#he's been on my brain all day i'm trying to squeeze some of this stuff out

[letorip]

kiss with a fist [iii]

"your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you can't help but feel like maybe you and tara are more than frenemies, and it culminates in a night where you finally share some truths with each other.

warnings: a somewhat traumatic dream sequence lmao, mentions of sex, kissing (almost), curse words, blood

word count: 5.8k

A/N: hope y'all like this one because i definitely liked writing it. definitely a whole lot more kissing than fisting.... wait a minute....

it's 5 am, my ass is grass. anyways, part 4 relatively soon because woo wee theres still so much to explore in this story i legitimately cant believe my idiot self said it'd be done in 2 parts originally

===+++===

===+++===

"(Y/n)," a voice calls to you, sing-song and sweet as your eyes fade to darkness. It's a gentle woman's whisper, but it manages to hit you like a truck, pulling you down from wherever you came from, and plopping you wherever you've arrived. Or, rather, wherever you've always been. "(Y/n), look, darlin'."

A gust of wind gently strokes over the plane of your cheek, and when you open your eyes, all you can see is rye. On one end, it reaches out towards a sharp cliff, overlooking a lake, with nothing but rocks and the water below. On the other, it runs far up the plains of land in front of you, stopping in front of the white house you know all too well, with its rickety porch and broken tire swing.

You take a few steps forward, as if ready to run right inside, and then before you know it, you're running. Like the world is about to end, like the house is burning down, like you'll never see the place ever again. Foot after foot, you dash towards it, hearing Alisha's piano flit through the front window for the first time in years, and the smell of a pie right along with it. "(Y/n)!" the voice calls again. "Dinner time, kid!"—

But your foot catches on a root, just like it did in your memory, and in an instant, you've fallen down into the rye, with a painful thud, right on your face. You let out a grunt, feeling the dirt on your new, white shirt. The one your mother never let you wear when you were playing outside.

And when you right yourself again, sitting up out of the field, the house isn't any closer than it was before. It sits, perfectly far away, only all that stuff is gone now, and the house looks about as dark as it did the day of Mitchie's funeral.

"(Y/n)!" an excited voice calls from behind you. "Wanna play tag?"

"(Y/n)'s too old for that, Mitchie," another voice chides, and you whip around like Calvin would actually be there to chide him like that. Like he used to. But he isn't. All you can see is the rye. It stands in thick stalks, reaching up to your knees in lush groupings, tall and abundant, strong and growing.

Another voice. "Read me a story?" It's soft and it's a little girl's and it's far away, and you get to your feet and spin in a circle, waiting for her to appear. It seemed to reverberate through your ears, washing through the pathways of your brain before seeping into your heart. It fills it up, and before you know it, you can feel yourself hastily searching for her.

"'Randa?" you called into the open field. "Miranda? You there?" but she continues on like she didn't hear you.

"Would you read me a story? Please?"

"I will Miranda, but where are you?" you called back, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the barrel of the hot sun.

"I'm gone, (Y/n). You're supposed to be gone too," she says back, with a sweet giggle. "Why aren't you gone with us?"

"I—" you stammer, whipping your head around the field in search of your siblings. "I don't—"

"Do you really think that's fair, (Y/n)?" Calvin asks.

"Why aren't you here, (Y/n)?" Miranda asks again, this time her voice wavering like she was about to cry. "Why aren't you in the rye with us?" Your hands came up to your head, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and block out the noises, but they seemed to reverberate into your skull.

"Mitchie was your fault, you know," Peter chides. "We would've never let that—"

"—Why did you get to stay, (Y/n)?" Came Tomas' voice. "We're supposed to be cursed, and you're supposed to be cursed too." He was always the quiet one, but now his voice had a sharp edge to it. One of jealousy. One of anger.

"Why didn't you catch me?" Mitchie asked. "If you just would've caught me..."

"Come play piano with me, I'll teach you," said Alisha, in her light, airy laugh.

"Why did it get to be you?" snarled Calvin. "And why are you getting closer to Tara? You want to curse her, too?"

"Stop—" you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

"Wanna play hopscotch?" said Mitchie.

"Do you miss us, (Y/n)?" Alisha said, in between tears.

"Yes, of course— I—" you tried, but now the voices were filling up your head, threatening to spill over and knocking you to the ground. You curled up into a ball as your brain filled up. Words piling up on top of words, piling up on top of words, about to split you open. "STOP!" you yelled.

And everything went silent. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself still in the field, but your siblings' voices had gone entirely. Now it was just you, in the field, alone with the rustling of the wind and the rye, as it grazed gently against your legs. You hadn't remembered standing up, but you were now.

In a flash, you could see a shape, running through the rye in a line that was very visible from where you were. You recognised the dark hair, and the yellow jacket he always wore. With the realisation came the looming dread, and you realised with very little time left what this exactly was a memory of.

You took off running, faster than you had to the house, faster than you had ever run, and faster than you had run then, chasing after him as he took off towards the cliff-end of your rye field. "Mitchie!" you yelled, trying to be louder than the buzzing cicadas, but it seemed the moment you yelled, the cicadas got even louder. He was too short to see over the stalks, but you could see him go, running in odd shapes as he got nearer and nearer to the cliffs edge.

"Catch me if you can, (Y/n)!" he called back with a gleeful laugh.

"(Y/n), grab your brother," called your mother. She didn't seem too worried, and she hadn't been, then. No one had been, until it was too late.

"Mitchie! Stop!" you cried out, feeling tears already beginning to fall down your cheeks. "Mitchie!" you tried again.

"Come on, you've gotta be faster than that if you're gonna be it!” Mitchie called back. "Catch me! Get me! C'mon! I'm gonna make it hard for you to win, Duck."

"MITCHIE! PLEASE!" you screamed, but all he did was giggle. “STOP! DON’T GO!” But the moment you reached the end of the rye, he was gone over the edge, just he had been when you were 13, and there was an arm shaking you awake.

===+++===

"Oh my god, you're about the least peaceful sleeper I've literally ever seen," Tara laughed, grinning at you from over her textbook. She had it pulled into her lap from her side of the table and titled against the table edge, and spread out in front of you were her papers galore, with notes scribbled all over them in preparation for her upcoming exam.

Mindy sat next to her, playing a stupid game on her phone, while Ethan was also studying in his own textbook. He had stopped trying to avoid you as much, as had Chad. You and Tara "dating" seemed to offend them less and less the longer it went on.

"Uh," you mumbled, still feeling a little bit disoriented from the dream. It was like a dose of adrenaline had been shot directly into your heart, and you struggled to adjust to the calm, peaceful library that actually was around you. "Shut up," you grumbled, but not like you were actually upset by her teasing.

Tara watched you with her eyebrows raised. "You look tired."

You sat up in your chair, running a hand through your hair. There was a small layer of sweat on your forehead. "Aren't you never supposed to say that to someone? Pretty sure that's how you get someone at the bar to throw their drink in your face."

"It is," Ethan nodded. "I made that mistake once. I was trying to be sweet."

"Good thing I'm not seducing you, then," Tara shrugged. "You've seen me puke everywhere. Pretty sure that ruined my chances right-out, and yet you love me anyways."

You grinned, leaning back to stretch out your arms. It was meant to be a gentle teasing from Tara, but you had only gotten better and better at deflecting the longer you were around her. "You'd be surprised, actually. That was super pretty. That was the prettiest you've ever been." Mindy snorted next to Tara.

Tara glared at you, unappreciatively. "And you're pretty when you do not speak."

"I'm pretty all the time, Tara," you mockingly shook your head. "And you think I'm joking. Find yourself a girl who looks nice covered in sweat, with her hair going everywhere, and puking in the toilet. That's my girlfriend."

"You're such a dick," Tara scoffed, but you could tell part of her was stifling a laugh. It was funny to her too, and you both had laughed at it together for days, afterwards.

If anything, it had gotten easier and easier, to act like the both of you were actually dating. You weren't too sure why, maybe Tara had become less annoying, or you had become less annoyed by her, but you had definitely at least become a better actor. That's what it was, after all. "Oh, also," she continued.

"Yeah?"

"Someone tried to call your phone, while you were sleeping. I think it was your dad."

You frowned. "You didn't pick up, right?"

"No," Tara said, shaking her head. Then she paused. She dropped her voice to speak just to you, guarding the conversation from Mindy and Ethan. "Do you and him not get along?"

You shrugged. "Eh. He was probably just checking in. We have a fine relationship." It wasn't true but it was an easy lie, that rolled off the tongue like nothing. He had already called twice, that day, and you knew why.

"Seriously, though," she said with a frown, looking up from her book. "You look fucking horrifying—"

"—Thanks," you said, flatly.

"—I mean, even more than normal, it's crazy—"

"—Thanks," you repeated.

"—Have you not been sleeping, or something?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I'm an architecture major, and it's midterms... so not really."

"Hm."

"What?" you asked, propping your head up on your arm. "What's the 'hm' for?"

She shrugged, trying to turn back to her textbook. "Hm, nothing."

You furrowed your eyebrows down at her. "Well, obviously the 'hm' was something, Tara." Mindy shot you a look again.

"Or it was just a hm."

“Would you two shush,” she said to you, rolling her eyes. “You bicker like an old married couple.” But you both ignored her.

"It's never just a 'hm.'"

"I say hm all the time. It's literally just a hm."

"No, it means you've got something to say but don't want to say it."

She frowned at the accusation but was obviously even more displeased that you were correct. "I was gonna suggest we go to the OBK party tonight, but maybe you should just go home and sleep. I was trying to be nice.”

You shrugged. "I won't be doing either, actually." Tonight was not the night for parties. You were somewhat grateful, that you had a legitimate excuse to busy your time, or else you would've spent even longer thinking about the dream. "I have to do homework. My final is due tomorrow."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you. "Wait, but I thought classes ended today."

You shook your head. "Nope. I've still got some stuff do."

"Oh," Tara frowned.

"Not all of us can have easy majors," you teased, trying to lighten the mood away from what was clearly concern.

"Hey! You chose the stupid thing," Tara shot back. "Not my fault I chose something fun." She stood up, gathering her things into a neat stack. The time was nearing for her midterm exam, and you stood up with her, grabbing her textbook to be helpful.

"Thanks," she said, then she wandered over and held out her hand. You grabbed it in yours, lacing your fingers together, just like you had practiced together.

The library was a tall building on the far side of campus from where you lived. It was a trek and a half to get there, which is partially why you had been a little annoyed, when Tara said she needed to go there. It ended up being the perfect place to fall asleep in, with the quiet signs and only a few murmurs now and again, and though it had been a less than peaceful dream, it was more than you had been getting for the past few days.

"I don't see why you can't just go without me," you shrugged, adjusting her book in your hands. "Just tell Sam I'll meet you there. Besides, Chad and Mindy are going to the same party, right?"

"Yeah, but I what if they realise you're not actually there and mention it to Sam, or something? And, I'd have to go there alone, since Chad and Mindy are going early."

"They are?"

"Yeah. Helping with set up. Mindy literally just mentioned that. Shows how much you listen to her.” She shook her head in a mocking disappointment in you.

“I was asleep, jerk.”

“I know,” she said, grinning.

You looked down to her, where she walked next to you, gently swinging your joint hands back and forth. "It's not a far walk to OBK. You could probably make it there in five minutes. It's well-lit, and—"

Tara frowned, shaking her head adamantly. "Not alone. Not without you, no way. Sam would want to see you at the door to pick me up. She'd probably hate the idea of it."

"Fair enough," you shrugged. "Find a movie at home tonight, then. Relax, or something. I'd kill to be done with this stupid project."

"What are you even making?" Tara groaned, breaking your hands to shove hers into her pockets. Actually, it was your jacket, and therefore technically your pockets too, but she had taken a liking to it, after your date. You had been less than pleased, when she asked to borrow it, considering how much the jacket meant to you, but she insisted it was assisting her to keep up the act. You figured you could part with it, at least for a little while.

"Architecture," you said with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tara rolled her eyes at you. She nudged you, and you couldn't help but laugh as her elbow pointed into your side.

"Oh, you think you're funny, huh?"

"I'm hilarious."

"You wish..." she scoffed, shaking her head.

It was a beautiful day in autumn, and the weather was soon to leave the sigh of brown leaves and rainy days and move into whispery winds and icy pavement. You didn't mind winter, but you didn't like the chills, even though it was undoubtedly what gave summer's warmth a certain sweetness. Still, nothing burned like the cold.

You walked her all the way to the door of the exam hall, stopping out front to hand her the textbook you had been carrying. You went to speak, but the moment you tried to open your mouth, your phone started ringing. You grabbed it from your pocket, sighing and declining the call, while Tara stared at you.

"Is that your dad, again?"

"No," you said. "Telemarketer."

"Right..." she said, frowning. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" you challenged. You were, it was true.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

“I just don’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m asking why, (Y/n).”

"Why don't you leave it alone?" you shot, in frustration. You could see Tara's eyes narrow at your tone, and you felt a bit bad. There was the occasional reflex still, to bite each other's heads off. You weren't sure what it was about her, but something about Tara Carpenter always seemed to rile you up inside, and do the same for her with you.

"Sorry," you said, looking down at your shoes. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be an asshole," Tara glared.

"Right... I'm... sorry."

Tara sighed. "I guess I'll see you next week?" She asked.

You nodded. "There'll be plenty of time after this, I just need to get this thing done."

"Okay," she nodded, failing to hide her excitement. Tara seemed to really love parties, the more and more she went to, and you were somewhat glad you could help her find something she enjoyed. It was nice to see, not that you'd ever say that to her. Doing that would absolutely result in her teasing you again, or something even more annoying.

"Good luck on your test," you said.

"Good luck on your project, babe," she said, drawing the name out.

“Now who’s hilarious,” you said with an eye roll. Tara winked at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Me.”

===+++===

It seemed you were having no good luck on it whatsoever, actually. Laid out in front of you was all of your materials, in a messy pile of cut-out pieces and foam boards that were there, sure, but not likely to just jump together and put itself together on its own.

The clock had already ticked away to 12:33 in the morning, and your design was barely finalised to where you could get to work and finish quickly. All of the other students had left at a much more reasonable hour, and it left you standing at your table alone, quietly working to classical music in the empty modelling lab.

At this rate, you could be here for another two or three hours, and the project was due at eight. You were sluggish, slowly working through the plans you had set out days ago and working through the kinks.

Every few minutes, when you stopped for even a second, the dream seemed to rush back to the forefront of your brain. Your mother had been the one to call, that evening while you were eating a poor excuse of a dinner, and you had declined that call just like you had declined all the rest.

You were hunched over your work, probably unhealthily so, with your face buried in your iPad, hastily throwing out sketches of the various shapes. You were settling on a design that would have to do, heading for the woodcutter, when you heard a noise.

It resembled a door shutting, and you froze right where you were. "Greg?" you called out. There was no one else in the building except for you and Greg, at his usual security post, and you waited with bated breath for him to return your call.

But there was no response, and all you could hear was the sounds of classical music gently floating in the background. Usually, it set you at ease while you worked through whatever you were doing in the lab, but now all it did was raise your heart rate to match the increasing tempo. It was completely dark, except for the overhead light above you, which illuminated the table you were working at and a few of the stainless steel cabinets that held tools and supplies.

Then, off to the side, you heard a rolling. An odd, wooden rolling, slowly drifting towards you. On the ground was a pencil, gently pushed towards you, playfully rolling as if perfectly in front of your toes. You hopped to your feet. "Hello?" you called, squinting in the dim light, in case anyone else was there. "Is anyone there?" you called out again. "Greg?"

Now you could really feel the thumping of your heart. The modelling lab had always been creepy late at night, but this was a new level of unease. It was as if someone was watching you, playing with their food, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "Is someone there?" you said to the rest of the room.

"Hey!" said a voice, and you jumped what felt like five feet into the air.

"Fuck!" you shouted, spinning around and seeing Tara behind you. She jumped at your reaction, raising her hands up. In one of them was a tray with two coffees on it. “You scared me!”

"Woah, woah, are you okay?" she asked, face etched with concern. She walked towards you slowly, and you put your hands on the edge of the table, trying to calm yourself.

"Don't just sneak up on me like that, dude," you glared at her.

"I literally didn't, I fucking announced myself, loud as can be," Tara said, rolling her eyes at you. Then, it melded into concern. "How long have you been here?" she asked, looking around the place and its emptiness.

"Since I left you at your test," you shrugged. "How'd it go by the way?" Tara's eyebrows furrowed, ignoring your question instead for one of her own.

"Did you at least eat dinner, or something?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Good."

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, turning back to your work. “How did you know where I was?"

“I asked Chad. He’s still a little snippy with me about, well, thinking we're together. Tried to tell me that if anyone would know, it would be me, and I said, yeah, that’s true, but it’s only been three months, now.”

“Well,” you said, gesturing around to the lab. “This is the modelling lab.” You were a bit of a nerd about the whole place, showing it off like it was your cool superhero lair.

“I know,” Tara mocked. “I saw it on the giant sign above the front door.”

“Ha ha. Does Sam know that you’re here?” You asked, grabbing your pen and resuming your work while you continued to talk to Tara. She plopped herself down on the edge of the table, letting her feet swing.

She looked a bit sheepish at the question. “Uh… no.”

“You know she’ll kill me like she did that one time, if you’re not home when she wakes up,” you frowned, wandering over to the supplies and grabbing out a box cutter to help trim the pieces you needed.

Tara nodded. “I know. But I snuck out, so I’ll sneak back in.”

You turned back around to reply, maybe say something stupid, but you had to stop yourself from laughing, when you saw her legs hanging off the counter and not reaching the ground.

“What?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and returning to the table. “…Dwarf.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking you on the arm. “I brought you coffee, don’t make me take it back.”

“That’s true,” you frowned, weighing your options. “Guess I can’t make fun of you; you brought me caffeine.”

“That’s more like it."

You worked in silence for a few minutes, feeling Tara watch your every movement. It was harder to work, under her scrutiny, but you were grateful that she was there. It wasn’t lonely in there, any more. A few months ago, you would’ve hated her guts for sitting around while you attempted to work. But not with Tara anymore. Not on that day.

“This might be an all-nighter,” you warned, sending her a small smile as you sliced a piece of foam in half and went to work to attach it to your board.

“Fine with me,” Tara shrugged. She just continued to watch you, in a calm silence. “Actually, I have beef with you,” she hummed.

You laughed, looking up while you secured the base with glue. “Why’s that, Tara?”

“You got that song, stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” You asked.

“The one you sang for me. I found it online.”

“Which one?” you teased, smiling again. Your face was tired and the smile certainly didn’t help, but you couldn’t help the newfound peace washing over you again. You had completely forgotten the weird happening from earlier.

“You know, don’t play dumb.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I really don’t know.”

“You literally do,” Tara scoffed.

“Sing a little bit. Refresh my memory.”

“Nuh uh,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is a trap.”

“It isn’t,” you insisted, sticking your pinky out to her. “Swear.”

She wrapped it in her own, rolling her eyes. She definitely knew it was, but she obliged anyway. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a strangerrr. You know in the end,” her voice broke on the low note like yours did, and you laughed while heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ll always be thereeee.”

“And when you’re in doubt,” you sang back to her, in between laughs. “And when you’re in dangerrr.” You both were tone deaf and the rendition was awful, but the mood in the lab was getting lighter and lighter the longer you were together.

“Take a look all around,” Tara sang, coming back in. “And I’ll be there.”

It was impossible not to laugh at how bad it was on both sides, and you grinned at her toothily, before turning back to your work. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome, idiot,” she teased, nudging you in the side again.

===+++===

You went back to working on your model, finishing the first floor in about an hour. You and Tara occasionally talked now and again, but mostly she just watched you while you worked. “Why are you doing this all tonight?” she asked.

“Uh…” you stuttered. “I didn’t have time the past couple weeks…cause of… well, you.”

She shot up to her feet, mouth dropping open. “Why the hell didn’t you say no to me?! I didn’t know you had all this to do.”

You shrugged. “I never mentioned it. Plus, you were having fun. I’m glad someone was enjoying themselves.”

“Oh…” she said, and it sounded small.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“…Nothing."

“It’s fine, Tar. Seriously.” She blinked at you.

“Tar?” she asked, looking amused.

You looked up from your work, feeling the change in the atmosphere. “What?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just never used the nickname for me, before.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Is it weird?”

