#at least i still have something to fill the emptiness i've been feeling this whole week since bbs ended ;;;

[kjhbsies]

Multo

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James Potter x reader

synopsis: After weeks of silence and emotional distance, Y/N is forced to confront the feelings she’s tried so hard to bury— feelings for her best friend, James Potter. But when James shows up drunk at her doorstep, broken and desperate for answers, the truth finally comes to light.

wordcount: 2, 876

note: Part II of Cool About It. Angst to fluff.

Y/n had been avoiding James for three weeks now. At first, it wasn't obvious. The kind of thing that barely scratches the surface and could be brushed off as coincidence. Too subtle to raise alarms.

Like how she'd swiftly turn the opposite way the moment she caught a glimpse of his messy dark curls in the distance, or how she suddenly always had something to do— like an essay to finish, a meeting to attend— whenever James was near her. Her once-predictable presence at group hangouts had become a rarity, and somehow, every time James showed up, she just happened to be unavailable.

And maybe James didn't notice it at first. Maybe he was too caught up with Lily— her sudden shift of attitude towards him was too hard to ignore. He was in bliss— floating in a dream he had been chasing for years, too up high to see the way Y/n had started falling from his orbit.

But everyone in his friend group did. Remus, Sirius, and even Peter, who never picked up on these things, had made an offhand comment. "Have you lot seen Y/n lately?"

Still, James didn't piece it together. Or maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he was scared of what it could mean if he did.

Because once you notice someone pulling away from you, it's impossible not to wonder why.

The library was quiet during the late hours. It was almost empty, dim, and, somehow, Y/n found this place comfortable. This area has given her a small amount of peace, offering her some sort of sanity as she can busy herself with the books stacked in there, not really reading it— but just... hiding.

It had become a routine lately. Ducking into corners, finding solitude, telling herself she wasn't avoiding James. She was just... protecting herself. But, of course, the universe won't let her have her peace.

"Y/n!" James called her from behind, panting slightly as if he had run— because he had. His tie was slightly askew, his hair more of a mess than usual, and his eyes were blown wide with something she couldn't really place. Worry? Relief?

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

"I've been trying to catch you for weeks." James tried to laugh it off, stepping forward like he didn't know how to stop. "You— you've been ghosting me."

"I've just been busy," She answered, too quickly. Too quietly.

James gave a short, breathy laugh. "Right. Of course. Busiest girl in the whole world. Too busy for after-school meetups, for Hogsmeade strolls, for movie nights, for me."

Y/n's heart stung, but she didn't let it show.

"I was just about to head out," She insisted, gripping the strap of her bag tightly. "Long night."

"I'll drive you home," James said quickly. Already walking towards the exit like the decision has been made. "It's late."

"James, it's fine—"

"I insist." James smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You seriously think I'd let you go home alone, especially at this hour?"

And she knew, even though her heart was screaming for her to just keep the distance she had so carefully built, arguing would make things worse. So she just nodded and followed him to his car.

The car ride was quiet— at least on her end. James, true to his form, filled the space between them with his usual charm.

"So, what are you even working in there?" He asked, glancing at her. "Don't tell me you've been burying your face in Calculus. That's just sick."

Y/n just chuckled. "No, no. It's a different subject."

James smiled. "Of course. Classic."

And then he went on to tell the latest happenings that had happened when she wasn't around. Sirius had managed to get in trouble again for the third time this month. Remus has been tutoring a freshman who mistook him for a professor. And Lily— Lily made a cheesecake, and James had declared her a goddess.

Y/n nodded and hummed, casually commenting a few sentences from time to time. Her face was polite, yet it felt robotic. And James noticed it.

From time to time, he subtly glanced at her through the rearview mirror. He wasn't the most emotionally intuitive guy, but he could tell something was wrong. Her laughter didn't come as easily. Her eyes didn't linger on him like before.

She wasn't really there— not in a way she used to be.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning pale. His words kept coming, but his mind was somewhere else. Because no matter how hard he tried to act normal, no matter how casual he played it— this wasn't normal.

Y/n was slipping away. And he doesn't know why.

When they pulled up in front of Y/n's house, the car slowed to a soft halt. The engine hummed between them, the only real sound in the heavy silence. James tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his nerves betraying him.

"Thanks for the ride," She murmured.

James bit the insides of his cheek, then turned to look at her with a forced smile. "Hey— are you free tomorrow? Thought we could grab a coffee or something. Just us."

Y/n hesitated. "I got a study date with Remus."

His smile faltered for a second. "Remus?"

She nodded, pulling her bag over her shoulder. "Yeah. He was supposed to help me with my essay."

James scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "Since when do you study with Remus and not me?"

Y/n blinked at him, slightly thrown. "I— I don't know. It just... happened."

A pause stretched between them. James looked away, his jaw clenching slightly. "Right. Cool. I guess he's your go-to now."

There was something laced in his voice, something uncharacteristically sharp. Possessiveness wasn't a shade James often wore— he didn't need to. He had it all. The money, the talent, the looks. People gravitated towards him. That's just how it always been.

He didn't do jealousy. Especially with Remus.

"James..." Y/n said softly, not wanting to stir this into a fight.

"Well, tell Moony not to melt your brain too much. He goes on full professor when he's serious."

Y/n's gaze lingered on him for a bit, weighing him. But she didn't say anything else. She just smiled politely and slipped from the car.

And James watched her walk up to the front door, a small ache in his chest growing heavier with each step he took away from him.

The next day, the diner was buzzing with warmth and chatter; the golden afternoon sun was streaming through the windows and casting a perfect light across the table Lily and James shared.

She looked beautiful— like she always did— effortless in the way she talked, sit, and laughed. Everything he had ever wanted.

But he wasn't really looking at her. He was looking past her— toward the back booth, where Y/n and Remus were seated. And she was laughing. Like, really laughing.

The kind of laugh he hadn't seen from her in the past month. The kind that lit up her face, tipped her head back, made her eyes crinkle at the corners. She slapped her thigh as Remus finished his story like he was the most hilarious person in the world.

James scowled. He didn't even register what Lily was saying. Didn't even pay attention to the food in front of him. His eyes were just trained on them.

The way she leaned in when Remus talked, the way she rested her chin on her hand and looked at him like he was the most interesting person. Like she used to look at him.

And now— now he was noticing everything. The way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. The softness in her voice. He saw it. All of it.

"You okay?" Lily asked, suddenly pulling him out of his thoughts.

James blinked at her. "What?"

"You've been zoning out."

He gave a weak laugh. "Yeah. Sorry, just tired."

Lily raised a brow but let it go.

James looked back at the booth, his heart thudding uncomfortably. Y/n was laughing again, and Remus was now awfully sitting close beside her.

James wasn't used to doing this. The second guessing. The silence. The way his jokes no longer earned a laugh, how his texts were left on read, or worse— replied to nothing, but a cold, distant, courtesy.

It was his fifth attempt this week.

"Hey, there's a new art exhibit in town," He said casually, acting as if his heart wasn't pounding against his chest. "Thought you'd like the surrealist stuff. You know, the one with melting clocks and faceless people? I figured we could check it out together."

"I wish I could, but I got this paper due... and my cat's appointment with the vet later. I'm sorry, James." She smiled apologetically.

She always said sorry. Always with that small, polite smile. The kind of smile you give to a stranger.

And James felt he was slowly becoming one.

The truth was, it was never the art exhibit, or the cafe he invited her over to the day before that, or the time he showed up at her house with her favorite bubble tea and that novel she mentioned in passing months ago. He just missed her.

He missed the way she used to greet him with a smile that warmed his heart. The way she'd bump shoulders with him as he walked her to her class, the little inside jokes they used to whisper under their breaths, the sound of her laugh— God, her laugh.

He missed being her person.

And with each failed attempt, with every gentle excuse, his confidence chipped away. The great James Potter— charmer, golden boy, team captain— was suddenly unsure. Awkward. Tongue tied.

Because he realized that he was losing something he didn't even realize he had been holding on so tightly. Maybe it had always been her.

So right now, he was slouched in one of the couches in a loud club. The lights were too bright, everyone was chaotic, and the air was thick with sweat, perfume, and alcohol. But he didn't care.

His third drink sat in front of him, and he was already slowly getting drunk. Sirius lounged beside him, watching him with a silent concern as he did not see his best friend spiral like this— not even from Lily.

"You alright, mate?" Peter asked.

James didn't answer at first. He kept staring ahead, eyes unfocused, mouth pressed into a thin line. Then, finally, answered a bitter, "Peachy."

Peter frowned, but Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder and subtly shook his head— don't push it.

Remus, however, didn't bite his tongue.

"Is this about Y/n?"

The second her name left his mouth, James immediately glared at him, eyes bloodshot and glassy.

"What, d'you know something I don't?" James snapped, voice rising above the music. "Since you're always with her now?"

"She's my friend, James."

"Oh, friend, right. You two study together, hang out alone, laugh like idiots— hell, you even know everything about her, don't you?" James slammed his glass down, the drink sloshing to his sleeve. "She doesn't look at me the way she used to. Doesn't see me. She makes excuses to avoid me. Says she's busy. Tired. Got plans. But then I see her with you."

"Prongs—" Sirius interjected, but James wasn't finished.

He laughed, but it was hollow. Broken. "What did I even do, huh? Why the hell won't she just talk to me?"

"Alright, Prongs. Let's take a breath, yeah?" Sirius place a firm hand on James's shoulder.

But James shrugged it off. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't get it. She was my best friend. Mine." His shoulders slumped as the tears came rolling in. "I just— I just want her back. I miss her."

He sank into the couch, wiping his face the back off his hand like a child. "Call her." He whispered. Then louder, more desperate. "Please. Just call her. Ask her to come. I don't care if she's mad at me or if she hates me. I need to talk to her. Please. Please, please, please." He begged.

Sirius exchanged a look with Remus.

"Alright, I'll call her."

"Hello?" Y/n answered from the other line. The background was filled with a mix of loud music, clinking glasses, and chaos— but none of it made her go still. James. He wasn't speaking coherently. Just broken words, cries, and soft pitiful pleas. "Is that—"

Remus sighed softly. "Yeah. He's... not doing well."

She could hear James's voice in the background— his voice was wrecked and cracking as he said her name over and over.

"What's going on?"

"He's begging for you, actually."

Y/n's heart clenched. "Tell him... I'm glad he's surrounded by people who care about him tonight. But I— I can't come."

Remus didn't respond immediately. "Y/n, he's not himself." He said softly, not to pressure her— never that— but to simply let her know the truth.

"I know," She whispered. "But I can't do it, Remus. For the sake of my sanity, I can't. It's not that I don't care about him. God, I do. But if I go there, I'm scared it'll hurt us even more."

Remus exhaled softly on the other end of the line. "Okay, I understand."

"Please just... make sure he gets home safe?"

"We will. You did the right thing."

Y/n ended the call, and she couldn't help but sit as her legs buckled. The night was dead silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner at the corner of Y/n's room.

She had been staring at nowhere. Thinking. Pondering. She wondered if she even made the right decision of ignoring James. Of falling in love with him.

She hadn't noticed the clock had already struck midnight. Hadn't noticed that it had been an hour since she declined James's request. The guilt was eating her alive, and she couldn't do anything about it.

But then, the doorbell rang.

She didn't move for a moment. Praying it was just the neighbor or maybe a delivery to the wrong address. But somehow, deep down, she knew. Her stomach twisted painfully as she stood up, making her way through the door.

And when she swung the door open, her breath caught in her throat. James stood there. His hair was a damp mess, with sweat clinging on his forehead, and his chest rising and falling as if he had run all the way to here. His cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, and his eyes— oh, his eyes— were bloodshot and glassy, rimmed with tears that hadn't yet fallen.

"James," She whispered softly.

"You didn't care about me at all, did you?" He asked, voice hoarse and quiet. "You just let me spiral."

"What? No! James, I—"

"You ignored me." He stepped inside the house without waiting for her permission. His eyes never left hers. "You stopped talking to me. Pretend I didn't exist. You— you just cut me off like I'm nothing."

"That's not true." She stepped forward, reaching at his hand, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

"I waited. Every day, I waited for you to call back. And you didn't. You just... let me go."

Y/n's throat burned, her hands trembling by her sides.

"I had to." She choked. "James, I had to—"

"Why?" He asked, stepping closer now. His anger melted into confusion and pain. "What did I do so wrong, Y/n?"

"Because I like you." She said, barely a whisper. "I liked you so much it hurts, James. And I couldn't take it anymore. Watching you love someone else while I stand in the corner, pretending it doesn't rip me apart."

James stared at her. Stunned and silent.

She laughed bitterly through the tears. "I was doing it for me. I had to distance myself."

James opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"I didn't mean to fall for you. It just happened. And by the time I realized it, it was too late." She wiped at her face and stepped back, motioning at the door. "You should go. Please. Just go."

She turned around, ready to walk away, when James grabbed her wrist gently. And before she could react, his lips were on hers in a deep, desperate, and passionate kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.

When they finally pulled away, breathless, James cupped her face with trembling hands.

"I was stubborn," He whispered, forehead pressing against hers. "I kept telling myself I didn't feel anything for you. That Lily was all I wanted. And God, I was so wrong."

"James..."

"I love you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to see it. For being blind. But please— let me start over. Let me fix things between us." He kissed her again, almost reverent. "Don't give up on me yet."

"Just don't break me again, James."

And in the silence that followed, he held her like a promise he never planned to let go of.

©kjhbsies

taglist: @lotsostrawberrybear @sweetstrawberrianne

[walpu]

I've got those requests almost at the same time jsrfwwxewe also I fucked up big time and accidentally deleted them but thanks god I've made the screenshots

I've been looking forward to writing something nsfw for him lmao

nsfw headcanons w/Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, nsfw, subby!Aven. Somehow turned into a character study. Somewhat angsty but with a turn for hurt/comfort. No beta.

Okay, first of all, he's no virgin. But he's NOT a manwhore either. Like for some reason when it comes to the cunning characters it's always either he's a dickrider-pussydestroyer-900 or he's actually a fragile innocent virgin baby. Not the case with Aventurine, not on my watch at least.

I mean it's pretty much canon that the only moment he feels truly alive is when he's gambling so he won't seek sex for the purpose of filling up the hole in his heart. And I don't see him as a lustful person in general.

He has one-night stands from time to time though. Not particularly often but once in a while he feels a certain level of frustration and stress budling up in him so in order to distress without losing his cool he seeks sexual relief. For him it's a safe way to relax a bit without actually taking off the mask of a frivolous and confident man.

Also. He's very touch starved. Not even in a lustful way, he just wants to feel someone's touch. Someone on twitter pointed out that he's practically hugging himself on his e6 and I haven't been the same ever since.

And now look at his body language in almost every cutscene. He has his arms crossed and is generally pretty reversed. I think he doesn't trust people around enough to be in his personal space but when it's a part of the sexual act, it's just natural. He doesn't have to feel exposed. So yeah. This is another reason why he seeks sex.

Now do you remember what Sparkle said to him? About stripping himself naked for Sunday and all that? Yeah I feel like he gets comments like that a lot due to people's prejudice against Avgins. People are usually not this straightforward butttt the idea behind their comments is the same.

He may act unaffected as long as he wants to but I do think it messed him up quite a bit.

Due to his fucked up views on his own value and his sexuality he doesn't have a healthy set of boundaries with his partners, allowing them to be as mean and rough as they want. And I don't mean just kinky stuff, I mean genuinely uncaring partners who really don't give a shit about Aven's comfort. I think subconsciously he seeks people like this. In his eyes, it's better this way, otherwise he may crumble from a gently and caring touch.

So yeah. His sexual encounters usually leave him sore and exhausted. The initial feeling of relief washes away in the morning, leaving him more empty than before.

Okay now to the happier part because we are 466 words in and I still didn't say anything good or sexy.

If the two of you started your relationship as a fling then initially he would be surprised because of how observant and attentive you are.

"My, my, how caring you are. But don't worry about me, you're free to use me as you wish" he says in the same flirty tone as usual. And you just. Stare.

He acts like he's bored while you literally pry the information out of him and, well, he doesn't give you anything specific anyway so you have to ask questions during the whole prosses to make sure he's doing fine. Orrr you just set for something very vanilla just in case.

In reality he's a bit confused. Has mixed feeling about this. Being treated with such care makes it harder for him to hide behind his mask but it feels so nice.

And when he realizes that he has actual feelings for you he just. Stops sleeping with you lmao. If you have questions about this he'll find 2134144 excuses but in reality he just tries to figure out his own feelings.

If you started off as friends then he would not try to sleep with you until you start dating. At first he just doesn't want to mix up this dynamics. And when he catches feelings, he just tries to make sense of it. Plus since sex is not something entirely positive for him, he's just kind of... unsure how it may affect your relationship even if it's obvious that the two of you want each other.

Okay now the real talk. When the two of you are officially lovers be prepared to face his messed up views on his own sexuality. Will probably need a lot of reassurance, attention and aftercare to realize the importance of his own safety and comfort. Learns to value himself through you.

