus on the sweet parts. He reassured her the sad verses would never apply to them.  

Fourteen years later the realization that they not only do apply to them but almost mirror their situation perfectly was almost too much for Will to bear. 

“We're falling down

Can we pick up the pieces?

We're at an all-time low

How do we get it back?

We're falling down”

The last few words come out a cracked and broken mess as tears stream down his face. He attempts to hide his pain from Gen but she hears it and can feel his heart pounding. She looks up at him, tears of her own returning, but the look in her eyes is no longer panic. Instead, it’s heartbreak, empathy, and longing. 

Gen smiles at him, adjusting herself so that she can wrap her arms around his neck. She kisses him gently. It’s so gentle that he can barely feel it and he wants more but doesn’t want to rush her. 

They lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms for a while, their lips meeting with little intention besides soothing the other person. Will’s hands roam her back and sides, staying in neutral areas until she’s ready. 

 When Gen deepens the kiss, he lets her have control. He can feel that she needs more by the way she pulls at his neck and rubs herself against him. He smiles into the kiss and plays with the frayed ends of her shirt.

“Is this okay?” He breathes, rubbing his fingers only barely under the hem.

She nods and he slides his hand under her shirt, his thumb brushing her ribcage just under her breasts. She lifts her leg over his hip and pulls him in closer, moaning as she feels how hard he is against her. Will cups her breast in his hand while he grinds into her slowly, swallowing every moan she gives him.

“Turn around for me.” Will requests and she obliges, rotating in the opposite direction and making a point to place her ass right up against his crotch as she settles down. Will chuckles and grabs her hips, grinding into her hard. Gen giggles back at him, gasping softly. 

“Are you ready for me, baby? Need you.” He says slipping a hand in her panties and running a finger through her slit. He curses at how wet she is and quickly shoves his boxers down, hiking her leg over his. He pushes her panties to the side and slips inside of her.

Will slides his other arm underneath her and wraps it around her chest, pressing his body as close to hers as he can get. He presses kiss after kiss on her face and neck, slowly dragging his cock in and out of her. 

Gen reaches back to card her fingers through his curls, bringing their lips together. She whimpers against his mouth, begging him to go faster. Will increases his movements, the sound of her stuttered moans already forming a knot in his stomach.

“Touch yourself for me, Vivvy… please” Will pants into her neck. “Need to.. fuck, want you to finish with me.” 

Gen snakes her hand down her stomach, circling her clit with the pads of her fingers. Will watches her from over her shoulder, squeezing her hip so hard  he’ll be shocked if he doesn’t leave a mark. 

“Will.” Gen cries, moving her hips to meet his thrusts. With every new thrust inside of her he can feel her getting closer. The muscles in her belly are tensing and her legs are beginning to shake. Will watches as she practically bounces on his cock chasing her release.

“I’m here, baby. Let go for me. I’ve got you.” He coos, feeling his own climax coming on quickly. 

Gen stills in front of him, crying out his name, shaking and moaning. Will pulls her so close he can barely breath and continues thrusting until he spills deep inside of her. 

For some time, neither of them move or say a word. Will curls around her, still holding her tightly while Gen places featherlight kisses to his fingers. Both actions, while truly sincere, have hidden meanings. 

One of them is trying to keep the other as close as possible in fear of them retreating. While the other is remembering for the first time in years what it’s like to experience a safe place in the form of a person.

Gen feels the bed dip beside her and a warm hand runs up her arm. She makes a contented sound but keeps her eyes shut. Will removes his hand and replaces it with his lips, kissing up to her shoulder. 

“Time to get up, sleepy head.” He hums. 

Gen pulls the covers over her head groaning and he laughs, fighting to get them off of her. 

“Viv, It’s almost 2:30. We’ve been sleeping all day!”

The vice grip Gen has on the comforter stays as Will hears her grumbling something underneath them.

“What’s that?” He says, tilting his head and putting his ear to the blanket. “I can’t hear you, you’re gonna have to whine louder!”

A hand reaches out of the comforter and pinches Will’s side and he yelps. A satisfied snicker comes from below the fabric barrier as her hand retreats but he’s quick to grab it.

Gen squeals as he rips the comforter off of her and grabs her other hand, pinning them above her head. He watches her as she giggles uncontrollably; She’s trying, but not really to remove herself from his grasp. He kisses her face repeatedly and he lets her remove her hands so she can wrap her arms around him. 

“We need to get up, Vivvy.” Will says between pecks. 

“Whyyyy?” Gen drags out, giving him her best pout.

“Well, for one.. we haven’t eaten all day which is just not acceptable. Especially for a lazy day. And two…” He stands up and walks over to the window and peeks through the blinds. “It’s snowing.”

Gen sits up on her elbows, a baffled expression on her face. 

“And…?” 

Will rolls his eyes. 

“And.. If I recall correctly someone used to love playing in the snow. At least before she turned into a big grump.” He teases.

Gen’s eyes light up and she scrambles to the window. She looks out as Will holds the blinds open for her, noticing how much it snowed overnight. Gen estimated there were probably five to six inches outside. It was perfect for a fun day in the snow.

“Can we go outside now?” She asks, buzzing with excitement.

“Food first. Snow after.” He replies.

After they eat, Gen practically runs to get dressed, stealing clean clothes from Will’s dresser to layer with. Seeing her in his clothes, the way his sweatpants cling to her hips and accentuate her curves makes him short of breath. 

He considers the option of pulling them off of her and bending her over the dresser she was standing at but he knew not to mess with a woman and her snow plans. Even if sex was involved. Besides, there was always afterwards.

Will decides it’s best to distract himself so he walks into the living room to finish getting ready. Gen follows him shortly after, grabbing her boots and putting them on.

Will zips up his puffer jacket and turns around, watching as Gen puts on her pathetic excuse for a coat. He stands and watches her for a moment, an amused expression on his face. When she looks up, she sees him and grins.

“What?” 

“You spend a few years in L.A. and forget how to dress for the weather here.” Will snickers as he gets up and assesses her outfit. He shakes his head and tuts at her. “Unacceptable.” Gen sticks her tongue out and Will laughs as he walks to his closet.

He brings her his extra puffer and beanie, placing the hat on her head and letting her put the jacket on herself. 

“At least you brought a scarf, you monster.” He teases, fixing it around her neck. “Can’t have my girl freezing out there.”

Gen feels her cheeks flush, surprised at how quickly she accepts it. Was there a point in fighting it though? She was his girl. That had never changed, no matter how long she tried to combat it. In the back of her mind, she’s reminded this is temporary, but she stubbornly pushes it away. For once, she’s going to let herself have what she wants. 

Will zips the jacket up for her, adjusting the scarf and making sure she was nice and snug. “That’s much better.” He says as he leans in and kisses her nose. He wraps his arms around her waist and rubs his nose against hers, grinning as she giggles uncontrollably.

“Ready to go, baby?”

Gen peers around the corner of the tree she’s hiding around. Will stands a few feet away, his back facing her. She sneaks around the tree, as quietly as the crunch of the snow would allow and runs toward him, throwing the snowball in her hand at him and hitting his back. 

“There you are!” Will yells, running after her. He gathers up snow, throwing it back at her while he chases her. Shrieks of laughter permeate the cold winter air as they sprint around like little kids. Will finally catches up to her and grabs her, pulling her down on top of him.

Gen pulls down the scarf around his face, covering his face with kisses, focusing specifically on his cold red nose. She doesn’t miss the quiet giggles he lets out between each peck. His arms squeeze her tightly against him and despite the 20° temperature, she feels warmer than ever.

Will removes his arms from her suddenly and she sulks. He beams at her, spreading his arms and legs out in the snow, attempting to move them in a sweeping motion. 

“It’s very hard to make a snow angel when you’re on top of me.” 

Gen scoffs and rolls off of him, landing on her back next to him. 

“That’s the first time you’ve ever complained about me being on top of you before.”

“First and only time, Vivvy.” He winks. “Now, are you gonna make one with me or is mine gonna sit here out in the snow all by itself?”

Gen and Will make their snow angels, and Will hops up to help her off the ground. They stand in front of them to assess their handiwork.

“Looks good to me. What do you think, babe?” He asks, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Perfect.” Gen responds, nuzzling into his chest. “Absolutely perfect.”

[kusagrasskusa]

An Eye for an Eye, 'Til the World goes Blind

Chapter 4- Meething Them Part 1

Intro, Cha1, Cha2, Cha3, Cha4, (Chapter Selections!)

Side Note, Toby is said to be 5’8 by the age of 25 and that’s gonna be the age I’m putting him at. And just for fun, Masky will be 6’ and Brain will be 6’2. Just saying, it was creepy af trying to find the actors’ heights (there’s no info for it btw) but the websites that have their info were getting too personal with it lmao

Summary- She wakes up to meet a man. Luckily she planned ahead.

I just want to be yours, loved only by you. I can’t fucking breathe when I'm around you. You can hurt me, manipulate me, fucking break me, ruin me. Just give me your heart so I never have to worry again.

The world spun all around as her eyes fluttered open to the dark space in the dimly lit room. Litten only by a small red light on the opposite wall next to a door. The smell was horrible- like the smell of a rotting body that had been there for far too long. Perhaps more than one body, too.

The air was cold and stung on her bare flesh, a familiar feeling from all those years ago. She remembers Martha locking her in the car on a cold winter day to take Mateo ice skating, and how the cold stung her like this. Martha died in jail for what she did to little Y/N by the other prisoners; mothers who would do anything to see their child or stepchild again. And these mothers didn’t like meeting a woman so cruel to her stepdaughter that she’d lock Y/N in the car on hot summer days until she couldn’t breathe anymore.

What drives a woman to do that? It’s no wonder Y/N always gets hot and nervous in a vehicle with a heavy heart each time. A fear of cars is something she may never get over.

Sometimes Y/N swore she could see her mother in this room. Sometimes, I say, as if she hadn’t been awake for only 5 minutes. Disillusioned and staring into space, flashing images of once was or can be popping in and out. Five minutes felt like forever for some reason. She was so cold in nothing but her undergarments; although the thought of where her clothes were never registered in her mind.

Chloroform doesn’t knock people out that fast unless it's laced. Whatever they used would remind her of how she felt after surgery when the anesthesia was wearing off. When she had surgery after trying to cut her arm off and nearly dying. Why did she do that again?

“Good morning, woo,” a masculine voice called out, followed by a random noise. A tic.

When did the large shadowed man lean in front of her? The room was too dark to see his face, but she could see his silhouette from the light shining behind him.

“Good morning,” her weak sound whispered back. “Where am I?”

“Somewhere nice, little Y/N, woo,” his voice ticed once more, “a nice little place of business. And me and you are gonna talk.”

“Oh, I’m not in the force yet,” Y/N smiled softly, cocking her head at the man as he chuckled. “You’ll have to talk with my brother about police business.”

“No silly, not about that. No… We have something more personal to talk about later,” he said kindly. “For now, I just wanna look at your beautiful face. You look so peaceful when you’re sleeping.”

“Hehe, how sweet,” she softly replied, not registering what he even said in her mind. She heard him say something else- although, her tiredness made it hard to pay attention and keep her eyes open.

“Not a thought going through your head- woo- then, and not a single damn thought now. That’s okay. Enjoy your high while you can, pretty girl.”

By the time her eyes looked back up at the man, he was gone. But she didn’t feel his presence leave.

The back of her mind began to finally recognize the world around her. That she had slept enough for the day, that she wasn’t in her bed, and that she was hungry. Her mind trailed back to the thought of kissing her date the previous night, forcing a weak smile on her tired face as her head tilted to the side of the table she was lying on.

