#of when i want to end this one and start the next

[cocastyle]

I See You

Pairing — Bob Reynolds x reader

Word Count — 4k

Warning — SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE I REPEAT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE!!

A/N — breaking my two years of not posting in honor of this amazing movie and character. the Thunderbolts* has reawakened my fire to write and I couldn’t ignore it. so here you go! this will be a bit of a short series. i kind of envision around three parts or so? anyways, i really hope you enjoy this and know this is your last warning before you continue on!! so if you haven’t seen the Thunderbolts* please save this for later <3

also, did you all notice the easter eggs i included ?? 👀

Part One Part Two

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Bob Reynolds wasn't quite sure how any of this had happened. One minute he was pretty sure he had been dying and the next he was trapped in a series of never ending nightmares. Except it wasn't just his nightmares, there were other people's too.

He knew he had been having these moments where he didn't remember things, knew that there was something going on at a deeper level than he wanted to admit. He thought with Valentina explaining this power he had been given that it would explain everything he had been feeling, that the darkness wasn't truly his but something brought on by this experiment.

But he knew the truth and walking through these endless nightmares only proved that. The darkness was his. It was a culmination of everything he was feeling, everything that had been consuming him, and it had only taken more of a physical form thanks to the Sentry project.

Bob had no way of fighting this thing, no way of taking back control of his body. And at this point he wasn't even sure if he wanted control. After all, he was just Bob. He was useless. He was nothing. Everyone would be better off without him.

So now he was trapped with no where else to go but to walk through the thousands of rooms of everyone's deepest regrets and shames.

It had been an accident at first, but sometime after his own meth chicken nightmare was when he first started stumbling into the other rooms. He saw so many things, felt the guilt and weight that everyone else felt. One in particular had stuck with him when he had ended up watching the loop of a blind lawyer watching his friend die over and over. Bob couldn't watch that for very long before he was hurriedly trying to get to any other room but that one, the blind man's cries still rattling his bones.

Bob didn't know how long he walked for or how many rooms he went through until he got to one that made him pause as he came face to face with Tony Stark. It had been a while since the hero's death, but still seeing the face of the man that had helped bring everyone back from the Blip made Bob falter slightly.

Someone's biggest trauma was Tony Stark?

Bob took a couple steps back, his eyes scanning over the room as he tried to ground himself in what was going on. He seemed to be in someone's apartment. The place would've been nice if it weren't for the fact that whoever was living here clearly hadn't been picking up after themselves in quite some time. And by the look Tony Stark was making as he glanced at the dirty dishes in the sink, it seemed he was thinking the same.

Bob knew the signs before he even saw her. It wasn't just the state of the apartment, but it was the feeling in the air. That feeling of despair, sadness, and nothingness. That feeling of knowing you were alone and there was nothing you could do about it. It clung to everything in the apartment and Bob's heart ached slightly at the sight. After all, he knew what this was like. He knew it too well.

"I can feel you judging me," a voice said, instantly pulling Bob's attention to the couch where a girl was sitting with a blanket wrapped around her and a bottle of vodka in hand. She wouldn't meet Tony Stark's eyes as she stared at the bottle, her fingers numbly fiddling with the label. "I didn't ask for you to come over and judge how I'm living. Hell, I didn't even ask you to come over, so you might as well go."

Tony let out a soft sigh, "Kid, you were ignoring my calls. Of course I was going to come check on you."

"Ever think I ignored them for a reason?"

Tony huffed and grabbed a chair from the kitchen table before dragging it over in front of the couch. He sat down in front of the girl, tilting his head slightly as he watched her before saying, "You can't keep living like this."

"You think I don't know that?" she asked, her voice bitter. “Why are you here, Tony?”

Tony just watched her in silence before saying, "Listen, Steve and Natasha came to see me yesterday and—"

The girl slammed the bottle down on the table so hard Bob thought it would break. Her eyes were red rimmed as she glared at the man and muttered, "No. We're not doing this. You're not going to sit there and try to rope me into some crazy plot to try and bring everyone back. It's been five years and I'm done, okay? I have nothing left in me anymore and I don't give a shit, so just leave."

"Kid—"

"I said leave!" she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to glow white with a power that Bob could almost feel beneath his own skin. "I'm not some sob story for you to try to fix, okay? I messed up and didn't kill Thanos in time and half of the universe had to pay for it. I'm done trying to help. All I ever do is hurt people."

She looked away, her voice rough when she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."

Bob sucked in a breath at that, understanding washing over him as he watched the broken girl do everything she could not to cry.

"Y/N," Tony began but the girl simply shook her head.

"No, Tony. I'm done. Just leave and go ahead and do yourself a favor and never come back. It's not worth your time or energy and I sure as hell don't want you here," she said, her head still turned.

Tony stilled slightly at her words. "You don't mean that," he told her, but before he could even blink, Y/N had used her telekinesis to pick up the bottle of vodka and send it hurtling in his direction. The man barely had time to duck out of the way before it flew right past where his head had been and shattered against the wall. Tony turned to her in surprise but the girl was already getting up and walking to the door of what had to be her bedroom.

"I miss him too you know," Tony called after her causing the girl to still.

"Stop," Y/N warned him, but Tony ignored her and instead stood up, his eyes not leaving her as he clearly made no move to leave.

"Y/N, he wouldn't want this for you. That kid loved you so much. He would be devastated by—"

"I said stop!" Y/N yelled and before anyone knew what was happening, a force was suddenly throwing Tony across the room. The man thought fast and his nano suit had wrapped around him before he could even hit the wall and Bob watched as the color drained from Y/N's face at what she had done.

She was shaking as she stared at Tony, but by the time he was looking back up at her, the Iron Man mask sliding away from his face, she was cold once again. "Get the hell out of my apartment," was all she said before turning and walking into her room, slamming the door behind her. Bob watched her go, frowning slightly as the scene began to play again.

"That was before they won against Thanos," a voice said causing Bob to flinch in surprise. He quickly turned around to find Y/N a little ways behind him, sitting down at a chair in the corner of the room. Her eyes continued to watch the scene playing out in front of her and Bob was almost beginning to question if she had spoke in the first place when she muttered, "That was the last time I saw him before he died."

Her eyes met his then and Bob stilled under her gaze. She was a couple of years older than the version of her from the memory, a little more put together but in the kind of way that screamed help more than her younger self's look had. She had learned to mask it more, that much was clear. Or maybe it was just that Bob knew where to look, that he saw himself when he looked at her and knew in more ways than one just how tired she was.

"Who was he talking about?" Bob asked, silently cursing himself for that being the first thing he said but knowing he now had to just go with it. "The guy?"

Y/N hesitated, her eyes glazing over as she got lost in thought. There was a tiny moment of utter sadness that flashed across her face but it was gone so quickly as she muttered, "I don't know." She let out a sad laugh. "Isn't that sad? It's like there's blanks in my memory. All I know is that there is this immense feeling of loss not just once, but twice. Every time I try to think of him it's like the image of him only gets fuzzier."

Bob was silent for a moment. "I have trouble remembering things too," he admitted. "There are these moments where it's like I'll wake up from a dream I don't remember having and that time is just gone."

Y/N's eyes flickered his way, her gaze shifting over him in a way that made him stand up a little straighter. "I walked through a lot of rooms before ending up here," she told him, her eyes still studying him as though she were trying to piece him together. "This was the only one I couldn't leave."

"Why?" Bob questioned.

"Why did you stop in this one?" she retorted and Bob blinked in surprise. Her head tilted slightly as she stared blankly at the boy. It was a moment before she looked away and back at Tony who was watching her past self slam the door shut behind her as the memory started back up again. "I just wanted to see him again, I guess," she whispered. "I always hated this moment, hated that I pushed him away like that and left him to fight Thanos without me. Sometimes I wonder..."

She trailed off before shrugging slightly and looking back at Bob. "Guess I was as shocked by seeing Tony's face as you were when you walked in," Y/N said. Bob barely even thought his question before she placed a finger against her temple and let out a small sigh of exhaustion. "Telekinesis," she stated. "Just a fraction of the power I was born with, but it comes in handy from time to time. I knew who you were the second you walked into this memory. Your mind is very loud, but not in the way you'd expect it to be."

Bob wanted to ask her more, but it was clear she didn't want to expand on that comment. Instead she merely tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair she sat in and said, "So you're the one doing this."

It wasn't a question. She said it as though it were fact. Not that she was wrong, but something about the way she said it still made Bob's throat constrict.

"It's not. . .it's not me. It's—" Bob broke off and he could see the way she stared at him, knew that she was reading his mind. She blinked and quickly looked away. "Sorry," she whispered. "I can't help it sometimes. You lock yourself away long enough and you'll find it harder to control what once was so easy. But I get a sense that you know that."

Bob let out a small sigh, his eyes flickering over the past Y/N who sat on the couch with a haunted look in her eyes and a tight grip on the bottle in her hand.

"We've all done some bad things," Y/N told him, answering the questions flying through his mind. "I had the unfortunate experience of being the reason half the universe died. I was there that day that Thanos went to Wakanda to take the Mind Stone from Vision. I was the last one there before he snapped. I could've stopped it, but I let his words get to me and . . . well, you know the rest."

“The Blip,” Bob muttered and Y/N nodded solemnly. He could see her trying to keep it all together, but the tension was practically radiating off of her as she avoided his gaze.