A very good lover, knows how to please you and wants to please you. His previous sex partners weren't important to him so he didn't go out of his way to make them feel good but with you it's a different story. Literally worships your body, pressing kisses everywhere. Especially likes your thighs. Kisses them, bites them, leaves marks all over them. Loooooves teasing them while keeping eye contact with you right before giving you oral.

I feel like he's a switch but leans towards being a sub. May dom if you want him to or, rarely, if he feels like it.

May look like a brat but is not actually a brat. Well, most of the time. He's a tease but still does pretty much everything you want without making you work for it. However, if he's in a playful mood, may get all cheeky with you. Says stuff like: "Oh, that's all? I know you can do better" or "My dearest, don't disappoint me, okay? You know I don't make deals that don't pay off" just to rile you up. He loves being tamed okay. He knows you won't hurt him so him being all cheeky and disobedient is actually a huge sign that he's comfortable with you and trusts you fully.

Worship his body and he'll melt. Like. He'll genuinely crumble.

Goes all worked up and needy and soft and completely submissive in your arms.

Loves loves loves edging you. And fucking hate being edged. And by "hates" I mean he will whine and sulk and beg you to let him cum already. Secretly loves it but won't admit. You know it anyway since he never tries to stop you, obeying your every command, like a good boy he is. If you tell him that you'll stop doing that if he actually wants you to he'll huff and admit that he's not actually against you being a meanie.

Loves marking your body and loves when you mark his. HOWEVER would prefer to leave/have hickeys on the parts of your bodies that are usually covered. Doesn't want to create any rumors and doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. However, if you're into this, he'll gladly cover your entire neck with hickeys.

Is actually very sensitive pretty much everywhere so it's quite easy to overstimulate him. Once again, he'll whine but would never be against it.

Has the pretties moans and is very loud as well.

Doesn't have a lot of stamina so if he tops and you're still not satisfied after he cums, he'll use toys to entertain you up until he is ready for another round. If he bottoms then please give him some time to rest. Andddd kiss all over his body so he would get worked up again as soon as possible.

Has a praise kink. And a bit of a degradation kink too actually. Don't just insult him, mix it up with a praise and boom he's ready to cum.

Loves aftercare. Both giving and receiving it. He feels extremely vulnerable after a sensual lovemaking session so please just hold him and tell him he did great.

[luvseisagi]

— not too much, just enough.

ft. michael kaiser x reader. wc. 4k

summary. on endless nights that feel like drowning in your own mind, you know michael kaiser is the only one who truly understands. content. gn!reader, no pronouns used. established relationship. hurt/comfort, toxic relationship turned healthy. mentions of emotional manipulation and gaslighting. kaiser had a redemption arc (so ooc because hes super sweet). reader is dealing with mental health issues —depression, anxiety, self harm in a way (nothing explicit) + has avoidant attachment style. other than that, i think it could even be fluff. author's note. i had an episode and i was sad as fuck so i wrote this cause the only character i think would really understand it is kaiser since he's had it even worse. so yeah. here you have !

𝜗𝜚 english isnt my first language, so any corrections or advice are highly appreciated, as well as feedback (please) ! enjoy

the room is dark, the air so hot its difficult to breath, yet so cold it chills you even under the pile of blankets. the blinds are still up, window cracked open, but it's past midnight. no moon tonight, so nothing but the faint light of your phone screen on the bedside table illuminates the closed space.

you’re sitting on your bed, back against the wall, legs crossed. your pajamas stick to your skin, uncomfortable, but you have no strength left in your body to change clothes, too drained to move or even adjust the blankets over you.

you tried to sleep, because you feel exhausted, but your mind doesn't seem to want to cooperate. your eyes are wide open, and from where you are sitting, you can see all the notifications on your phone —a reminder of all the messages you’ve been ignoring.

today's been a rough day, but you don't even know why. you didn't do anything. didn't even leave the house, or your room —not today, not the whole week. so why do you feel exhausted? why does it feel like the worst day of your life, if nothing happened at all?

you did nothing but rot in bed for hours, gathering the very little strength you had left to drag yourself to the bathroom, splash some water on your face and eat whatever you could find in the kitchen that didn't get you nauseous just from the smell. and even that had been a struggle.

you are not fine. 

actually, you haven't been fine for a long time now. however, u are able to ignore it most of the time —your busy everyday life has you distracted enough to avoid the dark thoughts, usually. but there are times when it’s just too much.

when everything's too much is when you feel absolutely nothing.

you always say you are a pretty logical person. it's one of the things you like about yourself: always taking in every perspective, always finding rational answers for your emotions. that's why these episodes hit so hard —they don’t make sense. you can’t even grasp them, can’t analyze something you can't understand. it drives you crazy. it makes you want to cry.

it chains you to your bed for hours, for days and even weeks —when silence becomes too loud is when your mind can't quiet down.

and still, all you feel is emptiness. 

a soft knock on the door is the first sound to fill your room in days. it startles you, and you flinch.

"are you there?" 

the voice on the other side of the door is low and sweet, almost honey in the way it slides so easily from under your door to the edge of your bed. 

your throat feels dry for not speaking for days. 

there's no answer from you. you can't grasp even a trace of your voice.

"i'm coming in, okay?" 

you don't say anything, but he doesn't need you to reply. the door opens, and your boyfriend enters the room.

"hi, love. i've brought you dinner, in case you’re hungry. and water too." 

you can only watch him in silence as he walks in, setting his bag down on your desk —the food is there, you assume, given the smell. 

you swallow, but at least you don't feel the urge to throw up. the way your stomach growls, you're pretty sure hunger won this time over anxiety.

“here."

he hands you a bottle of water after opening it for you. is cold, and it calms the itch on your skin for a moment.

"thank you." you manage to mumble, avoiding his gaze. 

he's seen you in so many ways —completely naked, just waking up, ugly sobbing, and sick and feverish —but for some reason, embarrassment gathers on your cheeks when he sees you like this.

it's not that you don't look good. it's that you look vulnerable, and broken —and you hate it.

you manage to take a sip of water.

"wanna talk?" he asks then, sitting beside you on the bed.

there are no sheets, the pillow is on the floor, and you have nothing but the blankets over you and other things you didn't care to set aside scattered on the bare mattress —your headphones, the phone charger, the laptop with no battery because you didn't want to get up to plug it in. one of his hoodies is there too, wrinkled and tear-stained. you had taken it off in a heat attack that had left you choking on air last night. or maybe this morning. you are not sure.

one of his hands goes to your arm then, and caresses your skin softly. that brings you back to reality.

"i don’t know." you tell him, answering his question. "i mean, i can talk. but i don’t know what to say. i don’t know why this is happening.”

he stays silent. meanwhile, the tips of his fingers run down your arm until they reach your wrist. then they stop —he waits for you to be the one to grab his hand.

you do it immediately, but when he squeezes it to confirm you that he’s there and he’s not going anywhere, you flinch.

kaiser raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything. his gaze shifts down to your hand, and, even though he knows what he’s going to see, he feels his chest swell with worry at the sight. he sighs quietly.

“love…”

“i know. i’m sorry, i… i didn’t…”

you try to let go of his hand, but he’s grabbing it firmly —enough strength to keep you from letting go, enough gentleness to avoid hurting you.

so you pull your knees up and bury your face between them. short flashes of pain run through your whole hand when kaiser brushes your knuckles with the tip of his fingers, skin red and purple throbbing under his touch.

it’s not the first time you do this, nor the first time he’s found you like this —alone in your room, gaze lost in the darkness, purple knuckles covered with dry blood and traces of a red stain on your wall. you swallow, a wave of shame flooding your throat, chest and stomach. 

you don’t know how to excuse yourself, how to justify that pain is the only way for you to feel alive, like you’re still there, sometimes. —when reality is so distorted you need something, anything, to anchor you to reality. 

luckily, you boyfriend doesn’t feel the need to say anything. he just holds your hand, and brings his other hand to your cheek. slowly, his fingertips caress your cheek, index and thumb holding your chin delicately. he tilts your head up slightly, and waits for you to look at him.

when you lift your eyes to meet his, you feel your whole soul breaking.

michael kaiser’s beauty is breathtaking, and right now, the sadness in the depth of his blue eyes knocks all the air out of your lungs. 

and that hurts even harder than saying anything.

because you can deal with him scolding you —you’d just nod, fake that you’re listening, and start a new day as if nothing had happened—, you can deal with him telling you he’s disappointed, that you shouldn’t do this to yourself, or whatever people would say after finding out about it.

but he doesn’t do that. he just holds your gaze, eyes locked on yours while he caresses your cheek with his fingers. and then he places a gentle kiss on your dry lips.

a salty tear forms on your low eyelashes, which releases it on michael’s hand. a crystal-clear drop runs down the back of his hand, his wrist, and ends up spilling onto the blanket.

he kisses your cheeks, now wet with your silent crying, and your heart shatters just a little more.

kaiser knows more about pain than anyone in this world —and you know it. even so, he thinks nothing could ever be as painful as watching you cry in front of him.

if someone told you that you’d be in this situation a year ago, you would have called them crazy. your relationship with kaiser had been complicated from the start —the flirting and the teasing were fun until real feelings got involved, and neither of you knew how to manage them. becoming an actual couple and learning how to love each other had been a very long, thorny journey.

at first, he loved you so much it pleased you —he was sweet, thoughtful, gentle. he brought you flowers after your shifts, welcomed you home with dinner and very expensive wine, wrapped you in his velvety robe at night and covered your body with kisses.

you weren’t really dating, but everyone in your lives thought you would end up in a relationship sooner or later. the few times a month that you could see each other, due to your schedules, were truly the best days of the week —like coming back to a five star hotel where you could fully relax and empty your mind.

but a five star hotel, even though beautiful, is not a home. the exclusivity becomes boring after a while, when it stops feeling like a gift and becomes something that’s just there. all the time.

you started to lose interest, and he realized it pretty quickly.

so he loved you even harder —loved you so much, it scared you. 

kaiser became obsessed with you, needy for your attention —throughout his life, he had been used to being the one in charge of the relationship. the one his partners depended on, although it was him who really needed them. and he had never had a problem with using the worst, most toxic traits known to humanity to practically force them to stay with him, convincing them that, without him, they would be lost forever.

you weren’t like that.

if he didn’t reply to your text for a couple of hours but post on social media, you would ignore him for a few days. if he told you he was hanging out with other people, reminding you on purpose that you weren’t dating yet to make you jealous, you would just answer with a “fine, have fun” and show him you didn’t really care. if he canceled your plans at the last minute, you would just take a walk alone and send him some pictures.

so he tried the opposite approach, but the result was the same —when he tried to shower you with affection, buy you presents, take you on expensive dates or just cancel his whole agenda to spend the entire day with you —you’d tell him he was being a bit too much and you needed space.

none of his old methods were working on you —not the intense lover behavior, which was supposed to make you fall irremediably hard for him, nor the avoidant partner traits, which technically would make you crawl back to him, begging for at least a bit of his attention.

he was stunned. he was confused, and, before he could realize it —he was the one who needed you so badly it could kill him.

and it seemed like it didn’t bother you at all.

of course, that wasn’t true, but his behavior had been driving you mad, and since you didn’t know how to react to his unconditional love on some days and apparent indifference on others, you just tried to convince yourself that you didn’t actually care about him. 

oh, but you did care about him.

for the almost four first months you had been going on dates, hanging out, and really like a couple, kaiser had completely fallen in love. and you knew it, but you were still not sure —not about loving him, really, because that you did. 

even if you didn’t really want to, after getting to know him better and seeing his most vulnerable, broken side —a few weeks ago, following a very heated argument that ended in angry cries and bitter kisses—, you could not not love him. 

but you were not really sure you could give him the kind of love he deserved.

walking away was easy at first —it wasn’t the first time you had done it. you tended to run away from everything, anything that started feeling important for you. from everyone who started loving you too much —which was exactly what michael was doing.

you usually made it look like you didn’t care at all, but it wasn’t exactly that —you were terrified. scared of being liked and not being enough, scared of loving too much and ending up hurt.

frightened of being known by someone —really, deeply known— and being so repulsive on the inside, no one could ever love you after that.

so you pushed him away. constantly. when he sent bouquets of flowers and when he invited you to germany, when he hugged you from behind or tried to hold your hand. 

when he started calling and texting you daily because you hadn’t shown any sign of life for a whole week.

you remember it vividly, it was about six months ago —the first time he saw you the same way you are now. 

kaiser showed up in your apartment after five days with no response. and, truthfully, he had learned to give you your space —especially lately, when you seemed to be stressed by even the slightest physical contact. however, when he asked your friends, they didn’t know anything about you either, and you lived alone, so he was really worried about you.

so, he showed up at your door, with a lot of questions on his tongue and a single blue rose on his hand.

kaiser kissed you as a greeting that day, on the cheek, a salty kiss that stained his lips forever —it was the first day he tasted your tears. then he asked, he asked so many things you can’t even remember them all. and, at first, you didn’t even try to answer —but then he sat next to you on the same bed you are now, and words started spilling from your mouth. even you were surprised to be able to explain something not even your own mind could understand.

later, when he gave you the rose, you had tried to blame the blood in your hands on its thorns. and yet, instead of feeling repulsed, kaiser had kissed each of your fingers —each of your bruises, each of the wounds still bleeding. 

and then he cleaned the red stains in the wall, helped you make the bed and raised the blinds on your window to let the pink sun rays of the sunset enter your room.

he asked to stay the night, and you let him. then, for the first time, he told you about his past. 

the last memory you have of that night, is your fingertips wiping away his tears softly, both hiding from the world under the freshly made sheets —and your lips muttering a very sincere, though slightly shaky, i love you over his mouth.

and you were still terrified, but he made it look a little bit easier. not loving him, exactly —but letting him kiss you back, and tell you he loved you too.

your relationship got better after that —it got official, actually. there were still arguments from time to time, and some nights weren’t easy —but you were learning to be together. to be there, at least.

and what is love if not that?

because he had exploded against you a few more times, screaming at you, belittling you, slamming doors and blaming you for things you didn't even know about. and you had stayed there, rational mind intact and a hand he could hold onto when reality hit him and he finally collapsed in front of you. you didn’t go. you never left him alone.

and you’d had three more episodes like the one you’re having now since that day, ignoring him and the world, hiding in your room and even seriously considering breaking up with him, thinking yourself undeserving of his care —and after each of them, kaiser had stayed there, eyes sad and kisses that reminded you that he would never stop loving you. he would never leave you.

neither of you left when yours wasn’t really love, but obsession, and need, and pent-up trauma. neither of you ran. instead, you stayed. you worked. you held on, not to what it was, but to what it could become.

and slowly, it did —a little purer, a little more beautiful—and much more fragile, too.

so here you are now, for the fourth time —weak, vulnerable and broken. your boyfriend looking at you as if he were watching the most precious thing in his life fall to pieces in front of his eyes, and he could do nothing about it.

kaiser places one last kiss on your cheek, then decides it’s time to help you feel a little bit better.

“listen, love, we are gonna do the following:” he says, gently pulling you by the hand that's holding his, forcing you to stand up. “first, we are going to take a shower —i’ll help you wash your hair and dry it afterward. then, we’ll put on clean pajamas, and i’ll change the sheets of your bed while you have dinner —brought your favorites for you to choose from. after that, we can watch a movie, or sleep, or talk, if you want. is that fine for you?” 

you nod, slowly, and the blue of his eyes shines softly as he looks at you. then he gently kisses your hairline, as if reminding you he’s going to be there for every step —he’s still as obsessed with kissing you as the first day.

so you walk together to the cramped bathroom in your apartment, still holding hands, and he helps you take off your clothes tenderly —delicately, as if scared of breaking you if he’s to harsh, but firmly, for you to know that he’s there if you need to break on your own.

then he takes off his own clothes and the two of you step into the shower, barely large enough for two people. you stand still as the water soaks your hair, trails down your skin. you let yourself open your eyes and look directly at him. 

blonde, irregular strands of wet hair stick to the sides of his face, blue tips brushing his chin. his skin is pale, but soft, and the rain of the shower slips over his muscles, traces the silhouette of the blue rose on his neck, down his arm. his gaze is still intense, but he smiles softly at you.

he looks like a sacred image, too surreal to be standing before you —you try to reach for it.

your hand goes to his cheek, little bit flushed from the warm water. you trace his features with your fingertips —the curve of his chin, the corner of his lips, the tip of his nose, the tattooed red line under both his eyes. 

michael kaiser is very much real, standing in front of you.

still, you can’t help but think you’re in presence of something blessed, something divine, as you watch the round water drops rest between his eyelashes. when he blinks and they fall, it looks as if he’s crying. 

but it is you, you realize, the one who’s crying, when he brings the shampoo to your head and starts washing your hair slowly, it’s your tears falling from your eyes as he massages your neck, your shoulders and you waist when he spreads the gel all over your body. 

you don’t say anything at all during the whole process —but your body leans into every stroke, like it’s slowly surrending to the touch of love.

after the shower, kaiser takes turns drying your hair and his, and he lets you braid the long blue strands of the back of his head absentmindedly while he brushes yours. 

time moves quickly after that —at least, faster than it has during this whole week. you watch him as you have small bites of the food he brought you, now a little more talkative than before, dressed in the clean clothes that smell like his fabric softener —as he changes the sheets on your bed and cleans up the mess your room had become.

the room has aired out while you were showering. the window is now closed, and the blinds are down. all the light, instead of coming from your phone —now turned off and forgotten on the nightstand, at least for tonight— comes from the starry lights hanging on the wall over your bed.

now it looks a little more like your room and a little less like a pit of despair.

your boyfriend has changed clothes too. he's no longer wearing his street clothes —which he's neatly stored in his space of your closet— but the silk robe he usually leaves at your house. his blond hair is pulled back in a half-updo at the nape of his neck, unruly blue strands sticking out. he's also put on his glasses —the ones he used to avoid wearing, but never forgets now since you told him you like how they look on him.

the air doesn’t feel heavy anymore. it’s warm, you think, as you let him wrap you in the freshly made blanket next to him. it’s comfortable, now that he’s here.