“Mmm,” she silently whimpered as her eyes registered the giant light looming above her, too bright to handle in a drugged state. Slowly observing the dark room, her mind was finally putting the pieces together of what was happening. What was happening…

“What the fuck…” Y/N grumbled as she lifted her head from the table, before halting when her shoulder muscles couldn’t move her forward. On top of that, she was barely clothed. Her breathing quickened alongside the beating of her heart as she looked around the dark room, slowly recalling the previous night’s events. Tim was taking her home, and then… then these two people came in, but one of them had Tim’s hair and build so-

“Tim! Tim you fucking asshole, where are you!” She screamed out, adrenaline filling her veins as she pulled against what was holding down her limbs. Ropes tied against her wrists made her wince in pain as she pulled; her arms were held above her head and tied against the legs of the table. Her legs were in the same state, tied against the table legs.

Her muscles fucking ached in pain after constant minutes of pulling and tugging at the ropes combined with heavy breathing. It just hurt so much more on the inside too because she was really starting to like that guy. The feelings of fear, betrayal, and rage burning into her skin more than the tightening ropes didn’t even hurt as much as the thought of what her brother must be thinking.

She was feeling far too mature to tell her brother where she was going to be. Fucking idiot mistake.

Y/N firmly placed her head against the table, overcome by the feeling of helplessness. She didn’t even notice the tears rolling down her face until now. Nor the light sweat that built up from when she was struggling, combined with the humidity of the room. Wasn’t she cold earlier? Why does she recall a different room? And why did she recall the voice that said-

-“woo, the first ten minutes are always my favorite. You see all five stages of grief in one sitting, hah hah.”

Her head turned to where she heard the voice, although her vision was too blurry to see the face of the man who just walked out of the shadows as if it were a 1940s horror film. “You,” she whispered, blinking away the tears the best she could, “who are you?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking the questions first?” He replied smugly as he walked over to the table, leaning over her. He brought his head uncomfortably close to her face, narrowing his eyes as he took in her look of pure horror.

He looked young, perhaps in his early 20s. Large orange goggles around his eyes and a mask pulled down to his chin, revealing his cocky grin and a giant hole on his cheek. Her eyes quickly went to stare at his teeth and flesh from the hole, making her shiver and grow uncomfortable. It reminded her of the uncomfortability of being nearly naked. Did he take off her clothes?

“That’s what I thought. Now, we got some things to talk about, pretty girl,” he chuckled maliciously as he brought a hand to her face, caressing her cheek and watching as she contemplated what to do. He knew what she was thinking: should I pull away from his hand, or will he get mad? What if he hurts me? Oh, but I just don’t wanna be touched by this scary man, but what could I do when I’m so helpless?

It made his grin grow wider as he pulled away, reaching for his pocket and pulling out her wallet. She gasped as she noticed it. “Why do you have that?”

“Well, woo, if you wait a minute, I’m about to get to that.” His hand twitched as he unzipped her wallet and looked through the many cards and hundreds of dollar bills she had stashed in there. “Are you Mr Ismael Ramirez? Or a Mrs. Jamie Burningham? Oh, or a lovely Danielle Iowa? Because, sweetie, you don’t look like any of these people.”

Y/N’s heart fucking dropped. She quietly gulped, feeling her palms get sweaty and the room seemed to be a little warmer. “I… I don’t-“

“Yeah, didn’t think so. And I don’t think they could’ve given you their cards after they died either, huh? I know that Danielle almost escaped me, but I think a hatchet in the heart then proceeding to rip her open a little more should keep her too dead to pay you, right?”

Danielle Iowa was the daughter of the family she saw two nights ago when her brother called her in for help. She was in her room on her back, bruises on her arms and a giant open hole in her chest.

Y/N’s eyes widened as stuttering out slowly, “You killed them?” Her body started to shake, her chest heaving as her mind wandered to what he could do to her if he had the stomach to do other awful things to people.

“Oh, come on now, don’t look so scared!” the man laughed with a hint of annoyance, “you’re no fucking better! You also have exactly $853 in here, exactly as much as- woo- she had in her little jar in the room. How are you any better than a killer if you’re gonna steal money from the dead right next to their bleeding fucking corpses?”

Sins in the form of goosebumps trailed up her skin all over, her head turning away from him as an escape from the situation. She felt embarrassed, weak, and most of all, guilty. Fucking guilty.

“Yeah, and that’s the first time you’re facing it, huh? Didn’t feel so bad earlier, right, when you went out and bought that coffee? Or when you went- woo- out shopping the night before? Why does it feel so dirty now, Y/N?” The man laughed, setting his knee on the table to lift himself up and set his arms on either side of her. He looked down at her, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look back at him from above.

“But hey, ‘ion gotta kill ya for your sins. I ain’t the devil or God. But I will make you work for your freedom.”

His neck snapped as he smiled down at her, ticking once more. Naturally, him being on top of her while she was barely clothed made her worry about what he could mean- what he was going to do to her. Rape her? Torture her like this was a Saw movie? Sell her into slavery?

“I-Is that so,” she said in a low voice, a shaky breath following.

He hummed in response, chuckling to himself. “If you wanna live and keep all your dirty money, well, I recommend you give me what info you got about the police force. Otherwise,” he paused as his neck snapped following a tic. A sudden cold metal pressed against her bare stomach, making her shudder. “I can cut you open for Mateo to see, pretty lady. And that cute little look of fear on your face would look so fucking ugly when it gets skinned off, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N agreed, nodding her head with a quivering lip. “Or-”

“Or?” The man widened his eyes with mild shock, cocking his head as he placed the hatchet a little more firmly against her stomach, causing Y/N to suck in a little.

“Or, you let me willfully help you with all the data I can provide, and then some, in return for help,” she said softly, a small smile appearing on her face as if her fear had just vanished.

“Woah, woo,” he chuckled, his grin growing large on his face as he pulled away. He pressed his hatchet even harder against her skin, causing her breath to hitch. “I have never seen that before. I’mma have to let the other guys know about this, hah hah.”

He got off of her and stepped back down onto the floor, sticking his hatchet back into his little holder.

“Wait, so, what’s this “and then some” thing supposed to mean? And what makes ya think that whatever you can provide is worthy of not just your life, but also something more in return?” he asked rather threateningly as if he was annoyed. No, pissed off.

“You know, I’m not just some dirty detective or thief,” Y/N replied cautiously, furrowing her eyebrows. “You think I didn’t notice all the girls looked like me? You think I didn’t notice I could be next? What if I took extra steps in case something were to happen to me?”

“Attitude out of nowhere like ya have any power over the situation,” he replied aggressively, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way. He swiftly grabbed his hatchet back out and set it on her stomach, before crouching down and reaching for the ropes tying one of her hands down. Anxiety pulsed through her veins but… she knew what she was doing.

The rope burns hurt her wrists as it got free, her hand feeling better from the return of circulation. The man placed her arm down the table forcefully, holding it down as he grabbed his hatchet again, placing the blade on her fingers. Instinctively, she gasped and tensed.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” he said before ticcing, “you’re gonna give me a good counterdeal that’s just so much better than mine. And if you don’t, I’m cutting these off one by one. Got it? Or do you wanna just take my deal instead?”

Y/N quivered, narrowing her eyes at him before taking a deep breath. “Okay, listen… I could do two things. I won’t ever give you the police info if all I get is life and dirty money, and whatever happens to my brother. So you’d have to kill me and be left struggling to get the info yourself. And, let me promise you, it’s not easy.”

She took a quivering breath as the weight of the man’s eyes caused more anxiety to trail through her.

“However, I could also help you. Not just info given to you, but I can also lead the investigation in ways that would keep you and whoever you’re working with safe. I know the ins and outs of everything that goes on there, and I’ve tampered with info before on cases. That’s how I get away with stealing,” she says hesitantly, guilt in her words.

“I could give you info computer bases don’t have, I can steal, I can lie, and I’m very good at staying hidden. I know this might not seem like a lot, especially given that I don’t know your plan, but I can tell these aren’t your first murders or kidnappings. Surely having someone who can log into police bases across this country could be helpful to you, right?”

The man raised a brow, cracking his neck before huffing, “Yeah, yeah, so you can make things easier for me, I expected that. Coulda summed that up quickly, y’know. Now tell me what you wanted in return.” He tapped his hatchet against her fingers impatiently.

“I want to come with you guys,” she breathed out quickly, a look of desperation on her face. “I know you and whoever you work with have been across the country, possibly the world, and committed similar crimes. I’ve studied family murders that looked just like the ones here from other states- and I admire it! I would do anything to be a part of what you guys do.”

She bit her lip in embarrassment, realizing how stupid she must sound right now. The silence that followed made her recap how she was tied up, nearly naked, with a serial killer threatening to cut off her fingers after threatening her with death. She then boldly decided to reject his offer and made her own, and now just asked to be a part of a killer group as if she was trying to join a Fanclub.

“Interesting,” the man slowly replied awkwardly, squinting his eyes and cocking his head at her. “You’re weird.” His hatchet began to pierce the skin of her fingers, making her gasp and lift her head from the table defensively.

“Fuck, if you do that, you’re gonna fucking regret it!” she yelled out, her hand shaking. The man chuckled, pausing as her fingers began to bleed.

“How come?” he asked amusingly.

“Tim has a tracker in his truck, connected with a camera and audio. It picked up anything that happened around it- and the data will be sent to my brother unless I stop the message in time.” Sweat built up on her forehead from the extreme nervousness she felt. But damn, her reasoning worked.

“Ugh, you fucking would make this difficult,” he huffed, sticking his hatchet back in his holder. He ticked, pulling his mask back up to his face before leaning into hers, caressing her cheek, and whispering, “You’re pretty, but you’re nothing special. I’ve seen plenty like you before, so don’t think- woo- you got your way yet.”

With that, he ripped his hand away from her face and grabbed her arm to tie her wrist back to where it was. A long, deep sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, placing her head back against the table. He mumbled things under his breath as he finished up, walking out of the room. The noise she heard indicated that he opened a door and walked out- leaving her alone in the room.

What a fucking experience.

--------

Hey guys! Just btw, if you aren't satisfied with this chapter or wish it could have been a little different, feel free to let me know! I'm contemplating rewriting it since I'm not totally satisfied by it- but, if you guys feel it's good enough, I don't wanna waste time rewriting a whole new chapter that most people aren't going to reread.

...but! If you feel like I could touch up on this rather than rewriting the whole thing, do let me know as well. I just really need feedback 🤣

[yutasbimil]

Oxymoron

vyn x fem!oc | tears of themis ff. (psychology major!lead) ✦ (8/8) [series fic] !!! also posted on my ao3 acc! { here } tags: hurt/comfort ♡︎ cw: heavy on (self) angst; suicidal ideation; graphic and morbid descriptions on said thoughts, negative self-talk, skewed self-perception, mentions of attempts, self-harm. triggering topic on neglect and invalidation of family/relatives. it all eventually wraps up nicely with comfort! ;w; If I were to encapsulate Yule x Vyn's relationship in a song, I think this fits them nicely :') ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ | ‘you were good to me’ by jeremy zucker, chelsea cutler + supposedly this is a 'x reader' fic but got too heavy eventually, I apologize truly ;; word count: 3.6k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

do not repost © yutasbimil (2024)

cont.

Her waking life seems to be a walking oxymoron. Yule keeps contradicting herself of her beliefs, relearning everything from the truth that was built by someone else for her.

Maybe as to why she is at constant war with herself.

Now she’s crippled in taking her own steps after being locked up for so long in other people’s chains.