“Go ahead and say it,” Y/N told him, her gaze locked on her past self who was busy hurling the bottle at Tony’s head. “You probably lost someone in the Blip, right? Had to suffer five years without them? Who was it? Family? Friends?”

Y/N didn’t even give him time to respond as she let out a sigh as if everything were pointless, “It doesn’t matter. Everyone still thinks the same thing, but I don’t blame them.”

“It’s my fault,” she admitted. “I caused everyone so much pain and suffering and then, when I had the chance to make things right, I pushed everyone away and locked myself in my room. Then Natasha died. Then Tony. And eventually Steve followed. And where was I? Drowning my sorrows in a bottle like the asshole that I am.” Y/N scoffed slightly at herself, the fury in her eyes something most people would probably flinch at but all Bob could do was soften at the sight. “So go ahead and say what you want. Call me names. Shout at me. Tell me how much of a monster I am. I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

Bob didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could say. Not because it was all too much to process, but because he understood it. He understood what she was feeling. The pain and the anger. The guilt and regret. The shame. He understood it in ways he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But the silence was loud and Y/N wouldn’t meet his eyes. She just stared at the scene in front of her as her past self’s voice filled the silence between them, her voice rough as she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."

Y/N flinched at those words, her face crumbling slightly as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Bob felt his heart ache at the sight and for a moment, he saw himself sitting there in that chair. But more importantly, he saw her. He saw Y/N for who she truly was. He didn’t know what to say to her to make her better, so instead he just thought it.

I see you.

Y/N's eyes snapped up to him and Bob knew he hadn't had to say that out loud. She had heard him loud and clear.

She stood without another word, her eyes never leaving his as she walked towards him. She was quiet as she stopped in front of him, her gaze turning questioning as she studied him.

You do see me, don't you?

Bob let out a small gasp as her voice echoed in his head. He stared at her with wide eyes, but didn't flinch away not even when she took a step closer so that they were only a breath apart.

I can feel it, you know? That darkness. It calls to me.

"You know where he is?" Bob asked and Y/N quickly shook her head.

"I'm not talking about the Void," she whispered. She gently lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, right above his heart. "Here."

Bob's breath stuttered and he tried to keep his heart from racing as he whispered, "W-what does it say?"

"That it understands," Y/N replied. "That it sees what’s inside my own heart.” She hesitated before giving him a sad smile. “Like calls to like after all."

Bob stared at her, his eyes flickering over her face. He had thought she was pretty before, but up close she was even more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. Her eyebrow quirked slightly as if she had heard that thought and maybe she had, but Y/N was already moving on which he was silently thankful about.

“You feel it too,” she said and Bob didn’t need to say it out loud to confirm her thoughts. After all, he knew what she was talking about and she was right. Ever since he had emerged into this room, he had felt a sort of tug. It was the reason he had stayed. He thought it was because of seeing Tony Stark, but it was because he had felt her from the moment he had stepped foot into that room.

It was because he had seen her before ever laying eyes on her and it seemed she had done the same.

“I don’t know what to do,” Bob admitted, his words strained. “Every time I think I’m getting better, that I’ve finally pulled myself out of that darkness, I just. . .”

“Get pulled back under again?”

Bob was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor as that same feeling of shame that always crept up when he thought about his problems beginning to rise in the form of a blush on his neck, “Yeah.”

There was a gentle touch against his chin before Y/N lifted his head so that his gaze met hers once more. Her touched lingered for just a moment, but then her hand was dropping back down to her side. Not once did she move the one that was still resting on his chest and above his heart, the only source of comfort either of them seemed to need.

She gave him a sad smile, her eyes getting a sort of far off look as she whispered, “Sometimes the hardest battle you’ll ever face is with yourself.”

Bob felt tears prick his eyes at those words and for a moment, he even felt a sense of comfort. Someone knew what he was going through. Someone understood.

He had never had that before.

“How do we beat it?” Bob’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Y/N seemed to come back to herself at those words, her eyes locking with his once more and her hand tightened on his shirt. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’d like to figure that out. Together.”

Bob swore he stopped breathing at those words.

“Together,” he repeated, tears filling his eyes slightly out of disbelief.

Y/N merely nodded and she gently reached up, her thumb quickly swiping under his eye to brush away a stray tear that had fallen. Her own eyes were lined with tears as she whispered through a soft laugh, “Yeah, together. As long as you’re okay with being friends with the girl who does nothing but screw everything up.”

Bob couldn’t stop the small grin that began to peak out, the corners of his lips twitching up slightly as he opened his mouth to respond.

It was then that the doors to the room flew open, darkness flooding in and covering the walls and floors with black tendrils as it raced towards the two. The two stumbled back and away from each other as they tried to avoid the darkness creeping in and Y/N let out a small shout when her past self and Tony dissolved into nothing but shadows.

“Bob,” Y/N called out, but the boy was already reaching for her. He had ahold of her arm within a second and he pulled her to the one corner of the room not covered in darkness just yet.

His eyes were wide as he scanned what was left of the room, his grip tightening on Y/N’s arm in slight panic and confusion as he tried to process what was happening.

The darkness had never come after Bob before.

Not like this.

Something had signaled the Void. Something had scared him.

Bob’s eyes flickered to Y/N who was leaning into his touch, the tips of her fingers already beginning to glow white as she clearly analyzed the situation. His fingers felt warm against her forearm and for a moment he let himself remember the feel of her hand on his chest, the way her breath had fanned his face, and the way her words had wrapped around his heart like a hug he hadn't know he had needed.

And he knew.

The Void fed off of his sadness and loneliness and whatever Y/N had been making him feel was the opposite. The Void would do whatever he needed to crush this feeling, to stay in control. Even if it meant there were casualties along the way.

Bob’s heart ached at that thought and he quickly turned to Y/N who was backing closer to him as they were pushed further into the corner of the room and her memory. She moved her arm out of his grasp in order to hold her hands up, a white light emitting out against the darkness as she tried to hold it at bay.

"Bob, what's going on?" she asked. "What do we do?"

"I—" Bob was panicking now, the thought of Y/N getting hurt making him feel so many emotions that he hadn't felt in a long time. It scared him how much he felt towards the girl within just one conversation. He already knew he would do whatever needed to be done to save her and that thought alone scared him in more ways than one. Even more than the plan that was beginning to develop in his head, the plan that would save Y/N but would mean leaving her at the same time.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Y/N's head whipped in his direction. "Bob, no. You can't run. You have to fight this thing. If you don't, the darkness will only continue to consume you," she said.

"Cause you know what that's like?" Bob retorted, his panic and fear making him sound bitter. "We just watched the same memory over and over of you letting the darkness take over. If you can't fight it, what makes you think I can?"

Y/N's eyes softened slightly. "Bob," she started, but the darkness pushed closer towards them and she let out a strangled sound as she strained to keep her powers in check.

Bob watched her for a second, his eyes flickering over her one last time before he leaned forward. His lips brushed gently against her ear and he felt her shiver slightly under his touch. His breath came out shaky as he whispered, "I would've liked to be your friend."

Then, before she could do or say anything else, Bob had pulled back and thrown himself against the wall of the memory. His body broke through the barrier and into the next room, the darkness leaving Y/N behind in favor of chasing the boy.

"Bob!" Y/N cried out as she attempted to lunge after him, but the darkness threw her back and by the time she was up on her feet again, the memory had sealed itself around her, forcing her to relive the same moment with Tony while Bob got away.

- - -

Bob didn’t know how long he ran for. All he knew was that it took forever for him to get back to his own rooms. He almost cried when the meth chicken scene appeared before him, but he didn’t stop there. He continued his trek even after the darkness eventually faded away, now satisfied that Bob was back where he belonged.

Everything was just too loud, the memories too much for Bob to withstand while that feeling of utter loneliness crept up on him once more. It was foolish of him to think he could ever have someone understand him, that he could ever have someone in his life without hurting them in the end. He had done this to himself.

He deserved to be alone.

At some point Bob eventually managed to find the attic of one of his memories, the only quiet place in this miserable void, and he was quick to tuck himself away in there, away from all the noise and the darkness that he could feel feeding off of everyone's chaos.

It was only then that he sat down and curled in on himself, his breathing shaky as he tried to push every last thought of Y/N out of his head.

"She's better off without me," Bob whispered to himself like a mantra, his head tucked close to his knees as he let the stillness envelope him in a hug much different than the one Y/N’s words had given him. “She’s better off without me.”

“Everyone is.”

[coralaze]

—ARCANE WOMAN STRAPPING YOU HCS

Tw: strap-on sex, size kink, overstimulation, begging, brat taming, ruined orgasms, daddy kink (a lil), marking, hair pulling, filthy talk, power play.

Vi–

Vi wears the harness like it was made for her. Thick, black leather. Buckles tight. And the strap? Heavy. Veiny. Big.

She grins like the devil when you gasp seeing it. “What’s wrong, babe? I thought you liked a challenge.”

She doesn’t ease in — she presses the tip to your entrance, grabs your throat, and whispers, “Take a deep breath.”

Then she thrusts, slow but deep, stretching you until you’re clinging to her biceps and gasping her name like a prayer.

“That’s it,” she grunts, fucking you with steady rhythm. “So fuckin’ tight. Can’t even take all of it, huh?”

Slaps your ass and thrusts harder when you whine. “You’ll learn, sugar. Daddy’s got time.”

