#i need to feel an arm wrapped around my neck for health reasons

[ohheyitsjustbear]

Hmmmmm being in a headlock while being jerked off... mmhm, an interesting concept indeed 🤔

[moonstruckme]

OK WAIT I COOKED combine doctor rem and whimsical reader where the reader is telling rem about all of these mystical beliefs about health and sickness and he’s just humoring her

You cooked babe !

doctor!Remus x whimsical!reader ♡ 476 words

Remus startles a bit when you wrap your arms around his midsection, your footsteps were so noiseless on the kitchen floor. He chuckles quietly as his heart calms, rubbing your wrist where it rests over his belly button. You lay your cheek against his back. 

“Hello,” he says warmly, picking up another dish from the dirty pile and dunking it in the soapy water. 

“Would you ever want to take my diffuser to work with you?” you ask. 

Remus hums, more than used to your seemingly spontaneous questions. “You really like it,” he says, “so I wouldn’t want to take it from you. Why?” 

“I could use another one,” you reply airily. “I thought it might be nice for the people who come to see you. I could give you some peppermint oil to help heal them.” 

“To heal them?” 

“Mhm. It’s good for nausea and respiratory issues, plus it’d be nice for if they’re nervous, too.” 

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He sets the bowl he was washing in the drying rack. “That’s very considerate of you, but I don’t know if my patients would appreciate it as much as you do. And, ideally, they’re getting all the medical help they need from me.” 

You melt deeper into his backside. Remus chuckles, wiping his hands and turning in your arms. You make a happy sound as he grasps the back of your neck in one hand, fingers still damp, and settles the other on the small of your back. 

“It never hurts to have extra help,” you say, turning your face up to his. He tunnels his fingers into the hair at the base of your scalp. “Remember last week, when I had that awful headache but it was really just because my energy was out of balance?” 

With great effort does Remus repress his sigh. You’d laid on the couch with a rock on your forehead after saying something about energy fields, and the only reason the pain had eased was because he’d decided he wasn’t above crushing up a pain reliever and stirring it into your tea. You’d been quietly pleased with having realigned your magnetic fields or whatever for the rest of the afternoon, and your boyfriend hadn’t had the heart to clue you in. 

“You never know what could be the real root of the problem,” you hum. 

He drops his lips to your forehead. “I suppose you’re right.” 

You give him a smile that feels like the breeze coming off the sea. Remus’ own lips turn up in response. 

“I’ll get you a new diffuser to replace yours,” he says. “Thanks, dove.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I have a spare.” You let go of his waist to twine your arms around Remus’ neck, kissing him sweetly. “It’s cute that you thought I’d only have one, though.” 

Yeah, he’s the cute one.

[orangez3st]

Still Up

Marshal Commander Cody × GN!Reader

Summary: After a long meeting at the headquarters, Cody isn't too pleased that he comes home to find you still up and studying. Rating: General Tags: established relationship, fluff, comfort, eepy together, a little sassy n bossy cody, academia reader, no mentions of y/n, gn reader Word Count: 1.5k A/N: Guess who woke up from sleep at 10 am to work on a oneshot impulse which lines were already written at 4 am? Had to eenie meenie minie moe the clones out of many, but I couldn't stop thinking about Cody lately. Enjoy some light reading below! Inspired by my own *clears throat* unhealthy sleeping habit. Also SOMEBODY STOP MY BRAIN FROM SPROUTING OUT ONESHOT IDEAS WHILE I HAVE LIKE 8 WIP MORE WELL ON THE WAY WITH A DEADLINE.

Read on AO3

divider by me

“Cyar’ika?”

You blink away from your intense reading at the warm familiar voice. Turning around in your seat, you grin guiltily, yet warmed all the same to find your boyfriend standing in the doorway of your study. Buried so deep in statistical correlation and the discussion part of the journal article you've been reading for the past half hour, you didn't hear the front door unlocking and sliding close with him entering, returning home to you.

You stand up and saunter towards him. “Oh hey you.”

Cody sighs, his shoulders slumping and although gentle, his tone a little chiding. “What the hell are you doing still up?”

You wrap your arms around him, his daylong musk hitting your nostrils comfortingly. “Welcome home,” you sigh into his neck, snuggling your body to the nook and crannies of his armor, already used to the hard plastoid ridges for the past year you've been together. “Missed you,” you mumble, pressing a harmless kiss onto his skin, “so much.”

Feeling his lover's arms around him, Cody can't help but melt into your embrace, burying his face into your shoulder. He's been away from you and your dwelling for a week, and to you, his absence in your home feels like a day with no sun. 

He sets his chiding aside for a moment despite the growing concern within him. But you're alive and well if not tired, as indicated by the developing swollen purple bags under your eyes.

“Me too,” mutters Cody, kissing your temple and meeting your gaze almost sternly, finally letting the concern slide in again. “But I need you to answer my question.”

You shrug, pulling away and gesturing to your desk behind you, where laid an array of datapads and your holocomputer. Cyan from the screens illuminating the room combined with the warm amber ambient lighting itself, the atmosphere creates a sufficient space of comfort for your academic endeavors. “Just looking up for more references on my paper,” you say, “It's due the day after tomorrow.”

“You sure?” He raises a skeptical eyebrow, his scar constricting in the motion. “It's already tomorrow.”

You let out a small chuckle. “No I really mean it,” you reply, absentmindedly tracing his rank insignia with your finger as you stare into his warm amber eyes convincingly. “The day after tomorrow.”

Cody blinks, and draws a breath for yet another sigh. “Sweetheart,” he shakes his head, caressing your cheek, “S’not good for your health staying up this late. It’s almost morning.”

“Says the guy who just came home at 0330,” you playfully bite back.

Cody doesn't even shy away from rolling his eyes. “I'm a commander. Got held up by lots of things,” he reasons seriously, glancing over your shoulder to sweep over the mess on your desk. His eyes soften for a moment, as well as his voice, almost sad, as he questions you, “You been doing this for days?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “Got caf too so I wouldn't fall asleep.”

Again, your boyfriend doesn't even hide the sadness and concern glimmering in his eyes. Cody knows you stay awake all night for your research often when he's away from you and out on a campaign. He knows too that you only sleep early when he's home before midnight – and you still call it early. He loves you very much that he can't just get in your way of achieving your dreams, but he cares about you and your wellbeing just the same.

Cody wouldn't want to bear the pain of seeing you fall ill, especially when the war remains in the heat and he's taken away from you every now and then by duty. Add to that that he's the head of his corps, his amount of shore leaves are dwindling. Promises of coming home early and even spending a whole 24 hours with you is a rare moment, and he wouldn't want to spend every minute of his leave just to see you weakened and bedridden.

But tonight is his lucky night. With his most recent campaign over, he's granted shore leaves for the first time in a couple of months. The anticipation of coming home to you sizzles in the pit of his stomach, making him miss you, wanting to hear your honeyed voice and your cheeky laughter, yearning for your warm body pressed against him in bed while you both reconvene in the beautiful realm of dreams.

“Still,” Cody dismisses your claim, definitely caring about you not picking up an insomniac’s habit, unlike one of his brothers. He presses a kiss into your hair as he fumbles with his vambrace, taking it off. “M’gonna shower. When we're done, we go to bed, alright? I'm on leave, I can help you with your academic osik the whole day.”

Your eyes light up. The way the ambient illumination dances around in your eyes causes comfort to settle within Cody. “Really?”

The prospect of your marshal commander lover helping you with your research, scrolling and meticulously sifting through references in your datapads while sipping on his favorite tea with a plate of his favorite chocolate biscuits on the side, warms you that your love for him only grows.

He nods. “Once we both have enough rest,” he affirms, letting you unclip his helmet from his belt in an effort to help put his armor away. He smiles at you. “You'll be having me all for yourself, cyar'ika. I promise.”

“Promise?”

He yawns, covering his mouth with his fist. “Uh-huh.”

“Okay,” you grin, stopping midway in the effort only to yawn as well. You look at him accusingly. “Ugh, you. You're making me yawn on purpose! Now go shower, Kote.”

Cody smiles at the sound of his Mando'a name rolling off your tongue. Force, he'll never get bored hearing the name uttered with your sweet voice. He takes to the corridor, but not before pecking you on the lips, and you smile in the kiss that ends quicker than you would've liked since he just came home after a while. But rest takes precedence, and you're already feeling drowsy thanks to Cody's gentle chiding.

So you march out of your study, leaving your stuff as it is so it'll be ready to tinker with again when the sun's up. While the shower runs in the refresher, you pat down your shared bed and fluff the pillows so they may greet you both with promised comfort of a long delayed sleep.

Cody steps out of the shower, steam emitting out from the room as he's already dressed with his usual sleepwear – your oversized t-shirt and a pair of checkered pajama pants you'd gotten him at your first mensiversary.

Atop the bed and had already changed yourself to looser clothes, you smile at him as he approaches you. “Ready for bed?”

Cody tugs the covers away from you playfully, the amber in his eyes sparkling with longing despite the little bite in his tone as he chides, “Should've been the one asking you that.”

Laughing, you slip under the covers and scoot onto his side. “We're one and the same, Cody.”

Turning off the lights, the clone commander then tugs you close into his strong arms. The fabric of your – his – shirt is soft against your cheek, his muscles under rise and fall with his breathing. Having just coming out of the shower, Cody smells like how you've always remembered him – of home. And you sigh in delight as you relish in everything that he is – a gentle lover with so much care, all behind a battle-hardened exterior.

You send out your prayers every time he's out deployed, and you send out your gratitude to whatever divines there are in the cosmos once he comes home alive.

With him by your side and you in his arms, truly; that is all you need.

“You're so warm,” you mumble into his shoulder, your eyes heavy. “Sleepy already. It's like you're sucking the caf out of me.”

His chest rumbles with a round of small chuckles – the sound a warm, humble symphony to your ears. “What can I say? It's talent,” he says, smiling against your hair as his fingers trail up and down your back, “Even I made General Kenobi fall asleep on me once. Spat the most gracious apology he had in arsenal and literally jumped away.”

You let out a surprised noise as you reel back to look at his face. “No way.”

“That's what he did,” Cody grins, the sight sending your heart aflutter. “The General knows I have a partner who loves me already, so he respects it.”

You blink. “Oh,” you blush fiercely, imagining the general probably is going to tease the good life out of you both, if you'd ever have the honor to meet the man one day. You’ve liked him since day one for treating Cody as an equally respectable and reputable man despite your beloved being a clone. You smile. “That's very sweet.”

“Mhm.” Closing his eyes and sighing deeply through his nose, Cody shifts in his place, turning to lightly pin you with his weight. “Now, you – seize talking. I wanna sleep too.”

You giggle as you snuggle even more into his warm body. “You were the one with the storytelling, Kote.”

He grunts dismissively, nose buried into your hair. “Night. Bye. Love you.”

You laugh, “You're such a kid!” Cody says nothing in reply, playing asleep, and you decide you'd better follow him before he gets a headstart into your realm of dreams. “Night, Cody, love. I love you too.”

Taglist: @yoursrosie

A/N: if you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works! (Link provided)

[storiesforallfandoms]

look at me ~ bo burnham

word count: 2323

request?: yes!

“so you already know that inside: the outtakes has gotten so many people back into their bo thing. me included. sooooo i was thinking, he’s a big guy, ya know👀 so my lil brain was doin some thinkin (not at all while horny) and it came up with this: bo fucking you in front of a mirror!! he’s holding you up, fucking you from behind, saying things like ‘look at how much of a pretty little whore you are for my cock’. just, please please please do your thing and make this something great🥹”

description: after a long day of filming his special, he finds himself pent up and wanting to release his aggressive sexual energy, so he decides to take his girlfriend in the first place he finds her: in the bathroom in front of the mirror

pairing: bo burnham x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two, three)

Bo had a lot of feelings surrounding the filming of his quarantine special. At first he was upset over having to cancel his plans of returning to live performances, but then the idea of filming, editing, directing, lighting, etc., his own special seemed exciting. And getting back into writing comedy felt almost therapeutic. The longer quarantine went on, though, the more his mental health struggled. He was enjoying creating, but he hated that this was how he had to create. And he hated how much he struggled to make everything perfect.

But more than anything, he was unbearably horny. To a point where he was writing extremely horny bits into the special.

It was his own doing really. Bo would spend every day - from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep - working on the special. Most nights, that was late enough that his girlfriend, (Y/N), would be fast asleep. Other nights, he felt too mentally exhausted to try and initiate sex.

He felt guilty for the quality time he was losing with her by working all day, but (Y/N) was incredibly supportive. She would check on him every day to make sure he was doing okay, occasionally bringing him food so he would eat. She’d get him to take little break every now and then before going back to long hours of working on the special. Bo felt extremely grateful to have her in his life. But man, did he ever miss being intimate with her.

He was sat in this guest house one evening, editing his most recent bit, which was a song about sexting. His mind was on (Y/N) as his own voice played through the speakers. He thought about how badly he wanted to hold her, feel her body against his, her warm walls around him. His horniness was definitely trickling into his work and it was something he needed to fix soon or else he felt like he might explode.

Bo stood and looked out the window that faced towards his house. He could see a light on in the room that belonged to him and (Y/N), signaling that she was still awake. He quickly rushed out of his guest house, leaving the unedited song running.

(Y/N) was in the ensuite bathroom getting ready for bed. She had peaked out to the guest house to check on Bo. The lights were off besides a dull blue light that she assumed was Bo editing another bit. She had sighed to herself before going to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. As proud as she was of Bo for working on this special all on his own, she really did miss getting to spend time with him. Their bed felt too empty without him.

She was leaned over the sink, washing her face, when she suddenly felt two arms wrap around her. She let out a yelp and stood up quickly to see Bo’s towering figure behind her in the mirror. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, lightly kissing the area, causing her heart to flutter for a different reason.

“Hey,” she said. “You finished up early tonight.”

“I can’t standing being away from you anymore,” he responded. “It’s getting too hard to not have you in my arms.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s hard,” she teased.

Bo chuckled and grinded his hard, clothed dick against her. “You got me there.”

He continued to kiss her neck as he pressed himself against her. She lulled her head to the side, giving him more access to her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed. His hands moved from around her waist, one going upwards to cup one of her breasts and the other moving down between her legs. Her breath hitched as he teased the waistband of her pajama pants.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his hot breath fanning over her ear in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. She nodded in response. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please Bo.”

Bo grinned and nibbled on her ear as his hand dipped under her waistband. He ran a finger through her folds, teasing her clit with a feather-light touch.

“You’re already so wet,” he whispered. “Desperate for me to you, baby?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) whimpered. “I’ve missed your touch so much.”

“I’ve missed touching you. You don’t understand how much I’ve missed having you. I think about being inside of you practically every waking moment, and when I’m sleeping too.”

She moaned as he finally applied pressure to her clit. He rubbed slow circles into the bundle of nerves as he continued to kiss over her neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin, leaving red marks in his wake that he really hoped would turn into hickies. There was something so hot to him about marking (Y/N) in a way that other people would see and know she was his. He slipped his hand under her shirt to cup and knead at her breasts, one at a time, making her nipples pop out underneath his fingers.

(Y/N) was a moaning mess; putty in Bo’s hands. He was essentially holding her up at that point as she was leaning back against him, her legs wobbling to a point where she wasn’t sure she could stay up much longer.

“Are you close already?” Bo asked. “I can feel you trembling.”

“I-I’m s-so close,” she said.

“Open your eyes, baby. I want you to look at me while you cum.”

She pried her eyes open to look into the mirror. Bo’s eyes were staring back at her, dark with lust. It was hard to keep them open as her orgasm washed over her. Her legs just about gave out from under her as she cried out. Bo held her, smirking to himself as she trembled in his arms. He whispered praises into her ear as she came down from her high.

“I need you,” he whispered. “Right here, baby, please.”

“The bed is just a few steps away,” she teased.

“I can’t wait. I’m a slight breeze away from cumming in my pants.”