But she keeps caving in.

At most it stayed stagnant as ‘suicidal ideation’ to her, ever so lingering like a cycle.

Not till recently, a door peeked off an attempt and showed up a possibility at the doorstep for Yule. 

And it scared the crap out of her.

Never she had seen a suicidal attempt an option.

As killing herself brought so much distress and inconvenience to her, the idea of her bones, guts, and body splattering all over after jumping skyscrapers, or by the cliff where she rots just doesn't bring justice to her body.

Even physically harming herself like cutting slits in her skin just brings inconvenience to her. The blood spilling, the healing process, the scarring…  it's too much of an inconvenience so she just relies on other means of self-harm.

To starvation, dehydration, oversleeping, punishing herself by lying on a pool of her own sweat and limiting herself to any means of ventilation, and just sleeping for hours on end just to avoid everything.

Major Depressive Disorder with tendencies to self-harm huh?

Not at all real!

I’m miserable! I was born on a Wednesday, I am woe!

Although I have aggression and display such hostility, it is only to myself. Yet it isn't enough of an acknowledgment that I want myself gone?

How much begging on my knees is needed to be done?

The noose just brings a cone of shame type of feeling onto her as she doesn't like her body to be seen in the aftermath.

Even after dying, you're still shamed.

And she doesn't want that.

On the contrary, she's embarrassed at most having to think this morbidly that it brings Yule to shame if she ever dies sad and as a psychology advocate in the field.

A mental health advocate dying of suicide? Oh Lord, the shame.

As if we're immune to the mental distress and agony, but alas, it's hard for people to understand that people are most likely prone to such anguish of humanity.

It's difficult for Yule to grasp that she's back in this state.

But the last time she had bed rotted? Much so that she stayed almost two weeks at worst in her bed with little to no eating, drinking, and bathing herself— It just made her parents fucking mad for acting such a way.

An insolent fool, why are you acting so pathetic?

No such words came out of their mouth but the looks on their faces didn't show any sign of concern. If anything, it's just having such a disgrace of a human coming out of their womb.

And when they demanded her to open up, which she did multiple times FYI— All they did was dismiss and invalidate her.

Yule is tired, beyond expended but she has no other choice but to just continue on to carry her flesh and bones walking this earth.

New profound demons emerged along the voices in her head to “Do it.” Do an attempt to just get it over with to prove your point, Yule.

Show them how serious you are…

The whispers have been stronger and viler ever since. But she doesn't want to cave in.

At the back of her mind, it's not at all worth it to prove a point. Pointless. How serious and severe her mental ache is… it brings more gape and hollow to her already void heart the idea of dying in actuality.

“I don't like the idea of dying, I just want to disappear out of thin air.”

And it just goes on as a cycle.

You achieved all that and yet you're depressed?

Exactly. No matter how many heights I reach… All I ever wanted was a hand to reach out to me when I was in desperate need of help.

But it's just going to be dismissed.

I want to jump off and disappear.

She had dissociated since yesterday, even the packing and unpacking of her things were more organized than her array of thoughts.

Yule could only breathe in as she heard a knock outside the bathroom door.

“You need help with anything, dear?” Vyn checks up on her, she’s taking longer than usual as he noticed.

Yule blinked, blankly looking at the unkept reflection mocking her as it showed a tear-stained face she didn’t even notice had emerged.

“N-no, just… will be done after this!” she cleared her dry throat, mouth grubby as her croak echoed in the bathroom walls. 

Vyn simply responded ‘alright’, and let her be with her business.

The bathroom door creaked open as Yule dragged the door a bit too timidly, trying to not make a sound but opposite it did. 

By the looks of it, Vyn had been waiting for her as he sat by the sofa with a tablet at hand, looking casual as he read through the screen. Vyn briefly scans her as well, retaining his glance at her for a moment to acknowledge her presence in the living room. But he kept quiet, respecting the space she needed.

Yet here she is, being unreasonable towards him…

Even as Yule gets the vacant seat across him, she quickly gets swallowed up with guilt. She scrunches up her long skirt, lowering her head. Yule can’t even look at Vyn. “Can I sit beside you?”

Vyn looks up to meet her shaky eyes, he nods and pats the space beside him.

Yule can’t help but tear down her walls.

Tackling Vyn’s figure a bit, Yule is enveloped in the silver-haired male’s arms as she bursts into tears. Vyn encapsulated the petite lady into their safety net, hovering his hand slightly over her head.

Yule hugs him tighter, barely coherent. “V-vyn… I-I…” she tried to muster words, but she could only manage to bury herself in his chest.

Vyn just stayed quiet, holding her and shushing her to calm down. Yule only clutched to his shirt as she sipped in another breath.

“Sorry about what I said earlier, and how I acted as a jerk. I warned you beforehand but that was still out of line. I’m sorry…” Another intake of breath. “I don't know what came over me, but I know it is still wrong and I want to make up for it.”

Even in the previous instances, the sudden outbursts are quite telling. It masks her shame of the obvious relapse. Even as how she interprets it... it's her catching up on a lot of suppressed emotions that she exploded to tears.

Even simmering down her tears once it starts is difficult. It just resulted in her crying for hours as she felt helpless.

She feels empty yet again.

Yet, it spiked fear in her system.

Her eyes maintained such shakiness due to panic, about how? How could I ever make up to Vyn after that instance?

“I just feel helpless and it was not the right method to ask for help when you're being warm towards me. Always, just being kind when I least deserve it.”

Vyn had to rebut her on that.

“No one deserves to be punished for trying, and I can see that with you, love.” Vyn caresses and brushes her hair, feeling the hotness of her tears and breath near him. He hopes to lighten up the heaviness she feels in her strained breathing. “You deserve kindness the most on how people can be quite ignorant of their actions, and not the reaction of people towards their behavior.”

So I am making sense and just reacting towards their actions?

But… it’s still not pretty and kind. Vyn seeing me like this…Her abandonment issues heightened her anxiety.

“I-I don't know I just, feel unworthy and I want you to leave me as it's easier than to deal with this whole mess.” Her breath hitched at the thought, and she quickly took it back. “But—! I don't want you to prove it either that I am that easy to leave and unlovable—”

“You really just listen to what you want, hmm?” Vyn clasps his hands on both her cheeks to make her look at him. He sees his reflection through her dewy eyes. “Didn't I say I won't leave despite your attempts to throw me off? I am not that easy to be unfazed.”

His doting eyes bring her more tears, especially his words. “You’re so worthy, more than worthy. You deserved to be loved.”

He kisses atop her head, to her forehead, looking at her deeply once again making her meet his golden eyes. “I'll never get sick of understanding you and standing by your side. Never that I'll get weary, I get tired as I'm human, yes, but then I'll rest… Nothing a little slumber, even in the comfort of another, beside each other. Hmmm? Isn’t this proof enough that I remain holding you like this that you are worthy, Yule?”

“Vyn…”

“I love you more than enough to stay.”

“I feel ugly and disgusting. I haven't properly cleaned myself— there are others better, prettier, and saner than me. Not broken...” she voiced out but her endeavors were blocked by the stroking thumb by the side of her lips. Vyn’s eyes remained unwavering, contrarily, it’s in the midst of softened to deepening eyes striking back at her.

“And do I care? I don't care about other people as they're not you, Yule." Vyn pressed. "And you are not broken, don't call yourself such statements.”

Alas, her attempts to run away didn’t work as usual. 

“Again, I’m sorry." she breathes in. "I’m ready now to talk…”

Finally sorted out her thoughts, Yule vented out as to why she doesn’t like visiting home, on what had happened. But that’s the usual conversation laid on the table in their household. Nothing new.

She only went back to get some of the important documents she had forgotten in their home. 

“That was what occupied your thoughts since yesterday, hmmm? Explaining your dissociation since this trip began, love.”

Yule nods, and Vyn begins to piece together how much it makes sense. Her antsy behavior when it comes to time, she got so used to strict and unreasonable curfews. It was as if her body was still in panic mode, and it showed through her jitters. It really stuck even though she’s now free and already is an adult.

Being caged for so long has long-lasting effects like this.

Yule got caught up in her flow of venting, she felt her breath hot and tired. She craved water. 

“Sorry, we’re supposed to have fun and forget our usual daily lives for a moment.” Yule laughs dryly, guilt catching up her skin, but Vyn’s hand caught her consciousness first, cutting off any means of shame to develop.

“You’re supposed to let off some steam, that’s the purpose of this trip after all…”

He reaches out to her cold hands, yet his are still colder than hers. Even so, the softened gaze in his eyes radiates warmth. Like sunlight gently peeking out the curtain windows ever so slightly at mid-late morning.

She heaves in a breath to ground herself.

“Is that why you asked me on my day off to go somewhere all of a sudden?”

“Not sudden but… I had been planning since to make sure everything would go smoothly. Such a surprise needs intricate planning.”

The hints of perfectionism are reflected in his reasoning then again. But he admits a slight slip-up to his plan, a hiccup if I may.

Vyn noticed Yule was extra cautious and might have triggered her anxiety due to him ignoring her or being suspicious these past few days, adding to her abandonment issues resurfacing.

He’s guilty of this.

“I apologize it's not the best execution as it made you overthink and almost caused rapture in your trust in me. Most especially that it was an inappropriate timing due to your recent unpleasantries. But I hope you understood my intentions…” 

“You didn’t know fully what happened to me…” she shakes her head, sighing out of relief. “This made up for it, don't worry. I know your intentions very well, love.”

“Yes, but I still should've done better, I apologize, m’lady.”

Seeing her finally softening up, to her stable breathing and relaxed eyes. He can finally somehow rest easy.

Vyn continues to stroke his fingers on her hand, bringing it up close to his lips to gently caress it. “You told me last time that you wanted to visit this place, so your wish is my command.”

“I only mentioned it briefly, but you took that much thought into it?” She smiles to herself. “Your attention to detail is truly exceptional, Will.”

Feeling more loosened up and at ease, she reached and tugged the hem of his polo shirt.

“Vyn… I still feel disoriented, I’m embarrassed to ask this but… can you help me with my hair?”

“Sure, no worries…” He heaves her in to fix her posture as he’s back-hugging her. His tone showed no hesitations, whatsoever.

“But I’m giving you a heads-up I haven't washed it in days.” Yule goes onto a blabber then again. She’s just afraid of being vulnerable and him seeing her state like this, her condition of being lazy and tactless over her hygiene.

That’s when she knew it was getting bad.

Her basic functioning is blighted.

Also, this answers her attempts to avoid kissing him or anything and just isolates herself as she feels paralyzed to do anything.

Again, Vyn is that observant of her habits, it no longer hinders his interest in her.

“Want me to prepare a bath for you as well? Or… we can take a bath together?” The perk of his silver brow hints a sliver of mischievousness.

Though, the suggestion seems so convincing if it means getting refreshed. It didn’t show or imply any lewdness from the silver-haired man at all.

She could only let loose and be vulnerable; bare-naked in his presence on how gentle Vyn handles her.

-

The simple gesture overwhelms her, even with him tucking her in bed.

Vyn smoothed and brushed her hair with his fingers. He laid a chaste kiss atop her head as he whispered a soft good night.

His voice ever soothing her senses. Quite opposite of her sleepless nights in her childhood bedroom. The neon star stickers on her bedroom ceiling bring more blinding rays than calm slumber. And the random noise in their house is like storm clouds hovering over her head.

But being in his presence and his sound of breathing, equates to a calm pattering on the roof of a tranquil rain, and their shared bed a laid out like a cloud to soundly sleep in.