“so?” he asks, and then kisses your neck, and your chin, and your nose. you let out a soft giggle, and he feels his chest explode with affection for you “what’s it gonna be? movie, talk, sleep? or any other ideas?”

you smile faintly, and you snuggle up against him. his arms now surround your waist, his chest serving as your pillow. you can feel the rhythm of his pulse on your cheek.

“can we just stay like this for a while?” you whisper, voice small, almost unsure —but soft in a way it hadn’t been for days.

kaiser chuckles under his breath, and kisses the top of your head.

“that’s exactly the plan i was thinking about, love,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “wish granted.”

you laugh —a small, sleepy laugh that feels almost foreign to your own ears after the week you’ve had. but it’s real, and it makes kaiser’s hold around you tighten just a little.

there’s no need to talk anymore. no need for a movie or to pretend everything’s okay. the only thing that matters right now is the weight of his hand resting gently on your back, the warmth of his body against yours, the quiet rhythm of your breathing finally syncing in peace.

and, a few minutes later, when you ask to yourself why is he so kind to you —how does he know exactly what you need, just the way you need it— you remember that first night you spent crying together, curled up on your bed —when he emptied himself in front of you, confessing everything he had never told anyone out loud.

you open one eye, and you shift your gaze to the desk, where you find a single blue rose in a fine, clear glass vase. then you understand it —he knows, because he’s had it even worse. and he would never allow someone he loves, someone who loves him, go through the same thing he did.

kaiser is asleep behind you, wrapping you in between his arms as if scared of letting you go. 

but you don’t feel the need to run away anymore. you draw a faint, calm smile for the first time in the week, and snuggle up against him. then you kiss his hand, that's softly resting close to your neck —he’s not trying to hold you down, just hold you close. 

for the first time in a while, neither of you feels like too much —just enough, for each other.

masterlist.

pls lmk what u think in the comments, reblogging, through messages, asks or wtv!! feedback is important to me in these first posts and i'd appreciate it a lot 🤲🏼

﹫luvseisagi, may 2025.

[deathbecomesthem]

Big Bad Woof

Werewolf!Eddie Munson x Reader | Meet Cute

~1K of something I've been toying with for a while based on this werewolf Eddie stuff I was messing around with before. I don't know that this is actually going to be written for real, but I'm sharing because I wrote some words.

---

Your parents didn’t let you have a dog when you were younger. In fact, having a dog as a pet isn’t something you considered at all until you were an adult. A practical idea born out of the constant reminders from friends and family that living out of the middle of nowhere alone might not be the safest way to live. You couldn’t argue with them, because sometimes when the sun went down in the evening, you felt unseen eyes watching you through your open windows. 

Your closest neighbors are a half a mile down the road. The woods between your little house and the trailer park wave their way through all of Hawkins, they’re your favorite part of living here. You can step onto the path at the back of your property and slink your way out to the lake. You can picture yourself walking your favorite paths with a wooly beast at your side carrying a stick in its mouth. It doesn’t take much for you to convince yourself that a dog will be just the thing, it’s what’s been missing for so long. 

—

There is exactly one pet shop in Hawkins, and while it doesn’t keep any animals larger than a hamster, you decide it’s where you’ll start your education on all things canine. It can’t hurt, and at least you can get an idea of how much it will cost a month to feed a large dog. Yes, a large dog is the way to go if you’re going to do it, you can’t imagine yourself with one of those little ankle biters. 

As you pull up to Big Bad Woof, you wonder if the shop is even open. There’s one vehicle in the far end of the lot, a rusty van that looks like it’s been there for decades. Despite the nearly empty lot, you see an “open” sign hanging on the front door. You park your car and make your way up the steps of the old building. It must have been a single family home at some point, later redesignated as a commercial property. 

A bell jingles as you push open the door, and you’re a vague animal smell fills your nostrils. It’s pleasant and undefinable. It’s the wood chips that line the bottom of the hamster cages on your left. It’s the kibble stacked high at the back of the shop. It reminds you of the petting zoo you visited when you were in the third grade, only cleaner.

A trilling noise grabs your attention, a big gray tabby cat leapt onto the counter next to you. Your hand reaches out and finds the spot behind his ear automatically, and he leans into the feeling of your fingers in his fur. 

“Well, hello there. How are you today, sir? You manning the store by yourself today?” you ask him as he trots slowly back and forth in front of you, tail vibrating in excitement.

“Mickey’s good with the customers, but he keeps trying to eat my inventory of small rodents and fish,” a low voice answers you from behind.

You turn to find a man, tall and thin with a mane of curls pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He’s carrying a 50 lb. bag of kibble over his shoulder that he drops on the shelf where the rest of the dog food is being held.

“Mickey would never,” you say to the cat. He’s still leaning into your hand and he chirps in agreement.

“He likes you. You looking for a cat? He just kind of showed up here a month ago. He tolerates me at best,” the shop keeper moves closer to the counter with his arm outstretched to demonstrate. Mickey the cat crouches back away from his reach with his ears pinned back and ready for take off. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t seem to mind me when I’m dishing out the tuna fish.”

“Well, I’m not looking for a cat. I’m actually just here to see what you have as far as dog items go. I’m in the market for one, and I don’t know a whole lot about how to care for them.” 

The man smiles wide at your words and nods his approval while Mickey slinks away, as if he heard what you said and disapproves. There’s something about this man that seems familiar, but you know you’ve never seen him before. You would remember this one. He has a good smile, it puts you at ease. 

“As you can probably tell, I don’t keep dogs in the store, but I do know quite a bit about how to care for them,” he tells you, “some of my favorite family members are of the canine variety.” He turns to face you fully with his arms on his hip. An open stance.

You can see the name tag on the man’s left breast pocket now that he’s closer to you and his arms are empty. Eddie. The name suits him, like a well worn pair of jeans. Now that you know it, you long to say it, feel the way it curls on your tongue. 

“So,” you exaggeratedly lean forward and squint your eyes before saying, “Eddie?” You flick your eyes up to meet his gaze and say, “can you point me in the direction of a good shelter?”

Of course he can, and his ever widening smile is as good as an answer, but he still tells you,

“Yeah, I sure do. I’m heading out there in a little bit if you want to join me,” Eddie catches the way your eyes widen slightly at the suggestion, “or you could just follow me. It’s not far from here, but it’s a little off the beaten path. Easy to miss one of those dirt roads when there’s no signs.”

And so that’s what you do. You follow this man around his little shop while he loads your arms with the “bare essentials” for dog ownership - which somehow includes 4 oversized tennis balls, and an extra plush doggy bed - before he helps you load everything into the trunk of your car and leads the way down the road in the direction of the farmland at the edge of town, dust spitting from the tires of his rusty-bottomed Chevy Sportsvan.

What’s the worst that could happen? 

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter One (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference,Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the “Cryptid Rengoku” character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

Y/N Perspective.

It's early, too early. I don't know why I keep doing this to myself. For weeks now, I've followed the same routine: waking up, wandering the forest surrounding my village, and searching. Every day, I look for a sign that something, or someone, is out there. Yet somehow, I always come up empty-handed. It's not just me, though. My entire group is burnt out on this whole thing.

Searching for monsters has never been a passion of mine, but when you're down to your last cent and someone offers you free food and board in exchange for your help, how can you say no?

I still remember when Miss Tamayo approached me. It was snowing hard up in the mountains, and she saw how badly I was struggling in the cold. She was kind, took me in, and talked to me at length about the mystical monsters and beings her group had been studying and searching for. I'll admit, it was interesting, but I didn't believe any of it was real.

We've all heard the tales—the stories of the creatures we now call the Hashira, the terrifying monsters that once protected their respective villages and residents. While they made for nice campfire stories, there was simply no way these beings existed. Even if they did, why would they stay hidden? Wouldn't they seek revenge on the villagers who used them and then cast them out? None of it made any sense to me.

Despite voicing my concerns and disbelief to Miss Tamayo, she still wanted to help me, as long as I was willing to help her. And that's why I'm here now.

I'm in the middle of this forest. The sky is grey and cloudy, with rain surely on the way. It's foggy, and visibility is poor. Since I'm new and have only been working with these monster hunters for a few weeks, they've given me a basic route—one that minimizes the risk of encountering a real threat. Tamayo wanted me to look for a special flower that supposedly grows around here, but I haven't had any luck yet.

If I can't even find a flower, I don't feel like I'll make a promising monster hunter. At least, that's what Yushiro, one of Tamayo's most relentless supporters, thinks. Though we are civil to each other's faces, he openly voices his concerns about having me around. He says it's a waste of time to bring along someone who doesn't even "believe in the cause."

I suppose I can't argue with him too much. I've walked this same route every day for a few weeks now and still haven't come across the flower Tamayo sent me to find. Maybe it really is a waste of time—

My thoughts are interrupted by a rustling sound in the distance. My body immediately tenses up. I glance around, but the thick fog makes it hard to see. All this talk and thinking about monsters and mythical creatures is starting to get to me.

What was that? Did I lose the path? No, that's just me overthinking it, thanks to Tamayo and Yushiro filling my head with stories. I'm just being paranoid.

The rustling resumes, this time from the opposite direction. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"Tamayo? Yushiro? Is that you?" I call out into the fog.

I wait for their reply, but none comes. Adding to the unease, the air feels hotter now, and a strange clicking noise echoes through the area, growing closer and closer.

What should I do? Should I run?

As the clicking grew louder, I made up my mind and began to sprint through the fog, knocking branches and anything else in my path aside. At some point, I lost my footing. The trail must have ended, and I twisted my ankle on a tree root protruding from the ground.

My ears were filled with the sound of my own breathing, and it felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. This can't be happening. I was sent on an easy route to fetch a flower, not to be chased by some crazy monster.

I tried to stand, but the pain in my ankle was too much. I strained to stay silent and listened for the clicking sounds; they were faint but still there. I had to get out of here.

Grabbing onto the trunk of the tree I had tripped over, I pulled myself up. It hurt, but the adrenaline rush made it barely bearable.

The fog was finally starting to lift, and I could see the path I usually followed. I must have accidentally stepped off it while running. As long as I could get back, Tamayo would be able to help me with my ankle.

As I started to move slowly, a red light in the distance suddenly caught my attention. Squinting, I tried to make out what it could be and then realized it was two red lights, gradually moving closer to me.

Eyes.

Panic surged through me as I scrambled to move, trying to go as fast as my injured ankle would allow, grabbing onto anything I could for support.

This can't be happening. I refuse to believe any of this is real. How could all those stupid campfire stories be true? And why, out of all the monster hunters in Tamayo's group, did I have to be the unlucky one?

I wanted to scream and yell for help, but I was so deep in this forest nobody from the safe house would hear me.

It hurts. It hurts so much. It feels like my body is going to give out any minute, but my mind is racing, forcing me to keep moving.

The clicking is now accompanied by a deep growling, making it sound all the more intense. Whatever this thing was, it sounded terrifying. And those deep red eyes didn’t really help with my imagination.

Then it happened. I had to take a knee. The strain on my ankle kept getting worse the more I moved. I'm done for. Whatever this thing is, it's going to kill me.

At least Yushiro can look at my corpse and say, "I told you so."

As the clicking and growling got even closer, there was a small thump to the ground as whatever was about to kill me approached. I shut my eyes and prepared for whatever my fate was.

I felt it stop a few feet behind me. This monster is just staring at me. I’m too afraid to face it. I don’t want the last thing I see to be those glowing red eyes.

"What are you doing? Why did you run away?"

My heart nearly stopped. That voice—it was deep, loud, and had an eerie, echoing effect. Was this monster talking to me?

I took a deep breath. What should I say? Should I beg for my life?

"I asked you a question, human. Why are you running away?"

I could hear a hint of annoyance in its tone. The last thing I wanted was to anger a mythical being. I slowly turned my body. The sight that met me made speaking even more difficult.

It was tall. He was tall—about eight and a half feet.

He had blonde fur and a long mane of hair with red accents scattered throughout, tall pointed ears, and those glowing red eyes.

My lips parted. I wanted to answer, to beg for my life and apologize for intruding. But his appearance was so intimidating, so... enchanting.

I froze as he moved closer.

"Can you not speak, human? Are you afraid of me?" He chuckled. His laugh was as intense as his voice.

"I can speak," I managed to choke out.

His eyes seemed to light up, and he smiled.

Dear God. Those teeth. Long and sharp. If he wasn’t terrifying before, he definitely was now. I felt my heart beating rapidly. I knew I was done for, but this was all too much.

"What is your name, human? I've seen you walk this path for days now. I deserve to know who intrudes on my territory daily." Instead of anger, his tone was oddly amused.

"My name is Y/N L/N." I tried to keep the nervousness out of my voice but didn’t do a great job.

"Well then, Y/N L/N. You wandered away from your usual trail as soon as I got close to you. Why did you run away? Aren't you supposed to be looking for me?" He laughed, a mocking sound.

"You are a 'monster hunter,' aren't you?"

I didn't know what to say. He was right. I was supposed to be looking for him. That was the whole point of Tamayo taking me on, but I hadn’t expected it all to be so real.

"I didn’t believe in monsters. I was sent to look for a specific flower," I mumbled.

"Didn't believe?" He moved closer, towering over me. "Tell me then, Y/N L/N, do you believe now?" He smiled, those sharp teeth gleaming.

I felt my body run cold. He was terrifying, not just in appearance but in his entire demeanor.

“Yes, I do.”

For a moment, silence filled the air, broken only by the sound of the wind and his slight clicking.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“I am Kyojuro Rengoku, the protector of this land and its residents.” The echo in his voice cemented my assumptions.

There was no mistaking it—I had run into one of the Hashira.

I’d heard the stories, the legends of Rengoku, the fierce protector of this area. He was kind until he wasn’t. Then, humans saw him as a threat and banished him to the forest.

He kneeled down in front of me, still on the ground.

“You don’t seem too surprised. Have you heard of me?” His ear twitched, and I noticed the massive tail behind him curl around his body.

I took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ve heard the stories. You’re the Hashira associated with fire.”

He perked up at my response.

“So, my legends live on! How amusing!” He laughed.

His voice was so loud, it was almost funny.

Why is he acting like this? I thought he would have killed me by now.

“You’re hurt,” he said, gesturing to my ankle.

“Yeah... I sprained it,” I replied, shifting awkwardly.

“Yes, I know. From running away from me.” His tail flicked slightly, and a smirk formed on his face.

I didn’t know what to say or do. I was completely at a loss. Here I was, casually having a conversation with one of the scariest and deadliest creatures to walk the earth.

“What are you going to do with me? If you’re going to kill me, can’t you just get it over with?”

He looked at me, a mix of confusion and amusement in his eyes.

“Why are you so desperate to die so soon? Do you not enjoy my company?” His voice echoed with a chuckle.

Is he being serious right now?

“No— I’m just... confused. Why are you still talking to me? I’m a monster hunter, not a very good one, but still a monster hunter. Shouldn’t you just kill me and get it over with?” I was desperate for an answer, needing to know if I should prepare to die or not.

He stared at me for a moment, as if deep in thought, his ears twitching slightly.

“No, I don’t think I’ll kill you,” he said plainly. “However, only on the condition that you continue to return here. Tell no one of your kind about me and continue to come see me.”

I sat there, dumbfounded. This terrifying creature was willing to spare my life as long as I returned for his company?

“Why would you want to see me again?” I asked.

He smiled, baring his long, sharp teeth, his ears perking up.

“Because, Y/N L/N, you are the first person to talk to me in a long time. To be quite honest, something inside me is telling me that you and I are really going to like each other.”

His tone shifted, becoming more sinister. What did this creature have planned for me?

And why was I excited to find out?