“Well… no. I kind of like it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding a little. “My mom was the one who gave me the nickname Tar. Haven’t spoken to her in a little while, though.”

“Do you still miss her?” you asked, glueing your second story onto the base successfully.

“Sometimes…” she trailed off, staring out at the pitch black night through the window that hung over your workspace. "She calls me once in a while."

"Do you answer?" you asked.

"No," she admitted. "It's usually about Woodsboro. I gave up on her a few months ago, but she still calls sometimes about the town."

"You never talk about it..." you comment, trailing off with a hand on the back of your neck. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." You leaned back against the table with a curiosity, watching her face move as she struggled to answer.

"Well... it's cause I don't want to that I don't talk about it. You know how people say that shit about manifesting happiness?" you nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "Well, I keep saying I'm fine, and I'm moving on, but it just keeps following me everywhere. It's like this chronic cough I can't shake. This constant thing. No matter how much I run, it's always there. People don't see me as anything but one of the survivors."

You swallowed, feeling her words hit you. "I know what you mean." Tara's eyes snapped down to yours, but when you didn't volunteer more information, she sighed.

You frowned, turning yourself back to your work and hunching over, so she wouldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks. “I, uh… I listened to that song you said you liked, too.”

“You did?” she asked, lighting up at the mention of it.

“Yeah… added it to my playlist… so…”

“So…” Tara laughed, amused by your awkwardness. It was somehow less awkward when you hated each other. The fact you could tolerate each other now was unusual but not unpleasant, and you still found yourself grappling with how pretty Tara’s eyes looked in lamplight. "If I get a nickname, you absolutely have to have one too."

You scoffed. "That's not at all what that means."

"You had to have had one at some point."

"No, I haven't had one," you said.

"Liar!" Tara said with a giggle, pointing at you with her finger. "You're so bad at lying it's remarkable. Now spill. What is it?"

"I'm not lying!" you insisted, but now you were laughing and it was even less convincing.

"C'mon, promise I won't say it in public— unless it's really bad."

You stared at her for a moment, when she clasped her hands together in a begging plea.

"Please?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pleaseeee?"

"Fine," you sighed. "My family, they used to call me Duck."

"Duck?" She asked, leaning back to look at you as if the nickname would re-contextualise your entire appearance. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's dumb. I used to wear this yellow raincoat when it was storming outside and these orange booties, so my little brother Mitchie saw me, when he was like five or six, and said I was a Duck. And so I was Duck."

She smiled at you, genuinely pleased with the explanation. "That's adorable. Where is Mitchie, tonight?"

You opened your mouth but shut it. Then, you opened it again. "Probably watching cartoons, or something. Back in Nebraska." (A/N: my ass genuinely did not know that was a U.S. state until right now)

You couldn't tell her that today was the day he had died, several years ago. That a year or two before that had happened, Calvin had gone, and a few months before that, Tomas and Alisha had passed too. That Peter had gotten sick, or that Miranda had gone missing before any of that mess had happened. That you were the only one left.

It was a bad lie, and probably one you would regret later, but it was one you ushered past, and Tara didn't seem to pick up on. From one cursed person to another, you figured it was probably best that you keep your own curse to yourself. It's part of what had made you hate Tara so much at first. She walked around knowing her days were likely numbered, so carefree and careless. And then there was you, you who was so careful in order to keep living.

But you couldn't resent her for that. It had melted away with seeing the Tara underneath. The real, beautiful Tara underneath.

"Duck is good, though. I'll bring it out when I want to embarrass you," Tara smiled, inching closer on the table.

"Yeah?" you grinned back at her, standing up to gently tap against the glue. It was set, and your model was finally finished at 4:42 in the morning. Tara leaned close, watching the glue with her own eyes, cheek almost up against yours in curiosity.

You finished the thing, looking over at her and her large, warm brown eyes, staring at the model you had made with so much curiosity and genuine interest. Tara hadn't lifted a finger to help, but you couldn't help but feel like it was partially hers.

You went to pull back but found your face turning towards hers, looking at each other for a long moment. Your eyes lingered on the slope of her nose, down to the curvature of her soft lips, turned up in the corners like Tara always did when she smiled. They looked so soft, and before you knew what was happening, you could feel Tara's hands coming up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently stroking against the skin there.

You couldn't breathe, feeling the warmth of the pads of her fingers on your face and the faint brush of her breath upon your nose. "Tara," you whispered. The pull was magnetic, and just as you were about to say to hell with it all, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and you both leapt apart from each other.

You wandered a few feet away, trying to seem busy while she answered it. You could feel Tara watching you while she spoke on the phone, so you did your best to hide the blush that was certainly spread wide across your cheeks.

This was the very girl you had spent the past several months hating. You suddenly felt dizzy, like the world would slip out from under your feet. Tara, the very same annoying girl who had pestered with you and bickered with you. The one who had so much more to her that what you had ever thought possible. The one who drew you in. The one in search of a hook up, for which you were only the decoy. You cleared your throat, whipping around when you heard Tara say "What?!"

"What's wrong?" you asked. "What's going on?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at you like she was about to cry. "They're questioning Sam again. They think Ghostface is back."

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN anyways my ass is going to bed now. also i do not recommend anyone lie to someone they're interested in about who they are, ESPECIALLY an attempted murder victim

[bunnibaby-love]

🍎 Losing your virginity to Caleb 🍎

♡ female reader + nsfw + vanilla

You wanted your cherry to be pop! and crave some experience for the plot and fun and who else is better choice than your hot friend?

You sat next to Caleb as he helps you out review for your finals. Usually you are spacing out as you wanna doze off but this time, your twinkling eyes are set on your friends hands. He has long fingers and veiny hands! no one won't drool at the sight right?

"What about this again Caleb?" you purposely press your chest against his biceps as you lean on him to point out a random equation

"It's just calculus silly" he chuckled and you frown as it looks like your tits squeezing on his bicep has no effect on him. No way! It can't be!

You tried to remember all the stuff from the fanfics you been reading to make advances "I can barely see here can i just..." you giggle to yourself as you position yourself on Caleb lap

"...Damn.." You shivered as you feel Caleb minty breath as he chuckled on your neck "What's with you today? You're like...a cat"

You laugh at the comparison "meow...." you giggle as you tease him that he just laugh it off and continue teaching you

Caleb is a good tutor but now, all you wanted is to have your brains fucked out so nothing is going on your head

You pouted cause you also have to focus learning since finals is coming but you just buried your head on his neck. Caleb smile cause you clearly showing signs of not getting the topic

"Whats with you today pips? are you hungry? want me to get you some bunny apples? or sleepy? you can sleep for now then ill come back tommorrow to teach you"

You instantly grab his biceps so he wont leave your side "No uh im fine just...stuff going on my head..." he gave you a look that saying 'you know you can tell me anything'

Unable to resist his puppy eyes, you admit to him whats's bothering you for few days now "I just...um i don't wanna be virgin anymore! Girls my age have experience and i don't"

Caleb was shocked for few seconds. "What the...!" He sighs "Pipsqueak...don't...don't feel bad for being a virgin...it's okay and don't rush it and never give it to someone random just cause you want experience" He said while rubbing his temple

"Is it fine if i lose it to you then? you're not a random stranger" Now you're determined and gave him a cute pout

"Are you out of your mind now pips? you're gonna regret this" Caleb said sternly. He wanted you as well but he's doesn't want it more if he ever did something that would you make you uncomfortable if ever in the future so he just averted his gaze on you

"I won't since it's you Caleb" You press kisses on his neck "Whenever i tried touching myself i think of you..." Caleb is now as red as apples and whimpers before trying to pull you away but seems like all his strenght is gone. He's so weak with you

He look at you in the eyes "If i start...i don't think i'll be able to held back" He cupped your cheeks

"I'm sure Caleb...please..." after muttering a cursed word, Caleb kissed you but he can't help but smile when you clearly don't know how to kiss

"Just follow my lips baby..." he fixed your position so you're seated between his thighs as you get lose trying to mimic is lips

His lips travel down to your cheeks, jaw, throat and finally your neck "Can i leave a hickey please...? i promise it's where you can easily hide..." you whimper and nod making Caleb leave you a hickey behind your ear

You started unbottoning your blouse and Caleb stop you "Let me..." He whisper on your ear before laying on your bed. He didn't stop kissing your body while unbottoning your blouse and everytime he opens your body after buttons, he would kiss that part

He throws your blouse at floor and hold your bra "Can i?" You let out a hum and Caleb unbuckled your bra "So pretty..."

"Oh..! that's...cold?" You moan as Caleb immediently latch his tongue and lips on your nipples. He swirl it with his tongue before catching it with his lips then suckled making you moan and arch your back

You grip his hair as his kissed goes deeper to your abdomen till his face is infront or you pants. He use is teeth to bring the zipper down and you wiggle you hips and legs so your pants can take off easily

"Can i baby?" He whisper on your cunt covered with your panties and you hum with desperation "Words pipsqueak. I need your words hmm?"

"Yes...Yes Caleb please...?" Caleb smile as he sniff you and licked you through your panties for a minute. He got enough of your desperate moans and whimpers when he finally take off your panties

"Gonna strech you out first..." He licked his 2 fingers infront you making you bite your lips with how sexy he looks "This is gonna sting baby..." He kissed you deeply on lips again then slowly insert his one finger

"Mhm sorry..sorry...you're a good girl yeah?" He whisper between kisses while fingering you then, he added another finger "Go on baby you can cum...hmm? want you wet and messy mhm yes babygirl..."

This experience is nothing compare to all the experince you heard or the fanfics you read. You're losing your mind with how hot Caleb is making you feel right now and finally you orgasm

"Good fucking girl..." Caleb kissed your cheeks. You closed your eyes for few seconds after your first orgasm and when you open your eyes, you saw Caleb all naked and his big dick is infront of you

"Want a taste hmm?" he smirk as he tease you but you just smile and quickly sit up to reach his cock. You immedietly suck him but pulls away when you feel like choking

"Are you alright pips?" you nod but still pout. You're so inexperience with this you feel embrassed but Caleb just kissed your head

"I wanna feel your hot mouth around me but fuck baby...i just wanna be inside you..." You goes back to laying in bed and open your legs with hazy eyes

Caleb quickly puts on a condom and you tried taking it away "Caleb just go raw...i think it would feel better!"

Caleb has to close his eyes and looks up. This naughty girl! "Sure pips going bareback on your wet cunt would feel amazing but we're not risking kay?" He rest his forehead on yours "I'm going in hmm? Scratch my back when it's too painful for you" He encircle your hands on his nape

You wince in pain and can't help but scratch Caleb back and shoulder while he burries himself on you. He kiss your face and lick your tears till he's deep inside you "Tell me when you're okay...then i'll move"

You breath is heavy and Caleb is patient. He keeps kissing your face and caressing your body till you give a signal "Mhm move now Caleb..."

He gave you a peck on lips before burrying his face on your neck as he started to thrust. It's still painful but the pleasure is building up

Both you and Caleb are moaning so loud as his thrusts gets more faster, deeper and desperate "Ah...Caleb...gonna cum...gonna cum...."

Caleb pinned your hands on the sheets and encircling it with his "I'm here baby...go on be a good girl...ha...." He flickers your clit that made your back arch

You moan loudy as you let out another orgasm as you cum while he's still thrusting deep on you

"Ah...atta girl..fuck..." Caleb pulls out and removes his condom before pumping his dick and cums in your stomach "Mhm...that's sexy"

You smile and Caleb lay beside you. He pulls you close to him that you're almost on top of him. He kissed your head before sleep took you over

You wake up when morning comes all clean. You're wearing Caleb shirt and the bedsheets are new.

"Good morning pips" Caleb enters the room with a tray of breakfast "Eat up.."

"Thanks Caleb..." you smile as you enjoy your breakfast in bed while Caleb is sitting beside you and combing your hair

You sat on his lap so you're more comfortable and feel something on your butt "You know Caleb...i'm craving something other than these amazing pancakes of yours"

Oh Caleb now have to deal with your naughtines more!

sorry for grammar errors! i'm so sleepy when i wrote this! T.T

[jealousmartini]

twin you haven't posted in twelve hours are you good

Hey girl! So I shifted.

Accidentally. But fully this time. Well, Fully-ish because I pussied out of fear. No, fully, actually. Wait wait let me explain.

So get this. I woke up.

But not with my eyes. Just mind, body, and soul slowly becoming aware of her surroundings through the heaviness of sleep if you get what i mean. And it was just too warm and familiar and soft. The bed I mean. Way too comfortable for me to want to open my eyes yet, so they stayed shut, blissfully unaware of the fact this bed is not mine. My senses were slowly yet surely locking in. But my brain was not even fully awake. So I was feeling and being without fully realising what was happening

And then I heard the faint click of what i figured was the front door unlocking. Then opening. Then shutting. Then, locking with a key. I assumed that must've been my brother because he usually escapes into the dead of night to go whatever 23 year old guys do at night. And I heard some thick chunky ass boots stumble to the floor and i wondered when he ever wore boots never mind this dense, his heavy padded footsteps gradually got closer slightly muted by the door being closed.. which was then opened (?). It was a small thing, but it didn't make sense why my brother would need to be in my room at all, nvm at this time of night. But anyway, some shuffling was done. I cocked my brow in suspension, eyes still shut btw, cus what did he just go through my stuff for. And as quickly as he was in, he was out of the room. I made a mental note to confront him in the morning about it.

And then I heard the shower start. From the wrong side of my house... Now I know the anatomy of my house pretty well, so I was confused why I could hear the shower from the west instead of the northeast of my room.

After the shower stopped, i heard the bathroom door open, close, and the same as mine. He took like 3 steps in, and this was when i heard him call my name. He whispered it like a question, i dont think he was sure if i was asleep or not. But it was weird because that's not my name. Well it is, but it's not my name from here. And it's definitely not a name my brother from here knew. And then I realised I knew that voice too, but it was different from what i was expecting. Pretty deeper and rougher than what im used to remembering, and it was definitely NOT my brother's.

And so now I'm frustrated. And kinda nervous. Im laid on my side, the same one as i was on when i first began to wake, but now im slightly tense with frowed brows and all. I'm dealing with so many questions at once like why is the house formatted weirdly? and who the fuck is in my room?? and why the fuck did the bed just dip from behind me???

I literally had a question mark in my head when the voice spoke again. But this time, he was closer. Much closer. I FELT his arm, his muscular arm at that, wrap around my waist and pull my back flush against his BARE NAKED CHEST, and I gasped. I fucking gasped. I swear my heart was about to beat out of my chest. My body jolted forward almost involuntarily at the sudden contact of skin, the feeling on his freshly shower-hot muscular bare chest was making me SWEAT and I heard him mumbled against the back of my neck "Shh don't wake up," and I was thinking "Oh i definitely know who this is" And girl I wasn't fucking planning on it anyway. But I ended up shifting back with my eyes squeezed SHUT like the pussy I am

Because I didn't even expect myself to shift that night. The night after my first day back at college from the Easter break. And now I'm supposed to come in like I wasn't just in another man's bed.

Now i dont have the guts to actually say who this was. Im practically shaking right now for fucks sake. But im sure everyone and their mother on this app who sees my blogs can make an educated guess and get it right first time. And after 8 years of knowing about mha and 6 years of trying to shift there, ladies and gentlemen I think I can officially say I have shifted to mha. It definitely wasn't my main mha dr, some would probably argue it was even better lmfao. I guess the secret to shifting really is just letting go.

[marchsfreakshow]

Yeah, Jealous [Dave Lizewski]

Angst / fluff

Dave can't even handle the fact you're dating him. Why'd other girls suddenly start paying attention to him?!

Lana unreleased you will always have my heart. This one has been here for ages in my mind tbh... Might not be that long (or great) but I had to.

Fyi I have no idea about Kick-Ass 2 all I know is that Dave and Katie breakup or something. Might be pulling stuff out of nowhere I apologise.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Dave had always been suprised he was even able to date Katie when it happened. She was his everything.

Which just made it even more surprising to him that you asked him out a few months after the breakup stopped hurting. He was hesitant to say yes, but you reassured him that you had liked him for a while before he got with Katie. It was, sort of helpful but overall he still couldn't believe he had another person like him romantically. Thankfully, he was a bit more confident now. Still a nerdy dork... Obviously.. but just a bit more confident.

Maybe it was you clinging to Dave's arm that was attractive to some other girls. Maybe it was the fact Dave had started to have regular workouts and his shirts were just a bit tighter underneath his jackets. Maybe it was the fact he was a bit awkward with pda, and you were all over him whenever you could be.

Either way, you noticed.

Other girls were poking Todd or Marty and talking to them. Prodding and pushing about your relationship with Dave. They were fishing for information, and you noticed. It lit a fire in you and only made your little make-out sessions in your room harsher.

You gripped Dave's arms tighter, squeezed his thighs between yours more. Left more hickies in obvious spots, to publicly stake your claim on him. Yeah, that would stop them. Definitely.

... It didn't.

It only got Dave in trouble sometimes, which made him flush a deep red and try to hide his neck throughout the day. He loved you more than he could have thought, but how much more possessive you got in the past weeks was slightly maddening. So he found a moment when you were over at his place to ask you. He was just watching you read a comic of his, arms around your front and head slightly buried into your shoulder to keep as close as humanely possible. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?"

"...You've been more clingy recently." He hummed nonchalantly like it wasn't a big deal to him, and was consuming his overworked brain. You processed his comment, then placed the comic down in your lap. Then sighed, and Dave kept his eyes on your profile. Fuck you were so beautiful...

"I guess I have. Sorry."

He chuckled gently and kissed your cheek. "No I'm not telling you to apologise." Dave smiled, rubbing your arm a bit soothingly. It sort of helped, and you leaned your head back into his shoulder. "Just, has something happened? You've been way more clingy recently, everywhere, and I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It's definitely not a bad thing I just.. I just couldn't help but wonder cause it's kind of, confusing?" He word vomited, feeling his cheeks go slightly red at the realisation of his word vomit.

You smiled. "Girls are noticing you."

"Are they?"

A little hum escaped your lips to go with the nod. "They are. And, I don't know..." Eyebrows furrowed to try to get a proper response from your, currently, comic riddled brain. "I've seen and heard girls talk to Todd and Marty. Asking about us and what they think of us. If we're compatible in their heads."

Dave sort of made a little 'o' shape with his mouth as it made sense finally in his head. He was wondering why some girls were talking more to Todd. And Marty. It was kind of confusing, especially to them and they just about managed responses to the girls. Then said girls would make a face and walk away, suddenly very disinterested.

Instead of replying, Dave just kissed your cheek, over and over which caused you to go hot in the face. A few little chuckles leaving your lips. "Dave.."

"mm?" He didn't stop planting kisses over your face, since in his head, it was his way of proving to you that he was yours. Yeah the people just now interested in him were, pretty, but they couldn't hold a candle to you in his eyes. You were everything that's right with the world. "You're perfect." He uttered, smiling against your skin. His breath was a comforting warmth on your neck.

A happy sigh left your lips, and you happily enjoyed the kisses as they came. One hand of yours reaching up into his curls. That practically melted the boy and he ended up melting his face into your neck. "I like this comic."

"Yeah... Mm, it's my favourite."

"could you buy me a copy for my birthday?"

"I'll think about it."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Taglist: @strawb3rrystar / @american-horror-whore / @cherrys-muses /

(i have no one on my atj taglist, wanna be part of it? Pls let me know! <3)

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 3

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability.

Word Count: 3811

Written: 5th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I'm not going to go into every detail of adapting to a prosthetic, there's a lot of stages. For anyone curious, MC uses a multi-grip prosthetic, that relies on electric signals from their residual limb to help communicate movement, using a specialised (fantasy) metal because it's adapted for their job. Also the general adaptive time for one can be up to a year, (even longer depending on how much it needs adjusting and how much active support you have). I'm cutting it down to six months overall (though they continue to learn better ways to use it going forwards). On account of the LADs world having stuff like... AI Robots that can have a conversation with you in the streets, and magic powers. I don't know how long this will be, or how many parts. I have a horrifying number of notes... I guess we'll see how long I can go before my brain shuts down.

Now Playing: The Line, by Twenty One Pilots

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous Next ->

You spend the next few days going through the motions.

You exist where you should be striving, and you breathe where you know you're supposed to laugh.