She giggled and turned her head to kiss him. She reached back to run her hands through his long hair. At first, she wasn’t a fan of the idea of Bo growing out his hair and facial hair, but now, with his beard leaving a tickling sensation in its wake and his long hair giving her something to hold on to, she suddenly loved it.

Bo broke away from the kiss to shove (Y/N) down over the bathroom counter. He pulled her pants and underwear down around her ankles, helping her to step out of them and kicking them off to the side. He let his own pants fall to the floor as well, his hard dick springing free from his pants. He took it in one hand and ran it through (Y/N)’s drenched folds, collecting her slick to use as his own lube. (Y/N) bit down on her lip as she whimpered, but couldn’t contain her moans once Bo pushed the head of his dick against her entrance. He easily slid his cock into her, slowly moving inwards until he was buried at the hilt inside of her. He dropped his head against her back, groaning at the sensation. It was a feeling he had been longing for, and now that he had it he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to last.

He slowly pulled himself out halfway before slowly thrusting back into her again. The head of his dick so easily nudged her g-spot that it made her already shaky legs even more wobbly every time he thrust inwards. She held on to the counter, digging her nails into it with such a grip that she thought she was going to break the counter.

Bo kissed over (Y/N)’s neck and what he could reach of her face again. “Can I start fucking you, princess?”

She nodded, unable to speak. Bo took that as enough of an answer for him this time and started thrusting into her at a quicker speed. He held on to her hips as he slammed into her, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the room. (Y/N)’s mind went blank, the only thing she could think of being Bo, Bo, Bo! She cried out his name, a sound more beautiful than any song Bo had ever heard.

“I might not last long,” he told her. “Do you think you can give me one more before I shoot this hot load inside you, baby?”

“Yes!” she cried. “Yes, yes, yes.”

It became a chant, like that was the only word she knew.

Bo smiled and put his hand around her throat, pulling her up so that she was flush against his chest. He continued thrusting at his brutal pace while reaching his other hand between her legs to rub her clit again.

“Look at how much of a pretty little whore you are for my cock,” he said. “God, you look so fucking hot, falling apart for me like this.”

Her eyes were rolling in the back of her head, which clearly was not what Bo wanted. He squeezed her throat slightly, just enough to block her airways and make her lightheaded.

“I said look at me,” he growled into her ear. She opened her eyes and looked into the mirror. He smiled at her. “Good girl. Look how fucking good you look, all cock drunk for me like this.”

Her eyes were hooded, threatening to close again, and her mouth was in a permanent “O” shape as her body bounced with every thrust. Bo looked like a man on a mission, watching her face intently as he rubbed ruthlessly at her clit and thrusted hard into her. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, a sight which just drove her further over the edge.

She didn’t have to tell him this time that she was close. Actually, she didn’t even have time to tell him. Her second orgasm hit her quickly and intensely. Her vision clouded for a moment and her entire body felt heavy. Bo wrapped an arm around her lower stomach, keeping her up for his last few thrusts before he also hit his own climax. He buried his head in her neck again, muffled groans tumbling from his lips as he gave a few more shallow thrusts.

They were both panting and sticky with sweat once they finally started coming down from their highs. Bo was reluctant to pull out, but he could feel himself becoming soft and slipping from between her legs. (Y/N) gasped as she felt the hot trail of cum running down her legs.

“Let me clean you up so you can finally lay down,” Bo said.

He reached past her to grab the face cloth she had been using early and ran warm water over it again. Turned her so she was facing him and knelt down in front of her to wipe her legs and between them. He planted a kiss on both of her inner thighs, causing her to twitch a little from overstimulation. When he stood again, he discarded the cloth onto the floor and took (Y/N) into his arms. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to bed.

He laid her down first before crawling into bed next to her. He took her into his arms, reveling in the feeling of her warm body against his. It had been so long since they had been able to fall asleep together. He rarely tried to cuddle her when he came into bed after she had fallen asleep in fear that he would wake her.

“Are you done working for the night then?” (Y/N) asked, her voice soft and sheepish.

“Definitely,” he decided. “This takes so much more precipitant than working on that stupid special.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid. I think it’s going to be really good.”

Bo chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “You haven’t even seen any of it.”

“I saw that one that was a parody of Drake’s music.”

“Eh, I’m thinking of cutting that one. I don’t even like it all that much.”

“Don’t do that! It’s my favorite one!”

He squeezed her slightly and kissed her again. “Okay, no promises, but I’ll try my best to put it in.”

“Thank you.”

They laid in silence for a while. It was quite comforting. Bo never wanted to leave the bed. He just wanted to hold (Y/N) and lay here in the dark and silence.

“I miss this,” (Y/N) whispered into the silence.

Bo sighed. “Me too. I promise I’ll try not to work too late so that we can have these moments more often. And I promise I’ll try to finish the special soon so that I’m not working on it at all anymore.”

“You don’t have to finish it soon if you don’t feel it’s ready, but I would prefer it if you were here in bed with me when I fell asleep at night. It’s not the same to fall asleep in a lonely bed all by myself.”

“I promise. Now get some sleep. I can tell you’re fighting off the unconsciousness.”

(Y/N) shook her head and smiled to herself. Of course he was right, she felt exhausted now after their bathroom activities. Being curled in his warm embrace didn’t help that matter either. She settled herself next to him and closed her eyes, letting the sleep take hold of her. Bo wasn’t too far behind, placing one last kiss on the top of her head before closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep.

[sleepyiswhumping]

Fucking [a] Leech

PLEASE MIND THE CONTENT WARNINGS 

Content: Blood, (Brutal) Dubcon/Noncon sex, Homophobic Slur, Mild alcohol (ab)use, Mutual Domestic Abuse, Toxic relationship (REALLY TOXIC), Violent Sex, Whumper x Whumper (they whump each other <3) 

"Biohazard fuckin yaoi. This shit ain't just toxic this is a public health concern."  