Next>>

[xhoneygirlxx]

he's not magic

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: the time of the month has come and Eddie is the only person who can sooth you.

warnings: talks about menstrual cycles/blood. mentions of dying. tooth rotting fluff. Eddie is a cutie pie. pet names used; sweetheart, baby, honey. shitty writing/spelling errors; if you find any plz ignore it lolololololol.

a/n: i'm currently in so much pain from my period and the only thing i want is for someone to coddle me and tell me i'm going to be ok. i hope you guys enjoy this very small thing, it's not much and it's not good but maybe it'll help you feel good on those days when life is shit. love you all <3

--

You're dying, a slow, painful, and mournful death. At this point you stopped caring, stopping all the begging you've done all morning for your life to continue. If this was how you were going out than so be it, you just wished your end had come faster.

You've already bled through two pairs of panties and two pairs of shorts, now left in your trusty period panties and an oversized shirt. Your stomach was bloated to the point it was uncomfortable, your breasts were so swollen that your chest felt like it was going to concave under the weight, and your back felt as if it was going to snap in half at any moment.

It felt like you tried everything, ibuprofen, heating pad, and propping a pillow in between your legs - none of the tricks worked. Now you were left in the fetal position, arms wrapped around your middle and knees pulled to your chest.

For the past how ever many hours you've been moaning out in pain, the stabbing feeling in your uterus just too much to handle. You're sure if someone were to walk in and see you they'd think you were insane and right now you couldn't blame them.

You did look insane, hair wild and matted to your face from all the sweat you've accumulated, voice hoarse and scratchy from all the wounded animal sounds you've made, and your face screwed up in an unflattering way.

Your phone has gone unanswered all day, the only person to have texted you was Eddie. At first it was only tik toks, small comments he thought would make you giggle, and then it turned into him updating you about his day at work, and finally worried questions about if you were okay.

You felt so fucking guilty for not responding, not telling him that you were fine but you just physically couldn't move from your crouched position. This only made you angrier, the fact that your temporarily paralyzed and are restricted from doing the things you need to do.

The fridge sits empty and in need of new groceries, laundry stays piled up by the washer where they wait to be cleaned, and Eddie is waiting for your response worrying about your well being - that is if he hasn't already contacted the national guard to track your location.

Everything is so shitty, the pain, the hurting, the guilt, the frustration. You feel like you're a balloon that's been filled up too much and is waiting to burst at the seams.

You don't have to take long before the heated tears from your eyes fall down, hitting the bridge of your nose, only to land on the pillow beneath your head. It's not a violent cry, at least not yet, just frustrated tears that seem to slip away from their barricade.

You don't even notice the front door of your apartment opening or the sound of Eddie calling for your name, only focusing on the pulsating of your uterus that debilitates your body.

"Fuck, baby I've been worried about you," You don't even turn and look at him, your eyes are still harshly closed. By the sound of his voice you know he's out of breath, brown curls probably wild from the speed of his running.

"Shit, sweetheart, are you okay?" The worry in his voice hits right on the spiderweb crack, shattering you into a million little pieces.

You can't hold it back, the wailing that rips from your throat is something close to bone chilling. Tears streams from your eyes without relent, whole body shaking from the cries that rip from your body.

It doesn't take more than thirty seconds to feel the bed dip as your boyfriend crawls into bed next to you. He doesn't think twice before pulling you in, one arm wrapped around your back and the other soothing down your hair on the side of your head.

"It's okay, baby. M'here, you're okay." Eddie coos and it's like music to your ears.

The warmth from his body fills you in a way your heating pad couldn't. Even with the mucus that fills your nose you catch a whiff of his scent, smoke, pine, and outside -undoubtedly him. His calloused hand runs soothingly up and down your back, allowing your bones to relax into his touch.

Eddie doesn't have to ask, he knows you better than you know yourself, and the way your scrunched up on your bed and crying he knows that you've been battling your pain all day.

"Sweetheart, you have to breath. Can you do that for me? Take one big deep breath, s'all I want, okay?"

You nod your head against his chest, following the way his chest moves as he demonstrates for you. Between hiccupped breaths and streaming tears, you allow your lungs to fill up with as much air as you can take in, releasing it right after in one long exhale.

"Good job, baby. Did such a good job f'me." Eddie's being soft with you, a side of him he only allows you to see and no one else.

You let his praise melt over you, soaking it right up like the plants in a drought. For the first time since you woke up you feel lighter, something you only feel when Eddie's by you. The cramps that have been going nonstop have finally subsided, the presence of your boyfriend scaring them away.

"It hurt so bad, Eds. S'really bad today." Your voice is shaky, as if one wrong move and you can break out into another sob.

"I know, honey, but it's okay. I'm gonna take care of you, kay? I'm gonna make it all better."

You both know that he has no control over what your body decides to do but just the promise alone has your worries easing away. Your body relaxes into him, your knees slowly falling down to their normal position until your laying right up against him.

"On a scale from one to ten, where are you at?" You take a moment to think about it, really evaluating the squeezing of your organs.

"Was a ten but now it's like a seven."

Eddie hums, his hand still soothing up and down your back. A small pause settles over his words, like he's trying to wrack his brain for the next action he's going to make so you can feel better.

"How 'bout you get some rest, then when you get up we'll get you something to eat? Sound okay?" You nod again, too tired to form any sort of response.

Eddie acknowledges your response with a kiss to the top of your head, making you hum in content when he does. It doesn't take long for the tiredness of your body to settle over you, quiet snores coming from your nose in no time.

Even if his arms fall asleep and his back feels stiff, Eddie stays there with you, soothing you in your sleep to ensure that your pain stays at bay. When you do wake up he's right there, waiting for you with some water and more medicine before helping you into the shower.

He's not magic and he has no idea what to do when it comes to woman's health but Eddie Munson will be damned if a period makes his girl cry like that again.

---

[stargazedwinchester]

Would love to read Sam in a Djinn dream since I’ve struggled to understand his motivations. I haven't found even one fic like this. Thxs

Haunted ♡ Sam

Summary: Sam gets caught by a Djinn, dreaming of a life without you. Word Count: 1,912 I hope this is okay! Sorry it took a bit of time to get out! You can take this romantically or not; it's completely up to you. I tried to keep it generic in case it's not something you wanted <3 I believe this is the longest imagine I've written, which is crazy tbh Also I'm sorry for the British terms in this - idk what the Americanized versions are lol

You find that yourself and Sam are irreplacably close. You both grew up with similar childhoods, unknowingly setting yourselves up as life partners.

You practically did everything together, including spending a lot of time with Dean. He always thought that it was sweet that his baby brother had someone that would keep him occupied. Help him stay on the right path. In fact, having you around made things ten times easier. An extra pair of hands for research, hunting and a smart-ass mouth definitely assisted in getting answers out of people during hunts.

“So, get this,” Sam starts, your head peeking up from behind your newspaper. “Go on.” You urge him. It’s been a couple weeks without any work, and you can feel yourself tweaking from sitting still. Hunting is filthy, yet you crave it. It gives you a sense of purpose and knowing that you potentially save peoples lives fills a void in you that you didn’t know you had. The joys of working among the two best hunters alive also patches that void right up with pride.

“Mystery deepens as man goes missing.” Sam states, reading the headline from the newspaper he’s holding. You roll your wrist, pursing your lips, encouraging Sam to carry on. “Mystery follows suit as William Hardy, 33, goes missing after attending an afterparty. William left the nightclub and never returned home to his wife, Kate, 34.” Sam finishes, his shiny eyes gazing at you. “Right. Well, we have a possible case.” You stand up, tidying the books and papers into piles, sliding the books back onto their designated shelves. “Hold on, we can’t say this is for us or not.”

“Sammy,” you stand above him, and he looks up at you. “Man goes missing. Y/N goes investigate. Sam and Dean go with Y/N.” You nod, a playful smile on your face. Sam laughs at you. “Even if there is no case, at least it gets us out of the bunker. I’m bored as hell.”

Dean parked the Impala outside of a huge office firm. The brothers suited up and yourself in smart attire. As you exit the car, you look up at the building - glass completely covering the whole of it. The sun catching on each angle, making you squint your eyes. Maybe looking at the sun itself would be easier on the eyes.

You all enter the building, Dean asking for a Ms. Hardeker at the reception. They tell you to sit whilst she finds a moment to bring you into her office.

Upon entering, you notice her desk is a little messy. A tissue box that’s practically empty, pens sprawled out all over her desk and a couple laid on the floor. “Come, sit down, sit down.” She ushers you all to sit, and you do. Her eyes are tired and puffy. Kate’s hair slicked back in a bun, a few baby hairs poking out. Her formal appearance makes it seem like everything’s perfect. Kate sits down behind her desk, and her eyes sit upon you. You flash her a comforting smile before Dean sparks a conversation.

A couple of hours later, you leave the building retaining a lot of information about William. You scribbled down notes in your notebook to help you further the investigation when you get back to the bunker. You feel as though your mind is on overdrive, the empathy you feel toward Kate is unreal. You can’t imagine ever feeling the way she does.

Days later, you and the brothers head to William’s last known location, the bar. It’s crowded and blaring with live music. You feel the floor vibrate beneath you, shimmying through the crowd to get to the bar. Dean opens up a tab, allowing you to find a booth to sit together.

You notice Sam’s been quiet this entire time, his eyes kept to the ground. He swirls his whiskey in the glass, the liquid almost forming a tiny whirlpool. You watch him, and he glances up at you, displaying a light smirk. “You okay?” You mouth to him, and he nods. Something is eating at him, and he’s damn good at hiding it. Pulling out your notebook, you assume that Sam needs a distraction. “Okay, so,” you start, and their heads perk up. “From what we got, Will wouldn’t have gone far from here. If anything, he would’ve stepped out of here and it would’ve yanked him. The time that he left here versus the time Kate called his phone… she called six times with no answer.” You huff, looking over at Dean. He presses his lips together, his pupils focused on your notepad. “Then there’s no time to waste. Let’s find that son of a bitch.”

Upon leaving, the thumping of the music decreases and you feel like you can finally think again. The night sky is lightly decorated with stars, the moon shining like a huge hole piercing through the fabric of the sky. The soft moonlight reflects onto Sam’s hair, his cheekbone catching the moonlight as he looks over at you. You reach up and stroke his back with your thumb, quickly pulling him in for a side hug. He gazes down at you, planting a kiss atop your head. This was your favourite thing about being this close with Sam. You can get away with doing things like this without Dean making it weird. He knows how much you both mean to each other and, luckily; he sees it as you’re part of the family. At this point, you practically are.

Glancing over to your right, you notice a dingy alleyway with a slim, wooden door that seems like it leads to nowhere. You tap Dean on his bicep, ushering him to follow. Dean takes the lead as usual, scanning the back street for an extra lane to go down. But this time, it leads straight to the door. No sign, no people. It gets freakier by the second. You keep it hush, pressing your ear against the door.

Silence.

Dean turns the handle, the door opening almost without force. His forest eyes pin back at you, his eyebrows scrunched. Sam slips you out of the way, so he can be there to protect you in case someone - or something - jumps out at you. His broad frame completely shields yours. The building seems derelict but not abandoned. Lights flicker quickly and almost in a pattern, debris and dirt cover the place. There are tracks along the floor, leading around a corner that leads into a hallway. You pair up with Dean, whilst Sam investigates the hallway. A sense of hidden depth hangs heavy as you two claim the main floor. It’s hard to tell, but the whole place feels endless.

As Sam turns a corner into a new room, his flashlight quivers, the bulb dimming as he fully enters the room. He’s abruptly met with what looks like a human covered in dark tattoos from head to toe. Sam gasps at the sudden encounter, attempting to shield himself from being attacked. The tattoos on his skin glow an electric blue, the shade travelling across his entire face, lighting up his eyes. A neon blue flame arises from his hand. The djinn completely entrapped Sam, entrancing him into a dream-like state. Sam’s eyes roll back.

Sam wakes up in a fright. He’s back at the bunker, in his own bed. His damp back hints at a nightmare, though its cause eludes him. Sam runs his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. It’s not often he suffers with nightmares. Nothing major in his life had happened prior, which leaves him confused. Sam gets out of bed and clears his throat. He makes his way down the hall, passing your bedroom. The door is slightly ajar, and he peeks inside. More often than not, you leave your door somewhat open, so either of the Winchesters know you’re awake. He pushes the door open, revealing an already made bed, none of your belongings or little trinkets on the shelves. Nothing. He furrows his brows, scanning the room as if he’s in the wrong room. Sam hears clanging coming from the kitchen, so he shuts the door and makes his way up to the main foyer.

“Y/N?” He calls, padding over to the kitchen. “Y/N?” He calls again, and Dean snorts. “Who’s that, Sammy? One of your lady friends?” He laughs, shoving his face full of eggs and bacon. “Wh- no, Dean. Where’s Y/N?” He asks, almost panicky. He examines the room for anything that simulates you. Dean watches him, puzzled. “Sam, who are you talking about? There’s no Y/N here.” He pauses, fork in hand. “Sammy, are you feeling okay?” Dean puts his fork down, hesitating whether to approach his brother. Sam stands there in disbelief, a lump forming in his throat.

“Y/N’s room isn’t there. Nothing of hers is there. You don’t even know who I’m talking about,” he rambles, running his hand through his hair again. His brain is in overdrive right now, and Dean’s eyes are locked on him. He takes cautious steps toward Sam. “Y/N isn’t here, Dean. Something’s wrong.”

Dean falters, his lip moving as if he wants to say something, but he’s unsure on exactly what. Sam’s fear stricken gaze locks with Dean’s uncertainty.

You plunge the silver dagger into the hip of the djinn, and he releases a bloodcurdling scream. The light covering his body blinks before submerging. The djinn’s body falls to the floor, and Sam lays unconscious. Dean rushes over to Sam, slapping his face lightly to attempt and wake him up. “C’mon, Sammy,” He grunts, pulling him up so he can rest against a wall. You kneel down beside Sam, fumbling as you pull out your handy flask. You unscrew the lid and pour water over his face, hoping that the icy feeling washes over him and that he wakes up. He doesn’t.

“Sam?” You whisper, caressing his face, hoping that light touches trigger something instead. Luckily, Sam awakens. “Oh, thank God,” You press your hand to your heart, you take his hand and he squeezes lightly. “Thought you were a goner,” you chuckle lightly, and Sam looks over at you. Dean stands up, collecting himself from what just happened. He rubs his hand over his stubble, one hand on his hip. Sam huffs, showing you a tiny smile. He’s pale and weak, so you offer him the rest of your water from the flask. “Are you okay?” You comfort him, stroking your hand on his shoulder. “Yeah. I’m grateful you’re here.” He swallows. “When he got me - when the djinn got me - he took me to a place where you didn’t exist.” Sam glances up at you with glossy eyes, and you’re unsure whether it’s from pain or he’s upset. “It, uh…” He stalls, and you sit patiently next to him, not rushing him.

“It really got to me, you know? You not being there in my life,” Sam pants, struggling to find the words. “You mean the world to me, Y/N. I hope you know that.” He says, pulling at your heartstrings. “More than you know. I mean it. I don’t say it enough.” He chuckles, and you grin. “I know you don’t.” You joke, and he playfully hits your arm. You help Sam to stand up, and he pulls you in to a bear hug. This hug means more than the rest of them.

[auraisereigh]

"A dive into the past"

chapter nine

Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader Blurb: Star explains a piece of her magic while passing time waiting for e certain someone. wc: 3.9k ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Not much really. Star's thoughts get their own warning? Uses pronouns: she/her. i use Star as a nickname as y/n sounds weird, and i'm awful with names.

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

After a lot of back forth with House Lindell today would finally be the day I'd see my brother again. Almost two months after I came back home I finally get to bring him home.

I didn't sleep much, I kept tossing and turning, filled with nervous energy. Wondering what state he'd be in, we might have been separated for only two months but those two months have been long and difficult.

Since I couldn't sleep I spend the night cleaning Xaden's room, tidying it up, making sure everything he could possibly need would be there. I refreshed his sheets which gained me some glares from the early staff because of the noise. I also gave him new and extra pillows.

In the morning I almost bumped into Brennan. Despite that our... Issues had been resolved, I didn't necessarily go look for him to spend my time. He still leaves meals for me with notes and what I heard from Felix he still doesn't spend much time outside his room. I visited him in the beginning of the week with some books I thought he might like but he didn't look too happy about them.

It fueled me with insecurity for some reason. I wanted to do something nice but I'm not sure that that is how it came over to him. An insecurity I still feel right now, as he literally sits Infront of me in the mess hall.

It's mostly empty, lunch ended an hour ago. I've been restless for the whole day. Waiting for Xaden to arrive. Aethan promised he would come and get me when he arrived but that was hours ago.

Brennan looks up from the paper I slid under his nose. His brows furrowed in confusion. "Please, enlighten me, what am I looking at?" His sarcastic voice asks. He knows I'm nervous and restless, he handles it well compared to other people. "A paper?" I cringe at my own words. "Your serious." He deadpans. "What are the symbols?" He asks, his voice a little softer now.