It's empty, but the angry beast in your heart doesn't snap and growl and howl. Demanding blood as recompense for an existence you cannot justify.

Looking in a mirror has become… difficult, so when you brush your teeth, or wash your face, too stubborn to let anyone help when your hand trembles, and you spill your things on the floor. You stare down. At the floor, as you go through motions you know like the back of your scarred hand.

There are moments when life bubbles up, but it is short and it is tired and you only feel it when you have others around you to bring it out. To ease life back into a hand that's become a claw. Smoothing the stretching torn skin, and tending to broken nails.

You go through the motions, because they wait for you on the other side of the door. If you cannot live for you, you will always live for others.

Sometimes it is all you can do, to motivate your broken heart to beat one more day.

Zayne comes with you to the hospital, to check in with your specialist. A warm older woman, who reminds you too much of Gran to not make you feel like you're seeing ghosts. It's a feeling mixed with guilt, and a small amount of fear. Unbidden but lurking. Everytime she, Meredith, touches you, an ache sparks in your heart.

A memory like static hits you, and you have to steady your breath and your heart with a firm hand before you can resume listening.

If you can even be said to be listening.

You're checked over, made sure that your injuries haven't been made worse by your isolation and lack of care. You're lucky, you're told. That someone found you, that they came to you, brought you back to the hospital.

You want to snap back that luck doesn't tear your arm from your shoulder.

That you're not lucky. You're not brave.

You're not anything.

Zayne is commended for his sutures, and his quick care, he barely responds, hand firmly in your one. Squeezing, loosening his grip, squeezing. Self comforting himself as much as he is comforting you. You return the gesture, staring out the window. Trying to take yourself somewhere else. Somewhere without white walls, and terrible motivational posters.

Somewhere where this ghost of your grandma isn't hovering over you. Where you're not hearing talk about next steps.

Somewhere warm maybe.

His hand grounds you, keeps you tethered. Part of you wants to release and let yourself float, the other is scared to disappear into the clouds without him. So you stay, and you hold on. Like you're a balloon he keeps around his wrist.

"Let's check your prosthetic fit. It will need adjustments going forwards as you learn to use it."

Static.

You're somewhere in the room, staring at yourself as you nod, a hand on your shoulder as your shirt buttons are loosened. As straps are pulled and tightened around skin. Even half aware they feel raw. Itching and burning against you.

Unwanted. Unwelcome.

It's a distant pair of eyes that gaze at the limb fitted into place, staring at the metal. You blink finally. Clearing your head to look. Just… look.

"Comfortable?"

You think back to the bathroom with Rafayel. His gentle hands soothing dirt from your skin, and his eyes glowing as they look at you. You think to a gentle hand stroking your head as you fall into sleep, starry blue eyes watching you carefully. You think about a crow bringing you snacks, of red eyes watching you warmly over a bowl. You think about a doctor's hand in yours, easing the scars over, like you've done to his.

You think about the pieces of you twisted and bunched and stuffed under skin that fits too tight. You think about the pain of waking up every morning now. Of avoiding your own gaze in the mirror.

You think of a limb you can still see the metal piercing through.

You aren't sure how to answer her. Too many things bundled up in your head, struggling to filter and file and understand which is which.

Zayne gives a gentle tug, looks down at you, forest eyes glimmering. Absently you think you see fear, like you're going to disappear, if he lets you go. Float away on a weak breeze.

It should shame you. Feeling this weak.

You're just so tired.

When he speaks, he soothes with his thumb, pressing into skin and drawing the infinity sign against you, "Is it rubbing painfully anywhere?" He clarifies the question.

The noise filters back a little, giving you a direct pathway to your answer, "The straps. They hurt."

The doctor nods to herself, she writes notes down and adjusts them. "They'll soften over use, you'll need to clean them weekly at least, leather conditioner can help ease the initial discomfort."

The raw rubbing softens a little, still too hyper aware of the feeling, you twitch away from her when she adjusts where the metal and sheath touches your skin. "Does it hurt?"

"No. Your hands are cold."

Her laugh reminds you of Gran too, and you can feel the walls getting closer. You have to hold it together. You have to keep it together.

You can't break down here. You can't. You have to be stronger than this.

It's like there's a lump in your throat. A feeling like you're going to be sick, maybe cry. Maybe both.

You can't be weak here.

"Can we take a minute, Doctor Rin?" Zayne asks, voice calm but cool. Like he isn't really asking, like it's a formality. Respect for someone who knows how to help you.

She leans back and nods, "Of course." She looks over at you and smiles, and it's too warm and kind to not make you flinch back, "Take a few minutes outside."

You can't respond because the lump in your throat is rising.

Don't cry.

With a steady hand on your back, Zayne leads you away from the room, steering you through the corridors of Akso. Out into the courtyards. Where it's quiet. Where no one can watch as you finally crack.

As you gulp, and cover your mouth. Trying to force it down as you hiccup and gasp.

There's a burning in your shoulder, everytime you feel the brush of metal, the chill through the sheath. You feel the cool straps, refusing to take your body heat. You reach up with your hand to pull them off but a hand takes yours. Holds it, as another releases the buckles. Removes the offending thing.

Gently. Carefully. Reverently.

He places it down on a bench, then pulls you closer. Rubbing warm circles into your shoulder and skin through your shirt. You cling to his, trembling until the feeling eases out. Relieved from your confines.

From the woman who brings ghosts to your door.

From the memories of ice cold pain and scorching blood.

"What do you need?"

You shake your head. Too much. You want this nightmare to be over. You want to wake up and things be easier. You want things you can't have.

You want to feel strong. Brave. Complete.

A hand, cool to the touch but accompanied by a warm gaze, turns your head. Looking up, as he wipes tears that have escaped against your will. "Do you want another doctor?"

Yes. No.

Maybe?

The ghost of Gran scares you as much as she comforts you.

Meredith Rin is top of her field. You know that. Logically it makes no sense, to turn down the woman who can have your back, get you through this.

If you want to move forward, you have to try. You have to.

"No." You choke out, shaking your head in his grasp, leaning into his palm, "No."

He seems relieved, face relaxing a little, "Very well, I've read her recommendations, testimonies from patients. I trust her abilities."

If he trusts her, you think you can too. You trust him right now, more than you can ever hope to trust yourself. Scared of ghosts and monsters lurking in the shadows.

Scared of yourself.

"Do you want to go home?"

Yes. You do. You do. You want to be anywhere but the hospital. You're so very tired of hospitals.

It is the feeling of fatigue. The feeling of knowing the corridors better than you want to. Of knowing the faces of the doctors. Of knowing the other patients who visit frequently.

It is not just Zayne that tethers you to the hospital, it is the heart in your chest, the illness in your life, the injuries from your job, and now the prosthetic on the bench.

"Darling." His thumb eases, soothes, wipes at fresh tears, "I'm here."

You think about hospital appointments that Caleb had joined you for. How he'd written notes and focused so you didn't have to. Keeping you tethered.

Zayne looks at you with warm, beautiful eyes, and offers you his stability and his brain to keep you standing. Where you waver.

So you shake your head, "I can do it." You can. You can do it. You're not alone, you can do it.

"If you need to leave, tap my hand twice, alright?" It's an offer to escape, but it's spoken with pride in his voice, as you stand a little taller.

Your nod is firmer than before, and this time when he picks up the prosthetic, you can look at it a little longer. Maybe soon you'll look at it and look forwards.

—-

Rafayel is trying to focus on his work. He has an exhibition coming up, that he would cancel if he didn't have some degree of guilt for the stress it would cause Thomas. He doesn't mind tormenting the man occasionally, but breaking promises… it's not something he can bring himself to do. He's not a hypocrite.

If he waited every year for you to return to that beach, he'll carry out the promises he's made to finish his art.

He's only half paying attention to his canvas, though. Paint on his brush drying in the air, because he keeps looking over at you.

You're sat with Xavier, as you work through exercises to help with balance. He can see the strain in your back. A loose vest worn so you don't rub at the shoulder. You wince, but push.

Rafayel's paintbrush is set to the side, sketchbook picked up, and he works.

You are a vision in charcoal, when you finish an exercise you exhale in relief, before moving on. Every hurdle cleared no matter how tall, has you stabilise. Visibly relaxing, flinching less when Xavier's hands touch you. The prince is careful, gentle and observant.

There's life to his page again, he isn't sure he'll ever show you the sketches of you like this. Scars on your skin, hurting, but he keeps it in case there is a day you ask. So he can show you that you live and you move. That stumbling and hurting is ok.

Rafayel records you in sketches because he values every version of you, and he hopes one day you see that, and believe it.

As you finish for the day, falling to the floor, lying down. Breathing heavily, and worn out fully. He hears a soft laugh, "I'll get some water." The prince heads off to the kitchen, while Rafayel puts his work down, closing the sketchbook carefully, and approaching you. So that he can look at you, upside down, nose inches from yours.

"Hey cutie. Nice work."

You hesitate before smiling. It's not the smile you've worn before, but it's not a fake one. It's just tired. He might not understand the feeling fully, but he knows how hard struggling is. How it drains you. He also knows that no matter how proud you can be, stubborn and biting at the bit to be strong, that he should commend every action.

Even if you huff that it should be a simple achievement. It is not, not some days. Some days, he watches you give in. Some days, you power through better than others.

Today you almost gave up, before getting fiery and angry at yourself. Growling and forging on.

So he will commend you, because he wants you to value the effort.

"You're cute upside down too."

This time you do exhale a laugh, hand reaching up to poke his forehead. You miss, frown, and try again. "You're silly."

He joins you on the floor, lying with his head at yours, his legs up on your sofa. Face turned to you. Neither of you make a move to sit up, it is comfortable to simply lie, and stare up at the dimmed lights. "You're doing well."

A shaky exhale is his immediate answer, but you nod, "I'm trying."

He wants to say that trying is enough, he doesn't know if that's the right thing to say, but instead he reaches over towards your hand, and takes it in his. He can watch as the furrow in your brow eases, frown easing a little. He thinks you're finally trying to rely on them. To find comfort in their presence.

To not feel alone.

"It's hard," You speak, guilt in your voice, like you're confessing a sin. He squeezes, so you continue, "I feel pathetic, and sometimes I feel angry. So angry." You look at him, eyes glistening and he nods, "I want to give up."

"But you don't." He offers, watching your eyes waver, you can't hold his gaze for long, but he knows you're still keeping focus on him. Grounding yourself. "I'm glad that you're working through it."

Your exercises exhaust you, movement is harder now so he watches you fray. You let them handle things, food, cleaning, so you can focus on recovery. Rafayel is pleased, smug almost, that his presence here allows for that. It's a warm heat in his chest, like he's watching the tides, because if he can help you stand up tall again, he'll do anything for you.

You don't speak for a while, simply breathing through, relaxing and calming yourself. He reaches his other hand over to brush hair from where it sticks to your skin, revelling in the small shudder he gets from the sensitivity.

He will always be too sensitive to everything you do.

Xavier sits then, on your other side, and he looks up as you look at the glass in the prince's hand.

You release Rafayel's hand, pushing yourself up, shaking your head at the offer of help, and lean over a little to take the glass. Xavier's hand stabilising your back.

As he watches you, Rafayel thinks about your impatience, to be useful again. Back in the field. To overcome the hurdles despite the fact you wish to give up, he returns to his sketchbook.

With a quick pen, a dagger takes pride of place in the centre of his page.

—---

"We are not eating fish every night."

"Who made you the boss?"

"Variation is important in a diet."

"Fish is good for you!"

"Except for one big one."

You leave your bedroom after a nap, to find Sylus, Rafayel and Zayne in the kitchen.

Sylus has instructions on his phone, as he chops vegetables, while Rafayel is sat on the counter, trying to… you assume sabotage his efforts.

Zayne has his head in his hands, trying to read what you can tell is your treatment schedule. "Can the both of you act your age?"

"Tell that to the fish."

"I have a name, crow!"

You feel the laugh bubble out of you unbidden. The image is so out of sorts, and so ridiculous. Sylus of the N109 Zone, and Rafayel the lemurian artist. Arguing in your kitchen. That's far smaller than either of them are probably used to.

While your doctor sits and grumbles at them, barely trying to keep them from killing each other.

They turn at the sound, three pairs of stunning eyes, focusing on you as you try to cover your mouth to keep the laugh from escaping.

It doesn't work though. You laugh, and you laugh, and you laugh.

It's almost hysteric. Like a collapse, like walls crumbling down, and foundations falling.

It's euphoric. A release of pent up feelings you keep struggling to let out.

It's relieving. Tears flowing with it. Hiccups starting, laughter into sobs, then laughter again.

It's stupid but it throws something off of you. A beast of a burden, clinging to your back. Trying to pull you down.

It settles at your ankles, clinging to you, but you can stand up a little taller.

The monster that lurks, that angers, that demands blood. The creature that tells you to give up. It silences itself, curling up, and slumbers. Not forever. It never leaves forever, but for a little while… it is chased away by the realisation that you have something still to see.

These foolish men, living their lives alongside you.

Sylus' eyes are molten pools of affection as he watches you, lips quirking into that small smile you know intimately. "What do you want, kitten?"

"Cutie will make the right choice!"

As you approach, sitting beside Zayne at the counter who wipes your face as you do so, you smile softly, "I want salmon."

Rafayel lets out a whoop, way too close to Sylus' head, who winces and glares at him.

"You truly are a cat, kitten." He tuts, but moves to the fridge to grab it from the groceries Xavier had picked up earlier before heading off for a mission.

Zayne had given him a strict list of food that are good to eat when you are in recovery… even if some cookies had snuck their way into the list.

You try not to think about how you should be out there with him.

Zayne lets out an exhale next to you, "Finally, that argument is over."

"The doctor was very unhelpful." Sylus inputs, raising a brow at the man.

"As long as it's healthy, I don't mind what you prepare." He pushes the schedule close to you, so you don't have to lean over to watch, "I've been making notes for what we can do at home to help alleviate the time spent in the hospital."

You blink at him, and he pushes his glasses up to smile, "Is that alright?" It's a small nod, you're not sure how to explain to him how seen you feel with them.

It's been a long time since there was security in your life. You wish it had come at a time where you also didn't feel like you're standing over the edge of the abyss… but the safety net you can see below you finally… well… going through the motions is looking less like a chore.

"When do you start your prosthetic training?" Raffy asks, swinging his legs.

You check the documents, because you truly can't remember much of what was said to you verbally, and you'd been avoiding reading them since you received them. "A week."

"I'll send a copy around to everyone, if you're alright with it?"

You nod, it's an easy thing to agree to. You think about them finding you curled up in the blanket. It can't get much worse than that…

"Is your exhibit going well, Raffy?"

The man in question jumps, and you think he looks a little guilty, "I have one more thing to finish, it's giving me trouble, but I'll get there. Promise you'll come see it?"

It's hard to promise anything, caught in jewel eyes, watching them like a shimmering luminescent sea. You don't want to let Rafayel down, if you can't go. If you're too tired. If you're sick. If you just can't bear to be out.

What do you want to do? Plays in a loop in your head. If you can, what do you want?

You think about how Rafayel holds to promises like they mean everything. You think about the feeling you have sometimes like you've broken one without meaning to. You think about how warm his voice is when he forgives you if you can't go out with him because you hurt too much or are too tired, long before now. In a way you can't fake your way through, despite how much you hate letting your body pull you down.

It's easy then. What you want… the picture is clearer.

"I promise Raffy." Because as long as you can, you will. Because he'll understand if you can't. If your body hurts too much, if your fatigue is too great, if you're drowning.

His smile is so relieved, so bright, you almost look away from him.

An artist could try to capture him, and fail a million times over. He is too beautiful, and too kind, to ever be recorded on paper or canvas.

"How come the invite wasn't extended to all of us, fish?" Sylus teases, flicking some water off his hands at Rafayel's face. Who instantly looks like a startled cat in response.

"Why would anyone want you there crow?"

"You doubt my eye for beautiful things?"

"I doubt your taste in anything but cutie."

The man laughs, amused and unbothered by the insult, "Perhaps you should paint them, I'll definitely appreciate the art then."

Despite your nap, as you watch them, as the room is warm, you find yourself leaning into Zayne. Eyes drooping, he adjusts himself to place an arm around your waist, "You should go to bed if you're still tired."

The disgruntled mumble makes him huff a soft laugh, but he allows you to stay leaning into his side, as he turns paper, and reads. "Your specialist's work is very clear." He hums in approval.

"Approval from Doctor Li." You manage to tease, "I'm in good hands."

"You are. Though it took a little while to convince Sylus of that."

The man in question half shrugs as he stirs a pot, "There is no compromise with your health Kitten, I'd drag a doctor from halfway across the world if I had to."

This time Raffy nods, as though it's an obvious thing. To have the money to do that. Or, you think in Sylus' case, the power to do that. You'd be a little worried about the doctor's state of mind though. Kidnapped by a criminal and dragged to Linkon.

"It'll be ok." You manage, though sleep is pulling you under yet again. The net is there, ready to catch you. You feel a kiss pressed against your head, but it is dim and it is far away, and you fall before you can respond.

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side

part 2 is out! part 3! part 4!

whaddya know, i already have my first piece of writing that's not for an rp. it's a mess, but that's okay, because i admit i have no clue what i'm doing! i welcome all feedback as long as it's not just plain mean. when i asked for writing ideas, i was suggested to try my spin on the twst bully!au, and so i present: reader/yuu is done with their bs. no beta we die like my sleep schedule. genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, slight yandere that hasn't escalated yet word count:896

You’d had enough, thank you very much. The constant jeers, “misplaced” textbooks, and shoves in the hallway were only the beginning. Before long, you were beaten and bruised, and all for what? Just because you didn’t have magic? According to your research, the majority of the population here didn’t either! But alas, such was your plight. The professors turned a blind eye, and Crowley couldn’t care less.

So, when someone “accidentally” dislocated your shoulder during PE, you decided enough was enough. The students you’d never bothered to learn the names of were one thing; you were going to call your former friends out on their bullshit. Despite Grim’s protests, you dragged him all the way back to Ramshackle the moment you had a break in between classes. Why that timing? Because the model student prefect would never cut class, of course!

You locked the door not once, not twice, but three times, thanks to the padlocks you’d had placed on your stuff in the past. Then you took your time creating the Junk Tower. Your materials were all the scraps people had thrown in your yard in the past. You had quite the collection. The windows? They’d been boarded for years, according to the ghosts. Back door? Kalim had it removed. Something about first years sneaking in. You figure it’s better not to ask how he managed to have a door seamlessly replaced with walls in one afternoon.

About twenty minutes after the last class of the day ended, you had your first knock on the door. “Oi, prefect, open up!” Ace demanded. Because of course it was Ace. He was the first student you met here, so it was only fitting that he’d be the first to know you weren’t fucking around anymore. You ignored him.

The knocking stopped “Oi Ace, maybe they’re not home?” Deuce, ever the voice of reason, pondered. You weren’t sure whether to love or hate him. He’d stop others from picking on you, sure, but the moment you disobeyed him, he went back to his old delinquent ways.

“Well, they weren’t in class, and there’s no way my prefect’s with someone else, so they’ve gotta be inside!” Ace insisted. His prefect? Since when were you his? Did Ace eat something funny while you were gone? Because the last you checked, he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

Deuce’s voice dropped an octave, or maybe two. You weren’t too sure how that applied to speaking voices. “Oi, Ace, what the fuck do you mean your prefect? They don’t belong to you!” Yes, thank you for the reality check. Deuce must’ve had the brain cell today. “Obviously I’m way closer to them than you are!”

Scratch that. Deuce did not have the brain cell today. Really though, what was with them? Why in the world were they fighting over who was closer to you when all they’d done lately was make it clear how much they hated you? Oh, wait. They thought you could hear them. This must be some sort of trick. Trey and Cater must’ve put them up to it, since they were far too dumb to think of anything this elaborate on their own. You decided to ignore everything they said from here on out.

All was well, until Adeuce simultaneously let out an ungodly screech. Now that was troublesome. What could possibly scare those two like that? Surely nothing good for you. With luck, it’d be Riddle come to behead them for not wearing fluorescent pink or some other dumb rule, but you wouldn’t bet on it.