Lifting her chin up as support, Vyn wipes off the tears that she didn't even notice already leaked out beyond her consciousness and control.

“I'm sorry for how cruel the world has been to you, love.” He softly speaks, and he laid kisses by her eyes. “You don't deserve any of this travesty on your character.”

“No, we don't, Vyn… we deserve more than just survival." There's lightness in her chest saying this, she pulls him closer to her chest, enough that they attune to both their heartbeats. "We should be able to live.”

We deserve better, and on how Yule is crying right now, it is encapsulated in her endearing gaze towards this man.

It’s to let out all the pain, and how she yearns for a soft, easy-going life. That’s what she wanted all along. The calmness. And she’s eternally grateful that Vyn is the one to open her eyes to the possibility that she deserves this.

She deserves the light to live, to rest easy, to be able to breathe. And the privilege of living to share a breath with another.

“And your turmoil towards what they're doing is as it should, it's of reason… and does not reflect nor imply blighted blemishes on you as a person.

You are human after all, and you should be allowed to be human with vast and depth of emotions.

As not everything is black and white, my love, and I know it has been difficult for you to navigate through the opacity and hues of the grayness of it all… But I will gladly be of service to be your strength in this journey with you.”

His words serve as a soft reminder, but also shatter her in the sense that she wakes up. It's time to face reality. That everything coming up to this point in one’s life matters to shape a person, but it shouldn’t dictate you on your desired, deserved future.

It is still a matter of one’s hand how we navigate through life. But it’s also a nice reminder that she has a helping hand to count on as she journeys further ahead.

Yule truly needed that wake-up call.

This is a reminder to keep trying. To live on.

“You're no longer alone, and I hope I don't bring you shame that I am not the first person in mind to hold on to when you need help.”

“But now, I have to keep ingraining it in my mind to think of you, always… will that be alright?” Yule cups her hand on his face, tracing the mole residing by the side of his eye.

He beams, putting his hand over hers. “You have my full permission, love. And vice-versa.”

Reciprocated, as their love for each other.

Feeling the restlessness vanish, his words are the only thing grounding her tonight.

He continued his list of reminders, as tonight seemed to be the night she needed it the most. And hopefully, the last time she would be wrapped in intense anxiety instead of a warm blanket.

“You're more than that Yule, and you know that as to why it brings you so much remorse on how opposite their actions towards you with your real, actual worth.

You no longer have to be so hostile towards yourself, I'll be here every step of the way to lead you back whenever you go astray from what's doing you good.”

Like a good nudge to her timid figure, it nudged Yule to his side of the bed more, more certain with her full concentration on his.

“Their vile treatment of you gives a disservice to your kindness, and you're usually a patient person but you are put to the test when it comes to them.”

Vyn wipes the last of her flowing tears, now turning to a halt as his words assure her.

She feels seen; she feels loved.

“I hope I bring you calm instead of triggering your fight or flight mode.”

Yule laughs, in disbelief at how this is turning her overwhelmed with emotions, but now she feels safe letting her walls break loose as Vyn accepts her vulnerability.

She pulls him close to her chest, to let him know how her heart is beating at a fast pace. At most that he is one of the reasons she wants this heart to keep beating.

And only if she can stop one’s heart from breaking, it would be his, it is Vyn’s heart that she wants to protect with her dear life as well.

“I'm usually under the water, muffled at most, drowning with rage and darkness of an abyss-like pit.

I have been long lost in this labyrinth in my waking life. But upon meeting you, it was as if fate— destiny, whatever force the universe had brought us… I have resurfaced into calm waters.” With every softness she could gather, it is placed with a kiss they share.

“You keep me afloat.”

He kissed her back, and as if eons passed on how profound the feelings scattered across the warmth of both their chests. Tugging and pulling in between the skies and seas, it is left suspended.

Tranquil.

“And you are my anchor, you ground me and keep me safe from straying away. And at last, upon dreading destiny, I have come to love and accept it as it led me to you. Perhaps this was fate.”

And they wouldn't like it any other way.

They keep each other well-balanced.

Besides not getting enough sleep due to insomnia and uneasiness, she’s only able to make up for the lack of it with Vyn beside her. His presence serves as serotonin.

She hasn't had a good night’s sleep for a long while.

Her calm disposition displays the apparent glow of her recovering and getting better in being more liven up. And truly Yule’s more invigorating aura was driven to this point as they have come to a full circle. She comes off more regulated, happier.

She has been trying for so long to get off the seemingly helpless cycle.

Now she has someone quite opposite to her nature to accompany her hand in hand.

Yule is ready to accept and throw anything else that’s disheartening, as love is what's valued above all.

The golden eyes of Vyn brought her back to the ground. Being lifted and carried with such care she no longer felt the cynic air of dismay.

Just gentleness and warmth.

He embodies the tea aroma he loves so much.

He is love.

One wouldn't let oneself be this bare without trust, it is never uncomplicated to lay a doormat to welcome intimacy that easily again. Especially after mishaps after mishaps; the mass of catastrophes had led one’s heart to be numb.

But perhaps, it is love that was felt as to why their walls were torn down beyond the windows of one’s soul. No doubt if they hadn't let themselves be vulnerable, if they didn't try once more— this wouldn’t be their decided fate.

To love an unlovable person, that concept stayed an impossible decree for Yule not till it was proven wrong by Vyn. And for him, to fall in love at first sight when it is one of the most straying thoughts in his system, but then, Yule managed to breach through his walls at first glimpse.

As much as they see each other’s foundation as fallen debris, a dilapidated land.  

It gives them hope that people can always start anew, now that they have each other… Together, they can make a home for one another.

※ my masterlist | #enjeiwrites ※

[bloodbathfortwo]

It's currently 6:41 AM at where I am and I've written tooth-rotting fluff for our boys — With Nigel being the weirdo he is — first thing in the morning! I wrote this on my idea notes and I've edited it for better understanding.

Here is the unedited version, it's a draft and please excuse my chicken handwriting. I know it SUCKS!

Here is the edited version!

Nigel had such tantalizing Blue eyes, the way it glows as the sun reflects from it: an iridescent glow that makes his supple white skin twice as cold. Alex continues to stare at the dead weight on top of his chest, admiring every little detail of Nigel's sleeping face. Somehow it reminds Alex of a cat, specifically a Mainecoon: Black lustrous fur a stark contrast against those blue irises that gives the feline such intimidating yet regal looks.

Nigel begins to stir in his sleep, tell tale signs of waking up. Alex's hand situated on Nigel's back, gently rubbing delicate to coax him awake.

"I see that you've taken a keen interest in watching me sleep" Nigel says, Making Alex jump in surprise.

"Jesus christ, Nigel, were you awake this whole time?" He watches Nigel stretch his sleepy body, smothering kisses along Alex's collarbones.

"You could say I've been awake since 5:30 AM" Alex glances at the digital alarm clock: 8:17AM. He's been awake for more than 3 hours and yet he looked like he slept a log. Alex stares at him with such perplexion. How the hell can he close his eyes and wait for him to say those words?

"How the fuck do you do that?" The question seemed so sincere that makes Nigel chuckle, he is so innocent.

"I like to imagine that I'm dead, a lifeless corpse lying beside a living, breathing one. It gives me such clarity that you don't know of" Nigel watches Alex's contort from peaceful to something more conflicted from his reply. Oh the horrors in his face makes him guffaw.

"Fucking hell you are so weird!" He pushes Nigel off of his chest as he continues to at his reaction, holding his stomach. As Alex untangles himself from Nigel and the covers, he mumbles something along the lines of: "I can't believe I'm in love with a freak" as he walks away from the bed.

Once Nigel's cries of laughter dies down, a warm feeling in his chest brightens his heart: a smile occupies his face.

"I love you too, Alex." He whispers to himself as he lies on the side of Alex's bed that smells just like him.

He gets up and follows suite to the kitchen where they usually bicker in the morning.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Part 7

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment throughout, another creeper

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

---

The first thing you felt in the morning was dizziness. Even before you opened your eyes, you knew the room was spinning around you. The faint acidic taste in your mouth prompted a low-level nausea to start churning in your stomach and your throat was painfully dry.

You adjusted yourself a little, relieved when you felt Bucky’s arms wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling against your cheek. Slowly scooching upwards with eyes still screwed shut, you brought your face level with his. His breath smelt just as strong as yours tasted.

He stirred when your nose brushed against his, croaking faintly. ‘Still here. Haven’t run away yet.’

‘I feel like there’s a bee hive inside my head.’

‘Your first proper hangover,’ he chuckled, ‘we should celebrate. Breakfast?’

‘I’m never eating again. Or drinking. Or… moving.’

He started wriggling. ‘Well, either you move or I piss the bed.’

You groaned and inched yourself backwards, the movement making your brain rattle inside your head while Bucky slipped away and scuttled to the bathroom. Unfortunately, one of the many downsides of living in a tin can was the extent to which peeing sounds reverberated from end to end. You screwed your eyes closed and clutched a pillow over your ear, relaxing briefly when the noise stopped but giving up on sleep completely when a racket of banging pots and pans started just a few feet away from your head. You’d never get used to this place.

Bucky made breakfast while you rotted on the couch, feeling sorry for yourself. Only a few mouthfuls and a sip of water made it past your lips before being sat up straight started to make you feel woozy.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ Bucky piped up whilst washing the dishes, ‘when you feel better we should go back to the apartment. I know it’s close to your parents, but at least my asshole dad doesn’t have keys to it.’

You considered for a second, weighing up whether you were more intimidated by your parents or his. Both were unpleasant but at least back at the apartment you couldn’t fry an egg while lying in bed.

‘That’s fine with me. Whatever you think is best, Buck.’

---

The two of you left the trailer the next morning, you were still feeling pretty ropey but you were at least able to walk six feet without getting dizzy. The hour-long motorbike ride would be make or break for your traumatised stomach.

As you were donning your helmets Bucky confessed how relieved he was to be getting out of there, and you told him that you felt the same. You’d always be grateful for the sanctuary but, without mentioning the lack of space, stained walls and crappy shower, you hadn’t felt safe in the trailer since Bucky’s dad had burst in the other night. Christ knows what else that man was capable of.

You were looking forward to a cosy evening curled up on a proper couch followed by what should have been the best sleep you’d had in days but, somehow, your roommate convinced you that it’d be a good idea to head out to a bar. The thought of being back in civilization was actually a pretty appealing one. He suggested his usual haunt, a place you’d never heard of despite living in that town all your life.

It was a dive bar. You’d never been to a dive bar before, you weren’t even really sure what it meant but, as soon as you saw the outside of this place, you knew it fit the bill. There was a flickering neon sign advertising Miller High Life above the door and parked up bikes as far as the eye could see. The gutter outside smelt like stale beer and piss, faded red curtains covered all the windows and some extremely intimidating clientele loitered outside, eyeing the two of you as you approached. One of them gave a gruff chuckle as you brushed past him to get to the entrance.

Bucky enthusiastically greeted a few guys inside, one of them you vaguely recognised from school but the others looked quite a bit older. You were so far out of your comfort zone in this place, every muscle in your body felt tense and you were convinced that dozens of dirty looks were being thrown your way, your paranoia making you look even more like a fish out of water.

‘What’ll it be then, sweetheart?’

Your eyes followed the voice to a tall, brawny blonde with freakishly wide shoulders and a crooked smile. Your mouth opened slightly as you scurried around trying to figure out exactly what kind of alcohol was sold in a place like this- the only bars you’d visited before exclusively sold alcopops and hard seltzers.

‘She’ll have my usual.’ Bucky piped up before you embarrassed yourself.