"They're runes." I state matter of factly. "They're runes on a paper." He looks at me as if I just told him his dragon spits water instead of fire. "Runes?" He asks with raised brows "You don't know what runes are? Did precious mom keep that from you too?" I taunt slightly, which earns me a glare.

"No, I do know what they are but they are forbidden." He explains softly. "I know they are." I say a little bitter. From all the provinces, Tyrrendor suffered the most after unification. We lost our language and our culture.

"Then why write them down? You're not allowed to use them and you can't use them." There's is curiosity in his voice. "Not allowed and not being able to are two different things." I correct.

"Yes, I know that but you can't use it. You're not a dragon rider. You don't have magic." I scoff at that. Dad was right, riders are truly pricks. Their ego bigger than their dragon. "And you think you dragon riders are the only ones with magic?" I challenge with a raised brow. "Yes, there is no other way except channelling from the ground and you look pretty sane to me." For the love of the lord.

I let my eyes glow their soft red hue. It's always a thrill to show people who think they're the only ones in power that they're not. It's so much fun.

His eyes widen slightly and he opens his mouth to say something but he quickly closes it.

I blink and now eyes are back to normal. I give him a moment to process before I answer what seems to be everyone's first question. "I was born with it. No one knows where it came from as both my parents didn't carry magic nor did their ancestors." He nods slowly. "I thought you would have had at least an idea that I had something as I used it a few times when we were stuck in that cave, hiding from everyone." I continue on.

"I don't remember much for then seeing as I had come back from the dead." He says sarcastic. Fair enough. What do I know about coming back from the dead.

"What can you do with it?" He asks, motioning to my eyes that were glowing earlier. I tilt my head, it's a good question but I don't even know where to start. "It's...complicated. We never found the limits. My dad told me the first time it showed was when I was four, it was harmless. From there on it showed more and more. When I was seven colonel Mairi started teaching me runes, in the hopes that could control it somehow, she had put this rune on a necklace to keep my magic contained. When I was seventeen I lost it near the cliffs of Dralor." I start, giving him a piece of past behind it, by far not everything.

"When you're a teenager you get to that age where you just wanna discover yourself right?" He nods. "Well, I took the necklace off many times. I'd be in the woods or near the cliffs of Dralor, trying things out. I devoured the library for books that could help, I tried everything in my reach." I continue.

"And? What did you find?" He asks with a curious tone. "If I'm correct, which I'm not sure of I am. My magic comes from a source in nature or nature itself. The possibilities so far have been endless. Moving things, making shields like wards, enhanced senses. Those seem to be the most common. But with the right idea a lot more is possible. It's just...unknown. Which is scary." I finish. I left out the parts of being able to read minds. But for the sake of not freaking him out more that might be smart.

He nods again, his eyes focused on mine. He looks like he's prossessing the information. "And of course the red glowing eyes and the magic itself looks pretty amazing." I say trying to lighten the topic. He laughs softly, leaning back as he looks at me with those adoring eyes.

We stare at each other for a moment. He looks like he has a million questions, which, fair. He opens his mouth but quickly shuts it and tenses. I frown and look behind me to see Ulices walk over us.

He looks directly at me, basically ignoring Brennan's presence. My frown deepens. "Lieutenant colonel." He addresses me. Oh, that sounds weird. I shudder. I'm never gonna get used to that. "You're needed in the assembly." He says curtly. My mind instantly goes to the worst case scenarios. "Excuse me." I tell Brennan hazy. He give me a small smile but I can see the tenseness in it.

I stand up and follow Ulices. My mind spins. What if Xaden is not coming? What If House Lindell changed their mind last minute. What if they sold us out to Navarre? Will they hurt Xaden? Or worse?

My mind continues to spiral as I follow Ulices. We turn the hall to the assembly room where almost every member except for Aethan waits.

Huh?

I stop once I reach them. My brows furrow in confusion as I stare at them, waiting for an explanation. Trissa clears her throat. "Aethan is waiting for you inside." She says as she gestures to the closed door.

Nervousness and nausea coils deep in my stomach as I make my way to the door. I push on the large door handle, opening it so I fit through. I close it behind me.

Aethan leans against the table, the stress is visible on his face, which only worsens mine.

I swear I'm gonna throw up.

I open my mouth, wanting to ask him what's going on when another voice cuts me off before I can even say something.

"Hey, little sister." My heart stops and I freeze. I haven't heard that voice in more than two months.

I slowly turn around, my whole body trembling. My younger brother, leaning against our father's throne.

"Xaden." I breathe.

☆

Taglist: @honethatty12 @smashee0789 @awkardnerd @randomperson1234sblog @bangtanxberm @hyperactive-bookworm-0

[kithtaehyung]

[ 3tanfall ] ok so i posted this in the cul de sac but it's also gonna live on the blog too bc!! it's part of 3tanotes and i'm way too excited about it :')) so thank you all again and here's the spoiler passage!

A gentle autumn breeze wraps around your shoulders as you wait. Leaves traverse the concrete at your shoes, and you feel at peace while the sun starts to set. 

How long have you been standing here? Surely Yoongi would’ve responded or at least texted you by now. 

Knocking again, you pull out your phone to call him, noticing that the water bowl next to your feet is empty but the food bowl still has some spare scraps. With your free hand, you scoop up the empty container. 

Where is he? You know he’s home so—

The door opens while your phone still rings, so you’re staring back at a pair of glasses in shock. Probably not how he expected to see you. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Yoongi responds, blinking at the bowl in your hand. “Oh, was that empty?” 

“Mmhmm.” While you step inside, you quietly swoon at the way he slips your bag from your shoulder, laughing at his sudden set of questions.

“What the—? What the hell’s in here?” 

You throw an explanation over your side on the way to the kitchen. “A surprise!” 

Thumps hit his counter as he exerts effort. “Goddamn. You moving in?” 

“You wish!” If this man says that one more time, you're packing your bags. Only hypothetically, of course. Because there's no way he means it right now.

Your sad grin’s light bounces off the sink at an angle. “Just got some things at the store and didn’t wanna use bags.” 

When a hand braces the counter next to your waist, your mood instantly blooms. A hint of shyness will linger as always, but it’s paired with beautiful familiarity. Truly a welcome change in this new chapter, new season with him. 

Yoongi’s other hand warms your arm with a light skim. And he doesn’t speak until you’re done with your task of filling the bowl with water,

“You could.” 

Oh. 

Just as the world transforms outside, so does your soul as every pretty and fleeting emotion nestles under your cheeks. When you slowly look Yoongi’s way, you admire his eyelashes as he focuses on the fingers touching your skin. 

“I could,” you whisper back. When he lifts his gaze, your smile spreads. “If you convince me.” 

That damn scrunch of his nose would be enough. But Yoongi sniffs in determination, straightening his posture before folding sleeved arms. “Mm… Sounds tough.” Your hands are still damp when he squints at the ceiling, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to strangle him when he jokes, 

“And I’m lazy.” 

“Oh, you—!” You laugh along with him as he breaks his facade, which doesn’t prepare you for the way he quickly tugs you in for a stupidly delicious kiss. It’s almost lethal enough for you to drop the bowl completely, but he releases as quickly as he pounced. 

Leaving you with swollen lips and swirls for eyes. 

Gathering what’s left of your sanity, you slowly squeak out, “That’s a… Good start.” 

“Nice.” Yoongi flicks your nose before walking to his room. “After you put that out, come in here. Wanna show you something.” 

“Something? Or something...”

He laughs. “Just hurry up. You’ll see.”  

-

-

a/n: goodbye i've missed them so much and i can't wait to finish this oh my godddd. hope y'all are ready for a whole pile of fluff and steamy goodness lmao

[l1vchuu]

resentment. part four

!! warnings: mentions of sh and suicide, strong language, may contain triggering themes and blood, angst, and slow burn, P.S. This chapter might have a lot of time skips, so be wary.

A few days went as you were gone, and you weren't the only one who felt the changes.

It was a Monday afternoon as you sat at your kitchen table, reading a book you randomly had picked off your old shelf- "Norwegian Wood" by Haruki Murakami. You bought this book after watching the film that just got released in the theaters, hoping that you would read it someday and feel the same emotions you did when you sat in front of the big screen. After some unfortunate events that occurred in your life at that time- you never really got to read it.

The soft yellow tint of the light from the cheap lightbulbs filled your small kitchen, going through your hair, and making a slight shadow on your face. The tea you had made for yourself earlier was getting colder as the minutes passed by, and you couldn't feel more peaceful.

So far, you tried taking things slow- since you had a whole month to figure things out. You've put out the thought of seeing a therapist later, your mind was still blurry. Currently, you were trying to calm your mind by reading and watching movies.

A few hours later, you put down the book and decided to take a shower. As you entered the cabin and turned on the shower, the sudden warmth of the water took all your thoughts with it.

You recently bought some new showering essentials- new shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, and a few other things. Maybe if you tried to take better care of your hygiene you could feel prettier, or at least have some type of order in your life that you follow.

The sweet honey scent filled the atmosphere as you washed your hair, slight steam flowing in the air, getting captured in your lungs with every breath you took. Your mind was roaming through your memories, mostly the good ones. You remembered the first time you discovered Wes Anderson.

A few years ago...

You sighed as you scrolled through your Letterboxd watchlist, the titles moving faster than the thoughts in your head.

"'Detachment', 'Lost in Translation', 'Vertigo'..."

You mumbled to yourself as you kept scrolling, looking for something to watch. Then your eyes stopped at a yellowish poster, excluding itself from the others.

"Fantastic Mr. Fox"

You had heard of that movie before, all positive things. You stared at the trailer for a while

"Who even watches trailers for movies that have been out for years?"

You thought to yourself as you kept looking, but you were mesmerized. You hadn't seen anything else like this. It was so quirky and sweet and bitter that you wanted to watch it badly. You found the movie, and just as you were about to put it on, Simon opened the door.

He entered the room, looking at you with his brown, empty eyes.

"How was the shift?"

You tried to spark up a conversation, but it ended nowhere.

"Fine."

He sat on his bed, still with his mask on. You know he took it off when he slept, but you had never seen his face. It's like he knew the moment you woke up and fall asleep just so he can put his mask back on and act like nothing had happened.

"You gonna' sleep?"

You asked him, your eyes looking up from the monitor of your laptop.

"Not now, why you ask?"

"I was going to watch a movie, that's why."

You could somehow see his eyebrows rise underneath his mask. It was the first time he heard those words from a Sergeant. People usually never had time to do anything really, being tired from long work shifts and all.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It just... It's the first time I've heard that sentence here."

"What? You don't watch movies?"

"No- It's not that. People don't find the time for things like these."

"Well, I do. Does it bother you?"

"As long as it's not too loud, no."

"Good."

You sat back on the couch as you hit space and the movie began.

Half an hour later, you were so invested in the movie that you didn't notice the presence of your roommate next to you... until he coughed, causing you to flinch, and because of your reflexes, your hand went into a defensive position. He looked at you, his eyes slightly wider.

"Oh, sorry."

"I think... I think I saw Jesus."

He chuckled, showing the slightest bit of emotion he ever has.

"It's just me."

"You really live up to your name, huh? Sneaking in like that."

"I didn't do anything, it's the movie's fault for having you so fuckin invested."

"Yeah, sure."

-

It might not seem like the brightest memory ever, but that was the first time you had such a close interaction with Ghost ever since you got moved into a room with him. That moment felt like a slight push into a whole other universe. A universe where you felt less scared to talk to him, a universe where he got to be the closest person to you.

The whole story began when you joined the British Army at 17 years old after a really bad banter between your dad and your brother, resulting in your brother's suicide. At his funeral, you could barely hold yourself up and alive- it had shattered you completely. You couldn't help yourself to eat, your mother had to force-feed you just like she did when you were a baby. Your body was aching with every step you took, every time your jeans brushed against your thighs, making your fresh scars bleed again from the friction. A month later, you were at your lowest point in life- you didn't go to school, and your mother ignored every call from the principal because she didn't know what to say. Everyone at your house was so lost, your father refused to go out of his room, leaving the house in the process, your mother barely slept at night, and you had ruined yourself. At this point, everything was a lost cause.

One morning, as you barely walked towards the front door, placing the rubbish bag in its' place, you saw the leaflets from the military scouts that live in your area. Usually, you would throw them in the rubbish bin and continue on with the day, but this time something was off. Your brother wanted to enlist in the military so much, he even started going to the shooting ranges outside the city to train his aim. You could feel your cheeks getting wet as you stared at the papers in your hands- he would've served his country and fulfilled his dreams in a year.

With slow and steady steps you went to his door, opening it slowly. His room was always cluttered, as he never got the time to clean it- always so busy with his voluntary work and training. There was a big flag hung on his wall, frames with pictures of him in his boy scouts uniform, pictures with him and his friends at a red cross event, and posters of his favorite movies and superheroes, he was such a bright and generous kid. There were stacks of military scouting leaflets piled on his desk, catching more and more dust as the days go by.

You sat on his bed, holding a picture of him with a German Shepherd 'Scouty' - a military dog that was pretty famous in your city and had saved multiple lives. You remembered taking that picture, him getting so excited when they allowed him to pet the dog, his eyes lighting up when they said that we could take a picture with him, his big smile, showing his braces as the dog stood still. Everything seemed so wonderful, life was so full and bright.

The tears began rolling down your cheek as your fingers traced his face, the room still smelled like him, somehow. You felt a pair of fragile hands holding your body close to them. You looked up with your red and teary eyes at the figure- it was your mother. You two sat in silence, crying quietly as you held each other. She noticed the leaflet in your hand.

"When does the recruiting start?"

Your mother asked you, her voice quiet and shaky as she looked at the paper.

You wiped your cheeks as you checked the dates on the leaflet- it was slightly damp and crumpled.

"The applications can be sent in a month from now."

You said, your voice cracking as your hands shook slightly.

"Mhm."

Your mum responded as she gently pat your head, her fingers brushing through your hair.

You stared at the paper in your hands.

"Will you leave Dad?"

You asked.

"I can't, you are still here."

She replies.

"What if I leave for university? Will you leave him?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

But you still had two years left, and with your absence, you were sure no university or college will accept you. You thought about it- if you were to return to school, people would ask you questions back and forth, and you couldn't deal with that. You knew your mother was suffering more than you, I mean, losing a child can be amusingly painful for a mother. And the last thing you wanted to do is to make your mother suffer even more, but continuing to live with your father after all that had happened was doing that same exact thing.

You thought about this the whole day. Holding that same leaflet, making all the research, asking people about it- and then you made your decision. You were going to join the Army.

Sure, you may have absolutely no experience, unlike your brother, but that's what he would've wanted. You were doing this for him and your mother.

You walked back and forth in your room, wandering in your documents and checking in your strengths. You knew a little about artillery from your brother's trainer and all of his lessons. You had a month in order to prepare for it. You went to consult your mother on the decision.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"I'm sure, I just need to train a bit, but I need to know that if I go, you leave him."

She thought for a minute.

"I'll stay at your aunt's place until I save up enough money for rent and divorce."

You looked at her, your eyes full of uncertainty.

"Do you promise- No- Will you promise me to do that?"

You took a breath before continuing.

"When I leave, you leave him. You go as far away as you can. I'll lend you money if I can- Go to another country and live there if you need- Just promise me you'll leave that man, please..."

She put her arms on your shoulders, making you look at her.

"I promise you, but how do you know if you are going to get recruited?"

"I will get recruited, don't worry."

She looked at you, not being sure if you were just talking nonsense or actually meaning your words. By the look in your eyes and the sound of your tone, she knew you weren't joking.

After your mother made that promise- you got to work. You went out and trained every single day, but before that, you visited the shooting range. You knew that the trainer was a British Air Service veteran, so you asked for his help.

'You want to enlist? As in, you want to apply?"

He looked at you, a worried look on his face. It was the first time he saw you since your brother's funeral, and he saw the change in your appearance.

"Yes, and I need your help."

You said, looking up at him. You had explained everything to him, in detail, too.

"For a month..."

He silently thought to himself as he looked at you, his eyes narrowing.

"I can manage a training schedule, but I'm not sure if you could-"

"I'll do it.'

You interrupted him.

"- handle it."

He stared at you, his eyes slowly wider than before. He sighs.

"It won't be easy. Not at all. Your brother had months and years of practice, but now you have to make it up to him in a month."

You nodded your head, your eyes burning with ambition once again.\

"I'll do it. I won't give up."

"We'll change up your diet too,"

He paused, taking in the situation with your family. Your mother could barely stand up from her bed, and your father was nowhere to be found.

"I'll bring you food, you'll eat here."

You tilted your head to the side.

"Will that be okay with you?"

You asked him, a worried look on your face.

"It'll be absolutely no problem. I'll pack in food for your mother as well."

You nodded, feeling grateful for his offer.

"Thank you."

He nodded, holding his hand out for a handshake. You took his hand, giving a firm squeeze.

"I'll come pick you up tomorrow at 5:30 AM."

He searched your face for any reaction.

"As I told you, it'll be hard."