-friend who urged me to write this 

NSFW IS WELL UNDER THE CUT 

~~~~~ 

It had been a long fucking night at work, and Gare was tired. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from a cabinet and leaned on the counter, pouring himself a glass with shaky, exhausted hands. He sipped away, going through one, two, three glasses before Tal noticed he was home. Of course. It’s not like he had sent him a text or anything. Oh, wait. He had.  

He snorted as the shorter man sauntered into the kitchen and leaned on his chest, hands slipping under his work shirt and caressing his chest. Against his better judgement, he wrapped an arm around Tal’s shoulder, the other pouring a fourth glass of scotch. 

“Hey, baby,” Tal murmured as he rested his chin on Gare’s chest and looked up at him, purring. 

“Hey, yourself. I texted you I was home like fifteen minutes ago.” 

Tal shrugged and batted his eyelashes at Gare. “Sorry, but I can’t exactly drop everything for you.” 

He yawned, fangs flashing in the kitchen’s light, then snaked his way up Gare’s chest, nestling his head in the crook of his neck. 

“Mmf. You stink.” 

“Okay, rude. What the hell?” 

Tal shrugged again and Gare could feel his smirk through the fabric of his shirt. What a fucking asshole. He couldn’t remember why he stuck with this fuck, God. Insufferable piece of shit, and a vampire to boot. Couldn’t even go anywhere with him. All their “dates” had been sitting inside watching television instead of normal couple things. His “boyfriend” was a plague on his life, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave him again, for some reason. 

“Whattt? I’m just having some fun. You can take a joke, right?” Tal laughed, hands still caressing Gare’s chest. 

“Anyway, I hope you don’t mind if I...” he trailed off as he pushed himself up on the tips of his toes and pressed his lips against Gare’s neck, tongue trailing over the soft flesh. 

Gare looked down at him and tried to pull away, momentarily confused, before he felt the shorter man’s fangs poke his flesh. Panicked, he pushed Tal away, hard, and stumbled away, almost knocking the bottle of scotch over as he did. He watched as Tal slammed onto the floor, head knocking against the tile with a dull thunk, then looked up at him dazed and shocked. 

“What the FUCK, dude? What-I just got off a twelve-hour shift and you were gonna feed from me? I-you didn’t even fucking ask!” 

Gare shouted despite them being mere feet apart, weary voice raw with anger. 

Tal pushed himself to his feet, almost collapsing as he rose, holding his head with one hand, then shouted back at him with just as much fury. 

“What do you mean, what the fuck? I haven’t fed in almost a week and you fucking THROW me to the floor?! You’re a fucking piece of shit, you know that?!”  

He groaned, bracing himself on a wall. “Oh, my fucking head. This is your fault, asshole.” 

“MY FAULT?!” Gare roared incredulously, cheeks rosy from the anger and the alcohol. “You’re the one who keeps starving yourself like a dumbass! Go find blood somewhere else, dipshit!” 

Tal stood silent, frozen in both pain and thought, before spluttering angrily, searching for words. Fuck, he did have a point. Still, though. He didn’t need to throw him to the floor over it! 

“I-you-ugh, you’re the worst! You know why I won’t ‘find blood somewhere else’! I don’t want to hurt anyone! I can’t let mys-” 

Gare cut him off quickly, grabbing his jaw and squeezing it tight with one hand to shut him up. 

“Shut the fuck up. You ‘don’t want to hurt anyone’ until that ‘anyone’ is me, and then it’s fair game! You fucking liar!” 

“Mmf. Llet go’f me!” 

Tal whipped his hands up, claws digging into Gare’s wrist in an attempt to get him to release his iron grip, but to no avail. His stormy eyes were focused directly at Gare’s, refusing to look away from the rage-filled gaze. He gasped weakly as Gare lifted him almost off his feet, faces mere inches away. It was almost hot, if Gare didn’t seem like he was about to murder him in cold blood. 

“Fuck you, Tal. You’re a fucking leech, you know that? Blood-sucking bastard.” 

Gare’s face was twisted in rage as he spoke, and it seemed like he almost spat the word ‘leech’, with how much hatred he said it with. He ignored the rivulets of blood running down his arm from where Tal’s claws dug into his flesh, but his grip had lessened slightly. 

“Ghh, yea? Well, you’re the one fucking a leech, you dickhead!” he snarled, fangs jutting from his mouth as he grew angrier and angrier. Despite not needing to breathe, he panted heavily, and felt Gare do the same as his hot, liquor-smelling breath washed over Tal’s face. Of course, he’s drunk. Bastard’s not thinking straight. 

“Fucking... you really wanna go that route, Tal?” 

Oh, fuck. “Y’know what? Fuck you, Gare.” 

Tal sneered at him, knowing damn well what Gare was about to say but not giving a fuck. He was fed up with the bastard’s bullshit. 

“If you say so, leech,” he muttered, dragging Tal toward the counter. 

Tal groaned at the pain as Gare all but threw him on top of the counter, then smashed their faces together in what could only be called a kiss beyond any stretch of the word, his teeth digging into Tal’s lips and drawing blood. He flinched as one of Gare’s hands grabbed at his sweatpants, slipping under the waistband of both his pants and underwear. 

“Can you hurry the fuck up, fag? I’ve got shit to do,” he muttered around the brutal assault on his lips, before biting back, fangs slicing at Gare’s lips. 

Gare just grunted, before yanking at Tal’s pants, his immense strength ripping the fabric off his waist and legs after a few attempts, the tearing noise the only sound aside from quiet grunts from them both. 

Tal drew a quick breath in as Gare pulled the tattered mess of pants down his legs exposing his pale skin and somewhat hard dick, his bare flesh contacting the cold marble of the countertop, and tried to brace himself against it with his arms. Gare, meanwhile, fumbled with his belt and jeans, getting them undone after a few attempts and letting them fall down his legs, before sliding his underwear off, revealing his frankly massive cock. Tal loved to joke about how big Gare was; now, as Gare grabbed his hip, with it pressed against his asshole and no lube in sight, he was very concerned. 

He desperately tried to pull away, hands pressing against Gare’s chest to hold him back. 

“Waitwaitwait, Gare- you're not serious- there's no l-” 

“Shut up,” Gare muttered, before grabbing Tal’s wrists effortlessly with one hand and holding them above his head, pressing in to kiss him again, tongue forcing its way into his mouth invasively. 

Tal grunted as Gare kissed him again, then yelped as he felt Gare push his dick against his ass, trying to force his way into him. He tried to shift his hips away, but to no avail, and cried out as Gare held him steady and pushed himself in, his tip agonizingly entering Tal’s ass. No prep, no lube, just hate, as he steadily pushed himself further, working Tal open as he fucked him. Tears welled in Tal’s eyes as Gare thrust into him, slowly at first, but with increasing speed, and he could feel his flesh stretch and tear as Gare pounded mercilessly.  

As the tears began to stream down his cheeks, Gare let go of his hip and wrists and grabbed his face in both hands, kissing him angrily and possessively as he fucked him without mercy, blood beading slightly from the tears he left on Tal’s ass. Tal had given up on fighting back; he knew he was no match for Gare, so he instead used his arms to try and brace himself into a slightly more comfortable position. Despite the agony, Tal couldn’t help but feel the pressure building in his core as Gare continued to incessantly and swiftly slam into him, and release soon came, his cock spasming and twitching as he shot cum all over his stomach, but he felt no pleasure, only mild relief as the pressure faded away. Gare soon followed, arms dropping from Tal’s face and wrapping around his body as he pulled him close and thrust as deep as he could inside of the smaller man, draining his balls into Tal’s bleeding ass, still kissing him brutally and violently. He held him there, in a warm, tight embrace for a few moments as he came, before letting go of Tal, letting him slump onto the counter in exhaustion and pain, and pulled out, wiping the cum and blood off his dick with Tal’s tattered sweatpants. He pulled his pants up and redid the belt, before staring at the mess he’d made of the vampire laying on his counter for a few moments, panting heavily, then walking away, leaving Tal to clean himself up. 

The last thing Tal heard before he faded into unconsciousness was the creak of the front door opening, and then it slamming shut. Then, nothing but blissful silence. 

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Just Fucking Write - Day 36 🔞

Prompt: Doting BF Felix x Fem!Reader

Tags: Narrator is female, masturbation(ish), cockwarming, pet names

A/N: I guess you could consider this a continuation of Day 26.

After spending almost 5 minutes trying to dice a quarter of an onion I was ready to throw both the onion and the knife at the wall.

“What’s the matter?” Felix asked.

“Ten minute prep time my ass. Of course I guess these Mormon trad wives can dice an onion in about 0.003 seconds. This is what I get for saying we need to cook at home more,” I huffed.

“Those Mormon trad wives also have like 8 kids and need to dice an onion in 0.003 seconds,” Felix pointed out.

“I suppose,” I glared at the offending vegetable and kitchen utensil.

“Let me help you relax,” he wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed my neck.

“But the food,” I protested.

“Can wait. You need to relax a little first, stubborn girl,” he replied.

“I thought being stubborn was one of the things you liked about me?” I teased.

“It is, but it’s not very good for your mental health sometimes,” he said.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, finally letting myself relax against his body.

“I could eat you out again or you could have my cock. You’re going to come either way so really it’s just how,” he said. He grazed his hands under my shirt and splayed his fingers across my belly. “Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

“Cock. I want your cock,” I breathed.

“All yours,” he grinned with his lips on the back of my neck. He awkwardly walked us to the bedroom since he didn’t let go of me.

“Can I undress you since it worked so well last time?” he asked.

“Yes,” I nodded. This time I didn’t have a bra on since I was in my house clothes, but I still got just as wet as he carefully undressed me.

“Would you like to try?” he questioned. I could already see a bulge building in his sweatpants.

“Yes,” I replied. I pulled his shirt off and ran my hands down the curves of his torso. I wasn’t sure how I’d landed a boyfriend with a visible 6 pack, but I took some time to appreciate the work he put in at the gym. Then I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of his sweats and pulled them down. His cock was leaking and leaving a visible wet spot on his underwear.

“So you want me too?” I grinned.

“Baby, I want you so bad right now my cock literally hurts,” he laughed. I pulled off his underwear and his cock bounced free.

“Then take me,” I got on the bed and rolled on my side.

“You want it that way I see,” he said, crawling behind me. “Your human dildo.”

“It sounds so crass when you put it like that,” I wrinkled my nose.

“And only you would say ‘crass’ as I’m about to put my dick in you,” he teased. He slid into me and my finger was immediately on my clit. We’d discovered this position a while ago and I loved the feeling of having him inside me while I pleasured myself. He was more than capable of making me come, but I suspected part of him liked just being inside me. My clit was already swollen and sensitive.

“I’m gonna come fast,” I told him as I rolled my clit between my index and middle finger. My pussy clenched down on his cock and I heard a grunt behind me.

“In you or on you?” he asked.

“On me,” I panted as I felt myself getting closer to the edge with even the slightest touch. Felix had his arm wrapped around my waist and his chin hooked over my shoulder. Him panting in my ear was definitely not helping me slow down. Then I felt my pussy start to spasm.

“Fuck,” I felt like my whole body lit up when I came. I barely registered Felix pulling out when I finished, but I rolled on my back. He got between my legs, pumped his cock a few times, and came all over my stomach and chest. There weren’t many days I was in the mood to have come all over me, but it made me feel owned. Today I needed to feel owned. He lowered himself on top of me and kissed me.

“Ready to finish that onion now?” he asked.

“After a shower,” I replied.

“Reasonable,” he agreed. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” I smiled, basking in the afterglow.

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter 18

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: A little more angst but it's wrapping up I promise, mentions of suicide, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of not eating due to mental health issues, smut (18+), oral sex (f receiving), desperate sex, col coming in his pants, swearing, squirting, fluffy sweet aftercare

This is the final chapter of Ours (excluding the epilogue but it's super short) and I'm so grateful for everyone's love and feedback for this series. If you don't already know, there will be a third part and I'm so excited to write it. I hope you all love it!

Presley

I can’t believe I lost it that badly. 

I sleep for hours on Colson’s chest. When I wake up, he’s asleep, too, and I study his face, memorizing his features over and over again. The tightness in my chest is not normal. This is not just depression or anxiety. This is something deeper, and that really scares me. 

I wish like hell that it was easy to move past it, but how am I ever supposed to let go of the fact that if I hadn’t left Colson, he would never have put the wheels in motion to kill himself? How can he say it isn’t my fault – how can anyone say that? I know they’d all blame me if Colson had gone through with it. I can see it now – everyone trying to be sensitive at the funeral, but someone would lose it, point their finger at me, and say, “She’s the reason he killed himself!” 

God, I don’t want to have another panic attack. I’m already so weak and exhausted from the first one. My entire body hurts, my head throbbing. I haven’t eaten anything today, nor have I had any water, and I feel like almost every physical need anyone could have is plaguing me right now. 

But I can’t let go of my husband.

My mouth is so dry that I can barely breathe. My stomach twists with nausea, an ironic reaction to hunger, and my bladder is so full that it hurts. But despite all this, despite knowing my water bottle is right there on the table, that a toilet is right around the corner, I can’t get off of Colson. Jesus. Am I going to piss myself lying here because I’m so attached? Get it together, I say to myself, and even though it makes my blood pressure hike, I extricate myself from Colson’s arms. 

After emptying my bladder, I chug down half of my water bottle before taking a breath, and then I drink the rest of it. Colson starts to stir as I drink. He blinks his eyes open and then looks down at himself, eyes widening a little with worry when he doesn’t see me. He snaps his head over and relaxes as soon as he sees me. “Hey,” he rasps sleepily. 

“Hey,” I say, voice small. 

“Did you get some sleep?” he asks. He looks so endearing and adorable right now, his bleached hair all fluffy from sleep, his long eyelashes shadowing tired eyes. 

I nod. “Yeah. I’m starving, though,” I admit.

Guilt crosses Colson’s features for a millisecond. “You haven’t been eating,” he remarks, almost as if he’s just now realizing it himself. With that, he hops off the couch and lifts me into his arms. I can’t help but smile a little, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck like a koala bear. 

Colson sets me on the countertop and pecks my lips softly before turning to open the fridge. “What sounds good?” 

I’m weirdly relaxed, despite what happened earlier. I’m not hiding anything from Colson anymore, and that in and of itself is a relief. “Anything,” I say.

Colson nods. “Got it.” 

Colson makes me crispy chicken cutlets, a salad, and garlic mashed potatoes. I’m shocked by how much I’m actually able to eat – two full plates. The food is incredible and I feel so much better after eating. We eat on the floor in the living room with a candle lit, passing a joint back and forth. We talk about everything but the bad shit, and before I know it, Col has me laughing and smiling. For the first time in forever, it finally feels like us again. Our journey is far from over, but what I do know is that I don’t have to do it alone. 

The next day, I sleep in. I wake up to the sound of Colson’s voice. He’s on the phone, clearly trying to be quiet, but I know he’s still in our bedroom because he didn’t want to leave me. 

“Thank you. Alright, bye,” he says, ending the phone call. He glances over at me and when he sees I’m awake, he comes over and crawls back into bed. “Hi, love,” he murmurs, wrapping around me.

“Hey,” I say, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Who was that?”

“My psychiatrist,” he says. “We’re going to go see her today and get you some help, okay?” His voice is gentle and so kind, and even though it's a little scary, I relax. 

“You’ll be with me, right?” I ask.

Colson nods, nuzzling into my shoulder. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

We’re quiet for a moment and then I roll over in his arms and look up at him. He wears nothing but a pair of boxer briefs that hug his butt perfectly. I haven’t felt desire since the first day he came home, but all at once, it rushes in so intensely that I feel a little dizzy with it. Using my legs, I pull his thigh between mine. Colson arches a brow but lets me pull him closer.

“Baby?” he questions. He doesn’t need to, though. He knows me well enough to know exactly what I want. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Are you sure?”

I nod, suddenly feeling absolutely desperate for him. “I miss you,” I say quietly. “Just want to be close to you.”

“Don’t do it because you think it’s what I want,” he murmurs, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Just holding you is enough for me.”

Boldly, I slip my hand between our bodies and grip his cock, already hardening in his boxers. I arch a brow, smirking just a little. His words definitely don’t match his body’s reaction. “Well, it’s not enough for me,” I say, and with that, my husband’s eyes darken. I can see the moment when he gives in. 

“Then get on your back,” he says. I do as I’m told and Colson instantly disappears beneath the blankets. I let out a shaky breath in anticipation of what’s coming. Colson slips between my thighs, big hands lifting each one over his shoulder at a time. I fell asleep in a big t-shirt of his and no panties, and when he notices, the breath he lets out is so warm it makes me shiver.

I lift the blankets to look down at him and his eyes lock on mine, his pupils so wide the iris is almost invisible. He brings his gaze to my pussy and bites his lip as he studies me. When his thumb lightly brushes over my clit, my hips twitch and Colson chuckles low. “Sensitive,” he murmurs, and then he presses a kiss to the crease between my thigh and my pussy. I hold a whimper in my throat as my legs start to tremble with anticipation. Just having him between my legs has me so aroused that I’m sure I’m already wet.

Colson presses a tender kiss to my clit, sweet and loving, and the gesture makes my breath catch in my throat. His eyelashes flutter as his eyes close, and the next kiss is open-mouthed and wet and hot, as are the ones that follow. Just his kisses can undo me, can make me so wet that it ruins my panties, and when he kisses between my legs, it heightens the experience tenfold. Sparks fly, electricity zinging through my body at the sensations his talented mouth can bring.

When my husband moans with my pussy in his mouth, my spine arches off the bed and my hands fist the sheets, effectively dropping the blanket. I can't see him anymore so I scramble to push the comforter out of the way. The morning sunlight peeks around the curtains, illuminating his white-blonde hair and eyelashes. He is a devil that looks like an angel when he takes care of me and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the way he affects me.