You lose count of how many times she makes you come. And she doesn’t stop.

“C’mon. You said you could take it. Let me see you cry.”

Caitlyn–

Caitlyn’s strap is elegant — sleek, deep violet, maybe even monogrammed. Because of course.

She fucks you in front of a mirror. She wants you to watch yourself fall apart.

“Spread wider,” she murmurs, as she lines herself up behind you. “I want to see you take every inch.”

Her thrusts are slow, cruelly precise. She hits your g-spot like she mapped your body.

She wraps her hand around your throat and forces your gaze up to the mirror.

“Look at yourself. Dripping. Writhing. You’re humiliating yourself for my cock.”

You cry when you come. She kisses your temple and keeps going until your legs shake and give out.

“Oh no, darling,” she purrs, pulling you back up. “You don’t get to lie down yet.”

Sevika–

Sevika wears the thickest strap she can find — and she’ll pin you to the mattress like you owe her rent.

“Face down,” she growls. “Ass up.”

She spits on it before sliding in. You moan. She smirks. “Nasty little slut.”

Sevika doesn’t make love — she fucks. Deep, brutal thrusts that punch the air from your lungs.

Her metal arm grips your hips so hard it leaves marks.

“Scream for me,” she commands, voice rough. “Let the whole block know who’s ruining you.”

You sob. You squirt. You beg.

She laughs. “You’re addicted to this cock, aren’t you?”

When you collapse, she kisses your shoulder and mutters, “Next round’s with the double-ended one. Don’t pass out yet.”

Ambessa Medarda–

Ambessa doesn’t just strap in — she owns it. Gold accents, regal leather, the kind of toy that costs more than your rent.

“On your knees. Hands behind your back. Good.”

She starts slow — lets you beg for it. Trails the tip along your folds until you’re shaking.

“So desperate,” she murmurs. “You’ll behave now, won’t you?”

Then she slides in with one stroke. You scream.

Ambessa fucks you with her hand wrapped in your hair, her voice in your ear.

“You’ll come when I say. Not before.”

She holds you on the edge, makes you earn every orgasm. One eyebrow raised, amused at your pathetic little whimpers.

When you finally break, coming so hard you sob, she smiles and kisses your tears.

“Beautiful,” she whispers. “Now clean it up with your tongue.”

Katarina–

(Adding her, cause i want her)

Kat’s the one who smirks while strapping in — eyes blazing, red hair wild.

“I don’t do soft,” she says, climbing on top of you. “You want this? You take it.”

She rides you first — grinding the strap against your core until you’re soaked and needy, begging for more.

Then she flips you over and fucks you like an enemy. Rough. Fast. Unrelenting.

She chokes you with one hand and slaps your thigh with the other.

“Look at this hole. You were made for my cock.”

She doesn’t stop until you’re drooling into the sheets, barely able to move.

“That’s what I thought,” she mutters, pulling out with a wet pop. “Now lie still. I’m not done yet.”

[magnetic-rose]

general thunderbolts thoughts:

taskmaster was done dirty, but at the same time ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ imo she's supposed to represent the worst outcome possible for yelena. dying without redemption, discarded and tossed away.

i think the first time bob's eyes start glowing yellow is when john slams him against the wall after bob calls him an asshole. john backs off and just stares at him for a bit.

bob's void vision compels people into suicide, i think. when john snaps out of his vision, he's staring straight down at the hole they just came up from. yelena's alarmed "what the hell are you doing" makes him do a double take and look back down the hole. his mind was stuck reliving his bad memories - his body was getting ready to jump.

speaking of void shenanigans, bob banishing the little girl to the shadow realm was wild.

i feel like the movie could have been 10 to 15 minutes longer to flesh out john and especially ava a little bit more. i feel like bob mostly bonded with yelena and john. we could have at least had a moment where bob touched ava in the vault and had her relive something.

valentina's actually a fascinating villain imo and this movie did a great job flesh her out. the necklace she was wearing as a child when her dad died, she's still wearing as an adult throughout the movie.

you could tell that mel's part was written specifically ayo edebiri and it was distracting lmao. geraldine did a good job too tho.

alexei's speech to yelena about how when he looks at her he sees all the good actually made me tear up lmfao.

i actually liked bucky's role in the movie. i've been seeing people divided on it. he's mentally in a better place than the rest of the characters - he's further along in his recovery journey. so it makes sense to me that he's the one herding them around.

when bob and yelena are in bob's safe room and she sits down next to him, it's framed in a way where he's in the shadows and she's in front of the window, her head bathed in light. really good way to symbolically show us how she makes him feel better.

i actually like that bob's mental illness wasn't magically cured with the power of friendship, and while his memory loss is played up as silly at the end (at least a few of the audience members i was with giggled at that), it's actually one of the symptoms he mentions experiencing in the beginning of the film.

the film doesn't really explain bob's powers, but in the comics he's a reality warper like wanda. his powers are whatever he wants them to be/whatever he believes them to be. so with that in mind, i thought it was really clever to tie the sentry persona to his manic episodes and the void personality to his depressive episodes.

and also kudos to the movie of not holding back on all the highs and lows of being an addict with severe mental illness while never demonizing bob at any point. there's never a discussion about potentially needing to kill bob. the team is deadset on saving him.

anyways. 10/10 movie absolute cinema.

[namjooningera]

If LADS were Yanderes ♡

Characters: Zayne, Caleb, Sylus

AN: I guess I’m gonna start doing LADS content? Here’s some basicslly soft yan lad boys. Request if y’all want more (^^)

Warnings: soft yandere things, mentions of stalking. Mentions of smut in Zaynes; overstim, brat tamer zayne, shower sex. Caleb is lowkey manipulative. Not proofread

Sylus:

♡ He values your independence, however that doesn’t exactly stop him from making sure your always just a step away from him- he’s right there if you need him

♡ he always just happens to be in the area when you are. Oh you’re fighting a wanderer right now? On a mission? He’s right beside you! Plus, the faster you two finish the mission tne faster he can get you on a date with him, spending tne rest of the day together!

♡ He most obviously hates things in the way of y’all’s relationship, little pests in the way. And you never really realize when they disappear, when he comes home with just a little blood on his collar, his hands a little grimier, his eyes sharper and that smirk hanging off his lips.

♡ has a certain obsession with buying you pretty things. Little trinkets here and there because he’s a dragon. And no, of course they don’t have tiny cameras in them! He already has just Mephisto watching you- right? Just Mephisto?

♡ No, he doesn’t get jealous. He gets territorial. You two are together- bound. So who does this guy think he is? Hitting on you in broad daylight? Your little coworker. It doesn’t matter though, because the very next day you find their desk cleaned out!

♡ Sylus who watches as you see other men. Your coworker, doctor, childhood friend… he just watched and laughs. Do you truly think any of them can actually be as good as he is? Sylus is confident that once you have him, you won’t need anyone else. It’s why he lets you keep your little guy friends, because at the end of the day, he’s confident that if they became a real threat, he’d barely have to lift a finger to get rid of them.

♡ Sylus who’s extremly clingy. You find him to be.. everywhere. He’s always “in the neighborhood”, in front of your work, at your favorite cafes, he’s just.. around. And when you finally do call him to you, instead of letting him pop up to you instead, it’s like he’s in a buzzer radius, showing up to you immediately.

♡ He’s so clingy that he’ll even show up to your missions! And of course you’re confused, because what kind of “business” does Sylus have four hours away from home? And all of a sudden the hotel you booked is completely full and your sharing a room with Sylus?

♡ Even with these acts that are becoming too coincidental, his act is so cool and collected you, for the most part, believe him when he says he had “business” in these parts, or he just happened to stop by your home, because you forgot something at his base. And hey thats funny, he has your necklace in his hand. You don’t ever remember taking it off in the first place.

♡ Had photos of you- everywhere. His wallet, his nightstand, on his desk. He’s just so adorned by you!

♡ Finally, after all that quality time together- he’s elated when you finally start going out together!

♡ Of course, this is when bit by bit, his obsession starts to show more and more. Except.. it’s weird. You like it? Maybe it’s because he’s grown on you, spending so much time together you like the pest that’s Sylus- attached to your hip!

♡ So when he does suspicious things, like when the waiter hits on you- and all of a sudden Sylus needs to use the restroom, and comes back with the slightest drop of blood on his collarbone- you don’t blink. When your mean supervisor humiliates you, all of a sudden they’re demoted to the worst branch and bruised- you shrug. When you see your ex- the one whos always pestering you- in Sylus’ base one day, bloodied and tortured- you look the other way. Why? Because what you don’t know won’t hurt you. And after all, your boyfriend just wants to keep you safe.

Zayne-

♡ Zayne, your sweet childhood friend, you’re sure can’t hurt a fly. After all, he’s a doctor! He took an oath.

♡ Zayne is.. interesting to say the least. As you grew up together, you saw him as this sweet but timid boy. He had his nice moments, but most of the time you mistook his actions for mean ones because of his attitude- even when he meant the nicest things.

♡ It was almost.. annoying, knowing Caleb was always there with you. When Zayne you two were young, and he noticed your shoes were untied, letting you know so that he can get on his knees and tie them for you- just for little Prince Charming Caleb to swoop in and kneel on his knees, tying bunny knots on your cute pastel shoes.