He gave you a slight smile.

"But now I believe you'll make it."

During that month, he took care of you and your mother- you trained with him all day, and he checked in with your mother in the meantime. He was a single father taking after his father's business. His son enlisted two years ago, leaving him alone in his house all year round. You became attached to him quickly, he was almost like a father to you. He helped you become the person your brother wished to be. For a month, you became a weapon, which got you in the Army, which got you in the Special Forces (SAS). That's the place where you first met Simon.

It was three years after you joined the Army- you were now 20 years old. You finally had the opportunity to apply to the SAS- which you did. After a long process of training and selection- you finally made it into the force.

When you got in, they introduced you to a couple of people, Captain Price and some other Lieutenants. As you entered the base where you would be working and living, they introduced you to one final person- your roommate- Simon Riley, or his callsign 'Ghost'.

As you finally got to call your mother, announcing the news to her, you were surprised more than usual when your trainer picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

The male voice echoed through the phone. You furrowed your eyebrows, barely recognizing it.

"Hello?"

You replied.

"It's you! How's it going, kid?"

And that's when you recognized him. You two had a long conversation- apparently, your mother had moved in with him, which got you flabbergasted. Your mother was at work when you two were talking. You announced the news to him.

"Really? You got in?!"

He said, his voice full of pride and joy.

"I knew you would make it. I'm so proud of you!"

I'm so proud of you.

I'm so proud of you

That sentence kept you up at night. It replayed in your mind non-stop, echoing through your veins with each word.

Someone was proud of you.

-

Simon looked at Soap as he ate his lunch, holding his bowl in one hand as always. It's been a week since you were gone, and by that time everyone was aware of your absence. Soap looked back at Ghost, unsure about how to approach a conversation with him after all that had happened. Your seat at the table was empty, and nobody dared to sit on it, leaving a gap between Gaz and Ghost. It was rather quiet, everyone was lost in their own mind. Some of them were surprised that you never said anything, that you didn't notify anyone. Johnny was probably the first person who decided to write to you.

"Come on, I can't do this by myself. We have to let her know that we are with her and that we miss her, right?"

Johnny states, looking at the empty piece of paper in front of him.

"So, what do we write?"

Kyle grabs the pen and begins the letter, slowly filling it up with words until the page is full. Signing at the bottom were Johnny, Kyle, and Alex. After a few hours, the letter was sent to you, arriving in your mailbox.

The morning after, your neighbor notified you that you got mail. You looked in the box, a confused look on your face as two letters appeared in your hands. One of the letters had three signatures, while the other had only one- a skull face.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.☆.｡.:

Heyy!! I'm back as promised with the fourth part. This part had a lot of time skips for which I apologize if you were confused with! Sending lots of love and see you with part five <3

[convexicalcrow]

fic: when the void stares back (ren&false)

a/n: posting a bit late bc i've had family stuff going all weekend oml. written for the @hermitadaymay solstice social event! found out too late that my partner wasn't able to participate in the end due to irl stuffs, so i only have a fic for you, but i hope you still enjoy it. <3

read here, or on ao3

-

"Ren."

"Yes, Falsie?"

"Don't you ever get…"

False walked to the small window in the bridge, watching nothing but stars fill the view. She wasn't sure how to word her thoughts. Perhaps she'd been cooped up here too long, maybe that was it. Certainly, she'd broken the silence because it had grown a little too uncomfortable.

"Don't I ever get what?"

"I dunno, I think maybe I thought space would be … more filled with people or something. I wasn't expecting the silence."

Ren joined her and stood next to her, tail wagging gently behind him. "Yeah, well. It is pretty empty this side of the galaxy. We got another two months travel though, do you want to go back into stasis?"

She scrunched her nose up at the thought. "Oh, it's not that. Besides, someone has to keep you sane out here."

Ren laughed. "I mean, that's very true."

She turned to face him and smiled. "Don't want you hallucinating again, do we?"

"Hey, it was one time! And it was the spores, I promise! I'm all good now!" Ren protested.

False gently moved past him, shaking her head. "I mean, you say that Ren."

"Hey!" Ren pretended to sound offended, but even he knew what he was like. "At least this new planet won't have spores, or so Gigacorp tells me."

"Yeah, but their planetary intel is 20 years behind at this point. I mean, even this ship is old for one of her size. There's so much she can't do that the newer ships can. We wouldn't need to travel an extra two months in a new ship, that's all I'm saying. And the squirtapods create more than enough spores as it is," False said.

"True, true. I've been tinkering behind the scenes on all the blueprints, trying to modernise them, but it's hard. So much of the new tech these days doesn't retrofit easily! It's such a pain!" Ren said.

"At least you're trying. Anyway. Not sure I like the idea of another two months of this, but there's not really much choice there, right? Company policy doesn't let us pilot alone, you know that as well as I," False said.

Ren sat down at a console, pretending to idly check the dials. In reality, they didn't need to do much to run the ship. Grumbot kept it all running well enough with the maintenance drones while they were in stasis and would alert them to any issues. All they had to do was pass the time.

"I dunno, maybe I wish I had…"

Ren's voice faded off. False turned to him. "More people? I think that's it. More people."

Ren idly scratched an ear. "Yeah, I think that's it. More people."

-

This ship was too big for the two of them. A Hermetheus class ship needed a crew of at least 50 to feel in any way full of life. With just the two of them, it felt like they were piloting a casket. Maybe if they had crew in stasis, it might feel okay. She could wake them up to get some more company, take her place while she has some time in stasis as well to keep her own sanity. Instead it was just her and Ren, and the vast emptiness of space.

Had she really signed up for this when she joined Gigacorp? Well, yes, actually. That was the whole reason. Get away from, well. Get away from things. And of course, you didn't need a full crew to scout out planets to colonise. A pair will do. Once they find good planets, then the rest of the group can follow to build up the infrastructure needed for the meganodes or whatever they're called.

She smiled grimly at that thought. She was working for a jumped up telco, of all things. Of course, communications were vitally important in space, she knew that as well as anyone, so it made sense. But it still sounded so silly in her head to be travelling around, finding good planets to put big satellite towers on. Hardly felt glamorous, really. They were tradespeople, electricians, not astronauts. Not that she'd go back, of course.

Her hand clasped around her gun again purely out of habit. It sat at her waist, standard issue Gigacorp weaponry to be used when necessary. It wasn't a very good gun though. It had a janky trigger that False did not like, and its accuracy was atrocious. If there wasn't a sensor in the holster to check the gun was still in there, she'd have ditched it for a proper weapon ages ago. But Gigacorp didn't work like that.

She sat on her bed. She'd been having stasis dreams again. Always tended to happen in the few weeks after leaving stasis. She could tell them apart from regular dreams because they were so strange to her. Figments of places, people, memories of building things and rivers and giant eagles and all sorts. Lots of towers on fire and laboratories she didn't really remember the purpose of. Her sister-

She hadn't thought about her sister in a very long time. Hadn't really seen her since she was a kid anyway. Just remembered her standing in the doorway of a burning ship, telling her to run. So she did. False ran.

She'd dreamed of her before, of course, but not like this. She was her sister, seeing through her eyes. Seeing False leaving her behind. Seeing jail cells and dead scientists and fire and a maniacal laughter. It had shaken her to her core. It was just a dream though, right? Yeah, it was just a dream. Stasis hallucinations to keep her mind busy. That's all it was. Perhaps her hand clutched her gun a little tighter, just in case.

-

False busied herself with inventory. There was still a lot to do before they arrived at the planet, and the sooner they had their equipment and supplies organised, the better. At least, it made False rest easy, and it gave her something to do. Ren usually just took care of the navigation and computers, making sure they had all the supplies on order that they needed. There were always some things they had to order in from Gigacorp, and at least they were finally close enough to tap into the local networks to get more up to date information on the planet they were heading to.

False busied herself in the hangar bay where all the ships were. The exploration ships they would take out to find suitable landing spots needed to be supplied with what would be needed to begin a colony, unpacked from the cargo they'd left with. Sand, dirt, grass, seeds, and, of course, squirtapods and their containment equipment.

The droids were doing the heavy lifting. They were faceless silver things, with simple voices and simple functions. Good enough to maintain a ship at a basic level and lift heavy supplies, but that was about it. But then these droids were as old as the ship itself. A newer ship, and newer droids, would do so much more than they could right now.

She sighed as one of the droids stumbled across a grill and nearly dropped the bag of soil it was carrying. "Oi! Don't you go breaking yourself, or it'll be coming out of our wages!"

"Sorry Ms Symmetry," the droid intoned as it straightened itself up. There was no fluid movement here, just a jerky slow correction to its gait and its foot position as it rebalanced itself.

"Yeah, so you should be. Honestly. You have, like, one job! I have like, sixteen! Get it together!" False said, half-serious, half-laughing at the struggling droid.

She got out of the way once the droid had corrected itself. She didn't really need to supervise them. Grumbot was doing that. But she at least wanted to feel busy, so this was what she did with her time. The thing was, the time would pass faster than she always thought it did. Six weeks very quickly turned into two weeks, and that's when the panic kicked in, even though they were very well prepared.

She sat down on the floor, watching the droids pack the ships up. It occurred to her that Ren was, at least, ten minutes away from her. Maybe twenty if the elevators fucked up like they always did. If something happened to her, something the droids couldn't help with, she was dead. Just, straight up dead. Ren would never get to her in time.

That thought sent a shiver up her spine. She didn't want to die, of course. But they were far too few on a ship that was way too big. The nearest ship could be months away, too. Communications could take days to arrive, if they arrived at all. She tried not to think about this too much. It tended to just make her anxious.

"Falsie, how's the inventory going?" came Ren's voice on the radio, breaking the silence.

"Oh, it's going. Droids are packing up the ships. How's things up there? Still heading on the right track?" False said.

"Yeah, all good up here. You want a break? I'll make you a cuppa tea?" Ren said.

False smiled. "Yeah, sure, be right there."

-

She wasn't, of course, right there. It did take a while to navigate back to the bridge. But she found Ren sitting there with a thermos of tea and a plate of biscuits, a rare treat they'd been saving for months. Thankfully, they had kept well. They'd moved a spare table and chairs into the bridge as there wasn't really anywhere close to take a break or just sit down without risking spilling things onto the consoles. False took a seat and Ren poured her a cup of tea.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Ren said.

"Oh, you know, the vastness of space, how alone we are, how we really should have more crew here, the usual." She laughed to dismiss the fears in her head. It was fine. She was fine.

Ren laughed. "Yeah I hear you, hey Falsie? Wish Gigacorp would stop hoarding their money and get us more crew members. There's all those stasis pods going to waste for crying out loud!"

"I just can't imagine it's cheaper or more efficient to run a ship this big with only two people as opposed to like, I dunno, fifty, you know? We could get prepared for landing in a week instead of two months," False said.

Ren sighed. "Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. Look, I have told them this repeatedly, but do they listen? No! Of course not! There's too much of the universe to explore, they can't spare 50 person crews for every ship!"

"No, I mean, it's not like they're the richest and only corporation in the universe. Can't hurt those profit margins though, can we now? That's why we run in old ships. Too expensive to get new ones," False said.

"Yeah, well, there's worse jobs out there for sure. At least we get to see a bunch of different planets though! That's good, right?" Ren said.

"I mean, I guess? But you can do that on your own. You can just buy a ship with a warp drive and you're set. Small ones aren't that expensive anymore if it's just you," False said.

"What do you think I did before Gigacorp? I went to so many cool planets, Falsie! And now I get to do it as a job! It's so awesome! Don't you think it's awesome?" Ren said, the enthusiasm clear in his voice.

"I guess so, maybe. If you like exploring," False said.

"Don't you like exploring? Surely you must like exploring! Why else would you sign up for these missions?" Ren said.

False shrugged and took a sip of her tea. "Sometimes you just need to- Never mind."

"Oh! Also! I finally managed to get some images of the planet we're going to! Current ones!" Ren said.

He got up and headed over to the console to bring up the pictures. He flicked through a series of pictures of the planet's surface. They showed a rocky planet with pockets of ocean and green land. It didn't look promising to False.

"I bet it's another uninhabited world," False said, going to join him.

"It might not be! There could be life there! Life can thrive anywhere!" Ren said enthusiastically.

"Hmm." False was not yet convinced. "It's just, thirteen out of the last fourteen worlds were uninhabited, is all I'm saying."

"Look, not every planet can have abundant intelligent life! That's actually what we're doing here! We go to a planet, see if it can sustain life, and leave that information for Gigacorp to deal with. Then we move on to the next assignment. It's a perfectly fine system," Ren said.

"What do Gigacorp do with all these planets anyway?" False said. "Feels like it's just busy work at this point."

"It's for the Giganodes! It's connecting the Gigaverse together! Why wouldn't you want to be involved with that?" Ren said.

"So what you're saying is that we're the chumps installing satellite. We're doing the boring cable laying gruntwork of the Gigaverse more like," False said. "I'm not paid enough to care that much about the Gigacorp vision, if I'm honest."

"Aww, come on, it's great work we're doing here! Spreading the love of Gigacorp to new and exciting planets!" Ren said.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Ren."

-

False ran her hand over her ship, a small Valkyrie class tucked behind all the Gigacorp vehicles in the hangar. They'd been all over the galaxy together, and she'd smuggled her aboard when she joined Ren as crew. She wasn't as old as the ship they were piloting, but she had a knack for upgrades and repairs, so she was as good as the newest ships out there at the moment. Warp drive, chameleon skin, the works.

She could just fly off. She could get inside, open the doors, and fly off. Leave all of this behind. It wouldn't take much. She could stash enough supplies in here and just go.

She got inside, in spite of herself. It was comfortable in here. She knew this ship better than she knew herself. She always had a stash of emergency supplies in here. Sometimes, it was quicker to take her to rendezvous with supply ships and stations than get their Hermetheus to change course.

It was always nice to get away from the ship for a while. Talk to different people. Catch up with contacts and friends. Upgrade her ship. Profit a little on the side when she could. She knew how to take care of herself. Ren was always fine. She put Grumbot in autopilot and told him not to touch anything, and they were fine.

She sunk into the pilot's chair, her hands going to the controls through muscle memory. The desire to fly away was very strong. But she knew it would pass. Part of the training was dealing with that flight response that came from spending too much time with your partner. She knew it would pass. Just breathe. Find a supply station. Talk to other people. She'd be fine.

She closed her eyes. Imagined saying the words to open the hangar doors. Powering up the ship. Disappearing into the void like she always wanted to do.

She opened her eyes, still sitting in her ship. She shook the itchiness from her body and left, softly touching her nose as she closed the doors and powered down the ship. One day they would fly again. One day. But not today.

-

"Falsie."

"Yes, Ren?"

Ren shifted a little in his chair. "Did you know you'd never see your home again when you joined Gigacorp?"

"I mean." False glanced at him. "To be honest, I'd left home a long time ago. It didn't really worry me. I was already homeless. Best kind of person for these kinds of missions, I think. No attachments."

"Yeah, but like…" Ren paused. "I mean, you can die out here, and who'd even notice? Everyone's so so far away! By the time they get here, we'll just be skellingtons in the sand or something."

"You been having stasis dreams again, hey?" False said. "What's brought all this on?"

"I dunno. I guess the distance kind of just hit me earlier. Seeing how far we are from anywhere, really. I mean, sure there's planets out there close by, but inhabited planets? The last one was the one we left hundreds of light years away, you know?"

"I think you should stop worrying. Nothing much you can do about it. I mean, what do you want me to do? Magically make an inhabited planet appear? If it's getting to you, you can always retire, of course," False said. "Sorry, that sounded mean. But you know what I mean, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Maybe we should stop at that refuelling station coming up in a couple of days. I think I need to get out of this place for a while. It's doing my head in," Ren said, resigned.

False touched his arm for a moment. "Yeah, maybe we just need to get some time off the ship. Before we get to the planet, of course. We don't actually need to refuel, do we?"

"I mean, it doesn't hurt to get everyone topped up before a mission. And we've been travelling a helluva long time to get here, you know?" Ren said. "And, I dunno, maybe it's a good idea, you know, stock up on anything we need before we land."

"Ren, you don't need to justify it this much. We can just stop there, it's fine," False said.

"Yeah, but, like-"

"Ren, it's fine. We might as well if it's close by. And you clearly need a distraction, so. Maybe we take inventory tomorrow, and then we'll know what to pick up while we're there. Then at least it's a business expense," False said.

"True, true." Ren sighed. "I'll be honest, Falsie, there's really only one thing I want, and it's some actual good stinking food! I'm tired of living off the supplemental day rations! I'm wasting away here, Falsie, I swear!"

False smiled. "You're not wrong. I know why it's there, of course, it's all that will survive the journey, but god, I could do with some actual food."

"We're gonna dine out so stinking good, I promise. So much good food we can take to the planet with us! That'll set us up for a good start," Ren said.

"Yeah, of course," False said.