You just nodded, keeping quiet for fear of coming across as the naive religious freak in front of his friends. He reached across the bar and you suddenly found yourself with a pint of beer in one hand and a shot of whiskey in the other, confused as to why you were being made to carry his drink as well as yours. Your expression made him chuckle.

‘Boilermaker,’ he whispered close to your ear, ‘proper booze. Gotta make up for all that shit last night.’

He picked up his two glasses and one of the entourage led you towards a cramped booth with a sticky table. You were tucked in between Bucky and the blonde, the former’s arm circled tight around your waist, hand resting possessively at the top of your thigh. You didn’t speak much. Even if you’d wanted to, there was very little you could contribute to conversations about bike engines and non-Christian movies.

You’d gotten halfway through your beer when you felt eyes on you. Looking around, you eventually met the gaze of your seat neighbour. He was frowning slightly, one eyebrow raised, wisps of sandy hair falling over his forehead.

‘No offence, but you weren’t exactly what I was expecting.’

Great. This shit again.

‘Oh?’

‘Mhmm. When Buck said he was bringing a chick along I thought you’d be less-’

‘Leave it, yeah?’ Bucky’s tone was friendly, but you could sense a hint of warning.

‘Like I said, no offence.’ He smirked. ‘She just looks a little suburban.’

Bucky got more agitated. ‘What the hell’s that s’posed to mean?’

‘Jesus, chill out Barnes. She’s not bothered, are ya?’

He nudged you hard, pushing you into Bucky’s side. You just smiled politely in a pathetic attempt to diffuse.

‘Just back off, alright?’

‘Whatever you say man,’ the blonde raised his hands in surrender, smirking before adding under his breath, ‘at least she looks less whorish than the last one.’

Bucky launched himself to his feet and his aggressor did the same thing in response. A frenzied shouting match broke out while you cowered between the contestants, eyes darting between them. To your surprise, everyone else around the table was seemingly unfazed by the turn of events. Not one of them attempted to intervene. It escalated quickly, resulting in Bucky being violently yanked by his lapels, a pint of beer toppling and spilling all over you in the process. He quickly freed himself and helped you out of the booth, apologising as he ushered you towards the door.

‘Just gonna run away, huh?’ The blonde was shouting after you, following you out. ‘Fuckin’ typical. Hey sweetheart, if you ever want a real man to take care of you, gimme a call.’

Just as you thought the two of you might make it out of there intact, Bucky wheeled round and punched him square in the mouth. He received a swift jab to the stomach in return and the two of them crashed onto the sidewalk, arms and legs flying in every direction. You clasped a hand over your mouth and stumbled backwards. The sharp raindrops stung against your cheeks.

They only managed a few seconds of brawling before a couple of huge biker guys intervened, their handling of the blonde allowing you to grab Bucky and pull him away. You felt like hitting him yourself, like beating your fists against his chest in frustration, but you didn’t get a chance. The bartender busted through the door, yelling down the phone as the wailing of sirens approached. Flashing blue lights flooded the street. A uniformed officer leapt out of his car and swiftly made his way towards you and Bucky, the same officer who had doorstepped the apartment after your parents reported you kidnapped.

‘Told you your time would come,’ a satisfied smirk spread over his red face, ‘James Barnes, I’m arresting you on suspicion of battery and assault.’

Everything said after that was drowned out by a high pitched whining that started in your ears. Bucky was cuffed, dragged away and shoved into the back of the car. He shouted something in your direction before the door closed but you didn’t catch it. You were reeling with shock, everything around you felt like it was moving in slow motion yet, somehow, happening too fast for you to register.

They drove away, lights fading as they disappeared down the street, and you were alone. Standing in the gutter outside a dive bar, trembling and covered in beer, playing perfectly into your parents’ predictions. You hugged your arms in a vain attempt to shelter yourself from the night air. What the fuck were you supposed do now? Go sleep on Bucky’s doorstep, hoping he’d get released before morning? How many more times were you going to have to do that? You couldn’t help but feel so, so stupid. You’d leapt, fallen and landed flat on your face. Maybe your mother wasn’t exaggerating, maybe she was right all along. Christ, maybe you were just some naïve, sheltered Christian kid in way over your head.

You had no choice, you went home.

---

Waking up back in your childhood room prompted a wave of depression to crash over you. You wiped a hand over your eyes, it was sticky and smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. You hadn’t had the energy to do more than collapse onto the bed last night, still in your wet clothes, shoes muddying up your mother’s crisp white sheets.

Only your father had been awake when you timidly knocked on the door at midnight. He stepped aside and let you in without much more than a stern look, but you knew as well as he did that the real thrashing would come this morning. You were dreading having to face her.

You slowly sat up, the motion kick-starting yet another hangover, and swung your legs off the bed. They felt stiff. A sorrowful chuckle escaped through your lips, even the cramped folding bed hadn’t made you feel as sore as this godforsaken concrete mattress. You lumbered to the bathroom. Switching on the light, you stared into the mirror, taking in the reflection you barely recognised. Your eyes were dark, bloodshot and puffy, your hair was wild from days of washing it with shower gel in the trailer’s crappy shower, your clothes from the night before were still hanging off you, stained and reeking. You looked rough, but fucking hell did you look alive- and you felt it.

The doorbell rang. You hastily tiptoed to the top of the stairs, glancing down to see your mother standing in the doorway, face to face with Bucky. He looked awful, cuts and bruises littering his face. You stepped back slightly to hide yourself from his view.

‘Get off my property or I’m calling the police.’

Well, she hadn’t changed while you’d been gone.

‘Is she here?’

Silence. You peeked around the corner as your mother whipped her phone from her pocket and attempted to slam the door in his face. Bucky planted a hand flat against the wood, easily out matching her strength, and began desperately calling your name.

So much of you wanted to run down the stairs and throw your arms around him, to let him rescue you from this fucking horrible place again, but you knew there was a high probability you’d just end up here again in a week or two. You couldn’t keep letting him do this to you, your emotions were fragile enough without him constantly yo-yoing in and out of your life. You stayed quiet.

‘Fine,’ he backed away, holding his arms up, ‘but you and me both know that, sooner or later, someone’s gonna help her see through all your bullshit. I might as well be the one.’

He limped down the steps and out of your view. You had no idea if you’d made the right decision there, but you were pretty sure you’d end up feeling like shit either way, so it didn’t really matter. Dragging yourself back into your room, you picked up your phone for the first time that morning. Twenty-five texts and eight missed calls from Bucky.

You’d give him a chance to explain, but it would be on your time, when you were ready to hear it. You knew if you saw him now you’d just collapse into his arms and let him carry you back to the apartment. You needed to build up some strength, even if it meant toughing it out through numerous lectures on the dangers of sacrilege and fornication.

Taking a deep breath, you typed out a message to him.

The bench. Tomorrow at noon.

---

Part 8

---

[whatpunkin]

injury stuff and general complaining under the cut

man it's like

i know i'm only about 4-5 weeks post-injury and 3-4 weeks post-op but i'm still so fucking angry and sad and scared about it all

everyone around me sees me sitting with my boot elevated, scooting around in an office chair and generally just trying to rest and i can tell it just doesn't register for them

to them i'm shrugging and making the best of a shitty temporary situation and yay i'll be normal again in a few weeks

in reality i'm not sleeping. i'm barely eating. bathing is a full-on production that requires an extra set of hands just to make it in and out of the shower. every day is a blur that seems to last twice as long as it should. i'm struggling with a constant pain that my pain meds can't touch because it's not even real, it's my nerve endings healing. it feels like fire, it feels like i'm standing barefoot on a metal grate, it feels like someone poured boiling water down my boot, it feels like someone's cutting my foot in half, and on, and on. my incision took way too long to close and now i just have to be afraid of infection indefinitely. my latest post op x rays showed one of the breaks somehow getting worse and i just have to hope it was a weird viewing angle, not my bone refusing to heal. i can still feel the staples coming out of my skin when i think about it, one by one, all 17 of them ripping my skin and leaving new wounds in their wake. i can still feel the pain and the panic i felt when i woke up in recovery and the nurse had laid me directly on my incision and wouldn't listen to me when i was screaming for him to move my leg, he just kept shushing me and pressing the oxygen mask to my face and telling me to take deep breaths. i can still feel the fear i went through when they sedated me in the ER and i had a bad trip that felt like it lasted for hours, while they just fucking left me lying in the cold and wet cut off remains of my clothes and wouldn't give me enough pain meds to handle the fact that they were resetting my bones by hand. i can still feel the pain i felt for the week and a half between my injury and surgery, where every single time i got out of bed, my ankle separated again, forcing me to feel it break over and over and over as my foot just dangled inside the splint. i can feel the plate and the screws inside my leg agitating the nerves and tendons and have to live with the knowledge it'll just be that way unless my doctor decides to remove them years from now. i haven't been able to get comfortable since the break and will very likely just never be comfortable again. i've been told by multiple people i'm just permanently going to be miserable and in pain.

nobody comes to see me anymore now that it's not a new shiny thing. everyone gets to move on except for me, sitting and rotting in my chair.

i haven't walked since christmas. there's a good chance i won't walk until march or even april. i just get to rot until then. 31 days until my next surgery.

i want to fucking die.

[illiteratethekid]

I had to cataloge this. reddit post from r/offmychest

u/BigBingus1337

I (27F) have been struggling with an extremely disgusting problem for 14 years, and I need help.

nsfw

(CW)

Content warning:

Strong depiction of bodily fluids (excrement, urine)

Suicide attempts

Depression

Physical/Sexual/Emotional Abuse

Sexual discussion

Self harm

Just a lot of awful stuff

(CW)

Please be warned, this is an extremely gross, explicit, and hard to handle post. I'm not making this up. This isn't a joke. I'm in a lot of pain. I've tried a lot and I don't know what to do anymore.

I feel helpless, ashamed, disgusted, and sub-human.

It's only now after 14 years of this cycle that I've become so, *so* tired of hiding my shame that I can talk about it publicly and reach out for more help, or at least get this off my chest.

If I seem distant or use wack-ass language, it's because I've lived this way for too long to get hung up on making any of this fit "acceptable" language.

It's impossible.

I'm also well aware that this might get memed into oblivion, shared around like "look at this lmao gross", and laughed at.

I get it. I can sort of see how in a sick, fucked-up kind of way this could be funny from an outside perspective.

Comedy helps people cope, ridiculing others is a maladaptive way of comforting oneself.

What I worry about is people not reading this with empathy or a desire to understand, and would rather trash on me and reinforce the hatred I already have for myself and my behaviors.

So just fuckin... be cool.

Please.

For the past 14 years, I haven't been able to stop fingering my ass, defacating on towels/toiletpaper and urinating in bottles/towels/tp/etc.

It has caused me to live in unsanitary, isolating, shameful, and disgusting conditions.

It has cost me my health, happiness, safety, relationships, living situations, and on several occasions, it's caused me to attempt suicide.

I am scared of being somehow shamed more than I shame myself by posting this. I've sought professional help, and it hasn't worked regardless of if its my fault or the help.

About me:

I'm 27, I have a decent job, a good group of friends, recent-ish-ly single, handful of great and awful partners, etc.

I'm trans, she/her. (Please don't be weird. I struggled with this problem well before I had any inkling of gender stuff. That's not how it works)

I've been diagnosed with ADHD, ASD, and Clinical Depression.

I have taken pretty standard adhd medication for the last 8 years

I have tried 5 different SSRIs with at best, no effect, and at worst, full blown serotonin syndrome, mild psychosis, and seizures.

Over the years, I've seen 4 therapists for a couple years at a time.