♡ He needed.. new ways to get your attention. And Zayne was smart, he was sure he could find ways to do exactly that. He’d make snow figurines for you, trying to entice young you, so that perhaps for playtime- you’d choose him, not run to Caleb. And finally, when you do, when you tell Zayne he needs to be the dad when playing house, and you’ll be the mom- and Caleb will be the dog- everything is just.. perfect. Young him is elated. Plus he notices young, you’d be the perfect partner! So adorable and sweet, with your apple cheeks and gummy smile, he’s fallen head over heels.

♡ But you’ve grown up now, and you’re still with… him. Caleb. Even the words on his tongue die out as he feels gross just thinking about him. He’s never especially had anything against the guy- Caleb isn’t a bad person. It’s just that with you- his blood sizzles. The attention Caleb gives you, is so much more then an adoptive brother or childhood friend, his arm hung around your shoulder constantly, bickering with you and you two being in each others possession for several years.

♡ He’s scared that leaving for university will just cause you two to become even closer- but Zayne needs to. He disappears- with the thought of you still in his mind as he studies viciously.

♡ And finally, he’s back in town. As your health care provider, your primary physician

♡ And then there’s the incident. Caleb’s gone. And you need a shoulder to lean on. That’s okay, Zayne has done lots of study on psychology, he’s sure he can be your personal therapist if needed too. Or he can just be your close friend, who lets you cry in his shoulder or rant away, it doesn’t matter. He just wants you to know he’s here.

♡ And no! Caleb was his friend- he’s not happy that he’s gone! He’s just relieved. And soon it’s like a bridge has been built between you two, there’s no annoying wall separating you guys, and you finally choose him first every time.

♡ He’s also the type to coincidentally show up everywhere you go. He’s always at Akso when you need him- but somehow he’s always at the missions you go to as well? Showing up just perfectly timed at the train station where you are, for your timely three hour trip up north. Though with his aloof manor, you never really do get reasoning for why he’s always around, and most of the time you don’t care to ask. It’s nice to have your best friend with you, right?

♡ Zayne who huffs and puffs with an attitude when you call him your “best friend” to some people while out on a mission- him just tagging alone of course. For the rest of the day he’s silent, stubborn, staring out the window of the train and giving you curt nods and shrugs when you poke at him and try and prod- whys he acting so weird?

♡ You decide that perhaps he’s hungry- or he’s been depraved of sweets for too long. So you drag him to some cafe and sit him down to eat. He contently eats his tiramisu, forgetting that there’s a small percentage of alcohol in it.

♡ Zayne who whines in your arms as you drag him to your hotel room. You think this is your fault, you bought him the tiramisu after all! It’s only fair you take care of him. But all of a sudden he’s confessing to things.. thoughts.

♡ He confesses how he thinks your blouse shows too much of your cleavage, that while you walked him, he was looking down it the whole time. He confesses that at this point you might be the only woman he talks to, the only one he ever needs anyways. He confesses that he holds a grudge against you- for calling him something so ridiculous- a friend. That he wants you, wants to kiss your cute lips and memorize every part of you. To beat up the little prick who stared at you the whole train ride, to replace Caleb, To be able to hold you without precautions, to kiss you and be with you, to be in your skin- in your lungs.

♡ Nonetheless, he passes out anyways. And when he wakes up, he’s mortified. He confessed? What’s wrong with him? Your disgusted surely, by his reckless behavior, how he’s thought of you so crudely since you were small- wait so why are you sleeping next to him?

♡ his eyes travel up to your sleeping face, and he feels so many emotions all at once. You stayed. You slept next to him! You’re even holding his hand! So you aren’t disgusted? Do you perhaps.. feel similarly for him? Why else would you stay? He’s elated waiting for you to awake, watching your sleepy face while a smile adorns his.

♡ You two finally date, and he thinks he might be the happiest person alive. This is also when he starts to let go of his inner worries. After all, Zayne is a smart man, self aware. So he knew his more.. dangerous thoughts, should be contained. So why were you always pushing him? Teasing him? He felt.. on edge. It’s like you knew he had another side to him, something you were curious to see. Is that why you were flirting with that guy? That tipsy man at that dingy bar? You said you were out on a girls night so how come he caught you taking to that man?

♡ Zayne watches from afar. He knew your friends wanted to go to some bar, and yes, he trusts you, but he doesn’t exactly trust your friends. But know that trust unravels- why are you sliding your hand agains that man’s arm? Or letting him talk that closely to you? Are you testing him? Do you know Zaynes here? Or are you actually about to.. cheat..?

♡ And then that man simply touches a strand of your hair, twisting it in his fingers- and Zayne loses it. He practically stomps over- and his fist directly aligns with the man’s face, knocking him over, ice even shedding off of Zaynes knuckles. He turns to you, and with eyes you’ve ever seen from him before- dark and terrifying, primal even. He grabs your hand and your dragged out of there.

♡ Your shaking as he basically throws you into the car, buckling you in like a child, as if you didn’t know how. The whole ride home is silent, and you think “this is him, this is Zayne”.

♡ When you get home your pushed into the bathroom where Zayne strips the two of you to get into the shower, where he demands he cleans you of any filth that has accumulated on you from those pesky men.

♡ As zaynes hands glide soap of your body, rubbing it in and his scowl is deep on his, you try to explain to him you weren’t cheating- that you knew he was there. You wanted to see if Zayne.. would do anything. It was just something stupid the girls you were friends with convinced you to do when you recognized Zayne at the bar. And yes, were. You really think Zayne will let you keep those friends?

♡ “test me? Really? Do you have no faith in me as your partner?” He spits out, his hands deeply massaging the soap into your hips. “You think because I let you get away with a brat so often, I’ll let you go now?”

♡ Washing you is long forgotten when the two of you are fucking like bunnies, and your crying into his shoulder as you cum for the third time, the water still cascading down your bodies. Finishing once when he ate you out, a second on his fingers, and now a third on his cock. You whine that your tired and you understand what you did was wrong, that your sorry, even though your not really sorry, you wanted to see that side of him, he still bullies his cock into your hole, growling into your ear and keeping you pinned to the shower wall.

♡ he watches you sleep peacefully, which makes sense- you came so many times, that by the end you were shaking and crying, overstimulation hitting your body as you enter sub space and the brat in you broken. Alas, he still loves you, tending to you and making sure your perfectly comfortable before you finally rest.

♡ He’s glad that you saw this side of him, like a weight has been lifted. Even though you’ve only seen just a small percent of it, his guilt is completely gone. It’s why it’s so easy for him to now go find that man who touched you and get rid of him for good! It wouldn’t be the first time anyway.

Caleb-

♡ Caleb, your sweet childhood best friend, you can even go as call yourselves childhood sweethearts. He’s been there for you forever, for as long as you’ve both known.

♡ The yandere Caleb whos just a bit too close to you. When you were kids it was fine. Taking baths together, playing with each other, running to find each other during recess, benign possessive over each other and always clinging to one another. But now it gets weird.

♡ After all, you want your space! You’re grown, and you have friends other than him. Plus you want a romantic life! He’s been scaring away boys and girls from you your whole life, you had to sneak away from him at one point just to have your first kiss!

♡ Caleb whos head is screwed on loose when he finds out that you in fact didn’t go on a sleepover with your girl-friends, but we’re at instead a club with them.

♡ You’re dolled up and drinking, even wearing a dress he’s never bought you! He’s furious, but more saddened than anything. If he had puppy ears they’d flatten against his head and he’d let out a little whimper. Was he not enough for you? So you had to go find entertainment somewhere else? He’s been with you forever. So are you bored now?

♡ Suddenly his sadness turns into anger, but no, he’ll wait. Calculated, he watches you. He watches as you drink, as you speak with your friends, and as a boy approaches you. He buys you a drink, a cheap one Caleb thinks, and finally the boy leads you to a hotel room.

♡ It’s devastating to watch you follow him to his room, with your naive eyes looking him up and down, the eyes that should only see Caleb.

♡ Caleb goes home however, when his job is done. When his calculated colonial strategy takes over and he’s back to his preppy self, sitting back on your sofa as if he hasn’t shed blood.

♡ You come home, disheveled. You looked like you cried, your makeup down in streaks as you rub at your eyes pathetically. You crawl into a Caleb’s arms as he lays on the sofa, whining and ranting and confessing about how you lied.

♡ How you went to a club instead of a sleepover, so you could meet someone. However, when he sits you down on his hotel bed, he got a call. Leaving the room and coming back just to yell at you to leave! He looks disheveled himself, nervous even, twitchy eyes and body shaking as he screams at you. However your too distraught to notice as you scramble to leave the room, fighting tears at being rejected.

♡ Caleb shushes you, telling you thats just how men are, that’s just how people out there are. He would never do that to you, he would never say no to you, ever.

♡ He cuddles you on the sofa, kissing your apple cheeks and wiping the tears that still decide to make its way down your face. He rubs your back as he tells you it’s not your fault, it’s really not, Caleb had his fun making death threats to the boy, He lets you however whine and rant until you fall asleep. Then he’s carrying you to your bedroom, wiping your ruined makeup with a makeup wipe and going as far at strip you and put you into some comfortable pajamas. His eyes look away as he changes you, but it doesn’t stop him from taking a peak at your cute bra.