You soon had your answer. “Ne, where’s Shrimpy? I wanna squeeze ‘em!” Suddenly you didn’t blame those two for being scared. Floyd Leech in a bad mood was always a force to be reckoned with. You could never tell if he was in a good or bad mood when he was “squeezing” you, and quite frankly, you’d rather not know. The sick fucker probably took pleasure in hearing your bones pop and crack under the extreme pressure.

“Floyd-senpai! The prefect is, uh, we’re not actually sure where they are,” Ace volunteered. You almost pitied him, having to put up with the more rambunctious Leech during basketball practice. Almost.

“Hah? What do you mean you don’t know? Crabby is always crowding around Shrimpy like a little parasite,” Floyd whined. Um, what? Is Floyd in on the joke too? Is the whole school conspiring against you? You wouldn’t put it past them.

A cloud of dust blew up from the floor where you swung your foot back and forth, making you sneeze. You froze. Did they hear that? Wait, what were you acting so scared for? What were they gonna do anyway, break the door down and hit you? All within your expectations when you’d formed this plan. The point was to prove that you wouldn’t just sit and take it anymore. You’d seen all their dirty little secrets, especially during the Overblots; you could hit them where it hurt if you felt like it. No one would ever think the perfect little prefect would tell someone else what they’d confided in them! So when Floyd broke the door down with a display of monstrous strength, you were prepared. You greeted them with a smile. “Ne, you guys,” you began, “would you believe me if I told you I’m done with your bullshit?”

[sister-of-hitoshi]

Begging on my hands and knees for a Warumono san x small chubby reader who has body image issues PLEASE- like he doesn't understand why humans feel so saddened about their bodies sometimes, or why they think skinny people look so attractive???((I'm going off the idea that for his alien culture, it's very much akin to Sparta types of likes and stuff, ie: everyone wants to be the strongest in order to serve their planet and help.))

To my lovely anon, this is my first ever ask!!! Thank you so much for having faith in me with your request (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠) I hope it's alright ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

Sending loads of love your way<33

...You love me more??!!

Genre: Slight angst, fluff

Character: Warumono-san/Mr villain

Warnings: Body image issues ahead! Please love yourself <33

It was a regular day-off date at a nice cafe.

A regular day of admiring this tall and handsome man who had taken pity on your state a few days back and started to temporarily date with you.

Yes.....That's what you explained to yourself. There could be no other explanation.

It was just another day.

Another regular day of self-loathing.

You were never happy about yourself. At your home, you had even put some translucent sheets over your big wardrobe mirror as some sort of barricade which deterred you from seeing your full figure. You didn't care if you couldn't properly see which dress was more flattering on you, it was better than seeing your ugly, unflattering self. Yes...ugly.... unflattering...

"...There's no way that this hot guy would actually be in love with me." You muttered to yourself absent-mindedly, the other half of your brain busy admiring his sharp feautures. You were never going to believe that he was actually in love with you. You knew your place.

But what you didn't know was the extent of Mr hot guy's love for you.

For he was even willing to choose you over his lovely pandas.

Even though it had only been a little while, he became so open to you about almost everything- well everything except for his job and identity which were classified information. You were so soft to hug, just the right size for him to squeeze his chest when patting your head or booping your nose. You were just way too adorable. So much so that imagining you in a panda onesie was enough to make him cough up whatever food he was having at that moment and roll on the ground back at his home.

Right now at this quaint little cafe, as both of you were lost in thought about the other, you didn't fail to notice how his face suddenly became all serious as he scrunched up his brows.

Well it looks like even he's disgusted now.

He was about to say something when you beat him to it.

"I'll excuse myself to the washroom."

You didn't wait for his response and hurried away.

"Of course", you said to yourself. "Of fucking course."

You loved him so much, you were so scared that he was actually going to bring up his disinterest in you at the table, so you excused yourself first.

Your fist slammed beside the sink.

A coward. That's what you were.

"I knew it from the start... that's why I didn't try to love him too much but...what can I do when he's so good with me?..." You bit your lip hard, the air felt nauseous. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Why did he have to be so attractive and kind..."

It seems even your tears were mocking you, for they were fat, full of the weight of your misery.

"I hate myself, and I love him, and I hate that he has to date such a miserable looking person like myself"

With tears rolling down your cheeks and you using your hand to wipe your face to no avail, you turned around to leave the washroom and fetch some tissue papers from the dispenser. Seems like you couldn't even wipe off these ugly tears.

But before you could even comprehend it, you were swiftly hugged by strong, large arms.

"Y/n....what happened?"

A man with his familiar deep, soothing voice, voiced out his worry. This made you cry harder.

Mr villain felt akward, he didn't know how to comfort his favourite earthling who was crying like this infront of him, so he did what he thought calmed him the most when he was feeling stressed. He hugged you and patted your head.

"Oh it's nothing....But it's okay if you want to stop now....I know we are together only temporarily and I know too that...you don't really like this ugly unflattering thing that is me-"

"Y/n what are you saying?" He shook you by the shoulders. This was one of those very rare times when he was swiftly losing his composure. But he knew that he needed to comfort you right now. You are his top priority.

"You're my favourite. I love you..........even more than I love pandas"

Wait- wait what?

"No no- wait- pandas are your favourite, even a kid who sees you for the first time will get it... And you're telling me you love me more??!!"

You fake-gasped and started laughing a bit, finding it really absurd but more unbelievable.

He was glad that your tears that stopped now, and that he had internally taken snapshots of your face and saved them to his memory. He means- you looked so adorable even when crying. His poor heart could only take so much.

Deciding now was the best time, he confronted you.

"I heard everything Y/n."

His deep voice ran through your being, making you shiver. Your immediately became tensed. He noticed this. He only held you tighter.

"I really love you a lot, and I love hugging you too. Why would the way your body looks really affect my love? I love you for who you are"

You immediately looked up at him, and the sincerity in his eyes was enough to break all the bars of negativity that were caging you in.

"I appreciate that you like me too, so please accept that I love you, both you and your body, and I want you to love yourself the way I love you" He continued to look at you through his bangs, until he suddenly turned away from you.

"Iloveyourcuteness"

"Hmm? What was that? Can you please repeat it?" You were trying to lighten up the situation now, so you playfully pleaded him with those big doe eyes that always made him kneel and pull on his bangs even he even thought about them.

"I love your cuteness... you're adorable. The perfect size for me to hug and p-perfect for a kiss-"

You brought him down by the shoulders and kissed him on the nose.

He became so blushy, his eyes became glossy, he was so awkward and genuine, your love for him grew tenfold, while his for you grew manifold.

It seems that everything that you had claimed to know about your situation was entirely wrong. But this was a wrong that felt right.

___________________________________________

"So why were you scrunching up your brows at me and making a serious face back then? I thought I had offended you...haha, sorry if that's the case though" you said, looking at him bashfully while scratching your cheek.

"You don't need to be sorry, it was just me trying to imagine you with a panda costume...sort of"

"Oh."

The response did little to conceal your vibrant blush. You internally screamed and kicked your feet, he was soooo cute being all mumbly and blushy, you'd definitely make it a point to surprise him with it later, heheh!

Well looks like you'll have to say 'bye-bye' to those sheets now.

[darylbae]

I LOVE YOUR DARYL ONESHOTSSS AAHHHHH

i wanna request another vampire Daryl x fem reader pretty pleaseee

I would write this myself but I do not trust my writing skills LOL. A basic summary would be a lone reader who kinda just travels around, and one night when seeking shelter from a thunderstorm she finds this guy named Daryl, barely alive, and nurses him back to health (as much as she can by feeding him rabbit and meat barely cooked per his request), before realizing that Daryl is a vampire but couldn't really care less ("There's dead people walking around and you think a guy sucking blood and being deathly allergic to garlic will astonish me?").

Maybe for some backstory the reader is looking for their dad (or something like that) who got taken by raiders, so she's traveling around trying to find him and killing anyone who gets in her way, so by the end Daryl and the reader make a deal that Daryl will help her, and she just has to provide the corpses.

Ofc, don't feel obligated to write this, I'm sure you get so many requests anyway 😭😭 Again, love your fics!

sweet thing — daryl dixon

in which you meet you make a deal with vamp!daryl, hoping to benefit each other

note: i hope this is what you wanted anon, and u are too kind! i am so grateful for every lovely comment i get, it really keeps me motivated to write.

The rain was pricking at your cold skin, eyes almost closed to keep the droplets from invading your sight, and there wasn't an end in sight. You had to find him. Your dad, the only familiar sight left in this damned world, was gone. You'd sat around a fire one night, sharing a can of beans, giggling about another guess the song game you'd been playing. Then you'd woken up, and he was gone. You knew he'd been taken, it wasn't hard to realize, his stuff still surrounded you as you cried into his jacket that morning. There had been raiders on your trail for a while, it was actually a group you'd split away from a while ago. Looking to drag you back in. Why hadn't they taken you too? You wondered every day since, all thoughts leading to you feeling too useless to anyone. So now you wander, hoping to find a lead to get you back on track to finding your dad again. You'd spotted a metal panel propped between two trees, it had almost resembled a hut, and it seemed the only shelter for miles. It'll do for tonight.

You'd lost count of the days now, it all consisted of walking, stopping to eat and drink, kill walkers. Still in the same God forsaken woods that you lost your dad in. The raiders typically stayed in wooded areas, easier to conceal themselves, which was proving to be true. Leaning against the coarse bark of the tree beside you, you'd sighed deeply and readjusted the gun on your hip. Another stolen prize from the raiders which had helped you immensely in escaping. It was time to search for a place to stay. It had started raining again, however much worse than it had last time. Thunder was booming around you, the rain quick to soak your clothes and your hair becoming stuck to your skin. In the distance you could see a shed, or what looked like a small house. Your brain had squeezed onto the hope of shelter, picking up the pace as you broke free of the woods. It was, in fact, a small home. A bungalow of sorts, good enough for you for a few nights. It didn't seem occupied, but you were still cautious, so you'd equipped your blade and held it up as you breached the door. It was worn down, seemingly vacant since outbreak. But in the corner, by a fireplace, you had spotted a shadow. A moving shadow. You hadn't thought it through, you just rushed over to the person, in hopes it would have been your dad. It wasn't. But it was a man, who seemed to be on Death's door. Wheezing in and out, shivering as his coat laid over his body, ghastly pale. You'd thrown your bag off your shoulder, ripping it open to find your makeshift First Aid kit. "Hey, you still awake over there?" You asked, incredibly surprised at your confidence around a stranger. A wounded stranger. He grumbled, giving you enough confirmation to keep administering First Aid. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch."

Turns out he'd been stabbed, too weak to patch himself up. These were all just guesses, as he'd remained silent in the corner ever since you'd gotten here. However, he stayed. Even as you went out to find some dry firewood, after the rain had stopped, he was still sprawled out in the corner of the room. You'd started a fire, and sat comfortably in front of it as you let your food cook and clothes dry. "Do you have a name?" You asked, glancing over to the man. He met your eyes for one second, pulling them away from yours in the next. He remained quiet. "If we're going to inhabit the same home for a while then the least I expect is some information." You spoke, stabbing the bits of rabbit with a stick on your improvised grill made of wire and clothing hangers. "Daryl." He mumbled, taking the coat down from his face and sitting up. It was nice to see more of his face now, and strands of his hair stuck on his face. His voice was smoky, gruff, kinda hot. You hadn't thought about someone like that since before the world ended. It had just been you and your dad, except for the group of raiders you'd abandoned. You smiled into the fire, happy you were making progress. "Want some rabbit?" You offered, waving the end of the stick over at him with a cooked chunk of rabbit meat. He shook his head. "I'll find my own food." "Come on," you huffed, "eat some damn food. You need it if you want to heal." "I like it rare." "How rare?" You asked, ready to chuck some more on the grill. "Not touched the fire kinda rare." You grimaced, gesturing towards the cut up meat on the floor next to you. He leaned forward, wincing as he held his stitches, and stole a few pieces for himself. It didn't satisfy him like you probably would, but this was unbeknownst to you, he had to sit in the corner and control himself. You'd been nice enough to keep him alive, so he owed you that much. "So why do you eat raw meat? Won't you get sick from that?" You questioned, done with your food for the night and just using the fire for warmth. He shook his head. Guess that was too far. Silence lay heavily on the pair of you, Daryl too interested in a crack on the wall, and you watching the flames dance in front of you. It was you making all the conversation, so you had assumed that was it for the night. You'd climbed onto the couch, laying as comfortably as you could, and closing your eyes, hoping to have a dreamless night. "Ya won't believe me. You'll run." You heard, and you'd sat up, facing Daryl who was now sat up, arms resting on his knees with his head dipped down slightly. "Why?" You asked. "Why would I run?" Daryl paused. He didn't want to be alone again. As new as you were to his life, he liked company above all else. Even if you were pushy. "I prefer humans." "You're a cannibal?" You shivered, sat up properly now, ready to make a run for it. "NO." Daryl answered, "well, kinda." "Vampire?" You asked. Judging by his silence, you were right. And it shocked you how... normal you were about it. "Okay." You laid back down, clothes still damp and uncomfortable. But sleep was catching up quick. "Ya ain't gonna run?" He asked, and there was a hint of innocence you could hear. Like a child that had been walked out on one too many times. "No," you answered, still laid down but eyes open and looking at him, "the world has ended, the dead are alive, and you think a guy sucking blood and being deathly allergic to garlic will astonish me?" "Myth." You smiled, happy to close your eyes again. "You gonna suck my blood?" He wanted to, so bad. He wanted to taste that sweet blood pumping around that pretty body. "No. Don't wanna hurt ya." Your heart quickened, and you were embarrassed how much of an effect this stranger was having on you. You needed some action. Bad.

The fire was out when you'd woken up, and the man in the corner, Daryl, was gone. You lifted your head, noticing the coat that had once covered him, was now covering you. Your cheeks tinged pink at the sentiment, as you'd sat up fully now, still keeping the coat nicely snug around you. He hadn't left, surely? You'd made your way outside, the heavy thud of your boots alerting him of your presence, as you'd found him on the porch smoking. "So you can still smoke, huh?" You asked, sitting down next to him and observing his demeanor. Even the way he moved was hot. "Same as you are, just different diet." "Guess that answers my question of how you're in the sunlight." You giggled, and you could almost see a smirk threatening to show on his face. "Want your coat back?" "Nah," he croaked, mid-inhale, "looks better on ya." You couldn't quite believe your life had come to flirting with a vampire in the apocalypse. "Going somewhere?" He asked, and he was a lot more talkative than yesterday. You shook your head. "All I've done is wander the woods for God only knows how long, I plan on staying for a while." Daryl knew it was a topic for another night. So he stayed silent. "Gonna find some dinner. Stay inside." He instructed, standing up and stubbing the end of his smoke. You nodded your head at him, planning on making this home a bit more homely.

Daryl had been gone a while, and you'd cleaned up the place a bit. Making it look not-so-run-down. And you'd even found a book, to accompany you as you waited on dinner. He'd returned back after sunset, having been gone all day. And you were becoming ravenously hungry. "Took you a while." You commented, slamming the book closed and getting up to get the fire lit. "Yeah, sorry," he grumbled, "see ya kept ya'self busy." He looked around at the space you were sharing, seeing it didn't look nearly as bad as it did when he found it. You had only just looked up at him, seeing a sleeveless shirt and being more interested in that than the deer slung around his neck. His toned arms, patches of blood and debris from hunting all day, it was enough to drive you mad. "Hey," he clicked at you, and you felt shameful, "eyes are up here." He joked, and you smiled awkwardly at him. "Ready to eat?"

You'd eaten a good amount of meat, both of you now sharing the couch. Shoulders touching, thighs touching, your heart was beating loudly in your ears. "What's got ya out here?" He asked, his gruff voice sending goosebumps up your arms. But the question was something you didn't know if you were ready to share the answer to. But Daryl could help, he could get you closer to him. Finding your dad again was all that matters. "It's been me and my dad for the longest time. We'd met up with a group of raiders a while ago, who did things we just weren't okay with, so we up and left in the middle of the night." You sighed, heart aching for your dad and wherever he was. "They've been hunting us since. And we settled down one night, and when I woke up, he was gone. Taken. I've been trying to find him ever since." Daryl's hand found your thigh, and you almost jumped at the contact. "I'm sorry." He offered his condolences, and the feeling of his hand on your leg was starting to catch fire. "Not your fault, unless you were a raider." You turned to him, and he shook his head, that smirk appearing once more. "What's your plan next?" "I'm not sure, I just needed shelter for a few nights so I could conjure a plan, until I found you." You admitted, a sweet smile upon your lips and you looked at him. Friendships tended to form a lot faster in the apocalypse, but you weren't sure what this was. Daryl was silent for a moment. "You given up?" "No. Never." "Well let's look for him, together." He suggested. "I'll rip through that whole group if I have to." "You'd help me?" You asked in disbelief. "I like ya company," he confessed, like a dirty truth, "wanna keep ya around. Gotta help each other out." You were beaming on the inside, if this wasn't confirmation of a friendship, then you didn't know what was. "What do I do for you?" Daryl looked at you, your sweet, innocent features, eyes full of curiosity and hope. You'd seen things, but you were truly broken yet. "Help me find bodies, people, not worthy of life, and I'll help ya find ya dad." He demanded, but his voice was low. You found yourselves inching closer together, and Daryl's thumb delicately dragged over your cheekbone. "Sweet thing. I'll help ya."

[strugglingbutstillfighting]

🫂 with Sonic and Tails?

the emojis literally were just a black box on my phone so knowing what the actual prompt was had to wait until i used my laptop fsdkal also i couldnt start this for the life of me but wanted to do it bc it's already been days so my platonic partner gave me a starting sentence which helped

"You told me this wouldn't happen again."

Sonic made a face at his past reassuring words being used accusingly by his own brother.

"I knoww..." He dragged out the word a little, trying to come up with something justifiable. "But I'm fine, see!"

He spread his hands as if to prove the point by demonstrating the lack of mortal injury. Unfortunately, the few scrapes and bruises he had picked up didn't help the claim. Plus, Tails didn't even bother to look around from the kitchen counter.

Only the more than necessary aggressive sounds of chopping filled the short silence as Sonic dropped his arms back to his sides.

Faced with his brother's silence back and tails twitching in agitation, Sonic sighed quietly and padded forward.

"Tails, you know I don't leave you out of things on purpose," he started, "it's just--"

"What if you'd been badly hurt?" Tails finally spun around to almost shout, and Sonic took a physical step back at the tears in his eyes, stunned.

"I..."

Tails sniffed. "Never mind," he muttered, starting to turn his back again, but Sonic quickly stepped forward and put one hand on a fluffy shoulder.

"Hey."

He waited a moment, but Tails refused to look at him, keeping his face turned away although he didn't move to shift out of the light hold keeping him in place.

The tomatoes that had been victim of the forceful chopping leaked watery red on the light surface of the counter as Tails watched. He sniffed again.

"I made these devices so we could always know where someone is if needed." His voice was quiet, more matching the tone that he'd had when they'd first met than the competent genius in front of Sonic.

Sonic added nothing to his reply this time. "I know."

"It just... It's important to me. To know where you are, if you're hurt. If anyone is in danger." Tails bit his lip. "I know none of you really get it, but..."

"Hey." This time the call was firmer, and Tails finally turned his head to face his big brother. Sonic's eyes were focused but gentle. "It doesn't matter if we get it or not. If it's important to you, then it's is important. You know I'm not great with all this tech stuff, or proper words."

He gave a small grin and wink, prompted Tails to sniff again to hide a huff of amusement.

"But, I am sorry. Your big brain will have to forgive your big bro's small mind," he fluffed the fur atop Tails' head, relieved to hear a snort of laughter instead of another sniff.

Tails rubbed his nose and nodded, but his eyes were still downcast. "It's just... if something goes wrong. If something happens... I won't know where to find you. And it might be too late if I do. Or I never will and-"

"Hey, I'm okay. And so are you. I'll do my best to remember, okay?" Sonic used his other hand to gently nudge Tails' chin up, making sure the younger saw the honesty in his older brother's genuine expression.

The watery-ness had mostly disappeared, and Tails nodded again, but Sonic abruptly pulled him closer, leaning to put his head on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around the fluffy back as tails flicked in surprise.

There was only a moment before the hug was returned, Sonic's body squeezed surprisingly tightly by smaller arms.

Half-chopped tomatoes and onions watched impassively from in front of a frying pan on the counter Sonic could now see. Tails had been making chilli dogs in the absence of his brother, prepared for his return despite fear.