I gasp when Colson’s hands brace beneath my thighs and shove them up, lifting my lower half off the bed. His dark eyes lock on mine as he moves his tongue lower, swiping over everything before returning to my clit. I tense up, a little surprised. We’ve of course had anal, but he’s never had his mouth anywhere near my ass. I never saw the appeal; why do that when I have a much more sensitive clit right there? But it’s so erotic and almost…forbidden and it takes my breath away. Colson repeats his motions, moaning against me before his tongue lands on my clit and twists around it in circles.

“H-holy fuck,” I choke out, shoulders lifting off the bed in response to the pleasure. My stomach is rock hard with tension, so hard that I’m starting to tremble. Colson can’t stop moaning against my pussy and the vibrations are making me see stars. The room heats and my vision starts to flutter around the edges. I’m practically hyperventilating as he has his way with me, showing me just how perfectly he can use his mouth.

Half of me wants to beg him to put his fingers inside me, but I’m curious to see if he can actually get me to come without putting anything inside of me. If he can do it with just his mouth. As his plush lips close around my swollen clit and suck as his tongue continues to work, my stomach starts to knot up, telling me that, yes, my husband can make me come with just his mouth.

“Cols,” I practically wheeze, grabbing a handful of his hair. “Holy shit, baby, ‘mgonna come.” My words slur together; I’m drunk with pleasure as my pussy starts to clench around nothing. My heart races and I let my head fall onto the pillow as tingles creep up my spine and my stomach ties itself in such a tight knot that it almost hurts. And then, the knot explodes in my belly as I let it all go.

My body moves erratically beneath his mouth, even as his hands hold my hips down. I sob at the pleasure, hips twitching upwards as my clit throbs on his tongue. I’m just starting to come down when Colson comes up, slotting himself between my legs. He presses his clothed cock to my aching clit and grinds forward. I look up at his face and notice how tightly his brow is knitted together. His lips are parted as he pants and the way he ruts against me is so familiar that I reach down and grab his ass to help work him towards his own rapture.

“Fuckfuckfuuuuuck,” he chokes out. “Baby–” I watch his face, reveling in his unabashed pleasure as he comes from nothing other than giving me head and a little bit of grinding. It will never not shock me how I, some girl who was a virgin less than a year ago, can get Machine Gun Kelly, a well-known sex god, to come in his pants. And I love every fucking second of it.

Colson relaxes on top of me, our hearts fluttering against each other, and then he lifts his head to kiss me hard, so hard that my pussy already aches for him again. “I’m not done, I promise,” he breathes. “Just couldn’t help it. Your taste, your sounds, fuck.” His words melt into a moan. “Love you so fuckin’ much.”

“Get on your back,” I say, touching his cheek. Colson’s eyes sparkle. He loves when I ride him and I love it just as much, but I’ve got something else in store for him. I’ve been doing my research, or at least I was before everything went to shit. There’s something I’ve been wanting to try forever and now I finally have that chance.

I drop my shirt to the floor and help him out of his boxer briefs, and for a second, I’m tempted to slip my hand into his boxers, to feel what I did to him. Jesus, Colson has made me filthy. I drop the soiled boxers onto the floor and climb over top of him. There’s still cum on his tip and smeared slightly on his belly, and my eyes darken. I can’t help myself, moving down his body to lick up the leftover spend from his skin. Colson shudders and moans and his cock twitches, already hard again. 

He reaches for me and I come up, but then I turn around. “Holy fuck,” Colson says when he realizes what I’m doing. I smirk as I crawl over his body and position his cock at my entrance. It’s a little difficult to situate at first; I’m so used to the way he fits perfectly when I’m riding him the other way. Reverse cowgirl is more difficult than it looks but I’ll do it for Col. 

With his help, I finally sink down on him, and while it isn’t the most comfortable position for me, I don’t care. Because Colson’s hands have a bruising grip on my hips and he’s already moaning shamelessly behind me. I tip my head back, letting my long hair graze his chest, and he grips onto it, tugging. I moan at the slight roughness and try to move, but it’s tough, until Colson bends his knees, giving me his thighs to use for leverage. 

When I start to grind back and forth, Colson curses loudly. “Th-that’s it, baby, h-holy fuck,” he says shakily. “So good, Pres. so fucking – oh shit – perfect.” 

I love how powerful I feel, unwinding my man the way I am. “Colson,” I moan as pleasure starts to creep in. I won’t be able to come like this, but that’s okay. 

After a few minutes, Colson slows my motions, and I look back at him over my shoulder. He grins at me. “As much as I love this, I want to see your face,” he confesses, and I melt a little as I lift myself off of him and turn around. But instead of letting me ride him, Colson flips our bodies over and settles his weight onto me. With a slow grind of his hips, his cock slides back inside of me until it’s home. His hands slide beneath my ass and squeeze, pulling me closer to him, and with his eyes on mine, he starts fucking me hard.

Pleasure rushes in so fast that I can’t stop the moans bubbling out of me. I can feel myself getting wetter around him as he pounds into me, our skin slapping together. “Colson,” I whimper. “Fuck, baby–”

“Yeah,” Colson grits out, squeezing my ass even harder. “Fuck, I love you. So good to me.” He presses kisses along my collarbone and over my shoulder. My eyes are practically crossed at this point, the pleasure so overwhelming in the best way.

“H-harder,” I manage to choke out, because I know he can go harder. He lets go of my ass and lifts up a little, planting his hands beside my head. He brings his legs up and bends them, sliding them beneath my thighs, and then he starts to fuck me at lightning speed. “Oh god,” I wail, digging my nails into his shoulders as he absolutely pounds into me. I’m going to feel this later and I love every second. 

He keeps up his rapid pace but manages to get a hand between us to play with my clit, and that’s what sends me over the edge. A scream rips from my throat as I come so hard that I swear to god I black out for a second. It’s the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time, and Colson always makes me come hard. With that, Colson flips me over, lifts my hips, and slams back inside me. I scream again, squirting all over his cock and thighs, and Colson growls, “Fuck yes.”

I’m practically drooling on the bed at this point, Colson's hands being the only things keeping my hips up. “I’m close,” he manages. “Fuck, Presley, oh my god–” He thrusts four more times, slamming his hips against my ass, and then he seizes up with a gasp as he buries himself as deep as he can possibly go, painting my insides white. His orgasm triggers one more of my own, and that’s it – my legs give out and I splay on the bed helplessly, unashamedly. 

Colson stays flush against me for a few moments as we both come down, breathing hard and sweating. “Christ. That was fucking amazing,” he says, voice gravelly as he kisses my shoulder.

“Yes it was,” I croak, my walls still fluttering around him. When he pulls out, I can’t help but whine, and instantly, his cum trickles out of me. I shiver at the feeling and Colson moans, sitting back on his heels to watch it happen. He drags two fingers over my pussy and I hiss in overstimulation. 

“Sorry,” he rasps, pulling his hand back. “Shower?”

“Shower,” I say weakly, reaching for him. 

In the shower, Colson is pure love and care and safety. He hums while he washes every inch of my body with loving, gentle touches, and I let him. He washes himself quickly and steps out of the shower first, holding up a warm towel for me. He wraps me up in it and hugs me tightly, pressing a long kiss to the top of my head. He takes his time drying me off, too, looking up at me with love in his eyes. I let myself be cared for; we both know I need it right now. 

When we’re both dry, Colson scoops me up and carries me back to bed. “Your appointment is in about an hour and a half,” he says. “Will you get dressed while I make you something to eat?”

I hesitate. I’m scared of him leaving the room, leaving me alone. His expression softens and he thumbs my cheek. “Let’s both get dressed and go to the kitchen together,” he says. I nod gratefully. I’m sitting on the bed and he’s standing, but I reach for him. He hugs me, wrapping long arms around my body, and I slide mine around his neck, holding him close. “I love you, Presley,” he murmurs. 

“I love you too, Colson,” I mumble against his neck, closing my eyes. After a few moments, I let him go and he smiles softly at me. We both get dressed and head to the kitchen where Colson lifts me onto the countertop and presses a kiss to my nose. I can’t help but giggle and he winks at me as he turns to the fridge for food.

As my husband makes us breakfast, I feel a wave of calmness wash through me. Everything is going to be okay. Colson is going to make sure of that.

Taglist: @triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker@anonymousme86@whiteleoqueen@feroniakutenpuu@hxllywoodwhxree

[hypnos333]

Deep Enð

Lee Felix x Reader

Synopsis: After a long tour and a breakup Felix decides to get you back to home

“Felix!” You yelp as his arms wrapped around you and his lips were on your neck, you can feel yourself drowning into his comfiness. “I thought you wanted food” You gasped

“I do” he murmured, tugging on her skirt “but I want you more” She chuckled as she looked at him in his eyes

“Are you crazy?” “Worse” “What is worse?” “In love” He smiled at her dreamily making her blush.

Felix couldn’t help but remember that piece of memory before everything fell apart. You were so free to laugh and free to open up. It’s been months since he saw you know.

He was on tour for months and that’s when you couldn’t take it anymore and broke up with him.

The last 4 months of the tour was hell for him knowing that he couldn’t comfort you and tell you everything will be okay and he’ll see you soon. But at the end you blocked him off everything and the only thing he can remember you by is a stuff animal you gifted him on his anniversary with you.

He needed you back, Your voice, your hair, your pure Vanilla smell, he missed everything about you.

He knew you liked red velvet cupcakes and would easily share with him a cupcake or cake without him even asking and those are most days with you. But now it’s just an empty house.

He was so close of crying on stage of the break up he was in____ when it happened

“Felix we need to talk” you said is a blunt tone after he finally answered after so many rehearsals and after 10 missed calls

It must’ve been night as how dark his room is and how sleepy he was.

“Felix? What happened to babe, Pretty girl?” he asked wanting to know why your such in a saddened mood.

“I think we should break up, I-I can’t do this anymore I can’t do this long distance thing. My mental health is just I can’t Felix” You struggled to find the words and everything was just silent now.

“W-What?” He asked in disbelief

“I just can’t right now, you have 4 months till the tour is over and he barely talk, or even text and like I need attention” Listing out the reason for this to happen but Felix was to lost in his thoughts he didn’t understand. He love you and that’s all that matters right?

So he did what his instincts told him to do Beg.

“Please pretty girl whatever was wrong i’ll fix it, I’ll come back and spoil you with gifts and attention, You know what fuck this Concert I’ll book the first ticket out of here if that’s what you’ll like. I-“Felix you can’t do that me and you both know that” You interrupted him.

Silence was all there was until Felix muffled sobs went through the other end of the phone. You tried not to cry yourself as tears rolled down your face.

“I-I already packed my stuff, the apartment is your I’ll be at my university dorms, I hope you meet someone else Felix” You said before hanging up the phone leaving no room for him to say more.

He sobbed through the night and continued through out the day. He tried not to on stage but he can’t help but think of you instantly. The boys tried to comfort him but he was to heartbroken.

The biggest mistake was telling him where you were.

A knock on your door made you wander who the person was as you wiped your hands on your apron finishing making Kimchi.

They knock again “IM COMING!” you yelled out rushing towards the door. “Damn this person is so impatient” You mumbling before opening the door.

You gasp in disbelief before quickly trying to close the door again but he push the door back open.

“Let’s talk shall we pretty girl” He said

“Felix maybe this isn’t the time, I’m about to have dinner at f/n place” You said sternly trying to get him out.

“You can’t give me the time of day? I just need to talk to you for 30 minutes and that’s it” Felix begged making you give him an uncertainty before sighing, gesturing him to the couch.

As you both settle, You waited for him to say what he wanted to say.

“I-I can’t live without you, I’m struggling without you and You make me feel like i’m complete and i’m sinking without you. i’ll quit stray kids for you or I won’t go to concerts” He said trying not to let his voice crack but tears still slip out as he cries making you feel like crying too.

You stood up as you quickly hug him, he wrapped his arms around your waist and he snuggled in your stomach as he continues crying. “I-Im sorry, So so sorry” He mumbled as he sniffs.

“It’s okay baby” You reassured as he tightened his hold.

“We’ll figure it out love, I promise” You continued saying as he nodded his head. “Would you like to stay here? I made Kimchi would you like some?” You asked making sure to get him as comfortable as possible.

He nodded to both questions so you dragged him to the dining room before dishing out Kimchi for him and you. As you also texted your friend that you can’t make it to the dinner before setting your phone down.

You place the bowl in front of him then sat on the chair next to him digging in to the food.

“How are you?” he asked in his raspy voice from crying.

“I’m doing Okay, How are you?” You asked back.

“I’ve been holding on” he answered taking your hand into his as you smile sadly at him.

“Are you finish, I could wash the dishes” He said getting up, “Oh no no it’s okay I can do it” You said also getting up but he gave you this look making you give him the bowl.

As he wash the dishes you said something that made him surprise and excited.

“You can sleep with me if you want”

“Yes! Of course wait I mean sure I wouldn’t mind”

As you got ready for bed you gave Felix an extra pair of clothes that were secretly his.

Laying in bed with him felt like a dream and old reality and as you drift off to bed he wrapped his arms around you before mumbling “I love you”

Maybe everything will go back to normal.

[faketrex]

21 from the setting prompts!!

Thank you, Nico! 💝 For prompt 21, "a car park lit only by streetlamps."

RWRB, firstprince, post-canon, 920 words, reunions and traditions, soft and sweet.

...

If Alex is lucky, one day he'll get to marry Henry.

They don't need it to prove they love each other, of course not. Their relationship is already exactly what Alex wants it to be; a piece of paper signed by a couple of witnesses isn't going to change anything. Despite that, there are three very good reasons to get married: one, Alex loves a party, two, Alex loves giving the finger to closed-minded bigots, and three, Alex really, really fucking loves Henry.

Maybe it's sappy, but daydreaming about marrying Henry always calms him down. Every other path in Alex's life could lead him in so many unpredictable directions that it feels like the variables go on forever, like he'll never fully escape the anxiety and uncertainty no matter which choices he makes. In every iteration of his future, however, Henry is a constant: side by side with Alex, all the way to the end.

So, yeah. Someday he'll pop the question, and hopefully Henry will say "yes." They'll vow to protect and care for one another, in sickness and in health, as long as they both shall live.

Right now, though, Alex's brain is preoccupied going two hundred miles per hour, way too fast for him to be able to concentrate on that sweet daydream.

And–right now, Alex is about to absolutely roast Henry for crimes against fashion.

That's mostly unrelated.

"Holy shit, who held you up at knifepoint and made you wear that human rights violation masquerading as a tie?"

"Hello to you too, Alex. And here I thought you'd be pleased to see me."

"Seeing you requires the use of my corneas. That hate crime is going to burn them off. Come here."

The parking lot outside the fundraising venue is tiny. High concrete walls surround the rectangular space on three sides, with the building on the fourth enclosing it like a kind of courtyard. The gray garage door blends into the concrete. Two weak floodlamps leave a gap of darkness near the middle of the yard. It doesn't make any sense as a parking lot, even one for VIP guests.

The strangest part of the design is that because of how the building is oriented along the shore, Alex can hear the ocean on the other side of one of the walls. It's like being in a cement white noise machine. Or an empty, open-air contemporary art gallery.

Billionaires are so weird. Why wouldn't they put windows in the wall so they could see the ocean? Hell, why wouldn't they just build a garage and put a deck on top?

None of it really matters, though, it's just Alex's brain speeding along at a breakneck pace. The important thing is that he and Henry are the only ones in the parking lot right now.

As soon as Henry is within arm's length, Alex reaches out for him, prompting Henry to smile softly and lean forward.

Alex stops him with a palm on his chest, grabbing the knot of his tie.

"Alex, really," Henry protests.

"Of course I'm happy to see you, sweetheart, and I promise you I'll give you your 'hello' kiss in just a second, but I need to get this thing off you, first."

"It's not that bad–"

"No, it's worse. Whatever you're thinking, it's like, fifty times worse. Did you bring a back-up?"

"A back-up?"

"A spare. An extra tie."

"No, I–"

"Okay," Alex says, tugging the tie out and unfolding Henry's collar. "Here's the plan." He stuffs the hideous fabric in his jacket pocket and reaches up to unknot his own tie. "You're going to wear mine and I'm going to scandalize a few folks by going without."

"But–"

"Because I can get away with 'rakish' and you can't, that's why."

"Right."

Alex is mostly silent as he wraps his tie around Henry's neck and knots it. When he's done, he carefully folds down Henry's collar again and smooths it all out, settling the tie against his shirt placket. "There. You don't usually wear purple, I know, but your stylist is going to have to suck it up and deal just this once."

"I missed you terribly, love," Henry says quietly.

Alex takes a deep breath and runs his hand down the tie once more, then a third time, making sure it's perfect. He lets the air out of his lungs in a slow, measured exhale. It's fine. He's fine. "Me, too. I hated it. I missed you."

"Would you dance with me before we go in?"

"What?"

"It's my turn for a romantic gesture, I believe."

"Okay," Alex allows. "But it's not–I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's not a competition."

"No," Henry agrees, stepping closer. "Just a tradition."

When they're finally wrapped up in each other, swaying together in the dark at the center of the parking lot, Alex closes his eyes to concentrate. In one ear, he can hear Henry's heartbeat, familiar and reassuring. In the other, he hears the low, repetitive sound of the ocean on the other side of the courtyard wall.

With his eyes closed and Henry's arms wrapped around him, Alex's brain finally goes quiet. He takes another breath: easy in, easy out.

"Are you ready for that kiss now, love?"

In silent response, Alex opens his eyes and tilts his face up to meet Henry's.

...

About five minutes later, more or less, Alex finds out that Henry has an engagement ring in his pocket.

He is pretty fucking lucky, after all.

[losfacedevil]

Oh man I could send SO many requests from that prompt list

"You give me a reason to be better, to do better.” with Jake <3