♡ He cuddles you into bed, kissing your forehead and watching you as you sleep. You’d never know that the boy who “rejected” you, is currently in a pool of acid. Why should you know? He is wants to keep you naive of his actions for as long as possible. He wants to be your sweet Caleb, the one whos basically a puppy to you, clingy and teasing, always by your side.

♡ It doesn’t matter that this wasn’t the first time he’s done something like this. One day you’ll realize it’s for your own good, and that it’ll just be the two of you forever, just as you were born to do.

[ce1estiall]

dopamine

summary paige x teammate!reader paige helps give you what you need | part 1 | part 2

warnings smut, oral (r! receiving), strap (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), dirty talk

celestial notes someone requested part 2 of flowers, so this is it! im also going to write part 2 of “nothing left” later this week :) enjoy

“yeah you look so good standing next to me.

next best thing, i need dopamine.” - dopamine, aespa

the rush of lust was running through your veins throughout your body. paige kept kissing you, harder every time. moans escaped your mouth. she went down to you neck, sucking hickeys all over. your body became hot. she glared at you as she started to take your pants off, becoming wet by the second. "how bad do you want me?"

"bad, really bad." you whined, desperate for her to fuck you. "please paige, i need you."

that turned her on, unleashed a side of her no one saw. she pulled down your panties and spread open your legs, seeing the sight of your wet pussy. "that wet for me already and i haven't done anything. what a slut."

she slowly started rubbing circles on your cunt, moans filled up the room quickly. "mm, fuck. make me cum"

she smirked. "nuh-uh, i'm taking my time with you. you deserve to feel good, right?" she laid down, admiring you. she licked your fold slowly, giving you instant pleasure through out your body.

she got closer, eating your pussy like she was starving. her tongue started to spell out your name. she slurped what seemed like every ounce of bodily fluids. "don't stop, paige please don't stop" you said as you felt like you were in hell or heaven. your hands now tangled in the blonde, wavy hair. she slid her tongue inside you, now tongue fucking you. your head went back, almost giving yourself whiplash from the pleasure. "fuck! fuck!" you felt the orgasm on its way. "im gonna cum!"

"cum in my mouth baby." your eyes turned white as you cummed in paige's mouth. she continued you to eat you out until every drop of cum was gone in the moment. “you tasted so fucking good for me baby.”

post-orgasm, you broke out into a sweat, trying to catch your breath. "good girl. but i'm not done with you yet." you didn't want this to end, you had plenty of more orgasms in store, just for paige.

paige then slid 2 fingers inside of you while on top of you. "you look so pretty when i'm controlling you. such a good girl for me." the slowly slams increased and became faster as she slammed her fingers in your pussy. "yes, fuck, mmh" is all that you were able to say. you were slowly getting fucked dumb. your words started to slur and your brain started to become foggy, but you and paige were both enjoying every second of this.

"takin' me so good. you just wanted me to fuck you, hm? is that what you wanted? yeah?" just the sound of her voice was enough to make you cum. her fingers were starting to become pruny as how wet you were.

"yes." you said, out of breath

"what was that baby? i couldn't hear you." she just wanted to hear you praise her.

"yes, i wanted you to fuck me badly. you're fucking me so good, mmh." you felt an orgasm coming.

“gonna cum again baby?” as your orgasm was about to exit, she quickly pulled out. “you don’t cum unless i say so.”

“yes paige.” you sounded so desperate, just waiting for paige to give you permission to squirt.

“good girl.” she curiously went through a drawer in your room and found a strap. “have you let someone use this on you? or have you been waiting for me?”

cat was out the bag. “waiting for you.” you spoke as you looked guilty.

“figured.” she smirked while strapping herself. you face was in the pillow while your ass was up, waiting for her. she inserted the strap into you, starting slow. every slam, you replied with a moan.

“you can fucking take it. i’m gonna fuck you dumb you’ll forget your own fucking name.” she pulled your hair as you arched your back, feeling all of your walls and inside. at one point paige stopped, letting you ride her while slapping your ass.

“please paige, let me cum.” you said, desperately

“you wanna cum for me? fucking beg for it.” she snapped.

“please let me cum all over your cock. you make me feel so fucking good.” you cried.

“good fucking girl. cum all over this dick.” she said in an angry tone.

“paige, paige!” you were screaming her name as you squirted all over her cock. she smiled at the sight of you and your fluids all over the bed, eventually pulling out.

you still didn’t feel finished. you turned over and made paige now on top, sitting up. you spread your legs open, slowly riding her thigh. she was relaxed, now admiring you like you were art. “mm, fuck” you were riding her thighs hard. she felt your liquid all over her her, smiling. she gripped your ass as you had your arms wrapped around her neck. “you like riding me? fucking whore.”

“fuck p.” you felt her body heat, rising as you were on top of her. you couldn’t resist how hot she looked. you started kissing her, biting on her lips. she tasted the candy you had earlier.

you felt cold air hit your body as your third orgasm was happening, you cummed all over paige’s legs. she grabbed a finger and scooped your cum, then tasting it. “tastes like my girl. you did so fucking good for me.” she kissed your forehead as you felt her appreciation translate on you.

“does this mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” paige asked, looking innocently.

“you should’ve asked me a long time ago, p.” you smiled. “yes, absolutely.”

[manicmanuscription]

Hi there! I have a request for a ff if you’re still taking suggestions. I would love to read a ff of Azriel x Mate!reader and they decide to keep their relationship private from the IC, (Maybe because of the whole Elain situation, I’ll leave it up to you!)and maybe they have a little baby aswell! And the IC end up finding out and want to get to know Azriel’s family. Sorry if this is so bad, feel free to ignore if you hate the request xx

Weight

A/N: Hi Love! I'm so fucking sorry for how long this request took me to get too! I genuinely love it but it took me forever to decide which direction to go in I swear I rewrote it like four times so I hope you like the version I ended up with! Thank you for request <3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 1584

Warnings/Tags: Angst, IC Fighting, Rhysand lowkey painted as bad guy (but it's only for plot don't come after me that's my husband.) Happy/Hopeful Ending

Summary: Azriel has hidden his daughter and mate from his family but an accidental run in in Velaris ruins it all.

acotar masterlist | main masterlist

The door to my shared bedroom with my mate opened with a soft click. Yet I knew he was coming the second he set foot in our home. The spymaster himself purposefully made his footsteps loud enough for me to not be startled and yet not too loud in case I was resting. 

I had been sleeping a lot during this pregnancy. The physical aspect of carrying our second born is much harder than carrying our first, and I was barely pregnant. I forced my eyes open in the dim room, wanting to lay my sight on the male that had captured my heart entirely no matter how tired I was. 

Azriel smiled softly when his gaze met mine and he quickly and quietly put his coat away before sliding under the massive amount of blankets I was buried under. “Hi.” I murmured my voice raspy from sleep as Azriel adjusted us so that I was halfway laying on his chest, one of my legs thrown around his and the slight baby bump barely poking him in the stomach. His hand's immediately finding my belly and resting there.

“Hi.” He whispered back and I immediately tilted my head to look up at him at the slight shift in his voice.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concern layering my tone. 

Azriel just huffed a sad laugh under his breath as he gave me a rare smile. He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “My observant little mate, you know me so well. Did I wake you?”

“No you didn’t. Azriel, tell me what’s wrong?” I panicked pushing myself up further so I could look at him properly. Something was…off about him. From the exhausted way he carried himself to bed, the way he had tugged me impossibly close and breathed me in as if it was his last time. 

I knew he had spent the whole day with our daughter before dropping her off at my sister’s for a sleepover so I could have a peaceful night but the way he was acting- especially after the hurt I’d felt from him early in the day only to have him shut me out-

“Nothing’s wrong my love, everyone’s safe and ok.” Azriel assured me, repeating the words over and over again until my breathing evened and he placed a comforting kiss on the inside of my wrist before holding my hands close to his chest and pushing me to lay back down all cozied up next to him. These hormones were going to kill me.

“Ayanna and I ran into my family this evening.” Azriel started and my chest cracked open. No wonder he was so sad. Azriel loved and cared about his family deeply but ever since we’d met he’d taken extra care to make sure I stayed hidden from his family.

Rhysand had used Azriel’s own loyalty and respect towards him to make him leave the middle Acheron sister alone and it had completely broken him. It had only cemented the self doubt running rampant through his mind. Adding another layer to his hardened and yet sensitive heart. 

It had shattered the new couple before it even started and Azriel had vowed to keep his High Lord’s orders to himself despite the devastation it caused to himself and Elain. Elain was almost as good as my mate in hiding her emotions but not nearly enough and Azriel had cursed himself even further. Because in his mind he was the monster that had crushed the innocent girl in his brutally bloody hands. 

I had worked a lot with Azriel over his insecurities and self doubt. The male had barely even touched me when we first met, terrified he would scar another beautiful thing but I had coaxed him out of his shell and his family was something I could never really talk to him about, he shut down and went to a dark space that took days to get him out of. 

In reality Azriel was terrified you’d be taken away from him, ordered halfway across the continent, just one day waking up and you and your beautiful daughter would just be gone? And there was a chance it could’ve been Rhysand’s fault? Or his own?

He loved his family, he loved his brother’s with every fiber of his being. But in the end his terror won, old wounds speaking louder than logic because he couldn’t handle it if there was even the slightest possibility Rhysand made the only good thing disappear from his life, because Gods he wouldn’t survive it and the world around him would shatter under his wrath. 