"Sonic?"

He allowed himself another quick squeeze and breath, then pulled back, keeping hands on the fox's shoulders briefly, offering a grin at the slightly concerned expression.

"Looks like you're makin' a lil something for lunch, buddy. Want some help?"

[miupow]

Omg, guess who Lia???

These days cockwarming with jjun thoughts are so on my mind, Lia... I mean just imagine how he'd just not move within you, and test if you like dirty talking, to see what stuff from his filthy mouth makes you clench, or actually some other teasing like touching and playing with your tits and nipples, or your clit but not moving in you is the best torment he can give you, when you're dripping so much and he feels so warm...

"jjun p-please," your small pleas are dead to him from the moment he actually stuffed his fat cock in you, the stretch even so pleasurable, all the thoughts in mind abandoning your conscience where all you see is to beg, but Yeonjun's not listening to his princess tonight as he stills your moments from gripping thighs hard and tight, restricting any friction/stimulation you try to get by squirming or moving yourself ever so slightly, but that's better than nothing, or so you thought, the feel of having him stay still in your warm heat, your core embracing his length, and actually squeezing him as tight as you can sometimes, oh Yeonjun really did enjoy that and deep inside as tormenting it is with the exciting butterflies dancing in your stomanch, you liked it when you shouldn't have. "you want me to fuck but you aren't letting me, baby. if you clench s-so tightly, I might break when I move, so what's it then? Fuck or.. this..?" damn cunning fox. He knows why he isn't moving, watching you fall apart from slightest stimulation by him, absolutely watch you go nuts for his slightest acts of service, he is so obsessed for interested in such a side of yours as his smirk does not falter a little, if anything, it only curves more. "What's wrong baby, cock not enough? What does my pretty slut want? I can see her losing her mind, just by cock huh, isnt it baby?" fuck, you weren't supposed to moan and clench at that. Yeonjun's eyebrows arch a little and he notices your sudden clench at his words, how your hands actually arch themselves along your back but he isn't fucking you, is he? "jjun please, do something." At this point, Yeonjun's lost count of how much you have said 'jjun please's to him tonight, but he just has begun. "Exactly, what do I do baby, when you're clenching at me and not letting me fuck, come one baby, slut up and say it." no. Not again you shouldn't clench but you do, why is he so lewd with his words that makes you wanna clench at him, is he having a control on your body? Oh yes he does but this. Fuck that laugh he lets out, as he grabs yours and cages them in his one hand and caresses your thighs, laying pressing and soothing touches as he reaches your inner thighs near your cunt, filled with his cock, the sight so fucking lewd to see, as his eyeballs curve into crescents and he smiles so heartily, his princess is perfectly sized for his cock, dripping exactly as he desires, "fuck... could you look at this, how dirty, you love my cock so much huh? Look at how well you've taken it all and yet dripping, clenching at my praises, ah, see that's exactly what I mean... f-fuck that's my slut." He is so lewdly articulate with his words, having you drip like taht, but he isn't getting enough, when you're trembling at his cock, him absorbing every tremor that your cunt exudes, your sweating face and your desperate face, just like he wants. "jjun, f-fuck me please." He shifts his gaze at you, with a pouty face that he makes, as he looks down at you pity, he tsks so much as he speaks so mockingly, "well, baby... no." As he teases your clit and gets you to squeeze him more, uh oh. It's so good, I want more. She is so perfect.

IS THIS NOULLI i am so sorry i've been sitting on this for ages gatekeeping this little drabble i almost wanted to keep it for myself it's so good but others have got to see it... i'm losing my mind i'm gonna be so embarrassed if this isn't noulli omg

i've been on such a yeonjun brainrot era this is wild and darksided and evil!!! my brain rn omg

[crsssie]

the blue of your eyes, the blue of the sky

word count: 3.3k

warnings: hurt/comfort

summary: all the colors in the world couldn't compare to the blue of his eyes

You wonder some days how things ended up this way.

The setting sun paints your skin a colorful gold, a golden color you can't see, a golden color that your supposed soulmate says looks gorgeous. The sky is supposedly red, red bleeding into pink which then mixes into purple, a hundred colors that the average human eye can detect. Colors that you can't see no matter how hard you try. You met your soulmate, you did, but you can't see color in the same way he can. The only reason you know he's your soulmate is because years ago when the two of you had just met, you saw the most brilliant color in the world. The crashing of ocean waves, the dazzling baby blue of the sky, the blue on your soulmate's vigilante suit, the mesmerizing cerulean of his eyes.

You locked eyes with Nightwing, saw the most dazzling color of your life, and then as fast as it had come, it disappeared, your footing loose, falling off the same roof you had met your soulmate.

Something about your visual cortex had been damaged from the fall, rendering you unable to see the other colors, even after meeting your soulmate. Something else about how Broca's area made it so that you would slower speaking, speak less, less words, words easier. Essentially, your ability was back to that of a seven-year-old. The words are there, but they would come out slower than on average. You didn't care. Your brain still worked. You were more bothered about your vision.

The only color you knew was blue.

The blue of that one moment when you got to see your soulmate's eyes.

Two hours after you woke up, a man had rushed in, gorgeous blue eyes, reaching for your hand, his heart stuttering.

"I'm sorry." He had gotten on his knees, crying. "I'm sorry," He repeated, whimpering it, the same word repeated over and over again, tears dribbling down his face, and you looked at him. He had the same eyes as your soulmate. Nightwing, was it? You sat there in the bed, letting him cry, no words finding their way past your lips, unsure of what to say. What do you say? It's alright? It's okay? I don't mind that I lost my ability to see color because of you? You had just stared in silence, only blinking lightly outside the window when he had stopped apologizing, glancing longingly at the blue that was fading out of the sky.

"What color is that?" You squeeze the hand in yours, pointing at the sky, the fading dark blue.

"Purple." He mumbles. "That's purple."

"Does the sky turn purple at night?"

"It turns dark blue." Dick whispers. "It's purple because the sun is setting."

"What color is the sun?"

"At this hour, red." He mumbles, eyes bloodshot. You notice the streaks in his eye, blinking slowly.

"What color are the streaks in your eye?" You whisper.

"Red."

"Do your eyes turn red after crying?" Your voice matches his.

"Yes." Dick closes his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." You whisper.

Dick takes you home, your place, to pack up. Soulmates were expected to live together. It didn't matter if the two of you didn't know each other. It was the norm, and his place was better than yours, so it didn't matter. You packed your stuff, and Dick told you he'd take care of your furniture, asking which pieces you wanted to keep. "It doesn't matter. Keep the packaged boxes in the storage." You couldn't see any of their colors anyway, but those photos meant something to you, even if the only thing you could see was blue.

"Do you want a separate room?" Dick smiles apologetically, and you stare at his dog, crouching down to pet her. The grey in her hair has streaks of blue, so she looks very much faded to you.

"What's her name?"

"Haley." He smiles. "Bitewing too."

You scratch her stomach as she rolls over, and you blink at Dick.

"She has streaks of blue in her fur."

"That's good." Dick smiles. "is she blue?"

"A very faded shade of blue, but blue nonetheless." You whisper, gentle smile on your face. "A blueish grey."

Most colors look grey to you. You stare at the computer, splotches of grey all over it, reaching to press the buttons on the screen, taking the color picker, learning the colors based on the RBG of it all. You drag the mouse across the screen, almost as if you were intrigued by the other colors. Dick finds you on his computer, mouse dragged at a certain point, mumbling quietly, trying to memorize what shade of grey of the colors that weren't blue.

"What... color is this?" You point at the color on your screen, no traces of blue visible at all.

"The lighter one," Dick points. "Is yellow. The darker one is red."

You go back to scribbling on the page, colored pencils splayed out on the table. A thousand words on a sheet of paper, Dick finds. He can't cook for you, but he's worried you'll hurt yourself while cooking, so the two of you are stuck with takeout. You don't complain, asking him for the color of the shrine on the Chinese takeout box.

"That's red too."

"Brighter than the one on the screen?"

"Yeah."

You slip a piece of orange chicken to Haley, going back to your own food.

"Is there blue food?"

"Artificially dyed." He smiles at you sadly.

"Don't look at me like that." You frown. "I'm only asking you because I can't see the other colors."

"I know." He can't stop the guilt from crawling up his throat and eating him alive.

You turn to look outside the window again. "I want to travel."

Dick blinks at you. "To where?"

"Everywhere." You mumble.

You long for a freedom that Dick can't give you. He knows it, yet he returns home in the early hours of the morning, staring at your sleeping form in the bed, curled up next to your phone, Santorini and the Aegean sea on it, the clean waters of the Blue Lagoon, the Great Barrier Reef, all the blues in the world in your hand, a fascination with the ocean visible from your glowing screen in the early hours of the morning. He tucks himself into bed next to you, arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing just a little harder than usual, almost as if scared to lose you.

But you never bring up traveling again, almost as if you had realized you would never get to go. Your soulmate was in Blüdhaven, you were born and raised in Blüdhaven, the rest of your life would be here in Blüdhaven. You had no future in a place you had never visited before. You would be stuck in a city of red (as Dick had told you) and you would be stuck with the bricks and old architecture in the city. Your fingers would brush the bricks as white would come off of it, power on your fingers. The city was not where you belonged. It was evident in the way you spent so much of your time on the internet, longing for a place where you could see color on buildings.

"Go." Dick mumbles one night, blinking slowly as he focuses on the way your phone screen lights your face.

"Hm?"

"Go." Dick repeats himself, more sure this time. "Find yourself in the cities of blue."

"Are you sure?"

Dick wraps his arms around you tighter, burying his face into your chest.

"Go." He whispers, like a quiet prayer to you. "I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes."

Dick sends you off with a card of his and a kiss on your forehead, promising to wait, promising to send you messages and updates. You smile at him, something more genuine on your face, your lips pulled upward, excitement all over your body. There's something else on your skin, something sweeter, something prettier. You look like you're ready to leave, and Dick won't be the one to hold you back.

"How long will it take?" He mumbles, forehead pressed to yours.

"I will tell you." You smile.

And as with all things, Dick lets go.

Dick busies himself with rebuilding Blüdhaven as you busy yourself with the cities of blue, taking polaroids and noting down cities, gluing them into scrapbooks, scribbling little notes to yourself and Dick, texting him updates on your life. You wanted to ask him where he got the money, really, but just from the fact that you had never worried about where to stay or when to leave, you were thankful. You collect blue trinkets, taking notes on your phone as to why that one specifically, smile on your lips when you find ones that remind you of Dick's eyes. You missed them no matter how gorgeous the cities you lived in were.

"Hey." You hum, pressing speaker on your phone as you settle into the bathtub.

"Hey." Dick hums. "Where are you now?"

"I'm in Santorini." You hum.

"Did you go to Iceland already?"

"Yeah." You yawn.

"Where to next?"

"Wanted to see Istanbul." You hum. "Oh, and then I wanted to see Palestine."

"That's quite a jump." Dick mumbles, placing Haley's bowl down. "Anywhere between that?"

"Thought about Tibet, and then I wanted to see Japan."

"Isn't it cold there?"

"Yeah, but their skies are super clear. Oh, and then after Japan I was thinking about Hawaii."

"Are you going to the Maldives?"

"Maybe next time." You mumble. "Oh, and Cancun too. I also found out Havana's buildings are bustling with color, so I'll definitely stop there before I head back to Blüdhaven."

"Is it fun?"

"Hey, how are you funding my travels?"

"I was left two billion dollars by my father's butler. He didn't have children, so my father and I were the closest thing to children he had."

"Ah." You mumble. "What kind of a man was he?"

"He was..." Dick smiles gently, telling you about Alfred, about all the times he had been raised and taken care of, memories spilling past his lips from his heart, forgetting about time. You hum along, listening, staring out the window, the ocean at your fingertips. You reach for the blue, closing your eyes as you imagine what Dick's eyes look like, chest warm, heart fluttering.

Your name spilling past his lips causes you to come back.

"Hm?"

"What about you? You send photos, but you never tell me anything."

"I miss your eyes." You hum. "The blue of your eyes."

"Yeah? Can't find them anywhere?"

"No." You breathe. "I miss your eyes." You exhale again.

"I miss your eyes too."

"Yeah? What about them?"

"The way the stars reflect in them when you stare at me when I get back from patrol," Dick mumbles. "The way they hold hundreds of stories behind them, your entire history and heritage, the laughter behind your eyes when you're about to smile. I miss the reflection of a thousand souls in your eyes."

You laugh. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dick hums. "So enjoy your trip and find all the colors of the world and then return, will you?"

"What color's the grass again?" You glance at the plant next to your bathtub, a new color appeared.

"Green."

"I found a color back." You grin, the green registering in your vision. "Green."

"The color of Jason's eyes, the color of grass, the color of..."

"The color of the palm trees." You smile. "Thank you, Dick."

"Anything for you."

You stare at the grass, wind blowing in your hair, blinking slowly at the color. You wonder what's green in Blüdhaven. Was it the grass in the park where Alfred's statue was put up? Was it the reflection on some of the windows when you passed by? You wonder if you could see more colors in Blüdhaven now. Maybe you'd be able to stop at Metropolis before heading back. Maybe you'd get to see the brilliant red on Superman's diamond when you return. You start buying green trinkets when you arrive in Istanbul, bread tucked between your arms, capable of telling which parts were actually moldy and which parts just had raisins. You bite into the breadstick, entering the airbnb you stayed at.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket.

"Hey," You pull your water bottle from your tote bag.

"I heard you're in Turkey." Dick hums. "Well, not heard. You sent a picture."

"Yeah. What color is the building? It's starting to register." You hum, biting into the bread again. "It's also... in the bread?"

"The building was yellow." Dick hums.

"The color of dandelions." You mumble. "The color of dandelions, the color of the sun in the sky, and the undertone of some people's skin."

"Yes. The color of gold, the color of the chip brand you love so much, and the color of the lemon Lipton tea bags." Dick continues.

"Huh." You mumble. "Is it the other color that makes up green on the color wheel?"

"Yes."

"And the color of the S on Superman's diamond?"

"Yeah." Dick chuckles. "It was also the color of my cape when I was Robin."

You click on your phone, pulling up a photo. "Oh! It is."

"Yeah."

"Also the color of the bat on Batman's logo."

"Yes."

"And Duke's suit?"

"Yeah." Dick laughs.

"Yellow is mostly commonly..." You mumble. "associated with happiness?"

"To most, yes."

"How about to you?"

Dick laughs, color of your eyes spilling past his lips, smile in his voice. You can hear it in the way he speaks. You smile yourself, biting into the bread again, humming. The city starts turning off through the window, your gaze following the street lights.

"Are the street lights yellow too?"

"Yes." Dick hums. "So are lanterns."

"Can you take me to see fireflies when I return?" You turn off the lights in your room.

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

The yellow of the sun is much brighter, and the gold on top of the Dome of the Rock is breathtaking. You take a photo, sending it to Dick, noticing the blue and white on the bottom, staring in awe. The tour guide tells you to stay a distance away from it, but you stand in front of it, eyes on the gold of the dome, blinking slowly. You buy a keychain to remember it.

The rocks across the dead sea register slowly in your vision, the color unfamiliar to you. You're too shy to ask one of the other tourists what color it is, texting Dick instead, a photo of the rock. You float in the sea for the rest of the afternoon, sand in your fingers as you wait for Dick to call you. One of the other tourists convinces you to smear the sand on your face, creating a makeshift mask.

You finish showering in your hotel, noticing the missed call from Dick.

"Hey—"

"Orange." Dick cuts you off. "The color was orange."

"Like the fruit?" You raise a brow.

"Yeah." Dick laughs.

You purse your lips. "What are some orange things?"

"The fruit, a lot of flowers," Dick pauses. "The color of a sunset, goldfish, carrots."

"Is Babs' hair orange?"

"Yes, but it's referred to as red hair."

You frown. "So she's a redhead but her hair's actually orange?"

"Yeah."

You purse your lips. "Are pumpkins orange?"

"Orange is kind of a fall color." He hums. "You'll get to see it while traveling."

"I thought fall was more of an American thing?" You raise a brow, closing the light to the bathroom.

"It is, but it's equally gorgeous in other countries. Which country's next?"

"Tibet, then Japan." You hum. "Anything you want from there?"

"I'd like for you to come home quicker." Dick jests, laughing lightly.

"You should retire and come join me." You sit on the bed, kicking off your slippers. "I'm sleeping. Night, Dick."

"Night, sweetheart."

The mountains are gorgeous, colorful flags flying in the air when you visit, the head of the shrine a color that reminds you all too much of orange. You ask one of the locals what color it is, the young girl pressing an envelope into your hands, whispering a word into your ear, the same word rolling off your tongue, the girl smiling. You're dragged around her, shown a couple more places, the new color learned in Tibetan, your cheeks flushed the same color after running around so much. You return to your hotel, fingers on your keyboard, texting Dick.

He video calls you.

"Hey."

"I learned a new color." The Tibetan word rolls off your tongue, and Dick blinks at you in confusion. "I think it's red."

"The color that looks like orange?"

"A little." You grin. "Is it red?"

"Yes."

"Red is." You pause. "Red Hood's helmet?"

"Yes. Red is also the color of blood, the color—"

"Like when your eyes were red from crying." You breathe.

"Yes. That too."

You look outside your window at the rooftops. "Is red the color of roses?"

"Red roses."

You hum. "Can you bring one for me when you come pick me up?"

"Of course, darling."

"Oh, and," You grin. "I'd like a rainbow rose, so I can tell you all the colors I learned."

"Of course." Dick laughs. "Now get to bed. It's late."

"Very late." You grumble. "Night."

"Night."

The last color you learn is purple. It materializes as you stare at the wisteria of Japan, visiting the garden, staring at the flowers as you blink slowly. Purple. It's the color of Spoiler's suit, now that you think about it. It's the color of wisteria flowers, Spoiler's suit, the color of the sky as the red of the sun bleeds into the blue of the day, and the color of royalty. You buy a wisteria keychain, finally able to see everything in color on your travels. You take a final photo for your scrapbook, clicking on the website to fly straight back to Blüdhaven. You wonder if you should tell Dick about purple.

"Any new colors?" Dick hums into the phone as you yawn.

"No."

"Not purple?"

"Not really." You mumble. "The mix of blue and red, right?"

"Yes."

You blink at the wisteria keychain in hand. "I saw the wisteria flowers, but it was in grey."

"Yeah?"

You bet Dick already knows you can see purple, but neither of you say anything.

"Oh, yeah. I'm flying back next week."

"Already?"

"Yeah." You laugh. "I miss your eyes."

"Just my eyes?"

"Miss you too." You hum, glancing at the moon. "Alright, I'm sleeping."

Dick greets you at the airport by spinning you in the air, lips pressed to your cheek affectionately, adoration spilling past his eyes as he spins you around in one arm. He holds a bouquet of flowers in the other one, only setting you down when you ask for him to, kissing his cheek, grin on your face.

You've changed.

Dick hands you the roses, and you pull him to your height in excitement as you tell him the name of each color, a second language spilling past your lips for some colors. You blink at him expectantly when you finish, and Dick sighs, laughing.

"And the color of my eyes?"

"Blue, obviously." You roll your eyes playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Missed the color of your eyes."

"Yeah?" He rests his forehead on yours.

"Yeah." You grin, staring into his eyes. "Missed that blue."

"What blue is it?"

"Dick blue," You stick your tongue out at him.

"My very own shade? Like the universities?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "My favorite shade of blue."

"God, I love you." Dick whispers back, breathless, heart racing in his ears.

"I love you too." You whisper back. "Thank you for waiting."

"Always."

[ndostairlyrium]

‘ Stay in bed, please. ’ for Ankh and Cullen 🙏🙏🙏

HI <3 Thanks for asking!!

...I went overboard with this one too aaaaa

Caring Meme

Time and Place

Cullen x Lavellan | Rating: T | 1112 words

The raucous barking of early morning Bonbon awakened her.

More than the barking, it was the convulsing movements of a forty kilos mabari over a bed that was small even for her and her husband alone.

She squeezed her lids open to understand what was upsetting him. Usually Cullen would calm down the darn dog whenever he had early morning zoomies. However Cullen wasn't in bed, he was walking around it nervously, wearing his under-armor and holding a brush. Bonbon was probably throwing a fit because he wasn't being acknowledged enough.