Ren fell quiet. He got up and went over to the navigation console. False saw him adjust their trajectory to head to the refuelling station. They were lucky one was close by. Sometimes they were months away, and they would have to get by on base power until they got there. Which, to be fair, was not that hard to do with only the two of them. Sometimes, they could go into stasis if there was enough power, but other times, it was just to isolate themselves in a small corner of the ship, power that for life support, and shut down most of the rest of the ship.

It would be nice to be off the ship, though. Talk to some different people. See some different things. Trade in some of the, well. Some of the things she'd collected over the years. If she'd learned anything at all over her lifetime, it was to keep your own money that your employer couldn't touch. You never know when you'll need to make an escape.

[loversandantiheroes]

I don't know that I've talked that much about the general state of..like...me in awhile, and since it hit me that I'm like 3 years post-covid and at least that into the yawning abyss of this temp hiatus, I reckon it's due.

Physical/mental health stuff under the cut, general whining alert, etc.,

I don't even remember now when I officially put up the hiatus notice, but it's more or less been on since I wrapped the third chapter of Hotel Hobbies, and that feels several decades ago at this point. Initially it was just a really bad combination of creative burnout (self-inflicted bc why enjoy your creative outlet when you can throw yourself on the fire to keep it burning), my at the time untreated mental health issues, and back-to-back online/fandom friendship disasters that just left me feeling like more of a crater than a person.

Since then things have been very up and down. Some of the friendships mended, some never did and have left some lingering sore spots on things I wish I could still enjoy. I managed to get my ass to a doctor and started the process of getting back into treatment for my depression, finally got a diagnosis for ADHD at the ripe old age of 38, got into therapy, and spent a lot of time bouncing between medications trying to find something that works for me. Sadly, that process is still ongoing.

In the process of all that, though, I finally brought the issue of the god-awful persistent fatigue I've been dealing with to my doctor, and asked to be referred to cardiology. After three weeks of wearing a heart monitor and a quick lay-down/stand-up EKG, they confirmed POTS. I don't know if it's a gift from Covid, or an unfortunate result of the sheer amount of stress I've dealt with in the last decade and change, but it's a fucking bear to deal with, and I can't say I recommend it. Doc is also of the opinion that I have an a-typical case of PCOS. Just collectin' all the acronyms.

Suffice it to say that, while it absolutely could 100% be so much worse, it does turn out my physical health is...less than ideal.

On top of that at the tail end of last year, the month before the election, I finally realized that my burnout isn't just an "oh tee hee you wroted too hard" thing. Apparently caregiver burnout is an actual thing. And uh. Well, I fit the bill. I had hoped to be able to use this year to start shifting things around and try to work on that, try to give myself some more room to breathe and find some way to take the weight off of my shoulders (I'd started looking into adult daycare for my dad to give me a literal break once in awhile).

And then, well. November. And now we're here. And the fascist fucks are chomping at the bit to take away all the things that keep us afloat. My health care. My job. Dad's healthcare. His social security. It's an ugly-ass Sword of Damocles situation.

So yeah. I don't really have a point to draw to in all this except to say that I'm fucking tired. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually, the whole nine yards. I've been running on empty for a long time, and it's proving a lot harder than I'd hoped to try and fill that tank up. And with as uncertain a future as we're facing right now, I don't expect it's going to improve all that much for a wee while.

I keep thinking that I should've made a patreon back before they changed all fees and such, but honestly, even if I had, I still don't have anything I can offer in exchange. I've got like three stacks of brain fog at all times, and my ADHD meds only work on one of 'em. I can hardly string a coherent sentence together most days. If you've wondered why I've been quieter than usual, or less responsive in messages, that's why. Fuckin' Pyramid Head clompin around up there.

Anyway, I guess, all this to say that I'm sorry that I haven't been able to get back to writing or painting. Believe me, I wish I could. I miss it terribly. But the spoons are too few and the fog is too thick.

It will get better, I hope, if circumstances allow. I hope they do. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared shitless these days.

But yeah. Miss you nerds💖

[cookinguptales]

...cat stuff below the cut...

So... my parents have been gently pushing me to consider getting another cat. I get it, I do. I live alone and I have known mental health problems that make that worrying. I'm in treatment and my issues aren't as bad as they were, but I occasionally still have really bad weeks.

(This... was a really bad week.)

During those really bad weeks, knowing that a small and helpless creature was relying on me helped get me through it. Like, it got me up and moving but it also prevented me from doing anything, y'know, drastic. I know that and I think my parents know that, too. And I know that the idea of going back to an empty house full of cat toys fills me with absolute dread, to the point where I have considered paying my regular catsitter to go over to my house and just kind of. Put all the cat stuff in a place where I won't see it immediately.

Being honest, it feels like it's too soon to get a new cat. It feels a little bit like I'm betraying her, as irrational as that is. But I also understand why my parents want me to get a cat before I go back to Philadelphia, and I understand that if I do that, sooner would be better than later. (To give the cat a couple months to acclimate to me before I take it on a cross-country trip, and to see how it does around my parents' dog.)

I don't know. I've let my parents convince me to visit the local shelter this week. There's a good chance, I'll admit, that I'll just cry the whole time. But I also know this area has a lot of stray cats, for some reason, and so our shelter is always full. One of those cats could use a good home, too. I hear that there are so few adopters out here that they'll often sit for weeks or months and local businesses will actually sponsor specific animals so they can afford the care.

I remember shortly after I got Geist, I considered getting another cat... The local cemetery near me in Philly hosts a lot of events and once it was a black cat adoption drive. I considered getting one and naming it Haint. Geist and Haint sounded good to me, white and black. But then I realized that Geist got stressed out around other cats so I decided not to do that.

But... idk. I hear there's a bunch of black cats at the shelter right now. Young and old. Part of me is like "no, it's too soon" and part of me is like "maybe I should finally get me a Haint" and part of me is like... I don't know. I feel really mixed up about it. I miss having something warm to hold when I'm sad and I don't know if I feel selfish about wanting to do that again. Other times I cry just looking at pictures of cats.

You'd think at 35 I'd know my own mind better, but I guess not. I suppose it won't hurt to visit the shelter, at least. If I find a cat that I bond with immediately, I'll give it a try. If I just become a blubbering mess, I guess I'll know that two weeks was way too soon.

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.46

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader, (OC) Callisto x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: A bit steamy, brutality, a little gore

Author's note: This will be the last chapter for this year. I plan to write smaller things for the rest of the year and maybe the beginning of next year, but I will be back with another chapter early in January anyway.

(Callisto)

(Brandon)

Awakened, I stretch happily, my body lighter than it has been in a long time, the bright sun dancing in my eyes. I feel so warm, so much better, that for a moment, I even think I have died, finally joyfully jumping across the endless meadows of the Leviathans. But no. A glance to the side is enough to realize that I am still firmly in the world of the living. Right next to me in my bed lies a peacefully sleeping Callisto, his face even more relaxed than when awake. I haven't seen him so colorful in weeks since we returned to the Academy, but now, in the light glow of the morning sun, he looks almost divine, like one of the champions of the great Leviathans.

When I see him like this, I can't help myself. I lean towards him, grab a few strands of hair, carefully brush them away from his graceful face, and gently touch his cheek. Feeling his soft, warm skin under my fingertips, a shiver runs down my spine; my heart beats so hard that my whole face turns red while my eyes are fixed on his full, reddish lips. Should I? I mean, he's fast asleep; he'd never know, right?

While pondering whether I should steal a kiss from him or not, I'm suddenly torn from my thoughts when I feel our noses touch. My eyes widen involuntarily. Despite my head's reluctance, my heart and body seem aligned. Even though I know my first love is gone, I still fear Callisto might just be a replacement for him. It all would be easier if he would just do something my first love would never even consider; maybe then I could see the truth behind my feelings and hope that only love for Callisto would remain.

And yet, I want nothing more than to steal a kiss from him. Just one. That would be enough to sort out my feelings, at least for a while. But could I really be so selfish? Should I even do this while he's sleeping? It feels dishonest that I wouldn't do it when he's awake, but only when he's asleep. It feels wrong, like I'm doing something disgusting, maybe even perverted, just like the rumors suggest. Perhaps I'm a pervert, but only for him, his beautiful face, and those hazel eyes whose depth can make me swoon.

Suddenly, something interrupts my concentration. Did someone speak? Just as I'm about to turn my head away, I hear it again.

"Do it!" the voice commands, quiet, sleepy, and deep. Another shiver runs down my spine as I immediately recognize this stupidly attractive voice. My gaze darts back up to Callisto's eyes, only to be confronted by his hazel orbs. We are still close, but neither of us is moving away. "You coward," he murmurs agonizingly slowly, followed by his trademark grin that made me fall in love with him in the first place. I can only shake my head as I suddenly realize how easy I am. It's almost pathetic.

All my resolve dissolves as I feel his large hand at my side, tightening its grip around my waist. It's not small; I've trained my whole life, after all, but this man is just so monstrous. 

By the Leviathans, send me strength, for if you do not, I cannot promise to act rationally instead of instinctively. A pit forms in my stomach, and a feeling of longing reawakens that I haven't felt since the wild times I shared with my first love before his premature death.

As I see his grin widening, I suddenly feel a draft of air around me. Before I know it, I'm lying on my back, staring straight into those same hazel eyes, filled to the brim with lust so unbridled that I don't think even the crystal clear seas would be big enough to empty it. Callisto comes eerily close, his playful face now serious.

“Don’t make such a vulnerable face; otherwise, I can’t promise you that I can hold back any longer!”

Those huskily spoken words excite my whole body. Not only do I feel desirable, but I also wish I could let him do what he wants with me, what he seems to have always wanted.

But I need more time, maybe some new environments without him, to clear my head. When I think about it further, though, I already know that it would hurt me too much to be away from him, despite his indecent thoughts and obvious desperate attempts.

Staring into his eyes, I can see he wants an answer, and I know what he wishes to hear. If I could be honest with him, I would agree to do it here and now, even though we are in a dorm, and our noise would disturb the others, since Callisto seems big in all his measures, like the naughty teenagers we really are, even if we both pretend we aren't. In noble or royal families, you have to grow up faster because you often have to be prepared to take your parents' place if something suddenly happens to them.

“Please,” Callisto suddenly begs so fervently that it shocks me.

When I return from my thoughts, his face has changed again, and he now looks as desperate as his voice sounds. I almost feel sorry for him, but feeling sorry for him wouldn't help either of us.

I move my hand over his rock-hard abs and see his desperate look return to the previous cheeky gaze. But suddenly, he starts to blush. Slowly, he comes closer, our lips almost touching, but at the last moment, I wrap my legs around his thighs. The next second, I put my hand around his neck and saw his cheeky grin. I could only wonder what was going on in his cheeky head, but I had already pushed him before he could say or do anything. His eyes widen in incomprehension. And before he could say anything, I had already switched our positions and was now straddling him. I'm sitting on top of him, with my knees next to his waist, staring down at him, grinning triumphantly.

Callisto's stunned look and slightly open mouth soon give way to his trademark grin, but what really throws me off is when he suddenly flexes his biceps, which almost makes my mouth water. But he doesn't stop there: He moves his arms up and then puts his hands behind his head, wiggling a little, only to lie back down again, grinning even wider.

I tilt my head to the side, trying to figure out what he's talking about since he hasn't said anything. He must have noticed because his eyes soften slightly, but his smug grin doesn't change.

“If you want to be on top, you can,” he murmurs, quite pleased with himself, “but I hope you are prepared to ride for a long time because I have stamina for days!”

Although his husky, deep voice turns me on, I don't understand what he's trying to say, but I have to admit that our situation is starting to feel strange.

"Fuck no!" another voice suddenly shouts at us. I almost fall off the bed, but Callisto catches me just in time. With my hands on those muscular pecs, my head snaps to the side, and I'm confronted with an angry Vinok. "Isn't it enough that you two make everyone suffer by flirting like idiots, and now you want us to watch you fuck right in front of our eyes?"

Even more confused than before, I feel dizzy. When I turn back to Callisto to ask him about Vinok's unfounded assumptions, all I see are his crimson cheeks and his averted gaze. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I hadn't even thought about our almost intimate relationship anymore because I thought I had already put an end to it by turning us around! But when I look down at us, I find that Callisto is not only wearing hardly anything—just his underwear—but it is bulging to the extreme.

I slowly raise my gaze again and meet Callisto's mischievous eyes. We stare at each other for a moment. But it is only when his mischievous, shining eyes take on an apologetic expression that I really comprehend what is happening. Immediately, I feel my pulse increase, and my hands sweat profusely, only for Callisto to moan. Fucking moan! It quickly reminds me that my hands are still on his pectoral muscles, and I may have clenched them due to shock.

More screams and panicked whispers come from across the room, but as Daniel and Vinok make their way out, I realize that if I let them go, Callisto will take full advantage of the empty space and somehow get me to fool around with him.

I squeal at the mere thought of Callisto's hard body hovering over mine while he... no, don't even think about it! Feeling myself getting aroused, my eyes widen in horror; I quickly jump up from his body and try to get away from him, only to fall. Just a second later, I find myself hanging humiliated from the edge of the bed, with my foot caught in the blanket.

"Help," I say sheepishly, feeling like an idiot. My question for help is met with silence. I can't see anyone, but then, out of nowhere, laughter breaks out, just a little at first, until I can swear I hear at least two of those three idiots rolling on the floor. "Very mature," I continue to mutter, fed up with all three of them.

A large hand finally helps me back onto the bed and gently frees my foot, but even in Callisto's sharp features, I recognize a broad smile and a sincere desire to join in the laughter. Although I show an annoyed face, I'm inwardly grateful that he at least has the decency to keep his mouth shut.

Callisto even makes room for me by shuffling to the edge of the bed, giving me a chance to calm down, but I just want to fall into a hole and never come out. I hide my face behind my hands; I still can't believe this happened before others, even if they are our friends. It still feels so wrong.

As I lie there hiding, something pokes into my side; I try to find it, but as my fingertips touch its soft surface, my brows furrow in utter confusion. My heart skips a beat as I grab it and pull it out from under me.

"Who made this?" My voice shakes as I speak, as I desperately try to keep my composure. However, when no one answers me, I turn to Callisto, who I assume made it. "Did you make this little guy?" Until this moment, I really tried to hold back my emotions, but I couldn't anymore. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes. Although I somehow can still hold back tears, it all goes to shit as I take another look at the little animal.

Unable to hold back my gratitude any longer, I lunge forward, throw my arms around his neck, and nestle my head into his neck.

"Thank you!" I almost shout in his ear, but I don't care; I can't hold back anymore. Before I know it, my tears are flowing; I'm just too happy. "You must really like me for that; after all, almost nobody knows the Bogglewiks." After mentioning this silly name, I have to pause so as not to giggle because of it. "I know their name sounds stupid, but that's what the animals were like; they could barely survive, but they died out a long time ago, and despite it, somehow you managed to make an almost perfect replica!" As I cry like a baby, Callisto has to turn around to hold me upright and gently push me onto his lap. "You have no idea how much this means to me!"

I can only stare at the little animal, unable to believe he went through so much trouble to make me feel better. As I feel the stuffed animal up and down, my body suddenly freezes. My screams stop. I release Callisto's neck from my arms and stand up from his lap without saying another word. The cold floor sends a shiver up my feet. Silently, I grab some clothes and leave the room. At least I hear Daniel calling after me, but I don't care. I quickly wash myself in the communal shower and put on my new clothes, but when I return to my room, the others still sit around.

"What are you doing?" I ask, quite annoyed. "Are you coming or not?" The others seem stunned, but why shouldn't they? I've slept far too much over the last few weeks, and this sudden change would confuse everyone.

"What's wrong?" Daniel asks from the side. I turn my gaze to him; I see uncertainty in his eyes. But before I answer, I turn back to Callisto.

"I don't know where you got the gems for the plushie's eyes, but I need to talk to someone about this, so get up, shower, and then come to the landing pad!" I grab my backpack and quickly make my way back to the door. "And bring someone who can fly a hawk; even though I hate flying like that, we need to be quick!"

Without giving them a chance to say a single word, I storm out and run through the halls, hoping not to run into anyone who could ruin my mood again. But that's life. Something always has to happen.

Out of nowhere, a hand appears in the corner of my eye. Not wanting to be caught by anyone, I spin around and summon a stone spear. As soon as I stop, I plant my right foot heavily on the ground, encasing it in stone, and thrust the spear forward with all my strength. The other person narrowly avoids being impaled by the sharp point of my weapon by taking a step back.

To my shock, the teacher from my last visit is standing right before me. His long black hair makes him look almost like an undead monster from old stories, but his eyes are more like those of a snake; maybe he's both.

“What do you want?” I hiss and don’t put down my weapon because I don’t trust this man.

The man scoffs at me. He probably thinks I'm a moody child, but I don't really care. Why should I? This man creeps me out.

“You shouldn’t be running through the halls,” he finally says with a crooked grin and a fearless look, as if he knows I won’t use my weapon.

He was right about that, at least. I immediately make all the stones disappear again and walk away.