Request away my sweets! A short sweet blurb just for you 💖

It was no secret that you struggled tremendously with your mental health. Anxious thoughts paving the war for coping mechanisms of your past to rear their ugly heads. The binge eating, skipping meals, days where you wouldn’t get out of bed and others when you couldn’t sleep at all. The internal screaming matches with your own mind, hours of mindless tears streaming down your cheeks.

That was until you met Jake. He had seen past your facade quickly; noticing when you would push the food around on your plate, making it look like you had eaten more than the few bites that snuck past your lips. How your eyes would darken as the intrusive thoughts took over, the way you’d blink rapidly as tears pooled in your eyes. The way you’d allow the first few to slip down your cheeks and how you would quickly wipe them away so he wouldn’t see - or so you thought.

He began making sure to keep bits and bobs at his house for you. A warm sweater, the soft blanket you gushed over in home goods, your favorite snacks; right down to your favorite scented candle hanging out on his living room table. The fleeting touches as he passed by, soft kisses placed to your temple when you least expected it, and the sheer teeth gleaming smiles he would shoot your way when he knew you were slipping away from the conscious realm.

You began to notice a shift in your moods, though it was a very gradual shift. Sad and anxious thoughts would only be blips on your radar as an inner vision of his smile would dance through your minds eye. How your inner debate of if you really needed that second helping of food was curbed by the thought of his encouragement. “Eat if you’re hungry babe, your mind is playing tricks I promise. You haven’t eaten all day, eat up!”

Jake noticed the difference almost immediately. How your eyes would shine, the vibrant glow about you whenever you were on his presence. How you no longer debated if you wanted to eat or not and simply ate when your body told you to. A soft smile caressing his lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin against your shoulder.

“What’s going on in that head.” He mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. A soft smile spread across your lips as you popped the last of your granola bar into your mouth.

“Just thinking about how happy I’ve been recently is all.” You shrugged gently, leaning back to rest your head against his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’ve been happier. It’s a good look on you.” Jake cooed, nestling his face into the crook of your neck.

"You give me a reason to be better, to do better. To want to be better.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you turned your head and pressed a series of kisses to his forehead. Jake chuckled softly, tightening his grip around your midsection.

“I’m glad to have given you light in the darkness I know you were fighting. You don’t know how good it feels to see you smile a full genuine smile.” You nodded softly.

“I do know, because I lost this girl once and I’m hoping to never lose her again.”

[cherriah-writes]

@somerandomdudelmao I have a gift for you I guess you could think of it as a redraw? Technically? I just loved this scene and looking at Ward's expressions and wondering what he's thinking

Ward followed Sculptor down the hall, battling his sense of unease. It had been his constant companion for the entire time they were on that cursed ship, and his nerves were fried. He still hadn't gotten used to the feeling of being constantly watched. Still, he tried to keep from jumping at every sound. Sculptor had only been helpful so far, and none of the vague threats of being eaten had come to fruition, so he decided to trust the tall, green alien as much as he trusted anyone there. (Which, honestly wasn't much, but he figured it counted for something.)

Plus, he wasn't sure what the aliens considered to be the price of disobedience, and he didn't particularly want to find out.

"Where are we going?" Ward asked after a few moments of silence.

"To my workshop," Sculptor answered lightly. "I want to learn more about your species."

"Ah." That was probably why he'd asked which of the two humans was smarter - Ward guessed Oscar would probably just ramble about turtles or something. "Great? I think."

He came up to the workshop, which was incredibly dark. Something about it made his instincts scream louder - like they were shouting at him, Danger! Danger! Danger!

He swallowed. "Wow... It's... really dark in here..." Please turn on the lights, he thought. 

"My apologies. My crew doesn't need any light to see. We only use lamps in public places for health reasons."

Like that made any sense. "Okay..." he said slowly. "Cool place, not creepy at all." Danger! Danger! Danger!

"Thank you," Sculptor said, apparently oblivious to Ward's sarcasm. "Now, before I begin, I want to remind you that we're in the middle of open space."

The light coming in from the hallway only illuminated a strange black ring in the ceiling of the workshop. As Ward watched, a dozen spider-like, mechanical arms lowered themselves out of the circle, their hissing, shifting noise seeming to worm its way into his brain. 

Oh, no.

"If you decide to run away," Sculptor continued in the same passive lilt, "you'll have nowhere to go."

Ward's heart stopped in his chest. He stared up at Sculptor, whose face was still the same neutral expression, like he'd been discussing something normal instead of - whatever this was. 

When had his eye things started glowing?

All the sudden, from all sides, the mechanical arms were grabbing him. With a strange strength and fluidity, they wrapped around his limbs, torso, head--

He tried desperately to fight them, but they were all around him, and he couldn't even get them to budge. His heart was racing, adrenaline lending him useless strength. "Hey! What are you... wait! Can we talk about this? What are you-"

His words grew muffled as one of the arms wrapped around his head, holding his mouth shut. He tried to scream, to yell, to do anything, but nothing came out. The other arms slowly stifled his mobility, holding him perfectly still. He breathed heavily through his nose, heart beating so heavily against his chest he thought it might break out. Panic was setting in, and he was hopelessly, helplessly still.

"I'm going to cut you open and see what your insides have to offer," Sculptor said with a smile - the only time throughout this entire disaster that he'd shown any kind of emotion. Ward blanched. "Don't worry. You won't feel a thing."

Ward watched one mechanical arm with an alarmingly sharp tip get closer to his face, then flinched as he felt a stinging, sharp pain against his neck. He screamed, silent to everyone but himself. 

The wound on the side of his neck didn't hurt as much as it should have, he was pretty sure. Despite his racing thoughts, it was hard for him to think. Blood loss? No, it couldn't be, not yet-

He closed his eyes and curled in on himself as much as he could in a vain attempt to protect himself - which, frankly, wasn't much. He shied away as he felt the Sculptor reach up and drag his finger against the wound.

He felt dizzy, and his head was getting foggier and foggier. It felt like his brain was slowly getting smothered, and his heart rate slowed down. Then, it kept slowing down. It lost speed until he wasn't even aware of it anymore - not that he was aware of much, at that point.

"Delicious indeed," Sculptor said, sounding pleased with himself. Ward's head shot up again in inexpressible fear, and Sculptor's leering, glowing face seemed to be the only thing in the room.

The door to the hallway closed behind Sculptor's head, cutting off the outside light. The only thing that Ward could see was the eerie glow of the alien's not-eyes. He felt a single stab of hopelessness before, mercifully, his thoughts slowed to a stop and he dropped into unconsciousness.

[perkqularkreashions]

Dogs Days Are Not Over

Requested | YES. Request | OPEN.

~M~ TWD Imagine: YN finds herself in an impossible situation when she is met with her former lover.

Word Count: 4,667

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Miscarriage, Mentions of Death.

Pairings: Negan X Reader, Dwight X Reader, Rick X Reader [Previous]

Author's note, this is the fourth request I've seen where the reader is pregnant lol; I have two more with Spencer Reid.

Happy Readings :)

NEGAN stirred gently, his back facing me as he groaned. The voices erupted in the halls, signaling that it was morning, another day of being completely absorbed by the idiocy Negan decided to keep in his company. Moments passed before he rose from the bed, dragging his limp body through the room, finding anything to toss on. He spoke softly to me last night, for the first time in a long time. His hand rubbed against me while his lips kissed my neck, gently lulling me to sleep, but I knew in the morning he would be back to sulking and carrying this attitude. We had been arguing for the last few days, and small things turned into big things that snowballed into us not talking for some days. “I want to go get Michael to check out,” he finally pronounces, his back still facing me as he pulls on some clothes. 

“Negan,” I whispered, sitting in our bed, shifting slightly as he dismissed me. The door slammed behind him, and I was left alone. This time, it wasn’t a tiny fight over Dwight flirting with me or me getting jealous of his other wives; I overheard one of his dick-riding minions talking about the current raid that they partook in. They recounted the names in glee, the names of the victims that Negan bludgeoned, Abraham and Glenn. I froze, and my face grew warm as I listened closer to the words tumbling out of their mouths—the gargling of his words and the look of desperation on the woman’s face. I moved to the man, but I grabbed my gun and slammed it against his temple before I could process anything that had happened. Over and over again, I drew the butt of my gun to his face. My eyes burned with tears and blood. My feet slid against the ground as I felt arms wrap around me. It was one hit, a solid punch against my jaw, and another to my temple; I heard a loud crack. 

I fell limp to the floor, a cold hand pressing against my face. His thumb rubbed gently against my skin. I could smell the stale cigarettes and beer on him. His voice was barely above a whisper. I could scarcely see his face, but I knew it was Dwight. I flinched away from him, slowly pushing him away. “Negan will kill you if he sees you,” was all I could mutter before, succumbing to darkness.  

Now, roughly two days later, I have a bruised and darkened eye. I could barely see from my left eye; bright lights irritated me, and I suffered frequent migraines – Negan would call it a suitable punishment for a disrespectful woman. I wore a patch that Dwight had found on one of his excursions. Negan didn’t take too kindly to it, and me jumping to his defense wasn’t helping the situation either. Negan commanded one of the wives to nurse me back to health; with disdain and twisted face, she did so. She changed my bandages from my worsening eye and cleaned the wounds. This morning was no different; she came with a slight frown upon seeing me. She sighed, setting down her materials. “When are you going to tell him?” she finally spoke as she damped a discolored clothe to my eye. 

After moments of silence, I finally responded, “What.” She laughed before snatching her hand away from my face. 

“You’re pregnant, getting into stupid fights with David? He punched you in the stomach, YN, and the only reason you blacked out like that was because that was your old crew.” I rolled my eyes, shaking my head softly. 

“There’s no need; he’s not talking to me. I feel fine.” I confided in Rachel often, and on one of my drunken nights, I told her that Michael was the group leader's son to whom I used to belong. It was easier to think he was dead than to believe that Rick was dead. I mourned for Rick, Carl, Glen, Maggie, Abraham, Tara, Sasha, Daryl, and Michonne. I told her about my sisters and Beth’s death, and I told her about first meeting Rick and his family. She listened, soaked in every word as I cried in her lap. 

“Your eye isn’t healing; you might want to get checked out when you go to Alexandria,” she sighs as she leaves me alone. 

It didn’t take me long to get ready: light green cargo shorts, a stained tan t-shirt, and some army boots I stole from a decaying corpse. My head shifted to the door as I heard his babbles break the silence. His head rested on Negan’s chest as he moved closer to the room, avoiding eye contact with me. I ran my hand down his curly hair, taking him in for a moment. “How’s he feeling?”

“Not getting any better from last night, still a high fever, and he sounds hoarse,” He whispers; I could feel his eyes on me. Heavy and daunting. Finally, I look up, praying he doesn’t shift his gaze away. “I worry about you, YN” 

Slowly, I let my hand travel to his face, cuffing it gently. My thumb brushed against his facial hair, prickling my skin uncomfortably, then moving to his lips. “I know… I’m sorry” was all I could manage. 

“He could’ve killed you; I would have to kill him. I would do anything for you — for Michael.” I nodded; I pressed my lips against his, tasting alcohol and some sort of meat. His other hand gently grabbed at my waist, yanking me closer. “Come on,” he whispered against my lips. As we left the room, we were greeted by his dick-riding minions, ready to raid another town. My eyes scanned David, his face distorted from the butt of my gun. He smirked momentarily, before trotting off with the rest of the group. My eyes flickered to Dwight, his movements slow and calculated. He dodged through the crowd and soon walked shoulder-to-shoulder with me. Nothing was, but nothing needed to be said. His fingers brushed against mine, and my eyes shifted to Negan and then to him. 

“How are you feeling?” I heard him grunt, his arms folded against his chest as he moved slightly before me. 

“Better; Rachel says I need to get checked out when I go to the town,” I answered shortly, looking around and disinterested in the conversation. 

“I miss you” 

“Don’t,” I interrupted, speeding past him as I slammed my shoulder against his. I gasped as I felt his arm latch onto mine. I didn’t turn around, but I knew he was upset and needed me to show him I was alright. He let me go, and I continued to move with the group as we boarded our rides. 

It didn’t take us long to reach Alexandria, the scene unfolding in front of me as every memory began to flood back. I began to feel queasy and full of anxiety as I stepped out of the car with Michael in hand. I hissed gently as sharp pain ran through my eye, I brushed it off as I lingered behind most of the group.

“Little pig…Little pig, let me in,” he foolishly commands, Lucille tossed over his shoulder. I squinted at the man; he was pale and had sustained some injuries. He was hunched forward slightly, his shoulders moving at an alarming rate. I caught his eyes, his hair covering most of his case; I took another step in his direction, my chest burning as I watched him intently. Realization struck on his face, and his eyes widened. “Daryl?” I whispered. My head snapped back to the gate as it began to open, and slowly, the figure emerged. He steps in, slowly thrusting Lucille into the man’s hand. 

His face changed, and he gained some weight. His hair wasn’t as curly the last time I saw him more clean cut. His face drained of color and life that used to decorate him – he had hope. I couldn’t move or process the man I was seeing before me. He froze, his eyes moving from Michael to me. My throat tightened as I tried to utter something to him; I dreamt of this day, standing in front of Rick, letting him meet his son, explaining the hell that I went through, seeking comfort in his arms. “Rick?” I hiccuped out, shaking my head. I took a step closer to him, tightening my grip on Michael. 

“YN?” he whispered, his voice kissing against my eyes. His eyes traveled back to Michael, “Is this–” hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers running against his arm before laying his hand against his back. 

“Hold the fuck up,” I heard Negan shout, his laughter filtering into the arm as he stepped closer. His face was full of devious mischievous, but his eyes were full of sorrow and confusion. They watered slightly as he stepped closer to me. “Rick? Ole Rick, here is the father of Michael?” 

“I was traveling with Daryl doing some runs in this town when we got separated. A herd of walkers took us by surprise, and I stumbled in the woods somewhere; I was holding up in some shanty town centers, bars, and a mall to give birth to Michael.” I stared at Negan for a moment as realization crossed his eyes. “Where’s Maggie?” I whispered. Rick looked for a moment, his eyes shifting down as he swallowed. 

“She didn’t make the trip back here after—” I sucked deeply. I needed to hold myself together, and I nodded to his statement. I pressed my lips together. “Let me see her.” 

With that, we moved to her grave sight, next to Glenn. I stared at the dirt graves, my foot mindlessly kicking at the dirt as it tumbled down the pile. My eyes stung with tears as I tugged on my bottom lip. “She was sister,” I spoke to Negan, my eyes fixating on the makeshift wooden cross. “She was always the rock between Beth and I. Beth was a crybaby, and Maggie was always Miss Straight and Narrow while I wanted to drink and stay out late with my hick boyfriend,” I laughed. It was long and rested in the stillness of the air. “When I saw Rick and Shane running down that field with Otis with Carl in his arms, I knew then that we stuck with the crew that came riding in their beat-up van and motorcycle. I nursed Carl back to health and taught him how to be a farmer."

My eyes flashed to Rick; a sunken look rested on his face as he gave me a soft smile. “She was my everything, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you—” I was interrupted by Michael’s whooping cough, his hand gripping against my chest. Negan rushed to my side, his eyes scanning Michael’s face, brushing his hair out of his face. He looked at me for a moment, his eyes pleading to hold him. Absentmindedly, I nodded. He soon began checking his reddening face, the back of his hand pressing against his forehead as he shifted slightly. My eyes flickered to Rick, who tensed; a look of concentration and bewilderment ran across his features. I flinched at the abrupt ring pierced through the air; we froze for a moment; it was a gunshot. I followed behind Rick, my hand removing the gun from my side, upon entering a building far from the gravesite. My gun was aimed at a teenage boy, a bandage covering his eye as he held it at David, who had multiple medical supplies in his arms while tossing them in a crate. My face furrowed in disgust as my eyes shifted to him. 

“Put some back, or the next one goes in you,” he commands; I observed, smirking slightly at this kid's courage. 

“Kid…what do think is gonna happen next?” the boy looked at Negan, his eyes flickering to the child in his hand. 

“He’s taking all of our medicine! You said Half,” he hissed; he squinted in hatred, his lips parted as a low snarl escaped. His finger danced against the trigger. 

“Carl… Carl put the gun down.” I straightened my posture, my eyes taking him in. He was taller; he didn’t have a sweet innocence about him. When I first found out I was pregnant, he stayed by my side — he was overprotective, to say the least. I remember sharing a cell in the prison for a month, his body leaning against the base of the bed, his head resting against the rusted metal pole. His mouth parted, and his chest slowly moved with each huff that pushed past his lips. I watched him for a moment, brushing my hands through his hair. He’d stir in his sleep, uncomfortably adjusting himself, letting his hands run over his neck. He hated sleeping alone since his mother had passed, and I hated being alone since I suffered from the miscarriage. 

Lowering my gun, I watched him. “You should go before you find out how dangerous we are.” I smiled softly at his words.

“David, put the medicine back,” I whispered, holstering my gun. Carl turned to me, his face still tight with anger. I grabbed his arm, and he flinched, his hand locking on the gun. 

“You don’t tell me what to do.” David spits, the crate still locked in his arms. A smirk rode on his face as he cowarded behind Negan. I looked at Carl, pressing a gentle smile on my face. Confusion ran across his eyes; he shifted to face me slightly. 