I traced my fingertips underneath Azriel’s shirt, trailing soothing touches down those muscled abs until he came back to me. Clearly stuck in his own head. “How’d it go?” I asked. 

“Horrible.” His voice cracked and my heart ached at the sound, mating bond screaming at me to do something other than just snuggle in bed. But I knew Azriel just as well as he knew me, instead of pressing him for more information I placed a gentle kiss on the juncture of his throat as he stared at the ceiling. He’d talk when he was ready.

A few minutes passed by until I heard the pain in his deep voice echo around the room again. “They were…angry. At me once they figured out Ayanna was my daughter. They were hurt and asking me why I didn’t tell them-” He paused, swallowing. “The look on Cassian and Rhysand’s faces-” 

A few tears rolled down his cheek. The only other time I’ve seen the Shadowsinger cry was at our mating ceremony and the birth of our daughter. I brushed them away with the pads of my thumbs as he continued. 

“I just couldn’t take it anymore. The betrayal on every single one of their faces. Ayanna was just confused of course, tugging on my shirt and hiding away. The shadows hid her from view and it only worsened the situation. Cassian accused me of not trusting him. I just felt so…ambushed so I let down my shields and threw everything I’d been feeling at Rhysand and Feyre.”

“I didn’t even stick around to hear the aftermath. Just went to the park for a few hours with Aya to cool down.”

“Nesta found you?” I presumed. The Lady of Death having grown quite close to my mate in the House of Wind. He nodded, continuing the rest of the story. Apparently Feyre had shared the information with the family and had promptly yelled at her mate for a few hours. 

They’d all been hurt and angry at Azriel, at each other, and at Rhysand. Cassian and Mor having been the most bent out of shape, stinging even worse with how close they were.

I offered to talk more about it even as my eyelids were unwillingly drooping lower and lower. He just chuckled, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a strong kiss before he ushered me back to sleep once again. 

——————————————

A soft knock echoed throughout the house and I left the tea table,, leaving Azriel to enjoy the outrageously sweet tea my daughter had made, she obviously got her sweet tooth from him. 

“I’m assuming your Cassian and Mor.” I said by way of greeting as soon as I pulled the heavy oak door open. I knew the Inner Circle would come crawling out of the cracks after a few days and it warmed my heart to see and meet some of Azriel’s closest friends. 

“And you’re my brother’s mate.” Cassian breathed out, Mor still finding her words next to him. “The one and only.” I joked with a small hand flourish that did nothing to defuse the tense air suffocating us. Grief etched into the fae’s very faces. “Can we come in?” Morrigan asked clearing her throat. 

“Are you here to fight with him?” I questioned in return. A wince crossed over Cassian’s pained face. “Gods no, we just- we want to talk.”

I smiled softly, it was time for my mate to reunite with his family, to fully be present with them and stop hiding behind his indifferent facade. “He’s playing with Aya in the kitchen.” 

Cassian practically rushed inside as soon as I opened the door wider, the male wearing his heart on his sleeve and I could see how much this entire ordeal affected him. Mor stepped in the threshold with more caution, taking a deep breath as she faced me.

“Rhysand and Feyre would’ve come you know but-”

“But if you bombard Azriel then he’ll shut down and pull away?” she chuckled half-heartedly, sparing a longing glance in the direction Cassian had gone. “Sounds like Az.”

“He didn’t want this to happen, none of us did.” She whispered softly. I knew she was talking about the High Lord and I nodded in understanding even though Rhysand and I would definitely be hashing it out later. “I know.”

Mor took a steadying breath and walked by, allowing me to finally shut the front door. Before she rounded the kitchen she turned to me once again. Pulling a brand new plush teddy bear out of whatever pocket realm she kept it in. “For Ayanna. Whenever you and Azriel are ready for us to meet her.” 

I smiled, taking the gift and following the blonde into the kitchen, I knew without words that Azriel didn’t want to properly introduce our daughter until everything was resolved with his family despite the accidental meeting yesterday and I gave the fae’s their space. He’d already sent the three year old upstairs and I gave Azriel a quick kiss on the cheek before making my way up there as well. 

[science-hoes]

Gorgeous

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: language, objectifying an old man, the slightest mention of smut, this was very self indulgent so I do apologize if y’all don’t care for it

Description: Robby loses in fantasy football and pays up. Somehow, his loss is making your life a lot more difficult.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

—

There weren’t many times that the night and day shift united aside from real emergencies. Well, depending on who you asked, this was a real emergency.

“Where is he?” Shen murmured, holding onto his backpack, wearily leaning against the high counter of the desk hub.

Jack checked his watch. “He’s got about three minutes before I show up at his house after work and finish the job myself. And I won’t do a good job.” He threatened.

There was a thrill in the room, similar to the countdown to Near Years. Except that was a few weeks ago. Dana crossed her arms. “Do you think we can sedate him and do it? Technically, he already gave prior consent when the season started.” She noted.

Mel walked up to the mass of nurses and doctors starting at the entrance to the Pitt, slowing her pace at the oddity. “What’s going on?” She asked.

Langdon waved her over, and she happily met him next to a computer station. “Our fantasy football season ended a few weeks ago. It’s time for the Loser to pay up.” He explained.

Mel tilted her head. “Pay up? Is everyone here waiting for money?” She asked.

Santos shook her head. “No. This is better than money.” She replied.

“Priceless.” Collins chipped in.

You weren’t aware of the barricade of healthcare providers protecting the desk hub as you walked through the entrance of the Pitt. When the doors swung open to reveal you, bundled in your pink winter coat, everyone let out a disappointed groan.

You froze in your tracks, offended by the greeting. “Good morning to everyone, too.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Dana shook her head and threw an arm around your shoulders. “No, sweetie, it’s not you. We’re waiting for the Loser.” She explained.

You smiled slightly, not sure what she was talking about. “Who’s the Loser?” You asked.

Ellis grinned and pointed to the door as it swung open. “Him.”

Robby walked through the entrance, wrapped in his black winter coat, backpack slung over his shoulders, and his camping gaiter covering the upper half of his face. Only his dark chocolate eyes and swooping faux hawk were visible.

Jack shook his head. “Oh, fuck no. Take that shit off your face.” He demanded.

Everyone made similar remarks, commanding Robby to pull off the face cover.

Robby rolled his eyes and reached a hand to the edge of the fabric near his cheek. “Before I do this, just know that I hate every single one of you.” He grumbled.

But he still hesitated. Chants of “take it off” began, starting with Langdon and progressing through the rest of the staff. You watched intently, curious what the big deal was.

With a final sigh of defeat, Robby yanked the gaiter down. The Pitt erupted with screams, laughter, and cheers. But you were frozen. There he was. Your senior attending whom you had an unbearable crush on. Who you took months to get used to without embarrassing yourself or showing your intense attraction. Who you thought about when you were alone at night.

Clean-shaven. Not a trace of the forest of facial hair that was there yesterday. Moments ago, with his face covered, you knew exactly who he was. But now? He looked like a stranger.

“I can’t tell if you look older or younger.” Shen managed to say in between waves of laughter.

Robby’s mouth pulled into a straight line, a movement once concealed behind facial hair now overexpressed. “I don’t want anyone ever saying I’m no good on my bets.” He demanded.

Jack cackled as he made his way towards Robby to pat him on the shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve seen your jaw line in 20 years, brother.” He noted.

And, oh my God, you swear Robby had a pout on his face as his friends harassed him. That straight line turned downward into a real frown. There were only a few people who actually had a downward frown, and apparently, he was one of them.

Dana had tears in her eyes from laughter. She wiped a stray one from the corner of her eye. “I haven’t seen this man since Hurricane Katrina.” She recalled.

Langdon’s eyes were just blown wide in horror. “It feels inappropriate to look at him. It’s like he’s naked.” His voice was monotone.

Your eyes were riveted on Robby. His eyes were distant, taking the punches as they came. It was better to get it all out of the way before the shift started. His face was turning red with… embarrassment? Anger? You couldn’t tell, but the color change was way more obvious without his peppered beard to hide most of his face.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He grumbled, taking a step to the lockers.

But when everyone whipped out their phones and followed his advice, blocking his escape to the doctors lounge, he threw his head back in exasperation.

“If any of these pictures end up on social media, so help me God.” He hissed.

—

Your shift got off to a great start, but your positive streak could not last in the eyes of the emergency department gods. After a couple of pleasant, simple patient cases, you were assigned to Myrna. There was no issue at first. You took her patient history and evaluated her vitals. She had been brought in after a seizure and, of course, consuming an unknown cocktail of drugs. Same as usual.

“Alright, Myrna. Let me get an IV in you.” You mumbled, sorting the IV supplies on a metal tray.

Myrna groaned in a dramatic fashion, slumping in her wheelchair. “Great, let the fucking intern do it.” She mourned to nobody in particular.

You rolled your eyes as you tightened the blue elastic tourniquet on her arm, hoping that you would be able to find a vein in her used arms.

“I’ve started an IV on you before.” You mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. “And it took you five fucking sticks.” She hissed.

You shrugged. “If you stopped shooting up drugs, I wouldn’t have such a hard time finding a vein.” You replied with as much kindness as you could muster.

She laughed, throwing her head back against the wheelchair. “You’re a spicy one.” She complimented. “Consider me a teaching opportunity. That’s what Fruitcake calls me, anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow as you cleaned a poor excuse of a vein on her forearm with an alcohol wipe. “Fruitcake?” You questioned.