Ankh turned to the window. It was dark outside, so dark that she couldn't tell when Denerim's rooftops ended and the night sky begun.

The natural clock she had inside her brain suggested her it could have been around two or three in the morning. The dog kick on her stomach reminded her that it wasn't such important information.

Ankh massaged the wounded part, trying to find balance as she rose to tackle-hug Bonbon. The dog - who usually would love the idea of an early morning fight - just scrolled her down and reprised the barking.

"That's very rude of you messere," she scolded him, crawling on the sheets to get out of bed. "Vhenas, the dog is hating on me. Again."

Cullen froze in place, looking at her in confusion. He pointed her with the brush. "Did they take my armor again?"

Ankh stood up clumsily, leaning on the right. "Ah, fuck! I lost my sock," she said, glancing at the naked left arm. "We're both losing stuff today, huh?"

Bonbon intervened with a nasal growl.

"We're all losing stuff, sorry for not including you," she corrected herself, with an eye roll.

Cullen resumed whatever his head was telling him to do, while Ankh lit enough candles to avoid her husband to get hurt on the mess he was leaving on his path. At that point, Bonbon's barking had become white noise.

"What were you saying, vhenas?" Ankh asked.

"I can't find my armor."

Ankh tried her very best not to yawn. "Can I help?"

Cullen stopped again, in front of that trunk which held the few clothes they kept there. "Can you tell your secretary to stop stealing my armor?" he said, waving the brush in her direction. "I know he means well, but it can't be waxed all the time. It ruins the steel!"

Ankh reached him, calmly. "I'll have to remind him. Don't worry, I'll make sure the spanking will be public," she joked, as she observed him.

Cullen's face was clean and cured, a sign that he had groomed it while she was asleep. Luckily his beard was present and his curls free of pomade, so the episode didn't bring him back to the past entirely.

"What about the armor tho?" Ankh asked.

"What about-" Cullen furrowed his brow. "My sweet sweet deathroot, we have council in two hours, I'm surprised you're not at make-up yet."

Ankh sighed, as she missed those days in which she had a staff, mostly because of the pampering.

"Vhenas, we all agreed that I needed some time off," she said, nodding to her missing arm. "Cass will cover for me, I'm sure Rylen is already at the barracks."

Cullen huffed. "Ser Rylen doesn't know shit about the new routes," he grumbled, digging through their wardrobe. "I just need my armor."

"And what about me? Do I get back to bed alone? With Bonbon?"

"It's Ser Byron."

Bonbon calmed down immediately. Cullen seemed to come to terms with those surrounding him as well, even if he didn't look too convinced.

Ankh stepped closer to him, smiling. "What's with the brush?"

Cullen gave it to her. "You left it at your desk yesterday, I thought I'd bring it back before everyone sees you."

"Why thanks!" she replied, for then starting to comb her hair. "What would I do without you?"

He smiled back, describing her face with the sweetest look. "You are so beautiful."

Ankh chuckled. "Wait until you see me in daylight. I'll stun you whole," she joked.

"Can you go speak to your secretary now?"

"I can do better," she replied, moving across the room. "Come, I need a lift."

Cullen followed her pronto to a wall; there they found a line of shelves filled with boxes. Ankh pointed at one of them, then was lifted to reach and grab it.

"There you go!" she said, placing the box on the bed.

Cullen opened it, sighing in relief. "Thank you my love, at least this one is safe." he said, showing his old cape lined with fur. "How did you-"

Ankh placed the brush on her bedside table. "Bonbon helped."

The mabari barked, approving of that white lie. He then started sniffing the item of clothing, sneezing because of the dust.

"Yeah, I know, I should wash it more often," Cullen said, brushing the fur with his fingers lovingly. After he folded the cape, he placed it on the bed.

Ankh sat down near Bonbon, stroking his back. "See? I told you dad would appreciate our effort. Now he can come back to us."

"Back to us? Lav, we should get ready."

"We have time, I promise."

Cullen wore a shade of urgency in his expression. He looked at her, then Bonbon, then outside. His eyes lingered on the inky landscape for a while. "Are you sure?"

She patted his side of the bed. "Trust me, I'm a pro at time and place."

Hearing "trust" sealed the deal. Cullen moved the box at the end of the bed, then reached his side, sitting on it for a moment before laying down.

Bonbon went to him for a hug, Ankh followed immediately after.

"Will you speak to your secretary later?" Cullen asked, incapable of resuming his sleep.

Ankh nodded, cradling him and Bonbon in her arm. "I'll scold him good," she reassured him.

"Let me fetch my boots, I-"

"Vhenas, stay in bed, please," she asked. "I'll warn you when it's time to go."

Cullen relaxed his shoulders a little. "We have so much to do lately."

"Oh, plenty!" Ankh agreed, caressing his back gently. "Wanna keep me up to date on something? I'll prioritize it when we meet with the girls."

Cullen's whole body relaxed. "We need to reschedule our meeting with the queen. She's…"

Ankh listened to every word he was saying, intervening from time to time until he was too tired to speak. Once his eyes were closed, she placed a kiss on his forehead, fixed his hair, and covered him and a - now calm - Bonbon with a blanket. "Gotchu," she whispered, as she closes her eyes for good.

[apprenticestanheight]

Work Stress- Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

ALLLLLLL RIGHT, welcome to the monthly "my mental health is shit" fic that I bestow upon the people whenever my mental health isn't as great as it could be, which--in fairness--is nearly all the fucking time.

Two of these might be coming out this month, though! I have not had the greatest streak of days without anxiety lately and I write fics whenever it gets really bad. The day I finished this one, I was like "I am going to write something. for chainshipping (again)" so a chainshipping fic will probably be out by the end of the week

On some other notes, A: while it's not explicitly stated, the reader is what's traditionally considered midsized as that's what I am and I wanted to write a fic with my body type. As per usual with me, the reader is generally gn but as I know the anatomy best, they're AFAB. B: requests are starting to get looked at! I have one waiting to be finished, edited and posted sitting in my drafts but otherwise will have probably looked through and decided which requests I will do vs which ones I won't by the time this has been posted. Things will probably start coming out at the end of this week and keep coming out into next.

Fic type- this jumps into a lot of differing areas, but the main genres are quite possibly the oddest combination I've ever written--smut and angst.

Warnings- as this fic contains smut it caters to an audience of people 18+, so minors, DO NOT INTERACT. There is A LOT here--p in v, oral (both recieve, even if on Adams end the oral is only mentioned), doggy style, fingering, petplay kind of (I was trying to think of a gender neutral petname and puppy was the only thing my brain could think of at first. It's literally just used as a petname and gets overshadowed by 'baby' after a point bc I remembered that that word existed--I wrote a lot of this while tired, pls take some of the stuff in it with a grain of salt), as for sfw warnings: there's a mention of loss of appetite in relation to extreme stress

It's no secret to Adam that you've been having a very, very rough year.

You've been living together since just a couple weeks after he'd escaped the trap--he was taken from his apartment and found it too anxiety inducing to stay there so you let him move into yours.

You'd been dating since you were twenty one and at twenty six, moving in was bound to happen eventually, but getting out of his lease was taking a hell of a lot more time than Adam had originally anticipated.

He noticed every rough day in the bags that you'd begun to sport underneath your eyes, how late you came to bed and your reluctancy to be very affectionate with him--whenever things got bad, be it at work or with stuff going on in your head, you withdrew and pushed him away--and in the fact that you weren't eating as much, in that you always looked like your mind was somewhere else, wandering off completely.

So, one day near the middle of November--where he'd started to notice your bad days in very early March--he joins you in the kitchen while you speak to one of your bosses via phone call.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze. He wants to cheer you up--you're prone to bad days due to insecurity and because of a long-standing not so great track record where your mental health is concerned--and, in that particular moment, finds himself willing to do anything.

You give your best go at grinning back at him, but it comes out looking like more of a grimace. You let Adams hand go to run a stressed hand through your hair, returning your hand to Adams and letting him interlace your fingers thereafter.

"Yes," you whisper. "I understand that things are always tough in the last quarter, but--" you sigh dejectedly as your boss cuts you off, and Adam presses another kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a minute.

"Yes, Earle--but you're not seeing the point here. I'm eligible for the raise because I've kept the teams afloat! The only reason you're not also eligible for the raise is because you took an eight month vacation with PTO that you quite literally stole from other employees, myself included, and just because Monica isn't willing to fire you over that doesn't mean your actions didn't warrant alternative punishments," you lean forward, press a kiss to Adams shoulder. Adams grin widens slightly as he notices that you're visibly relaxing from his touches.

A solid two minutes of shouting pass by on the other end. Adam gives your hand a supportive squeeze whenever Earles voice raises another octave in his shouting, pressing kisses against your temple when you let him pull you into a half hug. He keeps hold of your hand when the position changes, your torso pressing against the counter as Adam stands in front of you.

"Earle--I am eligible for the raise because you took six weeks of PTO from me, which I only get thanks to our companies union," You snap. "Now, because I had to spend so much time doing my fucking job, unlike you, I'm eligible for enough of a raise to make me capable of buying a home by '06, and if you're pissed off at me for that, I genuinely cannot help you any further. I have a boyfriend who I would much rather be talking to over your sorry arse, so I'm going to hang up now and if you call me back, I will ignore it. Have the day you deserve, asshat."

You hang up the phone and sigh, gaze meeting Adams in an instant.

"'M sorry," you whisper, biting your top lip for a few seconds as you look at him. "Work has been a fuckin' mess since like, the end of February. I just--damn it all."

"Eh, Earle sounds like a dickhead," Adam laughs. "How does one even get away with--eight full months? Of PTO? How?"

"Per the union agreement we have, we get six weeks a year," you start. "It's why I'm always off in December--I like staying home when it gets cold, gives me an excuse to read and drink more tea than I should--but we've moved to digitizing off time recently. Took the six weeks I'd planned to pace between the end of this month and all of next and switched them up for himself. Did that with five other employees and still, Monica doesn't fire him. Just makes me eligible for a raise of fifteen dollars on company dime because the off time I lost out on forced me to do more while I was there. Our company has one hundred and eighty-six employees in the Jersey branch and a bunch of 'em like taking spaces in the last six months of the year off, so it was me managing two teams of eighty people. Not easy work at all."

Adam blinks. "Did Monica even offer to give you the PTO back?"

"She gave me hers," you shrug. "Earle can have a lot of fuckin' fun managing one hundred and sixty people by himself. I'll find out if I get the raise tomorrow morning and my PTO will kick in then, too. He can eat shit as far as I'm concerned, I have a long list of books and two boxes of my favorite tea to drink my way through as of tomorrow."

You let Adam lead you into your shared bedroom, humming as you lay down on your bed and close your eyes.

"Are you okay?" Adam asks.

"Been a very, very stressful eight months," you laugh. "Trying to think of what I need and only one thing continually comes to mind."

"What's that?" You can hear the eagerness behind the teasing tone in Adams voice.

"I need--uh--" You laugh, suddenly feeling a little awkward. Propositioning Adam for sex was not typically done with words but kisses and your hands on his chest, relishing in the way that he looked when he lead you to your bedroom and fucked you senseless.

"Go on, baby," Adam whispers, his lips suddenly near your ear. "Gonna say it?"

You hum, suddenly embarrassed at yourself, and Adam laughs.

"Use your words, puppy," He whispers, pressing a kiss against your earlobe. "How am I supposed to know what you want me to do if you don't use your words?"

You moan helplessly in response.

"You really are cute," Adam says. "Tough while at work, one phone call later and now you're helpless that you can't even speak. Can't even say one word."

"Adam," you breathe, both because it's the one word that's coming to mind and also because you know he loves the way you say his name when all you want is for him to fuck you.

"Good puppy," Adam presses a kiss to your cheek. "Tell me what you want me to do, mm? I'll do whatever you want, but if you want me to fuck you, know that you'll be in bed for a long time once we go to sleep. You're going to come a lot tonight, puppy. You deserve it."

You moan in response. "Please," you whisper.

"You want me to fuck you, puppy?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Adam--I need you to. Don't wanna think anymore. In eight months, I've thought enough for eight lifetimes. Fuck me senseless, please."

"Whatever you want," Adam says, pulling you into a long kiss that has your head spinning.

You spend the next few minutes like that, in a kiss that's so intense, so loving and so fucking good that you wonder how you've been able to go so long being fine with quick kisses and self gratification.

The first kiss reminds you of how amazing it is to be kissed by Adam whenever the more dominant side of him comes out for a bit of fun, the way that his hands anchor themselves on your hips before one slides up your torso to cup your face, the sureness of his tongue in your mouth--everything feels amazing, and it's almost like it's too good to be true.

And then Adam pulls away for air and your eyes are opening and his lips are against your clothed shoulder, breathing in deeply with a smile on his face.

"I'm sorry we've not been--well--" you start. Adam tilts your chin upward and presses a kiss on the underside of your jaw. "I've been a terrible--"

"I've missed this, sure," Adam says, pressing another kiss against the underside of your jaw. "Yeah. Of course I've missed it, Y/N, but I absolutely understand that you've been busy. Work has kept me busy, too, so I'm just glad we can have tonight. I've missed you so much and I just wanna make you forget about how shitty the past months have been. Wanna make sure the only word you remember how to stay is my name, and that's what I'm going to do tonight, puppy. Sounds good?"

You nod eagerly, which makes Adam laugh as the hand that's on your hip gives it a squeeze.

Your gaze becomes affixed to a random point on the ceiling as Adams kisses rove across the scope of your neck, one hand on your jaw to move your head whenever he wants better access.

After a point, you start to realize that his kisses are getting longer and not too long thereafter you realize that Adam is carefully laying hickeys over your neck and is taking his time with doing it.

You want to murmur a quip, do something to jab at the possessiveness hickeys usually carry, but right as you go to do so his lips and tongue find a home on the pulse point on the right side of your neck and all you can do is moan softly, one hand finding his hair.

"Adam," you whisper. "Fucking hell, Adam--you're going to drive me insane. Please don't stop."

You hear Adams laugh, slow, amused, a little sadistic. "Well, if I'm the one who drives you to insanity, I think that means I'm the one who has to pull you out of it, doesn't it, puppy?"

With the use of that one, silly nickname, you're reduced to what is basically a human shaped puddle, and Adam knows it. Whenever he calls you his puppy in a slightly dominant tone, your knees are at risk of giving out and the look you give him is tantamount to torture if he intends to tease you until you're begging.

"Mhm," you hum, moaning as Adams lips press in a peck against your pulse point. "Also means the same if you put me into subspace with all this foreplay, Adam."

Adam grins, and you let him tilt your chin so that your head turns to meet his gaze.

"Of course," he says. "I'm basically an aftercare god, despite the fact that Scott dunked on me for it while believing a cigarette afterwards is anything less than the bare minimum--I'll take good care of you once the session is done, puppy. I promise."

Your shoulders relax at the reassurance, and you grin as Adams lips press against your forehead.

You nod after a second. "Okay," you say. "I--thank you, for this. Pre-emptively."

Deep enough into subspace and you'll borderline on mute, only able to focus on how Adams ministrations feel. You have no doubt he intends to take you there tonight, so you feel the need to thank him before you slink that far in and have to wait for it to wear off to speak a coherent sentence to him again.

"We both need it, so it's my pleasure," Adam says, starting to undo the buttons of the black long sleeved button up you'd worn to work and had yet to take off that day. "And yours--it's both of us. I promise I'll start getting more dominant in a sec, these buttons hate me."

You laugh a little, helping him undo the rest of the buttons. "They're square. They hate everybody, me included. Getting this shirt on was a nightmare this morning and I've been reminded as to why I never wear the damn thing."

Adam uses the small of your back to guide you off the bed just enough to be able to completely take the shirt off, following it by the oddly quick--Adam is very, very good at undoing the pesky little hooks that hold bras together, oddly--removal of your bra.

His lips are on yours again, one hand on your bare hip while the other finds itself cupping your face, tongue gliding across your lip in asking for entrance which you grant as your arms wrap around his shoulders.

Kissing Adam in moments like that is always amazing--kissing him has been one of your favorite things since your romance started, even quick and chaste kisses that don't last more than a few seconds. Kissing Adam has never ceased to be an absolute delight, whether it led to sex or was used as an alternative form of "hello" "goodbye" "good night" or "good morning."

And then his lips start traversing down your neck once more, and then they go further.

Adam starts draping kiss after kiss across your torso, lips pressing against you in a way that allows his tongue to poke through his teeth as he kisses you with his mouth slightly open. Every single touch of his cold tongue against your warm skin makes you clench around nothing, quickens your heart rate and feels so impossibly delightful. Adam is kissing you in a way that damn near drives you insane, and you feel yourself sinking into how good his lips and tongue feel against you as he delivers praise between kisses.

"Such a good puppy for me, mm?" Adam murmurs when he's close to your belly button. "Taking all of this so well even though you probably just want me inside you already. Such a good cumdump for me, puppy. Perfect."

You hum in response, eyes drifting down to meet his gaze as he looks up at you. He smiles, briefly, before continuing with his kisses, letting himself spend a lot of time on your hips before his kisses rove across your stomach.

He kisses along your v-line slowly and in a way that makes you want to start begging, hands roving up from your hips to your biceps.

He glances at you for a second in the asking, waiting for you to nod. You do so and Adams hands move to your pants, taking them off along with your underwear before laughing at himself.

"I've got you here, lookin' fucking perfect," he says, kissing your bicep. "And yet I'm still clothed."

Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and he lets you pull it off, kissing the side of your shoulder as he watches you toss it near the laundry hamper in the far left corner of the room. Next come his pants and his boxers, which Adam takes off in a manner that's somehow effortless despite his continued kisses to your biceps throughout the process.

"I forget how much I love your arms until I'm kissing your biceps again," Adam says, laughing a little. "Fuck, baby. Your arms are fucking gorgeous."

You hum, pressing your head into the pillow behind you as Adams kisses start up again and his hands start wandering. One settles against your face, cupping it softly, and the other goes wandering delightfully down your torso, not stopping until his fingers are millimeters above your clit.

He pauses, gaze meeting yours in a way that feels almost a little sadistic.

"Gonna make you come so many times tonight, baby," he says. "Safe word?"

"Hibiscus," you whisper. It's a precaution for when you get really kinky, a word you came up with but, five years into your relationship, have yet to actually use.

Adams lips press against the center of your collarbone, "good puppy," he whispers against the skin.

His fingers start making slow, tantalizing circles around your clit, and his kisses continue, roving down your torso and staying in the general area of your hips and stomach.

A few minutes pass you by, and right when Adam has picked up the speed and is bringing you to the edge of an orgasm, he stops.

When he notices the disappointment in the way your head falls back onto the pillow, he wastes no time in licking his fingers clean of the wetness spread across them.

"Didn't think I'd let you come so soon, did you, puppy?" Adam moves up, lips near your ear. "I did say I'd make you come multiple times tonight, but I said nothing of letting you do so without a little edging first. Gonna edge you until the sun goes down, at least, and then make you cum until at least one or two in the morning. Gonna call in sick tomorrow, too, so that I'm not worrying about waking up and going into work."

"How much more time until the sunset?" You ask. It's four--the sunset can't really be so far off, can it?

"An hour," Adam says. "But--to be fair, a lot more can be done in an hour than one might think. Also--eight hours between five and one am. Assuming that the session exhausts you, you'll probably wake up close to noon tomorrow, but there's snow in the forecast and I'll probably make you a cup of tea if I wake up before you do."

You hum. "Thank you, Adam," you whisper. He kisses you deeply, and you can still taste yourself on his tongue.

"Don't thank me," he says when he's pulled away. "It's what good partners do, especially when I'll have practically rearranged your guts and it'll be a reward for doing good anyway."

You laugh. Adam presses a kiss to your forehead as his hands once again ground themselves on your hips and yours find his shoulders, holding him close.

"I love you, baby," he says. "Sorry that work has been shit."

"I love you too," you respond. "And--that's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself for mistakes that aren't yours, Adam. Please, just kiss me. Wanna forget about work and stupid fucking Earle--just wanna think about how good it feels to be touched and kissed by you. Please."

Adams lips press against your forehead again, his hands cupping your face.

"Gonna make sure you do," he says. His lips move to your biceps again, and you shudder an intake of breath as he leaves a hickey in the wake of one of his kisses.