Just one step. I can only take one step before I feel a heavy hand on my back and am pushed into the other hallway from which the professor came, where he hurls me against a wall. Before the man can even say anything, I catch a glimpse of a tattoo on the base of his arm, one that an intriguing magical web should cover but, for some reason, has broken free of its bonds. It seemingly confirms my suspicions about the jewels in the plushie, but I'm still not completely sure.

"Another try?" I ask, my voice clearly mocking. "I wonder what your Grand Master will say when even a high-ranking one like you is killed by a child!"

But suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my side. When I look down, I see blood seeping out, staining my clothes. But the man obviously doesn't like my reaction because he presses my head harder against the stone wall.

"Cry for me, little boy, beg for your parents as you die!" he whispers, clearly enjoying the moment of power he has. What a pathetic little man.

However, I must admit that the blade hurts a lot more than it should since metal is part of my magic. Yet it fails me miserably as if there is something that can keep my magic in check.

His head is suddenly much closer to me, next to mine, perhaps to see my facial reactions, but I have none. A strong, minty smell overwhelms my nostrils, but only briefly. And in the next moment, he is gone. I crumble against the wall, wondering what happened, only to hear a familiar voice not too far away.

"You damned old bastard!" He screams, angrier than I ever thought I'd hear him. "How dare you touch him, huh? Did you think you'd get away with touching one of your students?“

Between his words, all I hear is the cracking of bones—a sound I know all too well. He must have left his weapon in his dorm room. However, I can't really concentrate on it because there's still a damn blade stuck in my stomach.

Breathing heavily, I move my hand behind my back, grab the knife's handle, and pull it out. For a second, I see nothing but stars and wake up on the floor, but the weapon is still in my deadly grip. Awake and strengthened by sheer will, I look at the dagger, only to become absolutely certain that the teacher is just another of the black hand.

“Hey, hey, be careful!” Brandon’s worried voice, right after he has beaten the professor to a pulp, is almost disturbing. But his concern grows when he realizes what really happened. “I’m going to fucking kill him!” he screams, watching me bleed.

I can barely manage to grab his hand just in time before he can rush back to the teacher. I smile weakly at him and shake my head gently. 

"You already killed him." 

I nod towards the man on the ground. Brandon's head snaps in the same direction. The teacher's head is completely shattered, and his brain oozes out the side. Not even one of the Leviathans can do anything for him now.

While Brandon stands there in shock, I use the moment to close my wound with a layer of stone.

"Help me up," I tell him, but he doesn't react. "Brandon!" I say louder, but still no reaction. "Pull yourself together!" I finally scream.

In an instant, Brandon is looking at me blankly, just like the day I took my first life. He holds up my other hand, takes it, and helps me up. I know that there is only one way to help him. Carefully, I lead him to the body and tell him to twist his right arm. But he hesitates, so I try to do it myself, only to exaggerate the pain I feel and groan loudly. He quickly pulls me back up and does it himself instead, just as I wanted. Once the teacher's wrist is exposed, we can see the tattoo even more clearly.

"He was an assassin sent by the Black Hand to right their worst mistake," I explain.

“What's that?” Brandon asks, his eyes a little clearer now.

Putting a hand on his cheek, I gift him another smile. "Killing me," I whisper softly. "They tried for a long time, but this time, without you, they would have finally gotten what they always wanted."

Finally, some life returns to his eyes, but he lowers his head and plays with my hand. It will take a while for him to regain his bearings. But we don't have time right now.

"Now help me to the landing pad; I still have more to do."

I see that he wishes to say something, but I cover his mouth with my other hand, which I only then realize is covered in some of my blood. 

"Sorry, I couldn't clean my hand before," I apologize quickly. But Brandon seems unaffected; he even licks the blood off his lips. He doesn't say another word but simply leads me outside without letting go of my hand, which is starting to feel warm. But at some point, he suddenly lifts me up. Has he seen my pain getting worse? I thought I hid it pretty well. I can't help but blush against his chest as he carries me out.

[Masterlist]

[xamiah]

𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐀 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

___

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 - 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

𝐋𝐲𝐝𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

'𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠.'

___

There have been plenty of times in my eighteen fucked up years on this planet when I've realised - too late - that I was completely, hopelessly fucked.

One of those 'Oh Shit!' moments when it hits you that nothing you do or say will change what's coming next. When all you can do is stand there, frozen, wishing the ground would just swallow you whole.

This is one of those moments.

Except this time, I know I'll be stuck for a while.

Trees. Trees. And more fucking trees.

For years, all I wanted was to get out of Hawkins. To put that place in my rearview and never look back. And now that I have? It feels like some kind of sick joke. There's nothing out here - just an endless smear of green outside the window, mile after mile of sameness. I don't know what I expected. Something different, at least. Something more.

I pictured myself tearing down the highway in some swish muscle car, music blaring, wind ripping through my hair. Instead, I'm crammed into a rust-bucket of a bus, rattling down some nameless road with a bunch of other screw-ups, heading toward a fate I didn't choose.

A deep pothole jolts the seat, rattling my spine, but I barely react. I'm used to rides like this. Bumpy. Uncomfortable. Leading to places I don't want to be.

There's a kind of silence that comes with knowing you're out of options. Not real silence - this bus is filled with an all familiar rowdiness of laughter and shouting - but an internal stillness. The kind that settles in your bones when you realize there's no running, no talking your way out of this.

I've been here before. Different place, same feeling.

When you grow up like I did, the world makes its decision about you early on. You're someone else's problem to solve. Another name in a file, passed from one set of hands to the next. I've seen enough foster homes to know the pattern. At first, it's all careful smiles and empty reassurances, like they're trying to convince themselves they actually give a shit. But it never lasts. Give it a few months, and suddenly, everything about you is wrong. The way you talk. The way you act. The way you dress. How you breathe too loudly and get in the way when they're already having a bad day.

And then eventually, you're back in the system. Back in some caseworker's stale-smelling office while they flip through your file like you're a list of problems they have to fix.

Sometimes, they found me a new home before I had time to process the last one. Sometimes, they didn't. I've spent nights curled up in bus stations, hiding in laundromats, walking streets I didn't belong in. I've stolen when I had to. Drank when I could. Fought when I had no other choice. It never mattered - the system always caught up with me in the end.

And this time, instead of juvie, I'm here.

Hawkins Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, made sure of that.

He sat across from me in that cramped office I'd been in a million times before, looking at me with those same old sympathetic eyes. Like he wanted to believe I could be more than what my file said I was. I could've laughed in his face. I don't need his sympathy. I don't need his support. He wasn't the first person to try and steer me onto some so-called better path - though I guess he is the most persistent. Unlike the others, he didn't waste his breath on lectures or empty threats. He just laid it out, plain and simple: this 'program', or juvie.

As if there was ever a real choice.

I don't even know what they're calling this place. A camp? A program? Some last-ditch attempt to turn kids like me into something society can stomach. A few months out in the woods, under the watchful eye of staff who probably hate us before we even get there.

Apparently, it's better than a jail cell.

I'm not so sure.

You'd think turning eighteen would mean freedom. A fresh start. But think again. Jim Hopper? He doesn't give up that easily.

I glance around at the bus, taking in the state of it. Every scratch on the faded seats, every lump of dried gum clinging to the fabric, every crack in the windows feels like proof of just how forgotten this place - and we - really are.

The whole thing is a mess. This bus, this program, this whole goddamn life.

The bus jerks violently... again. Its engine growls as it slams into another pothole. The sudden lurch sending another fresh jolt of pain through my spine, rattling my bones like the whole thing might shake apart. A loud curse erupts from somewhere up front, followed by a round of obnoxious complaints.

I clench my jaw.

The other kids are loud. Rowdy. A couple of them had been throwing punches earlier, just to kill time, while the rest egged them on like it was entertainment. One guy has spent the last hour banging his head against the window in a mind-numbing rhythm, and the two girls behind me haven't stopped whispering and snickering since we got on.

It's exhausting.

I'm not here to make friends.

I learned a long time ago that friendships - real ones - aren't for people like me. The closest I ever came was falling in with the wrong crowds, the kinds of people who didn't ask questions as long as you played along. I knew how to blend in when I had to. I could fight when I needed to. And I had, plenty of times - at school, in parking lots, behind convenience stores when the wrong person looked at me sideways. But none of it had ever mattered.

No matter how hard I hit, the world always hits back harder.

The bus squeaks as it slows. Gravel crunches beneath the tires as we pull off the road, the entire vehicle shuddering in protest before finally grinding to a stop.

For a moment, I don't move.

The others surge forward, shoving their way to the front, tripping over each other like they actually think this place might be better than what they left behind. I feel no such urgency.

This isn't freedom. It's just another kind of cage. And yet, as I sit there, something stirs. A flicker of something close to rebellion. For the first time, Hawkins isn't weighing me down, isn't trapping me in its suffocating grip. The town, with all its dead ends and disappointments, is finally behind me. And maybe - just maybe - this is my chance. Not to change. Not to be saved. But to escape.

I just have to be smart this time. Careful.

Reckless mistakes landed me here. Another one may just get me sent somewhere worse.

Taking a breath, I finally force myself to stand. The bus door creaks open, the thick heat of the afternoon pressing in as I step onto solid ground. Dust swirls around my boots, kicked up by the others as they spread out, taking in the sight before us.

It's just as miserable as I'd imagined - an ugly sprawl of weathered wooden cabins, boxed in by dense, uncaring woods. The faded letters and peeling paint spoke of decades of neglect, like no one had bothered to care in a long time. And yet, right in the center of it all, is a lake - calm, glassy, catching the sunlight just right. It's the only thing here that doesn't look like death.

I didn't expected much, but this?

This is a prison with trees and kayaks.

A tall metal sign looms overhead, hanging between two large logs, its paint cracked and peeling, exposing the orange rust beneath.

'CAMP NIGHTWING'.

___

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝟏,𝟐𝟓𝟔

___

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 - 𝐌𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞

[rafeslvttygirl]

Undelivered - Rafe Cameron (CH. 9) FINALE!!

₊˚ପ⊹ pairing ; rafe cameron x badass!fem!reader (enemies to lovers!)

₊˚ପ⊹ overall warnings ; 18+ content, bad language, alcohol consumption, sexual teasing, jealousy, physical violence, kinda slowburn, unrequited love, eventual smut, cheating (not on each other!) , mention of sending nudes (obvi)

₊˚ପ⊹ chapter warnings ; bad language, sexual teasing, physical violence (reader slaps rafe) , 18+ nsfw (mdni) , reader has body issues, slight mention of toxic relationship

summary ; you hate rafe cameron. you’ve always hated the way he teases you. but for some strange reason, you can’t help but feel things when you’re around him. dangerous feelings that causes you to drunkenly send him your nudes. now he won’t stop until he makes you his.

➤ series masterlist

"Wait, so you're telling me that this whole time you were talking about me, through the disguise of the waitress?"

You were a little slow at times, information taking its time to make sense in your head. But Rafe catches himself admiring the way you’re so in thought, eyebrows knitted together. You look so damn cute to him right now. “Yes, baby.”

The sudden use of the nickname makes your cheeks flush. You look up at him, feeling the sudden urge to slap him across his pretty face. And that's exactly what you do, making him hold his cheek in fake pain.

"I guess I deserved that." You shake your head in disbelief, a smile unintentionally crossing your lips. And he catches the sight, one of his own forming. He's missed this.

He's missed seeing you so happy, your laughter filling that empty spot in his heart. And he never wants to take that for granted.

"Yeah, you deserved that big time," you scold him, but despite your words, you end up caressing the side of his face. "Don't ever lie to me again. Got it?"

Rafe hums softly before tilting his head lower. He's so close to your lips, you feel a buzz of excitement. And before you know it, his lips are on yours.

This feels right. It feels like you're meant to be with him. You want nobody else. As you feel Rafe snake his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him, you realise you haven't told him what you initially planned.

"Rafe," you moan his name, reluctantly pulling apart. But he's so needy to feel your lips on his, he doesn't want to back away either. When he does, he presses his forehead against yours, not believing that any of this is real. "I love you. I always have."

He can't help it. His lips crash on yours again. He's never been more in love than when you're beside him. And he'd be a fool to let you go again.

"I love you more, baby.”

"Impossible," you retort, your arms slinging around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to your body.

Unfortunately, with one final kiss, you have to face the inevitable. You have work still, but you’d rather spend the whole day with Rafe instead. As tempting as that sounds, you need to keep this job unless you want to get fired.

"At least I have something to keep me satiated," he says teasingly, showing his lockscreen you had forgotten about until now. It feels like such a long time ago that you'd drunkenly sent him your nudes.

Funny how time passes by so quickly.

You think about Rafe for the rest of your shift. It's hard not to. With the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, you've dazed out too many times to count. So much, in fact, your boss had to call you out on it.

And finally, by the end of the day, you make haste to get to your car. Rafe said he'd wait for you in the car park, and the thought of seeing him was enough to get you sprinting like a cheetah on steroids.

Within a second of reaching your car, you feel him behind you. His muscular arms wrap tightly around you as he kisses the soft flesh of your neck. The sensation gives you goosebumps, and you're almost certain he can feel it. "I've missed you all day, baby."

Since when did he sound so seductive?

"Hm, did that photo not keep you entertained enough?" You try to steady your voice but the task was hard for some reason. When you're around him, you turn into putty in his hold.

"No, it kept me very entertained." He turns you around so you're facing him. And when you do, you swear you can see the lust emanating from him. "I couldn't help but picture how you'd look with my cock stuffed in you though."

Those words make you want him more than ever. And by the time you both enter your house, Rafe is already on you. His hands explore every inch of your body, not leaving a single part untouched.

It's like you're both in heat. He lifts you up as your legs wrap perfectly around his torso. He remembers the direction to your room from the last time he was here. You remember it vividly, the two of you wrapped up on the couch together.

You try not to think about what happened after, rather focusing on the way his rough hands slide under your work shirt instead. The way his cold fingers make contact with your hardened nipples, the way he tilts his head down to catch one in his mouth.

You used to hate the idea of physical intimacy. When you were with Jeremy, nothing ever felt like this. You'd always cower when he'd see your body, and never wanted to keep the lights on. He would always tell you he didn’t find your body attractive enough. But that thought didn't cross your mind at all right now. All you could think of was Rafe.

His touch isn't rough. It's careful and soft. It's everything you imagined and more.

You feel him groaning against your lips, the bulge in his pants evident as he lays on top of you. Your hands are in his hair, and you're kissing him like the world might end. He's never wanted you as bad as he does right now.

"As much as I like you in these," he gestures to your skirt, dragging the material half way down your thighs. "They need to come off."

Without a second thought, the skirt is discarded by the side of your bed. And the sight of you exposed to him, wearing no underwear, makes a dark chuckle escape his lips. And it turns you on.

It's sounded so dark, your legs threaten to close, feeling your pussy clench on nothing. You'd skipped wearing them today, wanting to be spontaneous for once in your boring life.

And you were glad you did, especially when seeing Rafe's reaction.

Because within a mere second, his tongue meets your clit, swirling it around so skillfully, you swear a million stars cloud your vision.

"Such a needy little thing for me, aren't you?" You can barely register his words, noticing his fingers replace where his tongue was while he looks at you. You can feel the cold metal of his ring as he enters them inside of you, and it sends you into a state of euphoria. "So fucking needy and wet. It's like you were made for me, yeah?”

You can't respond, the pressure between your legs becoming unbearable. The dirty talk wasn't helping either. "Rafe…" you moan his name sweetly.

And the way you say his name makes him speed up, his fingers plunging into your sopping wet cunt. The feeling of your pussy tightens around him like a vice, and his cock twitches at the sight of you like this. “You gonna cum for me already, pretty girl?”

Nodding your head at the praise, you feel that familiar knot in the pit of your stomach. You feel it as it washes over you, squirming on the bed as Rafe’s fingers still inside of you. He looks up at you like you’re the only girl in the world.

Because to him, you are. You're finally his. And he's never letting you go, whether you like it or not.

His blue eyes are laced with possession, and something so dark it turns you on all over again. It's something you've never seen before. And by the looks of it, he'd keep you laying like this forever if he could. So perfect. So his.

He takes his fingers out of you, licking the access off of them slowly while maintaining eye contact. And the sight has you wanting more. Wanting him.

After you both fully undress in front of each other, your eyes stay locked on his. You don't speak. Your eyes are speaking for themselves. This is finally happening, and Rafe is afraid he might be dreaming this all up in his head.

"Say you're my girl," he begs, walking over to you as you lay on the bed, hooking your legs around his torso again. You feel his fully hard cock lay flat on the surface of your stomach, teasing you. "Say you're mine, baby."

Before you can respond, he kisses you. It's slow, yet passionate. It's a silent promise to each other that you'll forever belong to each other.

And when you pull apart, his forehead rests on yours, and you can't help but fall even harder for him. "I'm all yours, Rafe."

notes ; the last chapter is finally up! hope you guys enjoyed this series, it was very fun to write <3

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