“You know who I mean. The tall one with the beard and-YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

Myrna recoiled when you slid the tapered IV needle into her skin, grabbing the metal tray and hurling it at you.

“Jesus, Myrna!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms up to protect yourself from the airborne IV supplies.

The metal tray fell to the floor with a loud clang. In a flash, Dana and Robby were by your side to help you.

“You’re supposed to tell me when you’re gonna stick!” Myrna defended herself.

Robby pushed you behind him defensively as he got closer to Myrna. “What did I tell you about harassing my interns?” He questioned, a sternness in his voice that made even you shiver.

Myrna didn’t say anything at first, just stared at Robby. “Holy shit. Is that you, Fruitcake?” She asked.

Dana began to pick up the supplies that landed on the floor. “Myrna, don’t throw shit. Or we’ll throw you out.” She warned.

Myrna waved her off and returned her attention to Robby. “Looks like you didn’t finish baking.” She teased.

“Thanks.” Robby deadpanned as he turned around to look at you.

Despite Myrna being handcuffed, you were still a little shaken by the incident. His lips pulled into a wide line on his face, his upper lip flattening. Usually, he would just ask if you were okay, to which you would say yes, and that would be that. But instead, he placed a guiding hand on your back and took you to an empty room. When the door shut behind him, he faced you, arms crossed over his chest, and narrowed his eyes.

“When you have a hostile patient like that, you need to ask for help, okay?” He lectured.

The way his lips moved when he spoke was enchanting. His bottom lip thicker than the top, shaping every word with precision that you hadn’t noticed before. Like maybe you had assumed that he had been cutting corners when he spoke with his beard. The freckles that dusted his nose seemed to reach farther down his cheeks than you realized. And the way his zygomatic arches at his cheeks looked like they were sculpted by Michelangelo himself…

Fuck, you had to look away. He was so gorgeous. There was no reason that a man nearly twice your age should have that effect on you. You scolded yourself internally for being so mesmerized by him, but then you wondered how that smooth face would feel between your…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your eyes widened, and your cheeks surely flushed. “Yes, sir.”

“Then look at me.” He demanded, voice tinged with authority.

Fuck. You hesitated, deciding if hiding your crush was worth the reprimand you would receive. Your eyes were focused on your hands, anxiously picking at the cuticles.

“I will not tell you again.” Robby’s voice was sharper now, threatening almost.

You clenched your eyes shut and buried your face in your hands. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I can’t look at you.” You confessed.

A silent beat. “Why?”

A disgruntled breath left your lungs. “Because you shaved.”

An awkward silence followed. That wasn’t exactly the response he expected, but Robby matched your irritated exhale. “Look, I know it looks bad. That’s why I don’t shave. But that’s no reason-“

You snapped your head up, eyes blown wide. “No, no! It looks good! It looks too good.” You cut him off.

Robby froze, and the annoyed face that you were initially met with began to soften. His slackened jaw relaxed, and his lips twitched at the edges. “Too good?” He repeated.

You felt your stomach jump to your throat as you realized the trap you had set for yourself. Tell your boss that he’s hot or that you were lying to get out of a lecture? Either path seemed like a dead end. Where you might actually end up dead regardless of the decision. “It’s just that…you look like a different person.” You confessed.

His lips were pulled into that long, straight line that you had seen this morning. Beginning to turn down in a real frown. “…so I looked bad before?” He concluded.

You groaned in frustration, tossing your head back, clenching your eyes shut. “Oh, gosh, Robby. You’re a very handsome man, and it was already hard for me to look at you without becoming a mess. I used to think, ‘it’s a good thing he has a beard because there’s no way he would look good clean-shaven.’ Then you come in, all baby-faced, and it’s like I relapsed on fucking heroin.” Your word vomit was too much to clean up now.

When you didn’t hear any words, a disappointed sigh, or even the characteristic sound of his short nails scratching his neck, you thought he had left the room to avoid an awkward conversation that involved telling his resident that he did not find her attractive. So you opened your eyes, expecting no trace of your attending, but there he was.

Smiling.

Smiling at you.

And you felt an unexpected weakness in your knees. It was the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. Not a grin, but certainly the last line of defense. His lips pulled impossibly wide on his face, his cheeks folding into smile lines to make room. Those lines framed his mouth like priceless artwork.

You felt self-conscious now. He must have been amused at your naivety. You definitely weren’t the first resident to obsess over that man. “Why are you smiling?” You questioned defensively.

Robby let out a chuckle that evaporated the stress in your mind. “I have a pretty young girl telling me that I look handsome. How can I not smile?”

Oh.

You closed the distance between the two of you. Your hands found purchase on his chest, which puffed out at the touch. “Pretty young?” You questioned, a playfulness in your eyes. “Or pretty and young?”

Robby reached for one of your hands on his chest, wrapping it in his own. “Pretty and young.” He confirmed. And this time, he showed off those pretty teeth, imperfect in all the right ways, the smile lines stretching almost all the way back to his ears.

Your free hand lifted, and your fingers hovered in front of his face as if they were not a part of your own body, like his smooth jawline was a magnet. Despite your bravery to touch his chest, you found yourself shying away now. “I’m- I’m sorry.” You stuttered, retracting your hand.

But Robby snatched your wrist with a firm gentleness. Slowly, he brought it closer to his face again, inviting you to touch. Your index finger grazed the contour of his cheekbone, met with not a hint of friction. His breath staggered, and you caught him fluttering his eyes at your electric touch. Like you were inching into a freezing pool of water, you cautiously added more of your hand to grace his skin.

“You’re so pretty.” You whispered.

Robby sputtered out a sheepish laugh, his lips stretching into that boyish grin that deepened every line on his aging face. “Pretty?” He repeated.

You nodded, now palming his jaw. Years ago, you were sure, it was probably cut sharp, but now the elasticity of his skin made it more mature and soft. “I’ve seen that picture of you. From the 90s. The one in the hallway. You looked like a TV show heartthrob.” You noted. “I could never convince myself that it was you, but now I can.”

His face continued to redden, the heat seeping all the way to the tips of his ears. There was no way to hide his blushing now. His head turned slightly in your grasp, his lips brushing against your palm, parting slightly as they dragged. Your thumb traced his lips and dragged his thick bottom lip, rolling it down slightly to expose his teeth. He let out the softest moan, almost a whimper. Your eyes locked with his, and the desperation was palpable.

“I feel like I’m cheating on my crush.” You finally admitted, letting your thumb linger on his mouth.

Robby’s lips pulled to one side in a half smile, but it looked almost like a full blown smile compared to what you were used to seeing behind his beard. “I’m your crush?” He questioned, like he was waiting to see if you had also lost a bet.

You laughed at the ridiculous question and looked up at the fluorescent lights. “I’m struggling to hold your eye contact right now because you’re so fucking gorgeous.” You replied.

Those ceiling lights blinded you from what came next. You could only see Robby’s hairline, but then you felt the warmth on your mouth. From his mouth. Maybe you didn’t register it at first because in all of your fantasies, you expected his kiss to be rough with scratches from his dense beard. Your tongue would graze the facial hair around his lips, burning your chin as he moved.

But this kiss felt so clean. So raw. So…exposed. Like insulation from a wire had been pulled away, leaving nothing but the full power of his mouth. You raised your free hand to his face now, seeking proof that the other side was just as smooth and soft. One of his arms snaked around your waist, and his free hand latched onto the back of your scalp.

Feeling emboldened by the returned affections, you moved your lips away from his and kissed the hollow of his cheeks, trailing down to his jaw. Robby shuddered at the sensation, a pathetic whimper leaving his mouth.

You giggled as you continued to worship his face with hot, open-mouth kisses. “You okay?” You teased.

He chuckled, but it was a higher pitch than you were used to hearing. “I haven’t…” He stuttered as you added more kisses to the underside of his chin, crossing to the other side of his face. “Nobody’s…” He struggled to find the right words as your soft, wet lips dragged across his skin. “You’re the first person in 20 years to kiss the skin on my lower face.” He finally managed to say.

You sucked gently at the angle of his mandible, savoring the taste of his elastic skin on your tongue, releasing soon after to protect him from a damning mark. “I’m honored.” You replied with a gentle tease.

Robby grabbed your face to hold you still, and you let out a bratty whimper of frustration that he had stopped your expedition. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip in thought. “We have to get back to work.” He reminded you, but the authority in his voice was dwindling.

Your eyebrows drew together in disappointment, but you could see in the way his lips were just slightly curved up that he didn’t want to leave you. You could read him before, but now he was as transparent as water.

“Okay.” You sighed dramatically and began to pull away from his grasp. “Guess I’ll just finish out my shift and head home. Alone.”

You turned away from Robby, but before you did, you saw him bite his bottom lip, anxious that he had just fucked everything up. His hands had grasped for your body, a little too late, and you were out of his reach. Hook, line, and sinker. Then you turned your head over your shoulder, just enough to meet his overly wide brown eyes, and smirked.

“Unless you wanna come along?” You added in a sing-songy lilt.

Robby’s face changed in an instant, breaking into that wide smile that you were becoming quickly addicted to. The kind of smile that could stop people dead on a sidewalk when he passed by. The kind of smile that people wrote songs about. The kind of smile that could light up a room in a hurricane.

And it was all for you.