“You know, cowboy, you grew some damn balls the last time I saw you.” I laughed, tipping his hat back. His face softened, and a smile crept along his face. “Come on, Carl, I promise you, no one will touch the medicine. Half is what he said, and half is what he means,” I whispered, unraveling the gun from his hand. 

I turned to David, taking a long step forward; his eyes widened as he realized that Negan would let me do it, taking the safety of the gun and putting it to his temple. “Put the shit down” his eyes flickered to Negan, who didn’t seem pleased with my sudden demonstration of leadership. “You know I’m good for it.” David curses for a moment, dropping the crate on the ground, his eyes fixed on me as he slowly exited the room. The door slammed behind him as we all listened to his retreating footsteps. 

“YN,” Carl finally lets out, and I turn to him with a wide smile. “YNN,” he finally whispers; I gasped softly as he slammed his body against me. His arms wrapped around me. I chuckled. 

“You’re still a troublemaker, I see” I whispered. 

“I can say the same about you!” he chuckles through his slight frenzy of emotions. 

“I hate to interrupt a touching moment, but this reminds me that, you all have way too many guns,” Negan states. Carl removes himself from me, his eyes shifting to Negan. 

“First, Michael is sick, I know it’s probably too much to ask-”

“No,” Rick interrupted me. “Let’s get him looked at,” he hummed; I nodded, whispering a thank you. A woman with glasses came in, shakingly looking at Negan and me. 

“Hi! I’m YN. That is Michael.” he shyly lifted his head off at the sound of his name, and I motioned her to come closer. She was hesitant for a moment, her eyes scanning the room. She was observing Negan; her hand trembled as she moved to adjust her glasses. “He’s been a little sick, with a bad cough. Negan over here thinks it is serious; he just gets sick easily. He hasn’t had any motivation to do anything but sleep and sometimes eat.” She nods, her hand gently brushing against his back as she tries to take him from Negan. He stiffens, locking his grip on Michael. Resting my hand against his shoulder, I squeeze. Negan’s eyes flickered over to mine, and he sighed content before letting the woman take Michael. 

“What about you, ma’am?” she whispered, setting Michael on a bed. She lay him on his back, her hand moving to his stomach, the left side of his chest, and the right. She turned to me, waiting for an answer. “You should let me check you before you go; the bruising around your eye doesn’t look too good,” she nods for a moment. 

Simply, I responded, “I’m fine.”

“How old is he?” Carl questions

“9 months, he’s so busy and wants to be around everything and see everything.” I laughed, my hands nervously playing with the hem of my shirt; I watched her examine him; the woman made faces at Michael as she poked and prodded him. He whined softly before settling into a soft laugh as she made a goofy face again. 

Carl grabbed my hand, “Hey! It’s going to be okay. If he’s anything like us, Grimes, he’s a survivor,” he hummed; I nodded – tightening my grip on his hand. The memories came flooding in Carl’s kindness towards me, Rick’s loyalty and love, Daryl’s abrasiveness and wit, Abraham’s might and crudeness, and Rosita’s sass and smile. I sucked in a sob as I watched continued to watch Michael. I missed the feeling of Glenn wrapping his arms around in a tight hug after a sleepless night, or Maggie always bringing me a cup of tea in the mornings and before bed. I wanted to kill Negan for taking them away, I wanted to bring him to his knees and make him beg forgiveness as I rammed his stupid ass bat against his head. I wanted him to watch the woman he loved the most murder him. His last memory on this earth, is me wielding Lucille against his skull. But I was weak; I couldn’t imagine my life without him. 

“Well! He’s alright, just a little hay fever; it’s growing increasingly hot outside the pollen and allergens are making him sick. We have some children’s Advil that might help his temperature; some tea and honey would be great. Might wanna keep him in fresh clothes.” I sighed in relief; I nodded rapidly, as she lifted him. “We had some allergy medicine, non-drowsy, of course. I’ll make something to drink for him and get him a change of clothes, and he will be as good as new. But I wanna have a check-up in a week or so. Just to make sure," I moved to grab him, his smile overtaking his face, his hands slamming against my face with excitement as he squeals with glee. 

My eyes shifted to Negan; he stood against the back door. His eyes intensely staring at mine, he nodded briefly before looking away. “Come on, Rick, let’s go get my guns!” he promptly shouts, kicking himself off the door. 

I stared at Carl, we were left alone, and I had so much to say, but nothing came out. I wanted to beg for his forgiveness – I knew it wouldn’t amount to much. He smiled softly, nodding slowly as if he could read my thoughts. Somehow, he always could; he always felt like my first son, the way he clung to me after his mother passed. He would find his way into my room, whispering that he had a nightmare about his mother and Judith. “Don’t,” Carl whispered, tears streaming down his cheek as he nodded. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”

It was silence between us. “I was going into labor; I found my way into a mall. Negan and some of the guys, helped me give birth to him. They took me back to the Sanctuary, and I became Negan’s wife. I wanted to come back; I did — I just… I don’t know.” I whispered.

“It’s okay, YNN. Dad always knew you were out there. He said he was too hard to get rid of.” he laughed softly. 

“Show me around, cowboy.” We walked through the streets, talking about different things, his new life, and the small hobbies he had picked up before things went to hell: the relationships and the heartbreaks. 

I stopped him, grabbing his arm. “These people are dicks; they do this shit for dominance to make you feel weak. You aren’t weak. They want to leave with this feeling of hopelessness. He will come back, and when he does, don’t show fear. He feeds off of it. There’s a shanty ranch home, 15 miles north of here, Hutington. Have your father meet me there in 3 days.” He nods quickly; I unholstered my gun, passing it to him. “Please, be safe cowboy.” 

“I will,” he hums, pulling me into a tight hug. I heard a long, high-pitched whistle, my eyes shifting to Dwight as he motioned for me to follow him. Carl looks at me before, whispering goodbye. Slowly, I made my way to Dwight, his eyes seething with jealousy, a look he often carried with him. Daryl was standing in a position directly behind him as he watched me. I passed a sympathetic smile to him. 

“What were you doing with him?” he questioned. I scoffed momentarily, looking around before returning my gaze to him. 

“He’s my son,” I answered without another thought. Carl always felt like my son; when he first arrived on the farm, I helped nurse him back to health—telling him fables that my grandfather used to say to me. I brought him late-night snacks despite my father telling me to not get so attached to them. I remember the look Rick gave me when I pleaded his case for them to stay– I remember the slight touch that sent shivers down my spine and our first kiss after he killed Shane. “Your leader killed my friends and took their guns, beds, and everything else they wanted. He’s a tyrant, and you know this.”

“I’m not one shacking up with him.” he hisses, stepping in my face, his breath fanned against my nose as he towered over me. “You’re fucking him, for fucksakes, you’re pregnant with his child. Don’t think I notice, how you don’t drink or stand around me when I smoke. The oversized shirts you wear? I notice everything about you.” I could find his hand and tried to find a way in mine. “Or Is it mine?” 

I honestly didn’t know; it was one drunken night. Negan and I had gotten into a nasty fight over Michael. I pushed him, and he choked me; I remember him tossing me to the ground and storming out of the room. Dwight had visited me and asked me if I wanted to go on a run. It just happened. I don't regret it.

I sighed, looking away and noticing everyone gathering at the gate. Their chatter and humming, the teasing and provocation. Finally turning to him, he shifts, his head focused on me, “I love them, and I love him. No matter where I go, I will always be a part of this family,” I whispered to him before moving to Negan. I stood at Negan's side, staring at Rick for a moment. He looked at me, and nodded gently, mouthing a slight OK. 

“Oh-ho,” Negan calls out, “What the fuck is that?” he grabs me by the waist, yanking me closer to him. “Are you trying to get at my wife?” He laughs momentarily and harshly grabs my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were delicate, full of curiosity and jealousy. He loosened his hold on my face, his thumb gently rubbing against my bruised cheek. Stunned, I stumbled back as he slammed his lips against mine. I didn’t kiss back; I stood their wide eyes and throbbing upper lip. He continued to kiss me, and soon, we fell into a rhythm, something that came so naturally to us. He pulled back and let out a slight howl. “You see that! She’s mine; I don’t know what you think… is going to happen, but she’s my wife.” 

I looked away from him, my head throbbing, my eyes burning for a moment as he continued with his speech. I closed my eyes briefly, sucking a deep breath before letting it fall against the air. I grew increasingly dizzy as the moments passed, and the longer I stood there, the more irritated I became. I drifted off in the background as Rick and Negan discussed formalities. I brushed past the Saviours as I moved to the truck. 

Night fell as quickly as I was back in my room, breastfeeding Michael, shutting my eyes as I rocked against the rocking chair. The soft sound of the chatter outside of the window calmed me slightly. The door slammed shut; I could hear his footsteps thudding against the ground. His boots slid off and tumbled against the floor. “I love you; I will never let Rick, Dwight, or any man have you. You mean everything to me; you’re mine, and I intend on keeping it that way.” I pried open my eyes, watching him through blurred vision. He stood there, leaning against the wall. 

I got up, placing Michael in a wooden crib covered with soft, thin blankets to prevent him from getting splinters as he would chew on the surroundings if he were up early enough. I tasked Dwight with finding me a different crib for him; after each run, whatever team partakes in, I always receive a report back with an update on any cribs. I brushed his hair out of his face; I tensed as I felt Negan’s body press against mine. I could feel the warmth radiating over me and his head nuzzled in my neck. His lips gently pecked at my skin, slowly as he moaned softly. His hands danced against my waist momentarily, pulling me back into the bedroom. I spun around to face him, noticing a look on his face. I could smell it on him. I chuckled for a moment, tossing my hand in his face. I moved our shared bed. 

Before I could make it to bed, his hand gripped my upper arm. I stumbled back into him. “Don’t walk away from me,” his voice was stern. “Stop walking away for me.” his voice now pleading. His grip loosened as his thumb gently caressed my skin. His hand swiftly moved to my neck –gasping, my hand immediately covered his. He forced my head to the left, our noses meeting slowly he brushed his against mine. “Stop walking away from me,” he repeats, his handcuffing my cheek. 

Our lips collided, my hands moving to his neck as I yanked him closer, letting our bodies tumble onto the bed. I crawled back, trying to keep our lips connected. He pulls back; I fall against the bed and watch him yank my pants down. He doesn’t speak; he usually never does. His fingers, moved on my thighs as he dragged me closer to him. I gasped softly, at the feel of his lips against my clit, his warm tongue tracing patterns as I grabbed his head. “Oh my-” I moaned softly, bucking my hips against my face. 

He kissed the inside of my thighs, moving to my stomach before, kissing my clit again, his finger slid inside me. Slowly he pumped, his knuckles pounding against my lips as he continued eating me out. Holding my breath, I let out disgruntled moans. My hands gripped the sides of his head before moving to my face, and my knuckles moved to my mouth as I bit down. I called out his name softly, he pushed my hand away shoving his finger into my mouth. He shoved it deeper into my mouth as he watched me choke on his finger, my eyes watered as my tongue moved to push his fingers out of my mouth, and yanking them out, I cursed at him. Shutting my legs slowly.

He moved back on top of me, his body weight resting on his hand. “Put it in,” he commanded; I sat there for a moment. My hand hesitantly moving to his dick, I grabbed at it, not bothering to jerk him off. I lined him up at my entrance; I tugged on my bottom, expecting him to shove it in as he usually does. His tip slowly slides in; his face contorts for a moment. 

He moves slowly; I gasp softly, taking sparse and sporadic breaths as he fills me. Finally, he puts all his weight on his forearm, his face closer to mine as he grabs my leg, tossing it around his waist. “I love you” he whispers, into my ear. His thrusts were slow and passionate; he moaned gently in my ear as he nibbled at my ears. “Do you love me?”, I opened my mouth but was interrupted by him thrusting into me. I struggled to push out a yes, my hands clawing at his back as I tightened my legs around his waist. 

“Say it” 

“I love you, D,” I paused, my heart thudding against my chest. I began to notice how heavier he was, how his stomach pressed against mine, and how he just stopped breathing. Fuck. He stopped thrusting; I could feel the anger seething from his skin. I didn’t know what to say. Should I just continue moaning? Should I be aloof?

He lifts himself, and I swiftly close my eyes, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I-I wasn’t thinking about him.” was all I mustered out. 

“No?” he chuckles, the cool air brushing against my body. He was leaving. “You’re fucking moaning his name when I’m fucking you,” he shouts; I look away. 

“You’re going to wake Michael,” I whispered, his footsteps thudding against the room. His hand gripped my arm as he pulled me up. I opened my eyes, watching him. 

“Do you love him?” His voice was eerily calm. 

“No,” I lied; of course, I did. I loved how he made me feel, how wanted he made me feel, and how precious I was to him. How he was so gentle with me, no matter what I did. But I would never love him the way I love Negan…No matter what this sadistic maniac does, I would never love anyone as I loved him.

He chuckles, tossing me back on the bed. “Fuck you YN.”

[wonderfuldeath]

.o| Bad Temptation : XXII |o.

Warnings : Violence, injury, graphic depictions, sex

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥

As in his dream, everything is perfectly in place. The white furniture, the gilding on the walls, the crystal chandeliers. The rich vampire's teams had done a titanic job. Everything was clean, which was no mean feat when he thought back to their first visits. Taehyung didn't know where to put his eyes, spinning around a little, he wanted to touch everything, to soak up this very special atmosphere. Something here made his whole being vibrate, it was electrifying. Like a child in search of treasure, Taehyung circled the building, touching every piece of furniture, breathing in every particle of air he could. He pushes open every door, under the amused gaze of his husband, who follows him like a shadow. At first, the vampire wasn't entirely sure about the white atmosphere, which contrasted particularly sharply with the usual dark atmosphere of his lodgings. But Taehyung had made his little face, the one Jungkook can never upset. He'd have to make do with all this immaculate white, which would be difficult to clean if anything were to happen to anyone. Preferably to one of Heisukei's men.

“- Are you listening to me?

- Of course my love, I find this idea particularly interesting, even.

- Oh really? I should call now then, I'm sure they'll be delighted to do so.

- Do what?

- Ah, you see you weren't listening! Who'd want a swimming pool as a home!”

Jungkook felt foolish, but he couldn't hold back his laughter at his husband's joy. Taehyung had regained his color; he was alive again and in perfect health. It was good to see him back to his normal self. Driven by the dark force that is love, he came to kiss her. His soft lips had the pleasant taste of wild strawberry, and Taehyung didn't take long to respond, wrapping his arms around the nape of his life partner's neck. Still, many questions had been piling up without any real answers for some time. Taehyung had been resurrected as a vampire normally, which meant he logically needed his partner's blood to survive. But for some reason, Taehyung neither wanted nor needed it. His teeth didn't look like bloodthirsty fangs, and he didn't have to wear any gadgets to go out in broad daylight. Grandma Ivanovich had said it was nothing, that they'd figure it all out in time. But Jungkook was still worried. He'd rather die than see his husband go back to the way he was before they got married. The two stay glued together, while Taehyung looks at the closed door of one of the many guest rooms.

“- This will be Jimin's room until we figure out what's going on with his identity papers.

- All right, then. Where will our room be then?”

Without thinking, Taehyung takes his hand, leading him into the secondary wing. The small castle fascinates the vampire, especially as her husband seems to find his way around easily. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel he'd been here before. The feeling of the familiar had enveloped him from the first day they'd visited, as if they'd lived in the building years before. Taehyung left his hand just long enough to push open the two doors leading to a huge bedroom, the black four-poster bed right in the middle standing out, but obviously Taehyung had heard his lament of a man living in the dark usually. It was luxurious. A large, rich and powerful family must have lived here, and Jungkook imagines how happy their lives must have been. Surely this was what drove him to come and cling to his husband, kissing his neck, his shoulders, running his hands against his body so intoxicating. When was the last time they'd done anything more sensual than watch each other change? No idea. But the idea of being alone in their new home gave the vampire wings, and it wasn't Taehyung who stopped him.

“- Luckily it's just us. What would people say if they saw you, Mr. Jeon?

- That my husband is a work of art and I want to take care of him. If others think otherwise, then they can burn in hell.

- Poor Monsieur Jung, only taking the souls you've fallen.

- I can't help it, I don't make the rules of hell.”

A yelp passes Taehyung's lips as he's thrown against the bed, but he doesn't complain, on the contrary. He participates in the undressing, lets himself go when Jungkook touches where he knows his husband is going to lose his mind. The exchange is initially tender, as they rediscover and tame each other, before it becomes animalistic. Their bodies interlock, slamming into each other in the violent purity of the moment, Taehyung's voice so husky it soars, and Jungkook's teeth marks make his head spin. The exchange is as languorous as it is short, leaving both men breathless as Jungkook rolls beside him. The particular warmth of Jungkook's fangs planted in his flesh makes him shiver, and he turns to the vampire, watching him.

“- We've lived here before.”

Jungkook opens his eyes again, curious and lost at what his husband is telling him, glaring at him to understand what he's telling him, while Taehyung puts his clothes back on a little hastily. This time, the vampire is worried. He clutched his husband's wrist, helping him to calm down over this new information, as delirious as it was impossible. Taehyung was a human, he hadn't been born like Jungkook, a hundred or two hundred years before, yet he seems convinced of this, his brain seems to be spinning at a pace even he can't keep up with.

“- What do you mean, we've lived here before?

- I've got to go and see Elyzabeth. I've got to talk to her.

- Talk to her about what? What's going on, Taehyung?

- I just figured out why I've been having all these strange dreams.”