All of which were actually wonderful help for understanding and coping with trauma, depression, ADHD, ASD, and sexual/physical/emotional abuse.

I haven't been able to mend this specific problem, even with their help.

The formatting of this post is really choppy mainly because it's comprised of notes I've taken on this issue in notepad++

Some of it might seem detached or "clinical" because of this.

I use these notes to help analyze the behaviors that are happening and the different emotions and motivators at play.

I have always struggled on-and-off with keeping my personal spaces clean due to whatever cocktail of adhd, depression, asd, whatever.

Trash, rotting food, disorganization, dirty bed, etc.

I'd say it would be 70% as bad as a typical "neckbeard-nest" image you would see.

Never piles so high I couldn't see or leave my space, but, certainly enough to be playing hop-scotch to get around.

Both the depression messes and the defecating problem have gone through cycles of getting slightly better, getting much worse, better again ,etc.

Potential reasons for being Motivated/compelled/habitual fingering my ass for a combination of 2 reasons:

ASD Stimming/comfort/sexual stimulation from prostate when feeling... *something*

Attempts to identify that something lead to maybe these?

- Potentially feeling bored/understimulated

- An emptiness emotionally

2. ASD Sensory issues around feeling unclean after shitting, e.g. still feeling shit inside me and disgust/frustration with how that interferes with #1?

Earliest possible memory/origin of behavior:

Exploring my body/masturbating with anal stimulation around age 12-13.

As with anyone who's done anal, "shit happens", especially when you don't know about cleaning yourself out.

I would end up coming into contact with shit, not knowing what to do, and just wiping it on toilet paper or towels.

I would hide the evidence because I was ashamed and embarrassed.

An unfortunate part of this habit is that fingering your ass causes a feeling of need to urinate.

Whenever I finger my ass, I urinate into toilet paper, a bottle, a container.

This affects my living space by making it unsanitary, extremely unpleasant, and isolating.

This leads to even more unsanitary conditions, more avoidance, procrastination, and shame.

The unsanitary conditions cause a rolling chain of dependency/vicious cycle

For example:

- An area gets gross or unpleasant (typically the bathroom first)

- That area is now more difficult to reach both physically and emotionally

- Procrastination/avoidance/shame/refusal to clean the area

- I am unable to use that area, leading to shitting and pissing in a pile elsewhere

- Causing more spread out messes

- repeat until harsh physical/social consequences or suicidality take hold

- then clean everything top to bottom and try to not get in the cycle again

I always end up back in the cycle.

The anxiety & helplessness around my struggles with this make it impossible to have anyone over

I am too ashamed to ask for help, or accept it when offered.

Friends know I'm depressed and struggle with keeping my spaces clean, but I never tell them the full story. Usually a half-truth.

I often tell my friends they can't come over because "my place is like a wreck, like unsanitary bad".

Which isn't *exactly* wrong, but isn't representative of how bad things actually are.

I feel like the 2 people in my life I've told the real, full details of this to, don't actually understand how bad it really is. They know I've had a *history* of issues with it.

I can't bring myself to tell them that its something I'm still struggling with *now*

The above is driven by shame.

I've done property damage. I've let wet piss soaked towels sit for weeks on beautiful wooden floors, bleaching them and stripping them of their varnish.

I've ruined and thrown out dozens of towels, sheets, carpets.

I've had to cut dried shit out of my own clothing or throw them away.

I've had to throw away wonderful gifts loving family and friends have given me because they were destroyed when I knocked over a months old piss bottle.

I had to steam clean my own shit stains out of carpet when moving out of an old apartment.

I remember sitting there, breaking down at seeing the damage I've caused.

I was so overwhelmed by my own disgust and hatred for my existence.

I got my handgun, put a magazine in, and put it in my mouth, and without a second of hesitation, pulled the trigger.

It sounds kinda dramatic, but I don't remember if I forgot to rack the slide on purpose or by mistake.

Somehow I'm glad I didn't, but there are many times I have regretted not doing it.

When I was in my teens my parents would discover/"catch" me living this way a couple times.

My parents did not handle finding out in a safe or loving way.

Shocker, I know.

They screamed at me that I'll lose all my housing opportunities, friends, and safety net if someone finds out.

And they aren't wrong about the consequences, but all they did was punish me, beat me, strip me of my privacy by removing my door from it's hinges, my healthy hobbies, shame me, and held no space for understanding or help.

They called it a fetish.

It was not.

However in the past year I've explored scat videos. I don't even like it. It's like a sick desperation for understanding what's wrong with me.

I've never in my 14 year history enjoyed living in my own filth.

I think my short exploration of scat as a porn category was just coping with trauma and uncertainty through a sexual lens.

Just fantasizing that I could convince myself its as simple as a fetish or desire, and because of that, it would be okay.

It's not.

It's not a fetish.

I don't enjoy this. I hate this.

This is extremely debilitating, and I don't deserve to go through this, but I can't seem to find a way to stop.

I feel deep shame and unsafety in regards to people finding out, telling them, or anyone helping because they won't understand.

It's hard to put into words how impossible it feels to break this habit.

It feels like when someone tells you the only way to get better is to "love yourself".

Like... what the fuck does that even mean? How? How can you do that if you don't value your own love? Monopoly money has more value than that.

Therapy has helped me cope with those nagging feelings for things like depression, abuse, self-worth, etc.

But changing this behavior feels as impossible as changing the laws of physics.

How do you sit with yourself, the 14th year of trying to outwit your own habits that try to kill you, remove you from society, and ruin everything you love, and say "Well this attempt it's gonna work!" and feel any sort of actual hope? Sure it's writing a fatalistic narrative for myself, and sure it sounds like I've resigned myself to this. What the fuck do I do?

The really sad thing is that I'm not the only one out there who struggles with this weird compulsive fingering and defecation issue.

A quick google search of the behavior leads to a couple forums/quora-like sites of people talking about this behavior and how they can't stop and don't know what it is.

They're desperately trying to find a reason or help. As far as I can tell, they never do.

So its like... what the hell are my chances if dozens of other people are struggling too?

I know my physical safety might concern people reading this. I'm at a point in therapy where suicide really just isn't on the menu for me anymore. I just want to assure readers that I'm not suicidal. I'm gonna keep living. I can't be certain whether or not I'll be living well.

Edit:

To all of you sending me private messages, saying this is hot, asking me to piss on them, getting turned on by this:

I hope you fucking rot. I really do.

As someone in the kink community, I don't shame others for what they like. But you REALLY think its appropriate to come into my DMs from a post where I detail a behavior that drove me to attempt suicide, and start waving your dick around?

There are no words that describe my sheer contempt for you. Rot.

To everyone else: I really appreciate the support and understanding you have provided. The responses have given me a lot to think about, and a lot of potential new paths to go down. Thank you, and I wish you the same care, kindness, and affirmation of humanity you all have provided to me.

[ask-sad-ghost-piett]

Posthumous Admiral's Log - Entry 36

I’m beginning to worry about Needa. He’s been gone ever since Max asked him to go scout the planet. I fear something may have happened to him. I don’t know what mishaps might befall ghosts trapped in the living world, and as irritating of a third wheel as Needa might be, I don’t wish ill on him.

I spoke with Max about the issue, and we both decided it was probably best to go looking for him. However, saying as we were both just about getting ready for bed at that time, we figured there was no harm in waiting until the morning to start our search. We found ourselves a little cave and were both very comfortable. Usually, I spend a good deal of time lying awake due to the haunting memories of Lord Vader, but ever since I started sleeping with Max, I’ve actually been able to rest quite peacefully.

It's a funny feeling being relaxed, not ruminating about what Lord Vader or Grand Moff Tarkin or my mother demands of me. I wonder whether this is how Jerjerrod felt during all that time he took off to put citrus fruits over his eyelids and go to sleep while I had to scramble to make excuses to Lord Vader as to why the DS-II wasn’t complete.

Hmm.

At any rate, I believe I dozed off on Max’s very muscular chest, murmuring something about how wonderful it would be to find a romantic cliffside venue and push Rebel Scum off of it. When I awoke, I learned that I was apparently asleep for 5 days by living folk’s reckoning and that Needa has yet to return. At first, I wondered whether he’d found a way to rot and return to the afterlife but, saying as neither Max nor I are showing any signs of decomposition, I fear poor Needa is still out there.

We searched the area around our cave but didn’t find him, so Max suggested that we ask Motti and Jerjerrod.

“If nothing else, we ought to check on those two,” Max said. “Make sure we haven’t lost three men.”

I disagree with this idea. Generally speaking, I consider the fact that Motti and Jerjerrod have wandered off on their own into the wilderness to be a fortuitous development. Furthermore, if it weren’t for Motti and Jerjerrod, we’d all be comfortably settled down in the afterlife at the moment. So, I don’t believe there’s any logical reason for me to seek their help or interact with them for the foreseeable future.

Besides, I doubt they’d know anything about Needa. They’re probably off doing something pretentious like writing each other sonnets on fancy doilies, not giving a care to the world around them. Needa could be behind them on fire, and they wouldn’t hear him over their excessive displays of affection.

But Max was insistent. I tried arguing with him about it, but he’s a very stubborn man. So, now, we have to go looking for Motti and Jerjerrod, so that we can look for Needa, because apparently all these grown men cannot keep themselves from getting lost on this mystery planet. If they’ve found a way to get themselves exorcised back to the afterlife and did not tell us, I will be very cross with them.

Speaking of the afterlife, I do hope the others are doing alright with the holiday haunting in our absence. I wonder who is serving as admiral during my leave. Technically, I believe the duty originally fell to Vice Admiral Gherant, but he recently went into “early afterlife retirement” after seeing what being Fleet Admiral did to me. Since then, the interviews for a replacement have been stalled by a lack of candidates, so I fear we may have to fall back to having Lord Vader call someone out. He’s been talking about nominating my nephew, of all people.

At first, I had hoped he was joking when he brought up Sarkli, but per usual my hopes were in vain. When asked why Lord Vader sought to nominate my nephew as Vice Admiral, he told me he “wanted another Admiral Piett”.

“I have gotten accustomed to having an Admiral Piett,” he said. “If anything happened to you, I’d like to make sure I will continue to have an Admiral Piett.”

I don’t like the sounds of that and certainly do not like being referred to as a common noun. I have a terrible feeling about my nephew serving as admiral, however fleetingly. I realize that sounds cruel, but the fact is that Sarkli fares poorly under emotional duress and saying as he did have a Rebel Scum phase, I worry about him. I don’t want to return to find him gallivanting with Rebel ghosts.

Sometimes I wonder whether I went amiss raising that poor boy. Ever since his mother left him with me for afternoon babysitting saying she had gone shopping for jogan fruit and never bothered to pick him up, I tried my best raise him to have a nurturing Imperial childhood. When he was a young boy, he told me he wanted to grow up to be a naval officer like me. So, I took him to “Bring Your Youngling to Work Day”, where he witnessed Darth Vader kill my former commanding officer. After that, he told me he wanted to be a poet.

So, one can see why I worry about him.

- Admiral Piett

[theluxuriansecret]

Diary Entry 9.19.24

Dear Diary,

It's been a good little minute. I will admit I have been through trials and tribulations all of August but I am truly trying to not let it deter me from the things I want from this life. I have no idea what my life will look like in the next 6 months let alone the next 6 months. I'm not going to lie I have been super angry this month. Like fucking pissed the fuck off, as I am typing I can still feel the anger on my heart. But I have plans to fix this. Since I am unable to move out and live on my own, I've decided I will shake the fucking table, not even a subtle rattle actually.