You have a thought to call him a hickey fiend but don't--the risk of joking with him when Adam is in dom mode is not worth the reward even slightly.

His kisses trail down your face to your neck, and from your neck to your chest. You moan a little when his lips find your nipples, biting gently as his hands give your hips a contented squeeze.

Your head falls back onto the pillow beneath it, and you smile slightly as you hear Adams contented hum as he kisses along your chest from one nipple to the other.

The next several minutes are spent in pretty much the same state. Adam kisses your chest and neck with an open mouth, tongue all too eager to leave a trail of saliva behind his kisses. He's mostly quiet as he goes about it, but every time he does something to make you moan his hands squeeze your hips in acknowledgement.

And then his lips move to your stomach, spending an absurd amount of time leaving hickeys in the less obvious places. He spends more time on your hips which tells you you'll have dark hickeys to look forward to once you have the time to investigate the state of your body in a mirror, but he's not always the dominant one when you two are having sex--you'll find your moment where he's in a particularly submissive mood and douse his body with light-ish hickeys in some very obvious spots.

His lips move down to your thighs, and his gaze meets yours.

"You're feeling all right?" He asks, lips pressing gloriously against the top of your right thigh. "Need you to make space for me, puppy. Haven't paid your thighs attention in so fucking long--'nother minute of waiting and I will go insane."

You laugh as you spread your legs and Adam positions himself in between them, lips moving across your thighs as his arms slip under them and his hands find your hips.

The amount of attention he devotes to your legs alone is almost a little excessive--it takes him ten minutes before he's content to move from your right leg to your left, and then he's focusing on that leg just as long.

Then again--Adam has always loved your thighs. You've had moments of insecurity that they were too big to handle but he's always met your insecurity with reassurance, promised that he'd tell you if he was having trouble breathing whenever he asked you to sit on his face. He loves your thighs and your biceps, which are two of the areas where you find most of your insecurity.

And then you feel his breath against your folds, and you breathe in deeply while clenching around nothing.

"Wanna taste you, puppy," Adam says. You're nodding eagerly before he can even finish the sentence, wondering how it was that you managed to go eight months without feeling Adams mouth over your folds, his lips on your clit.

Adam is good at giving oral--he is fucking amazing at it, and as his tongue presses flat against your folds, his gaze holding yours, you find that it seems he's still as good as he was eight months ago.

His tongue runs through your folds for a very long few seconds before it presses against your clit. You moan at the contact, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as his tongue moves in circles around the bundle of nerves.

His tongue moves back to your folds, and your hand goes to his hair. You don't hold him in a tight grip or anything, just enough to ground yourself and keep yourself from slipping away.

It's hard not to slip into it, though. The grip that Adam has on your hips, the way he's eating you out like a man starved and that goddamned nickname he always uses whenever he's domming. All of it is so much combined, so much after eight months, and all you want to do is slip into subspace and just let Adam use you however he wants.

He keeps going until you're so close--teetering on the edge, nearly ready to come on his face--and then he stops, pulling away with a glistening mouth to take a breath.

And then he's lifting himself off of you, pulling himself up to press kiss after kiss after kiss to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and his hand is cupping your face.

"Please, puppy," he says. "Don't wanna go eight months without this ever again. Missed it."

It takes everything in you to drum up a response, still working through the second almost-orgasm of the evening.

"Never," you manage to mumble as your head turns, seeking Adams lips. He kisses you slowly, meaningfully, and you have a moment--just a moment--where you hate yourself for letting sex get away from you for such a long time.

Work has been eight months of never ending stress, eight months of managing one hundred and sixty people, dealing with a boss who claims to care about the team but only offers a raise to the five people from whom a guy stole off time rather than firing the idiot. You feel bad--work has taken the majority of your head space since March, and that doesn't feel fair in the fucking slightest.

"Adam," you whisper. He presses a peck to your lower lip and darts his tongue out to wet his own.

"Yeah, puppy?"

"Missed you," you respond. "'M sorry about work. I promise I didn't mean to get so busy, it's just--Earle and his fucking scheme, and Monica refusing to fire his sorry ass while he has the time of his goddamned life in Monaco, and--ugh. I don't mean to ruin the mood but it's just not leaving my head."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your forehead. "I know how you get, Y/N," he says. "I'm too drunk on the thought of your thighs around my head to even get slightly turned off right now but that's not the point."

He laughs again, thumb gliding across your bottom lip. "I've been worried about you but I knew work was probably the reason for your late nights, baby. I promise, it just made me cherish our lazy mornings even more. If you don't like working there, you can always quit, too--you've got your rainy day savings, and my job lets me cover the rent and have money left for groceries if you don't get something right away. Has anything else been bugging you or is it just work?"

"Just been in a funk," you respond. "The sex is helping a lot, but I've always found that being with you helps me like nothing else can. Needed this, Adam. Even if you've kept me from orgasming twice so far."

"Fifteen more minutes til sundown," Adam says. "You'll be so sick of coming when I finally start letting you, baby. I think I have it in me to last eight hours, but that's because I'll be giving myself a reprieve. You, however, might not get one. Dunno--it depends on if you'll want one, really."

"You'll know I do if I use the safe word," you respond. "Just--be soft with me, mm? I don't think I can handle being degraded too much, if at all. I'm scared that if you call me a slut with a mean tone I'll just fall to pieces and start crying."

Adam laughs, presses a kiss to your temple. "Think I've done enough edging," he says. "Kind of just wanna kiss you until you're begging me for more, baby. Sound okay?"

You nod, arms wrapping around his shoulders. "You really wouldn't be mad if I quit my job?"

"I would be the opposite of angry at you if you just announced it and didn't even give your two weeks," Adam says. "You've spent the majority of the last year giving them an arm and both of your legs in the effort it's taken to keep things afloat. You're up for a significant raise which I would wait to see if you got, but there are places that pay the amount you'd be getting after your raise as the starting salary, which only goes up after the first six months. I'd start applying to those places if I were in your shoes and I didn't get the raise I fuckin' deserved."

Adams lips drop to your collarbone. "'M so in love with you," he says. "And I'm sorry that work has been such a shitstorm lately. If you want, you can switch from a marketing job to working for a salary that covers rent and groceries with me at the bookshop? They're hiring all the fucking time and it means I can basically just...spend the entirety of my break just kissing you relentlessly if you do decide to join up."

You laugh, pulling a hand through his hair. "Maybe," you say. "If I don't get the raise."

Adam laughs, gently biting against your collarbone as his hands find your hips again.

"Love your hips, puppy," he says. "Will probably have to put lotion on the hickeys I left on 'em. Got a little carried away."

"I'll get my revenge somehow," you respond. "If you ever find yourself in a submissive mood, I will absolutely cover your neck in them."

"I like hickeys in obvious places, so long as you keep them light,"

"Oh, they will be. Everywhere but your pulse point--I happen to like your pulse point, Adam. Might get carried away worse than you did with my hips."

Adam bites your collarbone again, kissing up the center of it to the underside of your jaw before his lips are once again against yours.

"I love you so fucking much," Adam says into the kiss, giving your hips a hard squeeze. "Fuck, Y/N. Gonna make sure all of your stress is gone from your mind completely. Just want you to be thinking about me, puppy."

All you can do in response is moan into Adams mouth, closing your eyes and moaning once more as he uses your moaning to slip his tongue into your mouth, one hand coming up to cup your face.

You spend the next little eternity kissing, moaning whenever Adams hands squeeze whichever part of your body they've ended up near or on--typically your ass, just below it on your thigh, your hips, or your tits--and occasionally tugging at the hairs near the nape of his neck, where one of your hands rests.

And then, Adam pulls away. You gaze at him as he holds himself up by his elbows, a handsome smirk on his face.

"You're all right?" He asks.

The truth is, all you can think about is the memory of his cock inside you and you're convinced it's slowly driving you nuts, but by all other accounts, yeah.

You nod. "I'm amazing, Adam," you say. "Need to feel you."

As you speak the words, Adam is already reaching for his night stand on his side of the bed, grabbing a condom.

You roll it onto his length, one of your hands overlapping the hand he places on your hip as you lie back down.

Adam positions himself at your entrance, pushing into you slowly even despite how wet you are--you're more than ready to feel him, but Adam still goes slow to be cautious.

When he bottoms out, both of you moan. Your lips are almost right next to Adams ear, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, so the sound of you moaning just makes Adam want you more. One of his hands is on your breast, and he squeezes it, rolling the nipple between his first finger and thumb as you clench around his length.

After a minute, you're telling Adam he can start moving and his thrusts come to a slow start as Adam figures out the pace he wants to start with.

His lips have dipped close to your ear when he whispers, "you're so wet for me," and he kisses the side of your head before adding "such a good puppy. Fuck--you're amazing."

And you're moaning in response, starting to get cockdrunk as Adam moves in calculated thrusts, one hand propping himself up by the elbow and the other against your hip.

Your thighs wrap around his waist to keep him in place, and Adam laughs as he lifts the hand on your hip to cup your face.

"You like this, baby?" He asks. You moan, nodding slightly as your eyes close, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

"Such a good puppy for me," he says. "So good, baby. You're doing so good."

And then you moan again, and Adam presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. He quickens the pace of his thrusts, lips moving to your neck as the hand that was on your face moves to your clit, rubbing circles around it and delighting in the moans it brings from your throat.

Your release spurs his on, and while you moan and release around him Adam releases into the condom, thrusting his way through the aftershocks and the way that your legs start shaking with them.

He pulls out and discards the condom, heading back to you quickly and peppering your face with kisses.

You find yourself in a state of complete and total relaxation and euphoria. Adams hands on you make you sink further in, and Adam laughs a little--you're looking at him like he's the love of your life while you're practically drowning in post-orgasm bliss, which is a delightful and meaningful addition to the times in which you've looked at him like that, particularly whenever he's decided to surprise you with breakfast or when you wake up to find him admiring you as he'd woken up before you had.

"You're feeling all right?" The orgasm had been a little intense.

You nod, and Adam presses his nose against the apple of your cheek, pressing a quick kiss there as his hands find your face.

"Going quiet?" He presses his lips to your forehead. "Not for long, baby. I have at least seven more hours with you, yeah?"

You nod, and Adams lips are on yours again.

A lot of the time, you start to realize, will be passed with Adams lips against yours, his hands going somewhere on your body as you moan and whine at his touches.

You don't hate the idea, though--Adam is a damn good kisser and absolutely knows what he's doing with his lips and tongue. You've proven yourself capable of lazily making out with Adam for hours several times, though that was when the two of you were kiss fiends in the honeymoon phase and couldn't go more than twenty minutes without it.

But then, Adams lips trail from your lips to your chest, paying attention to it as his hands move from your face to your hips. Once he's paid satisfactory attention to your chest, he moves to your stomach, where, per the presence of your hips close by, he stays for a long ten minutes.

Then his lips are on your inner thighs and your hand is in his hair and all you can do is moan, one word waiting and ready at the tip of your tongue but not falling off of it.

You watch through half lidded eyes as Adams eyes lock on your cunt, nod fervently when his gaze meets yours and his head tilts in the asking.

His tongue finds your clit and he moves one finger, slowly, into your hole as his lips follow his tongue. You turn your head and moan into the pillow in an effort to silence yourself, but the noise level at which the moan sits is still so obscene that Adam chuckles, shaking his head as his left arm slips under your thigh and his hand finds purchase at your chest.

Adams tongue moves around your clit in evenly paced circles, finger moving at a calculated pace as he adds another. Adams fingers curl around your g-spot once every fifteen-ish seconds, and every time your moans get louder because of the action, Adam laughs a little and presses his tongue flat against your clit.

Adam has you pushed to your orgasm in fifteen minutes. You barely have time to warn him before you're coming over his mouth, chin, and his hand, but Adam hardly cares. He only licks his fingers to clean them and juts his tongue out to run it over his lips, all while holding your gaze.

And then he's kissing you and you're tasting yourself, humming into the kiss as Adam reaches one arm out and fumbles for the nightstand in search of another condom.

Adam gets it and rips it open, sliding it onto his length and motioning for you to get on your knees and turn around. You do as he says and Adam slowly slides into you, the both of you moaning slightly as he bottoms out.

Adam waits a minute for you to adjust to him, and once you have he starts thrusting. He sets an even, quick pace and moves a hand to your clit, moaning as you lean back and press your back against his front.

Adams lips find a spot in the space between your neck and shoulder, and every last one of the sounds you make spurs him on. His moans are low, typically comorbid with yours, and they come in between the praise he manages to mumble out as he moves and you start moving back onto him.

"So good," he mutters, biting gently against your shoulder. "Fuck--"

You moan in response, unable to form any coherent thought other than Adams name.

"Adam," you whisper as the pace at which Adams finger touches your clit increases. "Adam--"

You feel him smile against your skin, a cocky grin taking up his face.

"Yes, baby?" He asks, moaning as you clench around him. "Gonna use your words for me, mm?"

"Adam," it's the only word that comes to mind right now, though it'll be one of ten, at best, once he's pushed you to orgasm again.

"Adam, oh--" You moan as he snaps his hips up into you.

Adam keeps the pace he's set and it's not long before you're moaning loudly as Adams lips and tongue suck a hickey into the space where your neck meets your shoulder, your release occurring just seconds before his own, before he's a moaning mess as he thrusts into you through the aftershocks.

Adam pulls out and lays you back onto the bed before rolling the condom off and tossing it into the trash.

The cycle continues that way until you find yourselves nearing one in the morning. Your lips are wet with your own saliva after you've pulled off of Adams length and he's being sweet, your face in his hands as you start moving to sit on the bed.

"One more for me, baby," he says. In eight hours, you've come more than eight times, your legs are basically jelly, and all you have on your mind is Adam. "Just one more, mm? Then I'll run us a bath and we can just relax, I promise. Aftercare god, remember?" He laughs a little at the tail end of his sentence, cringing at himself a little bit.

And you're nodding, smiling at Adam as his lips find your inner thighs and you're blissed out on post-orgasm euphoria--Adam had let you touch yourself while sucking his dick, and you'd come over your hand as he shot his load into your mouth, which you'd agreed to let him do--and it's fifteen minutes til one and Adams lips against your thighs is absolutely amazing.

And then his lips and tongue go to your cunt, and you're moaning as your thighs wrap around his head, which leads to him laughing and squeezing your hips.

And Adam eats you out carefully, slowly, moaning as he does so. He's taking his time with you because you're blissed out and will definitively need to be easy on yourself in terms of walking after all that's been done. He's moaning, tongue moving through your folds in a way that feels incredible to both you and him, and his lips find your clit as he moves to start fingering you.

Adam sets a good pace, quick but not too quick, and curls his fingers at your g-spot with every thrust. You're moaning loudly despite the time and Adam is loving it, and then you're coming on his lips and his tongue and Adam is licking it off your cunt and his lips with a focused precision.

Then Adam is getting up, pressing a kiss to your forehead and telling you he'll be back in a few minutes. He tells you he loves you but doesn't expect a response--you're absolutely too blissed out to say much of anything, and he loves it because it's the first time in eight months where you've looked so relaxed, the first time in eight months where you've felt it.

Your eyes close as Adam leaves your shared bedroom, and you hear him starting up a bath. You smile to yourself, pressing your cheek against the pillow, having a brief, floaty thought of I am so lucky before Adam comes into the room again, smile on his clean face.

He kisses your eyelids, hands finding and interlacing themselves with yours.

"C'mon," he says. "I've run us a bath, baby. Gonna relax your legs, which are definitely sore by this point."

And then your eyes are opening and he's helping you stand as he tells you how much he loves you and how amazing you were during the session, and his lips are against your forehead in a kiss.

You're mostly quiet as Adam leads you to the bathroom, humming as you get into the tub with him.

You press your chin against Adams shoulder and in the next few minutes, you're still tired but the water is still hot and you're starting to form coherent thoughts again.

"Thank you," you whisper, pressing a kiss to Adams wet shoulder. He hums, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"For what?" Adam asks.

"For the last nine hours," you say. "For making me forget about work stress and for the sex."

Adam laughs, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "The sex was enjoyable for both parties, then," he says. "And--you're welcome, but you don't need to thank me. Just wanted to help you de-stress a little, and I'm glad I could do that."

You're in the bath together for thirty-ish minutes after that, and you let Adam wash your hair as he peppers your hickied neck with kisses and his hands run along your biceps. You wash his, and you spend the time waiting for the conditioner to set talking about your plans for the day as the day has turned.

Adam intends to let you sleep in and to make breakfast, and you intend to at least move from the bedroom to the living room after you've woken up so that you can read from the comfort of your couch.

You get out of the bath and, because your legs are still pretty sore, have barely any choice but to let Adam help you back to your room and sit on the bed as Adam gets dressed and grabs you clothes.

You get dressed into a pair of black boxers--they, Adam decides, will be comfier than sweatpants--and a hoodie Adam had during his baggy clothes phase that's baggy on you, too, and covers two thirds of your thigh before your knee amidst laughter and kisses that you share in the relative dark.

You and Adam end up going to sleep on the couch anyway so as to avoid halfhearted fighting about who sleeps on the wet spot on the bed from the sweat emitted during sex, curled up in each others arms with a thick, warm and fuzzy blanket covering you both up to your shoulders.

[theamityelf]

"I don't recognize myself." + Kamuegi 😏

(Okay, I'll try my best!)

...

Makoto's life with Izuru was far from boring, but there was a definite element of routine to it. Comfortable routine. Metronomic and pleasant.

That was why he knew before he had even finished opening the front door that something was going on.

Most days, Izuru was waiting for him at the door– a byproduct of his exceptional hearing, speed, and slight clairvoyance. Depending on how busy he was, Izuru didn't always open the door for him, but he was usually there to take Makoto's bag while he took off his shoes.

Makoto walked in, and the house was silent. He closed the door behind himself, fighting back the usual post-killing-game irrational fear whenever someone wasn't in the expected place at the expected time. He took some deep breaths as he progressed further into the house.

He could smell dinner.

It smelled delicious.

No sign of Izuru in the kitchen.

"I'm home," he called out.

He heard no response, but there was a light on in the bedroom. He warily walked towards it.

Okay. So, the bedroom itself was dark, but the attached bathroom was alight. He walked in and saw...hair.

A lot of hair.

The tiles of the bathroom floor were all but carpeted in hair. There was a discarded pair of scissors on the side of the sink basin and a lot of hair on the floor.

"Izuru?" he called out, a little louder. It wasn't like Izuru never cut his hair, and he did remember having seen what looked like a lot of hair be cut from Izuru's long mane without making a significant difference to his overall appearance. But this time, he knew it was a pretty drastic haircut. It had to be. And Izuru hadn't swept up after himself, which was unusual.

Makoto left the bathroom and, on a hunch, turned to the bedroom closet. The door was closed, where it usually sat slightly ajar. He opened it gently.

It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark, though he could tell at once that things weren't as he'd last seen them. All of his clothes had been pulled down from the hangers and lay in a pile on the floor, and...He squinted, and yes, Izuru was curled up in the pile, laying very still.

His hair was just about shoulder length, almost as short as it had been before the Project. Despite the state it was in now- mussed, like he had been raking his hands through it a lot, and haphazardly covering his face -it was clear that the trim itself was perfectly straight.

Makoto knelt at Izuru's side. "Hey. You look exhausted."

He didn't answer.

"I'm...going to bring you some water, okay? I'll be right-"

Izuru moved, lurching up to grab Makoto and dragging him into the pile with him. Makoto's heart couldn't help racing at the sudden movement, but he calmed down as he found himself pinned to the floor by Izuru's body, wrapped in his arms, and nuzzled by his head. Maybe it was his imagination, but it felt as though Izuru was noticeably lighter, without all his hair.

"Was today a hard day?" he asked, rubbing his lover's back.

A minute nod.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's easier...just to answer questions."

"Okay. Well, uh...Has it been hard all day, or did something happen at a specific time?"

"I was cooking dinner."

Yeah, he'd figured as much. "And what happened?"

Izuru exhaled. "Brain stuff. Identity crisis. Scissors."

Makoto nodded. "How do you feel?"

"I was angry. Suddenly I just felt so angry. And then the anger passed, and I was just...lost. And I needed to anchor myself." He squeezed Makoto tighter. "My anchor."