He takes Jungkook's face in his hands, kissing him like he's never kissed before, all his feelings mixing in this exchange, making Jungkook weak. He grips his hips, deepening the kiss, which nevertheless remains all too light for his liking. Taehyung steps back, not wanting to waste any more time. He rubs his nose against Jungkook's, still lost, before slamming his lips against the vampire's again and disappearing without a trace other than his sweet perfume, which Jungkook inhales like a drug. His eyes gaze at the empty room.

“- What dream is he talking about?”

It's almost two o'clock when he enters the witch's store, taking inventory, as usual when someone comes in. However, it wasn't her laughing or even happy look that greeted Taehyung, and he wrinkled his nose. The young woman's belly had grown, made round as a balloon by pregnancy. It seemed to tire her, but not enough for her to make that sad, completely downcast face, as if her lover had let her down two weeks short of giving birth.

“- Lizzy, is something wrong?

- Hoseok is unreachable… He won't answer any of my calls.

- And you went to see him?

- That's the biggest problem! His house is gone.”

Taehyung remains shocked by the announcement, Elyzabeth looking like she's about to cry, and he frowns. Hoseok would never really have abandoned her two weeks before giving birth, without ever leaving any news. He hadn't known the demon long, but that didn't seem to be in his character. He pinched his lower lip, whatever he had to say could wait, his friend needed support. He joined her behind the counter to take her in his arms, trying to find comforting and reassuring words.

“- You don't have any news, do you? Jungkook hasn't mentioned it?

- No. He didn't tell me anything about Hoseok, nothing unusual anyway.

- Something must have happened… None of his establishments are staying either… What if he was…

- No. He's not dead.”

Two cries of terror pass their lips as Min Yoongi raises his eyes to the sky, clearly irritated that nobody ever pays attention to the presence of ghosts. But he keeps his unpleasant comment to himself, his beady eyes against the two bodies trying to regain their emotions. Taehyung is the first to speak.

“- Do you know that humans are easily cardiac? And pregnant women, easily surprised? What would you have done if I'd died and she was in labor?

- As far as I know, the wedding ceremony is here to turn you into a vampire. As for Elizabeth, all I'd have to do is call an ambulance. Or deliver her myself.”

The reality of the matter made Taehyung nod gently; he wasn't exactly wrong about the statement, but he couldn't quite agree with it either. After all, he was nothing like a vampire.

“- I thought you were away for several months?

- Something made me come back early. Jimin isn't at home, and his loan was canceled. I can't reach him.

- Jimin is safe with the Jeons for now. There's been… a problem.

- Problem? A catastrophe! I've been told I no longer have a secretary! And my business is in the hands of our new mayor!

- … New mayor?”

Everyone looked at each other, trying to understand what was happening, one point at a time. Taehyung and Elyzabeth knew about Jimin, since he had come to ring their doorbell after crying his eyes out, announcing that he had lost everything, right down to his furniture. But obviously, the announcement of the new mayor was a discovery for both of them, looking at each other, trying to figure out if Yoongi wasn't playing a bad joke.

“- Heisukei Damarro is our new mayor. It was on the news this morning.”

[devdevlin]

Hi! Wishing you and ur baby health and happiness. I'm not sure if you're still doing prompts but 7. “I never say no to a picnic.” looked interesting for vol/tomione since a picnic is usually such a happy affair :) if not then I merely want to say again that I love ur writing, im still not over “Don’t cry. Everything’s going to be okay” and DMLE. Best wishes xoxo

LMAO OMG I’M SORRY. I found this in my drafts just the other day and didn't hate it, so I thought I'd polish it up for you! Three years later is better than never... right? Thank you so much for sending this through, I really appreciate it even now that it’s been so long 🖤🖤

*

"—dunno why we're still out here in the boonies. It's the middle of winter! There's gotta be a warmer place to—"

"Chew with your mouth closed, Ronald."

Ron glares in her direction, and he makes a show of chewing a couple of times more with his mouth open before he finally snaps it shut.

Hermione glares right back, her temper steadily rising. Who does he think found all of this food? Who does he think performed the spells to cook the mushrooms? It certainly wasn't him, and it certainly wasn't Harry—

Possibly sensing what was brewing, Harry clears his throat. "I, um. I think I left the cups in the tent," he says in the awkward manner that Harry tends to take on whenever he interrupts them. 

"I'll—"

"Oh, no, no," Hermione interrupts Ron quickly. "No, I'd hate for you to feel pressured to get up on our account. I'll get them."

Hermione gets up before either of them can tell her not to, inspired to put some distance between herself and the boys, and trudges back through the snow to fetch the cups manually. When the tent swishes behind her, she hears a faint, 'women.'

She stops by the entrance and closes her eyes, clenching her jaw and fists. She takes a deep breath, and then another, and another.

It takes a minute, but once she's calm enough to see straight, she passes through to the kitchen, angrily muttering to herself as she goes, and she gets onto the tips of her toes to reach up for the cups.

"I'm offended you didn't think to ask me."

The muscles in Hermione's arms seize as she whirls around—

"I'd never say no to a picnic."

Her brain stalls at the sight of him.

No. No, no, no, and yet there, not even three feet from her, in the warded safety of their tent, is a stranger. But it can't be, logic and reason tells her that, it's—

"Impossible," she whispers.

The stranger before her is young, barely an adult, and he doesn't have a wand in hand. He's standing calmly with an amused sort of smile on his lips, and he isn't outwardly threatening, but he doesn't need to be, because he's in their tent. Her wards are still good. She knows they are. How is he in their tent?

But it's only then, as she's gaping at him, that Hermione notices how tightly the chain of the horcrux is wrapped around her neck. She reaches up for it, feeling it out from over her shirt to find the locket pressing so tightly into her chest that she can't even wedge a finger under it.

"Wh-who are you?" she says, and her voice quivers despite herself.

The stranger tilts his head. "You know who I am."

Her anger with Ron long forgotten, Hermione is close to yelling for help. "Who," she repeats, "are you?"

The stranger steps closer, and Hermione backs up into the counter. "Say my name."

"I don't—"

"Say," he hisses, "my name."

She hasn't yet decided whether the stranger’s real or not, whether he's a figment of her imagination or a genuine intruder, but either way, he sounds real and his eyes are dark. They're hollow and dead, pitch as night, and he isn't real, can't be real, but when she can't retreat any further, he reaches out for her.

It's impossible, and yet, she feels it when he touches her, and his cold fingers brush gently down her neck, lower and lower, down until they reach the chain of the horcrux.

"Y-you're..."

He lifts it with ease, pulling it out from beneath her shirt, and with the case of the locket resting in his hand, he watches her lips, waiting intently. "...Yes?"

"Tom Ri—"

He interrupts her by ripping the locket forward, hard enough that she lurches forward.

She yelps as she's pulled into him, and he brings both hands up to squeeze the chain around her neck.

"Wrong.” He pulls the chain so tightly that it cuts off her airway. "Try again."

Hermione can barely get a gasp in. She claws at the chain, at his hands, at him, but he presses her back, pinning her between him and the counter. She's been living on a diet of mushrooms and scavenged vegetables for weeks and weeks, and he's stronger than she is.

"V-Vol—" she wheezes when her thrashing gets her nowhere.

He’s breathing has picked up now, too. "Yes."

"—Voldemort."

He slowly grins and finally, finally, he releases the chain.

"Good girl," he tells her and again, his eyes linger on her lips. "I'll see you soon."

He lets her go and backs away, and then, the snatchers swarm.

[creepswrites]

RED CHRISTMAS (Billy Lenz)

The idea for this story came to me in a dream, hope you guys enjoy!! Billy Lenz just needs some friends, honestly. I also really really love Black Christmas, its one of my favorite movies, so I hope I write Billy well :')) let me know if you're interested in a part 2!!

Billy Lenz + Sorority Girls (platonic)

Summary: "Hello?" She spoke softly. "Are you alright?" Jess's expression melted from confusion to concern. Billy nodded quickly, chewing on the skin on his lips. Surely she knew about Claire and was asking just to see if he'd lie. She'll know he lied and then she'll- "Do you need help?" Jess's voice cut through Billy's spiraling thoughts and his head snapped over to where she now stood beside him. WARNING: minor violence, mental health issues, discussion of pregnancy & related issues (Billy is NOT SA'd)

Billy stared vacantly at Claire Harrison, watching her as she packed her bags in preparation to leave. Christmas was in a few days and many of the sorority girls had planned to leave. Watching Claire play with the cat, Claud, Billy chewed anxiously on his fingernails as he stayed hidden in his spot in his closet. Sneaking into the sorority itself hadn't been difficult. Attic windows were rarely locked. Moving about had required precision and caution on Billy's part since the girls were still unpredictable to him, but he could change that. He could make them predictable.

People were predictable when they were afraid.

Snapping himself back to the moment, Billy watched carefully as Claire gravitated closer and closer to his hiding spot in the closet. His recent phone call had really rattled the girls earlier - Claire especially. He'd been calling the house for a few weeks now but only recently snuck in, feeling bolder than he had in weeks.

There was no rhyme or reason to choosing these girls. Maybe parts of them reminded him of Agnes, of his mother, or of something entirely different. Billy didn't have a reason for killing the way he did.

(The little girl in the park had been an accident. Just an accident. She'd seen him sneaking around and he had to kill her or else she'd call someone. Then Billy would be in trouble. And Billy didn't want to be in trouble.)

The rustling of Claire moving to grab something in the closet had Billy lunging for her throat, grabbing the startled girl around the neck and slamming her head into the wall, immediately knocking her unconscious. Billy just stared at his hands, watching them shake as they gripped her neck, before lifting her up into his arms.

Hauling her up into the attic took some doing but he was stronger than his lankier appearance let on.

The attic itself was dark, dusty, and quiet. Just the way Billy liked it. Wooden planks made up the floor that gave his hands tiny splinters for him to pull out with his teeth, cobwebs covering all the old clothes, boxes, props the sorority used when promoting themselves for new members, and clouded windowpanes from years without cleaning.

A sole, comfortable rocking chair was set up by the window. Tying the girl to the rocking chair had been easy. So was wrapping a cloth around her mouth so she couldn't scream if she awoke. Billy ignored the way his hands shook as he worked, mumbling to himself as he did so. Mama had to be in her usual spot, his mind cried. Right by the windowsill with Agnes just like he remembered.

Kneeling in front of the chair, Billy Lenz stared at the unconscious girl. Brown hair, big doe eyes, and a softness to her that Billy craved. The opposite of everything his mother was but very accurate to the version of herself that he made in his head. Billy remembered his mother to appear very kind and approachable, sweet, and delicate to Agnes.

Billy always made her angry, always got in her way. He remembered the way her face would twist and contort whenever he was in a room with her. As though to share her space was an insult that Billy could never hope to apologize for.

His mother was always crueler and scarier when she was yelling at him.

But she wasn't yelling now. He glanced up nervously at the unconscious girl before focusing his attention back on the dirty attic floors. He had control now. His mother was gone and his sister was gone. He was in control now.

"Little baby bumpin', daddy's gone a-huntin', gone to fetch a rabbit skin to wrap his baby Agnes in..." He sang softly to himself, voice cracking slightly, as he took the leg of the chair and rocked it slowly, eyes fixed to the spot where the girls shoes scuffed the dusty wooden floor.

Hearing the muffled sounds of the sorority girls' voices, Billy lifted his head slowly. Most of the girls were leaving for the Christmas break but a few would be staying behind, for one reason or another. The girl Barb was staying - he overheard that phone call right before calling the house.

Calling the sorority house. Yes, he'd done that. Stupid Billy, he hissed in his own head. Stupid, stupid Billy. It had been such an impulse, such a horrible idea from a horrible, horrible boy-

"Hello Peter?" The girl's voice pulled him from his thoughts, listening intently as she spoke. "I just want to talk to you." Her voice was low, hard to make out. Billy crept towards the door that led the attic and opened it slowly to hear better. Jess, he was able to identify. He was always hyperaware of their voices - and of the girls themselves - at all times. "Nothing's the matter, I just need to talk to you. In person. It's important." Billy stared at the carpeted floor of the sorority house from his spot, hovering over the ladder. He couldn't climb down but he didn't need to see the girls face to see her frustrated expression.

He'd already heard Jess talk to Phyl about the pregnancy.

In his own, twisted way, Billy wanted her to get the abortion too. Remembering his own childhood, remembering Agnes' life, he didn't want to see Jess turn into his mother. Though he could bear to see her annoying boyfriend meet his father's demise.

Billy hadn't been the one to kill his dad, after all. Maybe it would do Jess some good to embody his mother just a little bit.

"Peter, it's important!" Jess huffed again. "I'm not telling you over the phone because it needs to be in person." Billy felt out of his body as he crept down the ladder slowly. "Peter-" Jess huffed before angrily hanging up the phone. Billy made his way to the banister of the stairs and crouched down, watching Jess wrap her arms around herself. She stared at the fire for a moment before turning to sit on the couch. "Honestly, the nerve of that boy..." She huffed to herself before noticing a shadow on the floor and looking up at the stairs.

Both she and Billy jolted in surprise when her eyes landed on him. "Oh, are you from the party?" Jess asked, making Billy's head tilt slightly. "You should head home, it's late." She rubbed her eyes for a moment. "Unless you're keeping one of the girls company...?" Normally she didn't mind whatever boys her sorority sisters invited over but something about this guy gave her the creeps. She pushed the thought from her mind as quick as it came because, no, that was irrational. Sure he looked dirty and startled but that didn't mean he was dangerous!

Billy, however, stared at her with wide eyes, partially out of fear and largely out of confusion. Why would he be keeping them company? Did she know about Claire? Oh god-

"Hello?" She spoke softly. "Are you alright?" Jess's expression melted from confusion to concern. Billy nodded quickly, chewing on the skin on his lips. Surely she knew about Claire and was asking just to see if he'd lie. She'll know he lied and then she'll- "Do you need help?" Jess's voice cut through Billy's spiraling thoughts and his head snapped over to where she now stood beside him, her look of concern reminding him of the social worker- When had she come up the stairs?

"Help." He repeated, mimicking her tone. She raised an eyebrow at that, a nervous smile on her face.

"Do you know where you are?" She spoke softly, looking Billy up and down as he slowly stood up. Billy hated that look and quelled the urge to dig his fingernails into her neck by digging them into the thick fabric of the hem of his sweater instead.

"No." He said quietly, eyes locked on the floor. He was out of his depth here. He wasn't supposed to be found. He hissed softly, gripping his hair in frustration and yanking, trying to ground himself. Why had he climbed down, what was he doing, everything was going to be ruined-

His franticness seemed to alarm her. "It's alright," she gently took his wrists and tugged gently in hopes he'd move his arms. He stared up at her with wide, fearful eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help."

For a moment, Billy believed her. Jess seemed kind, genuinely concerned about him. His eyes flickered between her face and her hands as he mumbled to himself. "Do you want something to drink? Maybe sitting down will help." She let go of him gently and Billy felt the weight in his chest lift slightly. Drinks would be good, yeah.

He let Jess take his hand and walk him downstairs.

The downstairs kitchen wasn't anything phenomenal. Plain but useful, decorated to the nines for Christmas like everything else in the house. Jess busied herself with making hot cocoa for the strange man and eyed him curiously as he sat down in one of the old dining room chairs, staring at her.

He was interesting. The green turtleneck he wore reminded her briefly of Peter but his messy, dark brown curls made him different. Green eyes obscured by hair that seemed to stare into her very soul the longer she looked. He was dirty and covered in dust, like he'd been crawling around the attic or something. She looked away, feeling his eyes bore holes into her. He was odd.

But something about him made her feel sympathetic. Afraid, absolutely, but she worried about him.

Cutting a piece of the warm pumpkin cake Barb made and grabbing a candy cane, she brought the steaming mug into the dining room and set the small plate and cocoa in front of the man, who continued to stare up at her.

"We have marshmallows and whipped cream if you want that as well," she hummed as she sat down. Billy glanced at the cake curiously before taking the fork in a shaking hand and eating vigorously.

Jess felt her brow furrow. With how he was acting, she wondered when the last time he ate was. There was no way Barb's cooking was this good. "Do you know your name?" She asked hesitantly, feeling the mans eyes on her. She wasn't sure if he had a head injury or just didn't want to speak but if he was dealing with amnesia, her work may be cut out for her there.

It was snowing too much to drive out to a hospital right now...

"...Billy." He mumbled quietly, cutting Jess from her thoughts.

"Well Billy," he liked the way she said his name with her accent, "it's nice to meet you. My name is Jess."

"Jess." Billy repeated, mimicking her accent to the best of her ability. Jess seemed somewhat amused by it, giving him a light smile.

"You're very fond of voices, aren't you?" Billy shrugged, sipping on the cocoa and finally taking his eyes off her. "What other voices can you do?"

Billy's head snapped up harshly, staring Jess down. Usually people were annoyed by Billy doing voices, never asked him to do more. He was too loud, too annoying, too- "Tonight, one of these three contestants will become champion, and win a 1975 automobile, $10,000 in cash, or $25,000 in cash. And now, let's meet the star of Jeopardy!, Art Fleming!" Billy lowered the octave of his voice, repeating the lines he'd heard from the TV a few nights ago.

Jess laughed and Billy felt himself freeze. "Wow, okay. So you can do a lot of voices then." Her smile was infectious and Billy could feel himself smiling. He nodded shyly, drinking from the mug again. "Well, I'm sure Barb will get a kick out of that too." Blinking at the name, Billy hummed in thought. Barb was the girl staying behind who wanted to visit her mother. Skiing, he recalled. "Do you have somewhere to stay?" Billy glanced up at Jess, staring her down.

"...No." He said softly, chewing at the skin on his fingers anxiously. Jess didn't seem surprised but frowned slightly.

"Well, I suppose you can sleep on the couch. I'll give a note to the girls still here that you're downstairs so they don't freak out." Billy nodded as Jess took the empty dishes from him, leaving him to chew thoughtfully on the candy cane. "I'll grab you some blankets and pillows, wait here!" Jess smiled before hurrying upstairs, socked feet padding on the carpeted stairs.