I have been having a hard time with work life balance and somewhere along the way gained 8 whole pounds... LMAO but thats okay I guess my clothes still fit. Work has been kicking my ass and I swear I almost had a fucking breakdown, like I am actually happy I still have my job right now LOL. NO money/business gone, so I guess Im alright. I am just having a hard time managing my emotions, my health, my jealousy, it been tough. I've never really experienced jealousy like this before.. but i think its more so who im jealous of. I just think that I will get what I need when I need it. I am unsure of why I can't have it right now or why I don't need it right now but either way.. it's just not my time clearly.

The time just goes by so fast. I recently realized that I should stop reducing my life to just a weekend and start doing shit after work, but I be so fucking tired Diary!! So tired. I look forward to bed rotting, I do. But I would love to just live instead dedicate 25 years of my life to screen time (socials - not including TV shows/movies) I wish that hobbies and going out wasn't so expensive..

Speaking of expenses I want to take a solo trip to Boston. The weekend I was aiming for is a holiday weekend and I didn't realize it before but the prices were diabolical. Anyway, I'm planning for a different weekend instead of the last week of august (LABOR DAY WEEKEND)

I am going to try to plan out some things I'd like to do for the rest of the year and then try to book some trips for next year. I am really hoping next year can be all the things I wanted this year to be. I just truly put no thought into this year outside of looking for a job, and then I got it and I was like DAMN wasn't expecting that so soon LOL.

I need to start romanticizing my life again. I was looking over memories of last year and though I had my moments, I truly was the happiest I'd ever been and even though I have everything, I am still mildly miserable. Okay I am lying, it's not mild. I am very miserable actually. But I am not a miserable person. I am loving, and kind, and soft hearted, but I have not been acting like it and have begun to lose myself in my misery, especially my home life.

Apart of me wants to go back to being wild and reckless, though reckless I still had a wonderful time and learned a lot. I don't need the recklessness to learn.

So here are some things I need to do in the next 6 months:

Lost 10-15 pounds

Find a doctor

Find a dentist

Book Solo trip to Boston

Plan my little birthday dinner

Have fall events lined up

Choose 5 places to go next year and start planning that

Trying to figure out what masters degree I want / where I want to go for school

Start to visualize anniversary gifts

[5lu7]

A game of: SMASH OR PASS, regarding my alters, in chronological order of their first appearance (that I remember)

(excluding littles… OBVIOUSLY)

1: ON THE BED, IN THE CAR, ON THE STAIRS, IN PUBLIC, IN PRIVATE, ON VIDEO, TOPPING, BOTTOMING, DOMMING, SUBBING, WHILE EATING, WHILE STARVING, WHILE DRUNK, WHILE SOBER, UNDER THE STARS, OVER THE TABLE, ETC ETC HE’S SO FUCKING HOTTTTTT

(though he’s absolutely the worst most toxic attachment in this list. He was an adult and I was like 13 when he took over my body forcefully, almost committed murder with it, and then raised me to be a soulless, unloveable bastard. He also violated me sexually at least once. I need him so bad though I need him so bad)

2: No. Pass. I was literally him under five years ago, I hate myself too much to fuck a dude who is essentially a different me, but is way more judgemental than me, way less chill than me, and even less morally sound. At least he was more ambitious and hopeful though!

3: Neither, she’s too ethereal and pure… I’d just stare at her in awe for three hours straight and then work up the courage to snuggle with her and weep while she pets my hair

4: Maybe? Idk my parents would definitely approve of him

5: Imagine doing the nasty with a robot xenomorph thing… (that means pass. I’m not like some of you absolute weirdos)

6: SMASHHHHHHH YES YES YES!!!!! (He’s the same dude as #1 at least 30% of the time due to merging, and when he’s not, he’s still really similar and he currently has the same face claim as #1 rn (Fugue Harvey Dent from Gotham Knights, episode 10 “Poison Pill”… **moans and arches back**), so SMASH. But I’d slap his face and spank him a LOT more and a LOT harder than #1 because he’s a lying piece of SHIT which annoys the hell out of me because I’m tryna figure out the truth of what caused all of this and I do NOT appreciate people who get between me and my goals, which is unfair because #1 is actually WAY worse and WAY more toxic)

7. SMASH!!! He’s spooky and kooky and I liked him a lot in the very short time we had together! Also his face claim was Christian Bale’s Gorr, so… (twirls hair and bites lip)

8: PASS PASS PASS she’s lovely I’m sure but that’s Jesus’s MOTHER I need to take a shower in holy water just thinking abt it…

9: Idk depends on which iteration of Barbie she is. If she looks like Margot Robbie then 100% SMASH

10: Pass… They weren’t unsexy per sé but they had 0% sexy energy and 100% emergency situation energy. Like a person sitting next to you under a desk in an active shooter situation telling you to shut tf up

11. PASS. She’s absolutely batshit insane and a cunt… Though I’d prolly hit her up if I was self-loathing and felt like I wanted to be genuinely abused and violated (/nonsexual, /nonhyperbolic)

BONUS!!!! THEORIZED ALTERS:

Theorized alter 1: wow PAAAAAAASSSSSS. I hope I never hear from him again. He makes me feel like absolute SHIT whenever he’s around and he NEVER shuts up!

Theorized alter 2: Hell no PASS I was him like less than nine months ago and he’s pathetic and erratic and insane. Like peak BPD behaviour but not in a tumblr sexy way. Just in a desperate train wreck way. Everyone was right abt him being cringe. Though I do feel bad for him because his behavior was a result of being in so much pain that he was literally being driven insane by it and had to go to the emergency room multiple times for actual physical health issues that literally manifested from the emotional pain itself. He felt like his organs were rotting and/or being lit on fire for like at least nine hours a day, and would do ANYTHING to try and avoid it, even if it meant being horrible and doing horrible shit to try and summon alter #1, who doesn’t feel emotional pain. He didn’t deserve allat he was just tryna succeed

Theorized alter 3: SMASH!!!! I’d be absolutely honored, I could only wish to be worthy of such a gift from his holiness! I suspect he’s prolly (based off of?) the same guy as #1 & #6, though I’ve never met him personally nor do I know much about him. He’s the alter at the top of the entire system hierarchy, I think.

And that’s all the (non-little) hoes in my brain I feel like putting in the effort to remember for this post, though I think I have more.

[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

[nuttynutcycle]

I just discovered your blog, and I'm in LOVE with your writing! I'm completely obsessed with Familiar, so if it's not to much to ask, could you write a continuation? Thank you so much, your snippets and prompts are greatly appreciated!!

Familiar - Pt 2

First part here

On a scale of one to ten, this was either a -2 or a 12 on the good idea scale. Hero double-checked the address Villain had sent her before looking back at the tiny house. The paint was peeling, steps were rotting and that roof was definitely of the leaking sort. Somehow, she had expected Villain to live on the rich side of town.

When he had invited her over to work on their assignment, her thoughts had been torn between screaming trap and find some evidence. The second side won. If there wasn’t anything in there to prove who Villain really was… Well, she’d have to find another way of getting proof to show the authorities. She knocked and noted the cracked windows to her side. After a few seconds, Villain opened the door.

“Hey, I’m glad you could make it. Come on in.” He led her down the musty hall towards a suspiciously normal bedroom. “Thanks again for making the trek all the way over here. My mom hasn’t been doing too well recently, and I’m trying not to leave her alone for too long.”

“Of course, I get it.” Hero let her eyes trail over the spartan room. The only furniture was a bed and two chairs beside a fold-up table covered with books and scribblers. Funny, the number of times Villain escaped from her with stolen cash made her think he’d at least have better furniture. Or a safe to put the money in. Maybe it was hiding in the closet? Although in this neighbourhood, keeping money lying around might not be the brightest idea. “It’s good that you’re taking care of her.”

He nodded, avoiding her gaze and moving his stuff from the table to the floor. “Hopefully, this next surgery will be the one that works.”

“Yeah, it’s tough watching people you love go through painful things. My sister has a heart problem right now, and it’s terrifying to watch her energy come and go.” Shut up! Stop telling him personal things. “Yeah.” She finished lamely.

Their gazes locked in understanding. Hero was the first to break away. “Ready to start the pain?”

They worked on the assignment in silence for a while. Honestly, there was probably a special punishment designed for whoever invented assignments over ten pages long. This just wasn’t fair. Hero sat back, running a hand through her hair. “I think this is karma's way of punishing me for not reading the textbook.”

His lips quirked. “There’s a textbook for this class? That would’ve been helpful to know at the start of the semester.”

“Want to know how tired I was at the beginning of the semester? I can’t even remember choosing my classes,” she pulled a hand down her face. “I think I just closed my eyes and pointed at the screen.”

“You could have been in differential calculus. Or worse, accounting.”

“Or Phys Ed. Did you know our university has a course devoted to badminton?”

Villain laughed. “What a racket. To think, I could have spent time swinging my arm around and gotten credit for it.”

“But then you’d be missing out on the glories of this assignment.”

“And a friend.”

Oh nope. Big nope. Wait, Hero reconsidered. Were they friends?  They did chat after class and had studied a few times together, but that didn’t mean- wait. Huh. Time to deflect with awkward humour and process these feelings later. “I thought you saw me as a role model, but that’s cool too. I’ll just have to find a new lackey.”

“And here I thought you were friends with me for my brilliance and good looks.”

She felt her cheeks begin to burn. “Yep, it’s all for your looks. If you seduce our professor, then we don’t have to do this assignment anymore.”

Villain rubbed his chin. “I’ve never seduced a professor before. Would I have to wear a sweater vest?”

“And a tweed jacket. It’s the only way.” Her fingers twitched, and she was suddenly very aware of him. The light hitting his hair, the way his lips curled when he was amused… Bad, very bad. This is your official ABORT MISSION alert. Find some evidence on the dangerous criminal and get out of there. She cleared her throat. “I’m parched. Could I get some water?”

Villain nodded, standing and leaving the room. Hero leapt out of the chair the moment the door shut behind him.  Her eyes latched on the only place one could hide anything in the sparse room - the closet. She yanked it open, feeling her heart speed up at the sound of Villain opening a cupboard in the kitchen and turning on the tap.

The closet was small and impressively dull. Clothes and boxes littered the tiny  shelves, with no signs of the files or weapons she was looking for. A flap of a familiar fabric dangling from one of the top boxes caught her eye. Bingo. Hero gingerly reached to feel the consistency, making sure she wasn’t wrong before bringing the authorities in, and accidentally bumped an elbow against the side of the closet. The box plummeted from its precarious placement and met the ground with a thump. No! She scrambled to pick up the box and the spilled-out uniform when a movement behind made her pause.

Villain stood in the doorway, hand clenched around a glass of water. His eyes darted to the clothes on the ground. “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

Hero’s throat went dry. She tightened her grip on the clothes and tried to look surprised. “S-something fell in your closet, so I opened it to check what it was.”

“Huh,” Villain said. “That’s unfortunate.”

He knelt, gently taking his outfit from her hands and placing it back in the box. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”

“Clearly.”  Hero swallowed and prepared to run if he attacked. Worst case scenario, she had beat him before and could do it again. Theoretically. “I didn’t mean to-“

“I know.” A familiar calculation crept across his face, making her hands shake. Villain sat across from her and blocked the only exit, placing the cup of water between them. She felt trapped against the closet.

“You know, if this had happened a month ago, I would have killed you without a second thought,” he said mildly. “Guess you’re lucky.”

A horrifying reminder that she was not dealing with her awkward classmate anymore. “What are you going to do instead?”