Makoto kissed his head. He absorbed the information for a minute. He hated the thought of not being around when Izuru needed him. "So...that's why it's just my clothes?" He glanced at Izuru's side of the closet, where all the clothes were still hanging orderly and untouched.

Izuru took a deep breath. "I don't recognize myself. But I recognize you. In the dark, without a word, I recognize you. Down to a single eyelash."

Makoto's heart ached. "I recognize you, too. Down to the callouses on your fingers."

"Callouses change."

"So do we." His other hand cautiously ascended to Izuru's head, settling at the base of his skull and lightly grazing his scalp with his fingernails. Izuru sighed contently. "Is it okay if we get up and...maybe turn some lights on? I still think you should drink some water."

"No. I want to cuddle here in the dark where there are no mirrors and the world can't touch us."

"We're part of the world," Makoto said lightly.

"I'm kidnapping you now. Your world is this closet."

"I'm getting up. I'm getting you a glass of water. And we can both eat dinner in the closet. Okay?"

"If you're not back in sixty seconds, I really will kidnap you."

"No, you won't. But, I'll be right back!" Makoto offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile, as he extricated himself from Izuru's grasp (and was promptly replaced by an armful of his jackets).

He hurried back about a minute later, balancing two plates of food and two glasses of water.

"Seventy-seven seconds," Izuru murmured.

"Thank you for your patience." Makoto set up the plates and glasses on the floor. "Is it okay if I turn on a light, now?"

"If you turn on the bedroom light and close the closet door, we'll both be able to see our food and I won't be overwhelmed."

"Okay! That works."

In the time it took for Makoto to turn on the bedroom light and return to the closet, Izuru had drained his entire glass of water and was halfway through his plate of food.

So you were hungry, he thought. Izuru's metabolism was as active as he was, and he had a bad habit of ignoring what his body needed, when his mind was fixated on something else.

"Any better?" he asked, sitting down at his own plate.

"It's possible the haircut suits me," Izuru replied. "I'm not ready to look at it again, or hear about it, but it's less cumbersome, at least."

"Good. No need to carry any more weight than you want to. Or have to. Whichever's less."

"You mean whichever is more."

He thought about it. "Yeah, I guess I do."

Izuru finished his plate. "I want some more water, but I don't want you to leave again."

Makoto slid his own glass in front of his boyfriend.

"No, I'm not asking for yours. You need to be hydrated, too."

"You had a worse day than I did. I'll survive."

"If you don't, I will menace what remains of society until nothing can grow from the dirt."

"No you won't."

"Yes I will. Stop undercutting my threats."

Makoto smiled at the crimson eyes glaring at him over the rim of his water glass. "Sorry."

Izuru passed him the glass back, half-full. "I sentence you to two hours in the closet nest with me."

"Jeez. When you give it a name like that, it starts to sound like it'll be there forever."

"Why not?"

"My clothes will be wrinkled!"

"I can iron whatever you're about to wear."

Makoto shook his head, half-laughing as he ate his food. Izuru...well, he clearly was not joking, but he was being a good sport, staying fairly lighthearted, given that he'd had a bad day. When he was ready to hear feedback about his hair, Makoto looked forward to telling him that it did, in fact, suit him very well.

[nifolution]

I Quit 7

Warnings: some smut, some angst, noncon touching, dubcon oral, Ransom is his usual asshole self, the Thrombeys are horrible, being drugged, undressed and tied up, name calling, threats

A/N: This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is written in 3rd person. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. Thoughts are in italics. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated. 

Chapter 6 Series Masterlist  Main Masterlist

Chapter 7

“I’m uncertain what exactly you are asking of me.” Harlan picked at the cuff of his shirt, awaiting his grandson’s explanation.

Two days ago, a pipe burst ‘unexpectedly,’ flooding Ransom's home. In lieu of a hotel, he decided to stay at the mansion while repairs were being made. Meanwhile, his relatives were getting ready for a week-long ski trip in the Berkshire Mountains to celebrate his mom’s birthday. The conditions were looking favorable. Hell, his father was so certain that everyone would be busy having fun, that he already paid for his current mistress to meet him there.

As tempting as causing some mayhem with his family and bedding a few snow bunnies sounded, his focus was solely on the seemingly unattainable chef. He had stolen a taste and craved more. It was time to switch tactics, no more messing around. He would get what he wanted.

When Ransom informed his mother he couldn’t go, claiming his recent hardship had caused him to come down with a cold, Linda sucked her teeth, told him he was acting like a baby and put the back of her hand to his forehead. A brief look of remorse crossed her face before declaring he clearly couldn't go in this shape. She then screamed for Fran, demanding hand sanitizer.

He could barely suppress his devious grin. Keeping up the act was easy. A heating pad to get his head burning hot, making sure to appear completely worn down and in pain. He’d pretend to blow his nose, stuff balled up pieces of tissue up his nostrils to sound congested. Force out a few coughs, wiggle his tongue on the roof of his mouth to trigger a sneeze. He had looking sick down to a science.

Ransom coughed into his fist. “You’re still paying her, you should have her cook for me in your absence. All that sumptuous food will surely help nurse me back to health. Plus I'll be here to watch over the place.”

“Please consider it. I’m too weak to even make my own toast. It's bad enough I'm missing the trip, don't let me starve.”

Harlan was skeptical, well versed in his grandson’s antics. Refusing to be swayed by the young man’s act of malaise. While true that he planned to allow Y/N to spend the week off with pay, he had not informed her of the decision. Ransom’s pleas to not be deprived of her luscious creations were entertaining. He wondered what he was up to.

After some back and forth, they compromised. Y/N would be paid for the entire week, but only be required to come in for a single day to prepare a few meals for Ransom to reheat.

Ransom nodded in agreement, already having visions of taking her under the wheel of knives. “That’s all I need.”

---------------

Y/N walked into the manor unsure why it gave her a bad feeling. Shaking it off, she convinced herself it was because the house was empty except for major asshole sick upstairs. She probably wouldn’t have to see him at all today. Just cook a week of meals and get the hell out of here. She hoped whatever was wrong with him made him miserable.

Making her usual pot of coffee, she got started.

---------------

“Wakey wakey.”

Y/N groaned as she attempted to open her eyes. The jarring light made her quickly squeeze them shut again. She turned her head into the pillow. The dull throbbing in her brain not giving her any incentive to try to get up.

“There she is. I was almost afraid I gave you too much. That would have been unfortunate.”

Ughhhh, why the hell is he here? Of course he’d show up when I already feel like shit.

Feeling too groggy to deal with him immediately, Y/N began to stretch, preparing herself to beat his ass. Something pulled painfully at her left wrist, not allowing her arm to move. Opening her eyes, she could make out the shiny metal binding her to the bed.

“What the fuck?” Y/N tugged at the handcuff, willing it to release her. Confused and pissed off, she searched for Ransom. Even with her vision blurry around the edges, she could tell this was not her room.

She followed the sound of his wicked chuckle until his blue sweater came into view. He stalked around the large bed, amused at her current predicament.

“Let me go, asshole!”

A chill came over her as he passed. Looking down, she was alarmed to find herself without a stitch of clothing on. Y/N clamped her legs shut, throwing her free arm over her breasts.

This can NOT be happening. I’m going to fucking kill him.

Ransom’s handsome cocky face appeared above her, unabashedly devouring her with his eyes. “I don't think I will. I went through a lot of trouble to get you here, good thing you still need that morning caffeine fix.”

“You drugged my coffee, you fucking psycho?”

He shrugged, “Guilty as charged.”

Disappearing for a moment, he returned, holding a glass to her lips. “You’re gonna need this.” Noticing her hesitation, he swore it was just water. Satisfied as she cautiously sipped it.

When she finished, he set down the glass and climbed onto the bed. Running his fingertips down her side making her squirm. “I prefer you like this. No knives, no boiling pots, just you and me.” His eyes darkened with promise, “And I'm looking at the only thing I want to eat.”

Y/N wanted to tear his eyes out. She tried to slap his hand away without exposing too much of herself, “Get your perverted hands off me, undo these cuffs and give me back my clothes. NOW!”

“Your anger is a real turn on.” He smirked, running his thumb over her bottom lip, “Let this be a lesson to you…”

“I always get what I want.”

Ransom pulled her arm away from her chest, biting at her inner wrist. He crawled on top of Y/N, pinning her arm next to her head. Effectively caging her with his body, he placed soft kisses to her neck, quickly turning ravenous.

She didn’t want to be feeling these things. Y/N’s stomach fluttered and her heart beat faster. Words failed her, lost in the sensations his greedy mouth provided. She did her best to show no reaction, but the goosebumps on her skin and her quickened breaths betrayed her. The effect of his touch was undeniable.

Taking his time to reacquaint himself with her breasts, his wandering fingers glided over her nipples. Moving his kisses down between her tits, as his hands caressed them. Lifting his head, he blew air across her nipples until they hardened.

He placed his large hands over each breast, massaging and squeezing them together. Increasing the pressure until almost painful. His rough actions in contrast with the softness of the pampered pricks hands.

The flick of his tongue over each nipple had Y/N clenching around nothing. An involuntary whine escaping as the wet appendage traced her areolas. Using his hot breath to further stimulate her peaks, he sucked one into his mouth, simultaneously pinching the other. Ransom alternated his licks and sucks between both breasts while she futilely attempted to resist.

Her skin was on fire, all her senses intoxicated with her tormentor. She swallowed as he moved down her body, leaving a burning trail with his sinister mouth and hands. He spread her legs with little resistance, settling between them like this was his personal throne.

First exploring with his fingers, he gently rubbed her clit with his thumb. Y/N gasped and tried to close her legs. Ransom swatted them back open and lowered his chin to rest on her mound, waiting for her to match his gaze.

It took a moment for her to look down, greeted with his beautiful blues staring back at her. The sight of him between her legs making her weak. His eyes carried a mischievous glint as he lowered his face. Her breath caught in her throat when he eagerly lapped and sucked at her folds. Dragging his tongue down and around, dipping into her opening. Licking teasing circles around where she needed him most, gently flicking his tongue on her bud before repeating.

Any remaining fog Y/N felt disappeared as he took her apart piece by piece. Her free hand found its way into his hair, holding on for dear life. His tongue wiggled itself fully inside her aching hole. She cried out in surprise when he sucked as much of her into his mouth as he could. A loud satisfied hum sending ripples through her, electrifying every nerve.

Releasing her, Ransom licked his lips and dove back in for more. His hands moved from gripping her thighs to kneading her ass as he continued to expertly suck and lick at her most sensitive areas. Devouring her like a fine meal.

“Say my name, Killer.” He commanded, softly licking her clit up and down.

Her toes curled, “Oh God!”

“Close. Try again.” His tempo increased.

“Hugh”, she taunted, pulling on his locks.

A slap to her cunt made her gasp. She gave in, “Ransom.”

Satisfied, Ransom sucked on two of his fingers, smiling at her before slowly, maddeningly inserting them in her dripping pussy. Slightly curling his digits as he pumped them in and out, he continued using his entire tongue to lick from her opening to her clit.

She wrapped her legs around his shoulders, silently begging for more as she grinded against his face. Her hand squeezed her right breast as the sweet pressure built. Ransom reached out to grab her left. Y/N’s back arched more and more as her thighs began to quiver.

FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

The dam burst. Her body felt like it was levitating as she came with a shriek, collapsing in a boneless heap.

Withdrawing his fingers, Ransom slid up her body. Grabbing the back of her neck, he pulled her into a kiss, possessing her breath. To his sheer delight, Y/N held his cheek, deepening the kiss, entwining their tongues in a dance of dominance.

Suddenly, she broke contact by putting her hand over his mouth. “Get me out of these so I can return the favor. You won’t regret it.”

His eyes lit up. Pulling the key out of his pants pocket, Ransom excitedly unlocked the cuffs. She took a minute to rub at the freed wrist before encouraging him to lay down. He spanked her juicy behind as they switched positions, making her laugh.

Y/N wasted no time pulling his clothes off. Kissing him hard and groping every part of him she could reach. He felt as amazing as she imagined.

“I knew you wanted me. I knew it, I fucking knew it.” Ransom was elated at the turn of events.

Tearing off the black boxer briefs, Y/N marveled at his impressive cock. Fully erect and begging for attention, it made her almost forget she shouldn’t sink down on and ride him into next week.

She grinned at him as she closed the handcuffs on both his hands, securing him to the bed, “Fair is fair.”

“Kinky slut.” Transfixed on the gorgeous smile directed at him, Ransom submitted to her game.

Pressing her lips to his one more time, she began kissing down his neck, leaving a few love bites. He yelped when she tweaked both his nipples. Forgiven with giggles because she looked so hot worshiping his body. Ransom closed his eyes in pleasure.

Y/N paid special attention to his chest and abdomen, sucking as many hickies as she could. He wantonly moaned each time, encouraging her to mark him, make him hers. She had to admit she was loving having control over him. His desperate sounds making her drip.

Parting his thighs and kneeling between them, she scratched down both of his strong thighs causing him to hiss. “Eyes on me, baby, you don't want to miss this.”

Ransom watched with interest as her hand wrapped around his dick, stroking the firm velvety length. They locked eyes as Y/N gave it a long lick. Lowering her mouth over the crown, she started swirling her tongue around, gently sucking the head before pulling back.

Gathering saliva in her mouth, she swallowed him until he bumped the back of her throat. Gagging slightly, she pulled away. Y/N smiled coyly, tickling his frenulum with the tip of her tongue. Taking a deep breath, she firmly grasped the base, repeating her previous action. 

Gently sucking as he slid in and out of her mouth, she used her other hand to carefully fondle his balls. Ransom praised her, his head falling back onto the pillow, eyes falling shut again, relishing in the wet heat of her mouth.

Y/N increased her rhythm until Ransom was a panting mess above her, every muscle in his body tense. She switched to pumping with her hand, “You close, baby?”

“S-s-so close.”

She gave another lick…

Then pulled away, sitting back on her heels.

It took a few seconds before Ransom’s eyes popped open, “Why'd you stop?”

When she didn’t respond, he grew concerned. “What's wrong?… Killer?”

“I changed my mind,” she shrugged. “I quit.”

He nervously chuckled, “You can't do that. Babe, come on, stop playing around.”

Y/N got off the bed, standing with her hands on hips, staring at him in all his glory. Sighing she shook her head. “What a pity? If you weren't such an asshole…. Oh well.”

She picked up his sweater from the floor, putting it on. His pants and socks followed. His shoes were far too big, but better than nothing. She brandished the key she found, then repocketed it.

“Thanks for the orgasm, but I have better places to be.”

Ransom flipped out, yelling and calling her horrible names. Struggling against the handcuffs with all his might.

She just smiled, “Let this be a lesson to you.” Taking a few steps towards the door, his voice made her pause.

“Killer, Killer, come on, let me go,” he begged. “I���ll forgive you, okay. Shit got out of hand. We don’t have to do anything else. I won’t tell anyone. You won’t tell anyone. I’ll leave you alone for good. You can’t leave me like this. Just help me out of the cuffs, please.”

Wow, he said please. That must have hurt.

Y/N observed him for the last time; naked and handcuffed, chest polka dotted with marks and bruises and impressively still hard and begging. What a state. She felt oddly proud of her accomplishment.

“Sorry, I don't work here.” Cracking up, she turned and walked out the bedroom door, waving goodbye.

Making a small stop in Harlan's office, she could hear ransom struggling upstairs.

Poor baby.

The rush of cold air hitting her face as she left was invigorating. Feeling alive and determined, she walked to her car with a confident gait. Before taking off, she flipped off the house.

So long, assholes.

---------------

Ransom was beyond livid after suffering the humiliation of being found like THAT. He’d been trapped for two days before Fran came by. She had to call someone to come over to cut the cuffs off. He could tell the housekeeper was barely holding in her laughter at his predicament. Even threatening her job and her life didn’t stop her from leaking the information.

Currently he was sitting in his grandfather’s office. Harlan summoned him there, but had yet to speak to him directly. Puttering around, apparently too busy to enlighten Ransom as to why. The longer he was made to wait, the more irritated he got.

Finally Harlan addressed his grandson, “It was quite an unpleasant surprise to come home to my chef’s resignation on my desk. Less surprising was your involvement in her decision.” 

Upon reading the letter when he returned home, Harland immediately phoned Y/N to get the full story. He apologized to her several times, as she did to him as well. He let her know of his disappointment to see her go, and that him and his stomach will miss her terribly. She thanked him for the opportunity and friendship. They parted ways on good terms.

Staring down Ransom, he picked up the phone to call Alan. Instructing him to send his former chef her last check with hefty severance pay and that he would be including a glowing recommendation. Smiling as he spoke, watching his grandson ball his hands into fists, his jaw clenching and eyes ablaze with fury. It was so easy to ruffle his feathers.

Ransom flew out of his chair, knocking it over, going nose to nose with Harlan. “You’re giving that little bitch that much money. Are you out of your fucking mind, old man? You should be calling the cops, not rewarding that slut.”

His grandfather’s amused smile only furthered his anger. “You are my family. You should be supporting ME… You are nothing but a filthy traitor… You set me up, didn’t you?” The accusation rang true in his brain so he clung onto it. He would not stand for this betrayal.

Harlan found the act of intimidation humorous. He would not back down from rubbing the embarrassing blunder in his grandson’s face. “You’ve been harassing this young woman, drugged her, kidnapped her…”

Ransom interrupted, rolling his eyes, “It's not kidnapping if it's in the same house.”

“…bound and sexually assaulted her. And you're mad she got the upper hand?” Harlan threw his head back with a barking laugh. “If she was still on the payroll, I'd give her a raise.” He continued to laugh in Ransom's face. “You are a paragon of foolishness and pride. Do not think I will forget what you have cost me.”

“You will regret this. Just wait.” Ransom stormed out of the office, taking his rage out on everything he saw. 

By the sound of it, Harlan would have to repair a few things once Ransom was done with his tantrum. Turning his chair to face the window, he watched the falling snow. Lamenting the loss of a wonderful employee, he looked forward to supporting her on her next venture. She was going to go places. He would see to it. 

His grandson on the other hand, well, he was going to have to practice some tough love with him. Harlan’s soft heart decided to let Ransom cool off first. Big changes would come soon enough.

The End

A/N: A special thank you to everyone that has read this version or the original. I appreciate you all and I’d love to know your thoughts.

[ktysh]

it was past midnight. charlie had just finished writing a draft of the chapter he had been working on for the last few days, and was about to go to bed. he thought joshua was already asleep, but to his surprise, joshua wasn't. he was sitting on his side of the bed, his face in his hands, trembling.

it wasn't exactly unusual, but the past two months had been kind of... weird.

since the night joshua lost both his twin brother and childhood best friend, charlie hadn't seen him cry, not even once. he knew that joshua's brain was trying to protect him and that once the environment was safe enough to express all those feelings, joshua would break. he just didn't know when it would happen.

it seemed like the time had come. joshua just finished working on that big project with his agency; esther was doing great in therapy, she started talking again and even made a few friends in her kindergarten; charlie's health wasn't bothering him too much those days. they had money and a new apartment that was big enough for all of them. things were stable, and joshua didn't need to keep everything under control anymore. he could let someone else be the responsible adult for the time being.

after a few minutes of sitting in silence, charlie asked softly, "wanna talk?"

joshua nodded. "i feel so... conflicted," he whispered. "we've never wanted kids. i always thought it's gonna be just you and me, and pets... i don't even know what i'm doing right now. i read, and watch, and listen to tons of parenting stuff, but i still don't know if i'm doing anything right."

he sighed, squeezing charlie's hands. "i wasn't ready for this. i wish we didn't have to do this. and now i feel guilty, because there's this tiny voice in my head that tells me that if i feel this way it means i don't love esther. but i do. i do. i just... i wish they were still here."

charlie wasn't sure what he could say to make things better, or if it even was possible. he had always been awkward with his words. "you know that voice is lying, don't you? i don't know what i'm doing either, but... we're still doing great."

"i'm afraid to make it worse for her," joshua admitted. "i'm not made for having kids. i don't want her to feel unloved and unwanted, but... how do we explain to her why i straight up shut down and ignore everyone some days? what if I hurt her because i won't be able to give her affection when she needs it the most?"

charlie caressed the back of joshua's hands with his thumbs. "we'll ask. we'll ask your therapist, her therapist, we'll think of something she would understand. together. okay? you're not alone in this, i promise."