The spare closet at the end of the hall by the attic usually had extra blankets and pillows inside for emergencies. When she opened the small closet, Jess busied herself by grabbing a thick, wool blanket and a plain white pillow and used her hip to shut the door. She paused when she noticed the attic door was open and rolled her eyes, reaching up to shut it. Really, Barb and Phyll should've shut it after getting decorations!

Lord knows the draft up there would give them all dreadful colds.

Jess quietly shut off the upstairs lights on her way back down, almost relieved to see Billy had made himself at home on the couch, staring blankly at the fire until he heard the girl approach him.

Billy watched her cautiously, biting the candy cane and sucking it to a sharp point. Grinning to himself, he started laughing quietly. How had he gotten himself into this- this mess?! Biting down on the candy cane to hold it in his mouth freed up his hands to pull anxiously at his curly hair.

Jess set the blankets and pillows down cautiously beside her before looking him over. "Do you want a shower or anything? I'm not sure how many spare clothes I have but, if you want to get clean, I can-"

A knock at the door made Billy shriek, like he'd been stabbed.

Jess froze, yelping as well when her guest shrieked, covering his ears with his hands. That... was odd, but she tried to push it down. "It's alright Billy, probably just late-night carolers or something," she tried to reassure him calmly as Billy peered at her nervously. "I'll go check, it's alright." Jess stood from the couch and made her way to the window and peeled back the curtains, frowning at the figure of a single man standing there.

When she looked back over at the couch, Billy wasn't anywhere to be seen. As she looked around frantically, Peter pounded again on the door, begging to be let in. Jess sighed, more annoyed than anything. So first Peter wanted to wait and now he was suddenly interested in what she had to say? Honestly, sometimes it was like he loved that piano more than her.

First, she needed to find where Billy ran off to. Out of the corner of her eye, Jess spotted movement in the kitchen and let out a relieved sigh. "It's alright Billy, it's just my boyfriend Peter..."

Poking his head out into the entryway of the hall, he simply stared at her. Those big green eyes once again made her feel unsettled except for the fact he didn't seem... dangerous? He was weird for sure but the girl didn't think he was that dangerous. After all, she was in college for psychology. She'd recognize anything hostile in him.

Peter's incessant knocking was grating on her nerves. "One moment Billy," she sighed before turning on her heel and marching to the front door. After a bit of a jiggle of the tricky handle, it opened.

"Jess! Leaving me to freeze out there? After I came all this way?" Peter pouted dramatically, shrugging off his jacket and pushing past Jess into the sorority house.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I didn't think you'd be coming. You said you were getting rest, tomorrow's important to you."

"Well, you piqued my interest," Peter explained with an insincere smile. "Besides, I can't sleep if something's on your mind. What's going on?" Slowly, Peter's eyes shifted to behind Jess and he looked alarmed. "Who's THIS?"

Jess looked over her shoulder at Billy, who stood in the entryway to the kitchen with a candy cane stuffed in his mouth, the point aimed at Peter. If looks could kill, her boyfriend would be ash at her feet. "That's Billy," Jess smiled, "he's from the party earlier."

"So... why's he downstairs with you alone?" Peter gave a concerned look to Jess. "Jess, sweetie, is he bothering you? Just say the word and I'll-"

"Pig bitch..." Billy muttered, voice slurred by the candy cane. Jess felt herself freeze. That voice. She had thought it familiar at first but that phrase... only one person she knew said that. The Moaner. The horrible, awful Moaner on the phone who was now in the house. Had been in the house the whole time. Oh my god he was in the house and she fed him and offered him to spend the night?!

Jess felt close to fainting but she held it together.

"What did you say?" Peter snapped at Billy, glaring him down.

"Rotten pig bitch!" Billy shrieked in a high pitched at the other man before retreating back into the kitchen, a soft shattering noise of glass made Jess flinch slightly.

Now she had a choice to make: she could tell Peter about the phone calls, tell him about the Moaner, about how for the past few weeks he had been calling the house and disturbing her and her sisters. Or. Or she could tell him about the baby, brush off the Moaner's - Billy's - antics and tell him what he came to hear about.

Steadying herself, Jess moved to sit on the couch. If she said something about Billy, Peter may try to pick a fight him, a fight she was uncertain he'd win. Or call the cops. And lord knows what would happen if Billy found out she sold him out. She wasn't sure how strong he was but he was nearly the same size as her boyfriend. Besides, there was something about him that confused Jess. Billy was just a walking contradiction.

There was simply no way the Moaner who screamed profanities was the same man who was too anxious to meet her eyes. Right?

Jess didn't like her odds.

"I'm pregnant," is what she settled on saying. Peter's eyes went wide. His slowly growing grin was not at all what she'd expected.

"Jess that's wonderful!"

"I don't want it Peter," Jess sighed. She'd been afraid of this reaction, quietly hoping he'd be as opposed to having it as she was. "I want to get an abortion."

Peter blinked at her like she'd grown two heads. "What?"

"I don't want it. I'm not going to keep it." She sat down on the couch, crossing her arms over her chest to mask her trembling.

Peter was quiet as she spoke, sitting beside her on the couch. "Jess. Listen to me very carefully. You are not going to abort that baby."

Jess turned to him with wide eyes. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me! We'll get married and you'll keep the baby. It'll be perfect!" He smiled at her but all Jess felt was nausea.

"Peter, I don't want that. I have things I want to do that a baby will prevent me from doing. I don't want to play housewife for you with a baby I don't want." She stood up, forcefully pulling her wrist from him when he grabbed her. "Let go-!"

"No, listen to me!" Peter practically snarled, voice oozing with malice. "You don't get to decide-"

"SHUT UP!" A voice shrieked before a glass cup struck Peter in the eye, breaking into shards that scratched his cheek as they fell. Jess's eyes snapped over to Billy, hand clenching a sharpened candy cane and glaring daggers at Peter.

As her boyfriend recoiled, Jess stepped in front of him. "Billy! It's- it's alright! He's not going-"

Billy shrieked, voice higher than usual, gripping his hair with the hand not holding the candy cane. "NASTY, DIRTY PIG BITCH!" He snapped stumbling backwards until he hit a wall. He crumpled with a sob and pointed the sharpened candy cane at Peter with tears streaming down his face.

Jess was... confused, to say the least. She glanced at Peter, who held his face in shock, and then to Billy who had an arm wrapped around himself and was whispering and mumbling frantically, though she was able to make out the name "Agnes" in the whispers.

"Jess, who the hell is this guy?!" Peter roared, Jess flinched slightly.

She really, truly, did not know.

"I'm having a baby!" Constance Lenz grinned at her boyfriend. The two had been struggling to have a child but finally, finally, it'd worked.. The twelve year old boy who Constance had locked in the attic after her husband tragically "died of a heart attack."

But Billy knew. He'd seen her kill his dad. And now his mom was having another child.

And Agnes had been precious. Billy had been enamored with her immediately, sometimes creeping down from his attic room to see her asleep in his crib. He'd mastered sneaking around the house now, stealing food and water when everyone was asleep. And he'd see Agnes.

Then, Christmas morning, when Agnes was five years old, Billy made an appearance.

She'd never met him before, not really. He'd watch her sleep - green eyes boring holes into the toddler as she'd slept. He felt insanely protective of her, wanting her to have a good childhood and living vicariously through that. He'd watched his mom hold her and rock with her in a rocking chair, watched them make sugar cookies together...

And it was like he was completely forgotten. Completely stripped of personhood. Now he was just a memory locked away in the closet.

So here he was. Staring down his five year old sister as she played with her toys by the Christmas tree. Mommy and daddy had gone into the kitchen to get breakfast ready. The stove was currently burning the side of daddy's face as mommy bled out on the floor - the both of them with various candy canes lodged in their necks and stained bright red.

The blood still dripped from the puncture wounds. Billy had gotten good at sharpening the sticks down to points.

Agnes just looked up at him. Of course she didn't recognize him. She didn't know him but he knew her.

"Little baby bumpin', daddy's gone a-huntin', gone to fetch a rabbit skin to wrap his baby Agnes in..." He sang softly, lifting the five year old up into his arms. Agnes clung to her doll and didn't protest when Billy sat in the rocking chair, rocking his little sister the way he'd seen his mother do.

She was five. She didn't have a strong concept of danger yet. The blood staining Billy's hands didn't bother her.

Billy stared ahead at nothing, just repeating the lullaby over and over. Tears fell silently down his cheeks. He felt covered in dirt and blood and he clung to his baby sister like a lifeline.

The police didn't have a difficult time finding the killer. The killer who was sat by the Christmas tree with Agnes Lenz in his lap, babbling incoherent nonsense. "Agnes," he whispered to the slumbering baby as the officers drew their guns on him, "don't tell them what we did, Agnes."

As if a toddler had any hand in what happened.

...

"Billy?" Jess's voice was louder then the memories. Memories of Agnes sobbing. Her and Billy being separated. The trial that had ended when signs of neglect had been littered on Billy's body. Bruises, malnourishment, just a ratty and dirty seventeen-year-old boy who lost control.

He'd been let go. Regular therapist visits had been required. But Billy had run away, went north to Canada. Where he was now.

"Billy?" Jess again. Billy finally looked up at her, tears streaming down his face. She looked worried, perched on her knees as she reached for his face, brushing hair away. "What's wrong?"

"Agnes?" He choked out, feeling bile rise.

"Who's Agnes?" She asked softly. Her nasty boyfriend stood behind her, glaring at him, but Billy ignored him.

Billy bit his tongue as he hummed to himself. "Little baby bumpin'..." He cooed, staring blankly at his lap.

"He's insane, Jess." Peter spat with a roll of his eyes. "Let's just call the cops and they'll take him back to whatever asylum he came from. Lock him up and throw away the key."

"No!" Billy shrieked, more tears falling. "No! No! No!" He lunged at Peter, grabbing at him. The two scuffled, Peter yelling at Jess to call the police.

The poor girl stands there, freeze taking over her entire body.

Then Barb and Phyllis come downstairs dressed in their bedclothes. Barb opens her mouth to ask what was going on just as Billy tackled Peter to the ground, screaming and hitting him.

Jess ran over, grabbing Billy around his chest and dragging him off her boyfriend, reassuring him that things were okay. God, what a world she was in where The Moaner was sobbing in her arms as he tried to beat the shit out of her boyfriend for whatever reason.

She sunk to the floor, holding Billy, who scratched desperately at her arms and shrieked.

This was going to be a long night...

[mk-vasy]

Healing Rx

Author here. So this is a little passion project I have decided to start. It's realistic fiction so this is new to me. But it's helping me and I figured it would probably help some of you. So read it if you want. It is my first swing at getting back into writing so bare with me on style and technique I'll get back into it. Enjoy.

One step after the other. That’s all it really is. I repeated as I nervously wrapped my hands around the steering wheel. I wasn’t going anywhere; I had been in park for over 15 minutes. I had arrived an hour early for this exact reason. This dreaded last step. Turning off the car, grabbing my stuff, and walking into the office. If this was any other office on any other day, I probably could have done it, but it was like I was frozen. Like these next few steps were the start of a marathon.

“You wanted this. You called them. Just one step after the other,” I said out loud this time.

It was usually how I overcame these frozen spells. When my brain got too overwhelmed, and I shut down the auxiliary power. Which was the power to my mouth, arms, and legs usually. My phone dinged, breaking the imaginary spell I had cast over myself.

You’re stalling. The text bubble read.

That really got me going. I picked up my phone and replied. I can’t believe you are watching my location right now.

I felt you would sit in the parking lot the whole time.

You’re unbelievable.

And you are predictable.

Using my arms and fingers to type made powering the rest of my body up much more manageable. I shook out my legs and rolled my neck. Alright, all cylinders were firing. Before letting my brain catch up with my feet, I clicked the car off and pushed open the door. This usually happened; I had to take manual override control over my body. My brain shut off and pulled itself away, leaving the world a little fuzzy around the edges.

That’s why you are doing this. A voice whispered in my head.

My phone dinged again as I pushed through the first door.

I believe in you; just follow their lead. If you can’t find the words, they will get the ball rolling.

I smiled. He always found a way to encourage me. He never forced me to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with, but he always gave me an encouraging push—the push I always seemed to need. I walked into the office, and there was a nice lady sitting in the window.

“Hi, welcome to Northwest Regional Health Clinic. How may I help you?” She smiled at me, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was 8 a.m. on a Thursday, and I didn’t really blame her.

“Yes, I have an appointment with Rachel?” I asked.

“Rachel?” She said, at first, a little confused as she scanned her computer. “Oh yes, you mean Dr. Faust, our psychiatrist.” She said a little bit too loud for my liking.

I wasn’t ashamed of therapy or anything; I just didn’t think the whole world needed to know about it. I did a scan of the lobby, and nobody else was there. It wasn't like the world as a whole would even care if I was going to therapy.

“Okay, I have some paperwork you have to fill out, and then she’ll come get you when she is ready.” She handed me a small dictionary of paperwork and a clip board.

I sat down and mindlessly started filtering through the papers. Checking yes and no, twirling the faded flower pen between my fingers, trying to keep my throat from rising in my chest. How do you even answer some of these questions? Do you feel like you need more motivation and energy for your hobbies? I don’t know. It depends on the day, and how am I even supposed to rate that on a scale from 1 to 5? Scales are such arbitrary numbers. Sometimes, I don’t have the energy to get out of bed; other days, I can do 50 million things. It’s all conditional. I can’t write that all down. She’ll never read any of that; if she does, she will think I’m crazy. Honestly, though, aren’t I a little crazy? Otherwise, why would I be here?

My phone dinged, halting the swarming thoughts that clouded my vision and the back of my throat.

I see you made it inside.

She will think you are a stalker when I tell her about you.

I’m not a stalker; I just have a vested interest in your safety. Besides, I never check your location without telling you. You asked me to give you some words of encouragement. How are we feeling?

Nauseous and dizzy.

You’re doing great.

“Natalie?” A woman’s voice cut through the lobby like a knife.

God, no one's voice cuts through a room like a knife. Don’t be so dramatic.

I stood up, pushing the paperwork together. I managed to finish some of it, but I may have time during the appointment to finish it. The woman standing at the door must have been Rachel. Over the phone, she had insisted I call her that. She wore comfy-looking black slacks; they looked like they might have been from Lulu, with a maroon blouse and straight blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She was probably in her late 30s based on the wrinkles peeking around her eyes as she smiled and a few wisps of white hair around her ears. She was sharp and pretty. If her smile didn’t fill the whole room and reached her light blue eyes, I would have been intimidated. But she seemed warm.

“Don’t even worry about the paperwork, dear. We just give it to you to buy me some time between sessions.” She brushed away the papers as I tried to give them to her.

“Okay,” I said, but my voice sounded out of breath like a helium balloon trying to stay aloft.

She led me through a maze of hallways until we reached her door. I was worried we would be in a check-up room, not with the table or anything, but with the same vibe. Light blue walls, faded health posters, and maybe a motivational quote. When she opened the door, I was pleased I was wrong. It was an office space, but the lights were dimmed, and the ceiling was rimmed with fairy lights. They gave off a warm yellow glow instead of the harsh white light from the hallways. The walls had nature tapestries, and a candle burned, making the room smell like lavender. A plush couch was on the wall with a basket of fidget toys and pillows next to it. I had a feeling that was where I was supposed to sit. The whole room was very calming as if slipping into a soft dream. Rachel sat in an office chair and swiveled it around to face me. We were close enough that I felt like I could connect with her but also far enough to breathe my own air.

“This is really nice,” I commented.

She smiled again, and I marveled at how it changed her whole face. It reached well through her eyes and into mine. It was genuine. “Do you always do that?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Read people so intently.” She answered.

I sat back; wow, no hellos or small talk. We were getting right into this. “Um, I guess so. Don’t we all?”

“Sure, but I have a feeling you do a little bit more than that,” she said. "You are looking at me the same way people look at puzzles. What are you looking for?”

What was I looking for? I thought back to first walking in the door and met the receptionist-

“Think out loud.” She said.

“Okay. When I met your receptionist, she said hi and gave me a little greeting. She smiled at me, and I could see the smile was forced. It didn’t go all the way to her eyes. The eyes are always a giveaway. I can always tell if someone can be trusted by their eyes. It sounds melodramatic, I know, but I swear I am always right about these things. I can tell right away whether or not a person is a good person or not.” I let the words tumble out of my mouth.

She tilted her head from side to side while nodding. “I’m sure you can. So, was she a good person or not?”

“Who?”

“Our receptionist.”

“Oh, she was just tired; she seems safe enough,” I said.

Rachel jotted a few things down before speaking again. “Alright, I noticed two things when you were talking. The words trust and safe came up. So, when you are analyzing these microexpressions, your brain is looking for trust and safety, which is normal. Based on the fact you said you are always right about these things, it means you do this a lot. Is this analyzing trick something you do with just new people or every-”

“Everybody, all the time,” I said quickly. “Every conversation and interaction, with my friends, coworkers, and family members. I can usually tell how they are feeling from the first few sentences out of their mouths. Then, I can tailor my responses and actions around those feelings.”

She was writing as I was talking and didn’t look up from her paper when she spoke. “That sounds tiring.”

I leaned back on the couch and nodded. “Yeah, I guess it really is.”