Villain shrugged, seeming far too calm for the situation. “I don’t know yet. Talk, I guess?”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Hero said, lying through her teeth.

“Unfortunately, I’m too old to believe the promises of others so easily.” He trailed his fingers through the thin carpet, tracing patterns through the material. “Even yours. The stakes are just too high.”

“What’s even worth all the stealing and destruction?” she asked quietly. “Why do you do it? “

The  fingers paused. “It started out as one job. My mom needed treatment, and we didn’t have the money to pay for it. Then one treatment turned into two.” He shook his head. “Before I knew it, I was on the city’s most-wanted list.”

Her shoulders tensed. “Will you stop when the treatments are finished?”

“There have been other benefits to criminal activity.” Villain ducked his head, cheeks turning pink. “Lots of amazing people to meet. I haven’t decided yet.”

She leaned against the wall beside the closet, feeling safer with something solid against her back. “I don’t know if meeting people through crime is worth a lifetime in jail.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “You’d be surprised.”

Hero picked up the forgotten water sitting between them and drank, if nothing else than for the excuse to avoid responding.

His fingers trailed larger patterns in the carpet. “I never wanted you to find out- this is one of the first friendships I’ve made since I started university. I don’t want to lose that. And I don’t want you getting hurt, but this does put me in a tight position. I won’t let you inform the authorities.”

Hero pressed her back further against the wall.

Villain took one look at her wide eyes and softened his tone. “Just don’t tell. If I get one inkling that you’re about to turn me in, then..." he sighed. "Please don’t make me choose between you and my mom.”

He would know it was her. Hero didn’t think she could after this. Or fight him, knowing it was for his mom’s medical bills. She pursed her lips, making a highly regrettable split-second decision. “Alright. But only on one condition: you stop once her treatments are done.”

He twitched. “I told you, I haven’t decided yet-”

“I’m making the decision for you.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt. "Deals are much easier to trust than promises.”

“No. I’d miss-” Villain stopped, clenching his jaw. “I can’t let certain people from that life go yet.”

Something clicked. The girl he liked was from his criminal life… Oh gosh, Hero probably knew her. The brunette villain from the southside? The redheaded weapons supplier? Stop getting distracted.

“I trust you. Give it up as soon as you can.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. “For me.” That was even worse. Was it possible to die from a foot in your mouth?

Villain relaxed his shoulders. “Yeah. It’s a deal.” He stuck out a hand and Hero grasped it, shaking firmly and ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest. So like, a 5 on the good idea scale.

@revrevrew-personal @spruceandpine @sailor-cat2 @literally-just-kirby @emerqlds @chaoticgoodandu @notsocharmingmagician @flying-paperboat @touchedbyanerdyotaku

[hnychn]

KARASUNO’S MANAGER !!

SYPNOSIS — it’s a new year and the karasuno team decides to throw a new years party in the school gym

WARNINGS — tooth rotting fluff <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE — none of this is realistic but shut up and let me live laugh and love with the idea it’s real

⇀ HAPPY NEW YEARS BABESS

⇀ so it all started out when noya and tanaka came up with the brilliant idea to throw a new years party

⇀ and since canonically, everyone in haikyuu are losers, everyone agreed 😀

⇀ of course you invited your boo kenma 😼 and the nekoma team

⇀ and kuroo invited the fukurodani team since bokuto heard about the party somehow

⇀ the party is held in the gym, it's byoc

⇀ "bring your own cups"

⇀ cause y'all broke broke 😭😭✋🏼

⇀ kidding . . . about the cup part, y'all are broke though . . .

⇀ anyways, so the team put you in charge of getting the drinks

⇀ . . . but they never specified non-alcoholic 😼

⇀ so you, being the six foot seven giant you were, got some alcohol

⇀ it was surprisingly easy

⇀ like the guy behind the counter didn't even ask you for an ID or anything and he probably assumed you were 21+ because of your features 🤡

⇀ i mean you do be chiselled by the gods themselves 🤪🥴

⇀ not me simping over you 🤺

⇀ so the party is about to start and you come in with literal bottle of alcohol like fUCKING JACK DANIEL'S AND WHISKEY AND RUM AND ALL THAT SHIT

⇀ and when daichi saw you with all the paper bags filled with bottles of alcohol he just-

⇀ . . . 🧍🏽‍♀️

⇀ "y/n. . ."

⇀ "yes? 🤠"

⇀ "why. . .why do you have alcohol?"

⇀ "you said to get drinks. ."

⇀ "i mEANT PUNCH-"

⇀ all daichi wanted to do was punch you 🏌️🏽‍♀️

⇀ LMAO BUT NOYA AND TANAKA TURNT UP WITH THE ALCOHOL

⇀ they poured that shit into those punch bowls? ya know? the ones in those cliche highschool movies

⇀ they got red solo cups and everything 🔫

⇀ anyways, so people start showing up and daichi panics because no sir, these minors aren't getting drink on his watch, but oops-

⇀ kiyoko locked him in the shortage closet 👁

⇀ "i'll let you out in 20 minutes"

⇀ because babes knew that's all it'll take for everyone to be blackout drunk

⇀ and she was right 💅🏽

⇀ fifteen minutes into the party, noya, tanaka, yamamoto, lev and a bunch of first years are drunk drunk.

⇀ suga, kuroo, asahi, and ennoshita are also drunk but like they're the chill typa drunk y'know?

⇀ they playing a game of uno with normal playing cards 🧍🏽‍♀️

⇀ kenma . . . doesn't want to be there BLESS HIM LMAO-

⇀ he's sitting in the corner, red solo cup in hand because kuroo took his pspspsp and won't give it back, even if he is drunk

⇀ and you- good god

⇀ YOU. ARE. D R U N K.

⇀ i'm talking the embarrassing type of drunk

⇀ you're dancing on one of the volleyball poles like a fucking stripper and bokuto is throwing napkins at you like they're ones please- 🔫

⇀ kenma is just in the corner staring like 🐚🌝 hello yes, officer? imma need animal control here asap.

⇀ LIKE DJFJD WTF IS MY BF DOINGG

⇀ he's embarrassed for you 😔✋🏼

⇀ but in the corner of your eye you see kenma sitting all alone so you go over to him, alcohol nearly spilling over the side of your red solo cup

⇀ "what're you doin all alone here, kitten?"

⇀ kenma crinkles his nose because you smell like alcohol, but he just shrugs

⇀ he says something but you can't hear him over he loud music, so you lean closer but you end up spilling your drink all over your shirt and you just

⇀ "ew it's sticky . . . i guess I'll just take it off"

⇀ SO YOU DO

⇀ IN A CROWDED ROOM

⇀ OF DRUNK POSSIBLY NOT STRAIGHT MEN

⇀ and holy fuck-

⇀ how knew you were so foine 🥴🥴

kenma's eyes widen when you suddenly pull off your shirt, your chest still slightly damp from the drink spilling on you. he could feel heat rushing to his face the longer he stared. kenma wanted to look away, he really did, but it was something about the way you rubbed your hands over your abs and chest to wipe off the moisture and the way you looked down with hooded eyes that had him entranced. he couldn't look away, and by the sight of the other people in the room also staring at you with no shame, they couldn't either.

despite being drunk, you could tell people were staring and it filled you with a sort of confidence you only got in the privacy of your room with kenma. speaking of kenma, he wasn't fairing any better. his head was turned to the side to look away, but his eyes betrayed him and stayed focused on your chest.

you smirked.

kenma gasped as you suddenly leaned forward, your hand slamming onto the wall next to him and the other pushing him by the hip, your cold fingers slithering up his shirt and sending chills up his spine. your breathe was warm next to his ear and kenma's blush intensified.

"see something you like, kitten?"

kenma's breathing began to get heavier the longer you whispered in his ear, his chest and pants tightening. kenma refused to look up, knowing half of the people in the gym were staring, but he would by lying if he said it didn't turn him on more than he already was.

your stopped whispering in kenma's ear and began trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, leaving marks behind. kenma had to bite his bottom lip to stop noises from escaping his mouth, but his restraint was limited due to the small amount of alcohol in his system.

your fingers traveled further up his shirt and caressed his waist, pulling him closer to you. pulling away from his neck, you turned to his lips, sucking and biting on them as if it would be the last time you would be able to. kenma's neck was littered with hickies that, even in the darkness of the gym, were extremely visible.

but before things could go any further, you were ripped away from kenma by a fuming daichi, "first you bring alcohol and get everyone drunk, then you try to fuck your boyfriend in the middle of the gym? i'm gonna kill you, y/n."

⇀ you were put on daichi watch for the rest of the night 😔🔫

⇀ but by the time 11 rolled around, you were a bit sober so i guess that's good

⇀ everyone gathered into he middle of the gym and counted down until midnight

⇀ kiyoko and yachi had hung some of those colour changing lights and gave the room some amazing vibes

⇀ and kenma was standing next to you, your arm slung over his shoulder as the lights hit his face perfectly and outlined every feature of his beautifully

⇀ you smiled down at him

"it's already 2021, huh?"

kenma looked up at you and immediately looked away when he saw that you were already looking at him. even after months of dating and nights spent in each other's embrace, he still got nervous when you looked at him the way you were right now.

eyes so full of love and lips pulled into a satisfied smile.

"yeah. . . i guess. . ."

you laughed and pulled him closer to your side, kenma stumbled a bit and grasped onto the new shirt you put on. it was a spare that you left behind in the clubroom one day.

"c'mon kenma! new year, new possibilities! what are your new years resolutions?"

kenma shrugged, burying his head deeper into your side, "i don't have any."

5 . . .

you smiled, "really?"

you looked back up at the digital clock kiyoko hung up on the wall just for new years, your smile never faltering. kenma loved that about you, your ability to smile no matter what. no matter the circumstances.

4 . . .

"what about you?" kenma asked, a small bubble of guilt building in his chest for not answering how he thought you wanted.

you looked down at him with the same lovesick eyes and satisfied smile, kenma felt his heart stop, "me?"

you looked back up at the clock, "hmm. . ."

3 . . .

"i think. . . " you drew out, a playful smile on your face when kenma pouted at your long answer. he slapped your chest when you laughed at him.

2 . . .

"i think," you tugged kenma in front of you and rested your chin on his head, a lazy smile drawn on your face as everyone else yelled about, excited for the new year.

1 . . .

"i think i have everything i could ever want right here."

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!

kenma gasped as you suddenly turned him around, lifting his face by the chin. everyone around you cheered as the clock hit 12 and it was now January 1, 2021.

kenma's heart pounded when he saw the same old lazy smirk on your face and the same old lovesick look in your eyes; but no matter how many times he's seen it, he would always feel the butterflies fluttering in hit stomach.

"happy new years, kenma." you whispered as you pulled him into a kiss.

what a way to start the new years.

⇀ everything after that was a blur

⇀ the party amping up as a way to start the new years and you were sure even daichi had a cup full of some unholy concoction of alcohol kiyoko made for him

⇀ when you woke up, you were in bed, kenma laying a your side.

⇀ with close on, y'nasties 👁

⇀ your head felt like it was going to explode and your stomach turned in ways it shouldn't

⇀ but you were too lazy to get outta bed

⇀ me 🤡

⇀ so you just pulled kenma closer and went back to sleep

⇀ dreaming of a happy future with the man in your arms

taglist:: @stickystrawberrysyrup @420-uwu @nvthvlyy @kaiwai @goshizaki-jun @thetrash-mammal @dprhvn @bakuhore

a/n :: i'll add the read more thing in the morning, i gotta start getting dressed for the new year party. this was kinda rushed too so sorry if it's a bit jumbled or something