“I’ll see you after work.” You confirmed for him.

Robby chuckled, a look of disbelief at your audacity washing over his face. “I didn’t say yes.” He retorted.

You smirked. “You didn’t have to. Your smile gave it away.” You opened the door to the rest of the emergency department, taking a step out. “You better watch that face. Can’t hide behind your beard anymore.”

And you disappeared back into the chaos. Robby remained in the room, smiling still to himself. He dragged his teeth across his bottom lip again. For the first time ever, he was glad that he lost in fantasy football.

—

A/N: Thank y’all for dealing with my slight obsession with clean-shaven Robby. I couldn’t help myself, Noah is just such a cutie.

[sydneymykah]

WHAT’S NEXT FOR THE MUSIC INDUSTRY?

☆ Neptune in Aries and the music industry ☆

☆ I've seen a lot of people make the realization that the Grammy’s were actually enjoyable this year. The public mostly agreeing that the awards given out were justified and long over due for certain artists. (Disregarding pointless stan wars) There was a section during the ceremony where the head of the grammy committee gives a speech about making things right and rewarding artists more for innovation. For example; Beyonce finally getting Album of the Year, an award that has been long overdue according to fans and critics. Along with her best country album win that even shocked her. And the Grammys giving The Weeknd a formal apology for not nominating him after he had one of the most iconic eras of music we’ve since in the past decade. It also seems like music award shows are slowly becoming more enjoyable again.

☆ Festivals like Coachella recently sparked conversation and arguments about what is acceptable as a performer, with all of artists getting flack for being lack luster, low energy and lacking professionalism while performing. Especially when you’re in this economy where you want to get your moneys worth. Other artists being praised for putting in actual effort and people even saying that Megan Thee Stallion should’ve been a headliner.

☆ Apps like TikTok changing how music and artists get recognized adding onto the digital era of music. But ever since the end of quarantine blowing up on TikTok for your music is more sparse, especially with the app constantly being threatened to be banned in America. And your chance of sticking is less and less in such a now crowded space.

☆ The most current thing about music that is making the rounds is the rise in main female pop and rap stars vs the men. It seems like every year a new pop girlie is announced or started to gain momentum and sky rockets to stardom. Whilst for male artists the competition seems to be more sparse.

☆ All of these things occurring during the tail end of Neptune in Pisces. So it sparks the question;

HOW WILL MUSIC CHANGE WITH NEPTUNE IN ARIES?

☆ Neptune is a very mysterious planet. Many of its rulings feeling contradictory to one another. It can rule compassion and kindness but also deception and delusion. One of its rulings is melodies/music.

☆ Neptune entered Pisces August 2011. The state of music in 2011 going onward was this:

The increasing rise of streaming

The widespread of new emerging Artists via the internet (social media)

Rap (specifically mumble and female rap) and Edm/Dance topping the charts and radio

The new mainstream trend of blending genres

The rise of music from other cultures and countries in western media

Pisces Neptune and the ending of things:

☆ Pisces is the last sign of the zodiac and can often show us what is dissipating and coming to an end, not necessarily being destroyed (that would be more pluto energy) but a cycle that is ending at least for now. Pisces is spiritual, referred to the higher realm, and can be considered a healing sign. Therefore Neptune in pisces coming to an end can show what the world of music has learned and healed from. The ripple effect that will lead to the Aries transit. It seems that people are tired of just the chill vibes and wants energy in music and on stage again. In essence for the past few years the music scene has been in a limbo but artists who bring the heat are getting more recognition and respect, for ex: Megan thee Stallion. Or artists who are more blunt and bold with their lyricism and performances. Ex Sabrina Carpenter (esp with her Juno positions) Also whilst I do enjoy artists feeling more comfortable than ever in their art and music (as Neptune is at home in Pisces) it has also made music a bit calm. Many people complaining that we don’t have many powerhouses in the mainstream. It’s hard to think that someone like a Whitney Houston or Aretha Franklin will be a heavy hitter in the mainstream but with the Aries in Neptune transit now here i believe there’s a chance of that. Less whisper singers or people who can’t sing on stage without sounding out of breathe constantly (no shade)

The last time Aries was in Neptune

☆ The last time Neptune was in the sign of Aries the biggest historical event(s) to take place was the Civil War. I feel the need to talk about this because in a lot of my predictions that are below I believe this new wave of music will be filled with revolution topics and artists getting their emancipation back. Artists challenging labels or calling out labels for ex Chappell Roans speech at the Grammies talking about healthcare for artists. Beyonce taking back genres once owned and created by black people that have overtime been taken by white people. Also Movies like Sinners getting so much love from the mainstream, with a messages that center around individualism/identity, your passions, and people who prey on your talents for their own gain (Neptune also rules film) and the Cowboy Carter tour being filled with messages saying “You can’t reclaim something that already belongs to you” I see Artists and people in the music industry will start to fight for their autonomy and freedoms. I see artists that will refuse to conform. They will set their own paths and change how things are operating behind the scenes. In a sense making things right (by their own definition)

MY MUSIC/MUSIC INDUSTRY PREDICTIONS

Resurgence of Artist Development

☆ Complaints on artists with no media training and lack of professionalism from mainstream artists have been a complaint for a while. I think the chill laid back nature of artists is slowly not becoming the cool norm anymore and people want authenticity still yes but they also want to see drive and passion. Being nonchalant is a trend amongst more of the younger generation and the fear of being a try hard will make you look cringe. But I think this transit will glamorize being a hard worker and someone of passion. If labels are smart they’ll start actually devolving artists behind the scenes like they did in the 90s. Beyond labels I think more artists will treat their craft with more discipline.

More powerful independent music labels

☆ Aries is known to be one of the more independent signs. Off that fact alone I’d hope to see more and more artists be independent and/or sign to new independent labels that might have a chance of becoming extremely successful. It’s not exactly a secret that labels have been getting lots of flack for not prioritizing their artists health, finical stability or actually giving the artists the dreams they’re selling. It’s becoming more and more of a better option to be an independent artist than it is to sign to a label since they’re essentially glorified banks that give out huge loans. Aries being innovate, first of the zodiac and independent may give independent labels and artists the chance to thrive.

Shortcuts in music

☆ Aries is a temperamental and emotional sign. Quick to get riled up in passionate emotions and easily one of the most impatient of the signs. This leads me to believe that music will have a lot of shortcuts and quick fixes or “cheatcodes” if you will which sadly reminds me of AI and AI music. If there’s an artist who comes out who strictly issues AI and becomes popular I will not be surprised. I can also see this as labels growing more impatient with signing new artists who have potential to go viral but don’t after a certain amount of time and more artists getting dropped for those reasons

Extreme competitiveness behind the scenes

☆ Ares is the god of war and very militant. I see a lot of strategic fighting and dirty plays being made even more so in the industry. I think the more and more new artists are able to blow up and sign to management/have distribution deals the more competitive the field will become. It’s already a competitive industry but I think it’s going to enter a whole new phase of it. For ex; I think labels are gonan start cracking down on finding and developing the new “black pop girl”. And black girls in pop/rnb who are already established, their teams will most likely try to jump on that opportunity or put them on the back burner for someone else (harsh but the truth in this field). I also see artists and their teams being more strict.

New leaders, holy trinities and standards

☆ Aries is the first sign in the zodiac and is known to be trailblazing and set standards. Neptune in Aries will bring a new era of music along with new leaders of music, and new holy trinities. Similar to Mariah, Whitney, and Celine being the holy trinity when Neptune was in Sagittarius/Aquarius and Rihanna, Nicki, and Beyonce being our gens big three when Neptune was in Pisces this new era will give us a new standard to look up to.

More innovative/trailblazing performances

☆ I see new ways of performing making the mainstream. We’ve gotten used to the norm of award show performances, the Super Bowl and the typical day time/late night television performance. I can see music teams, labels and artists getting more creative with places to perform and do performances never done before. For ex. The Beyonce Bowl. Although it was still a NFL performance not only was it live streamed to Netflix but was a Christmas Day special performance with such a high production it was a performance an artist hadn’t done for the NFL Christmas show before. Performances like that might inspire people in the industry to come up with performances that haven’t been done before and become new norms.

Rock/Grunge Comeback

☆ When it comes to specific genres I do believe rock, rock influenced music and grunge will become mainstream again. Especially with black artists as it’s speculated artists like Beyonce will be releasing a Rock inspired album for her 3rd act album. I think it’s pretty self explanatory why Aries in Neptune can bring back the rock wave. Rock can be extremely powerful, expressive, emotional (not just including rage and anger), a lot of people consider rock to only be an aggressive genre so it coming back during this transit would aline very well with what a lot of people have been feeling. Music can reflect the world we live in and it’s safe to say A LOT of people are angry. Rock has always been a revolution filled genre with subjects that often criticize and rebel against the status quo and polices/systems against the oppressed

The New Male Pop Star

☆ Aries is masculine and even though it doesn’t necessarily mean men I do think we’re long overdue for a new male pop star or just star in general. A Justin Bieber, A Harry Styles, an Usher or maybe even someone who will live up to a legacy like Micheal Jackson. We’ll have to wait and see 🤫

What’s your prediction for what will happen to music and the music industry with the Aries Neptune transit?

Xoxo

- Sydney Mykah ✫彡

[sourle]

Hi, this is my first time requesting but, can i please ask for a the reader finally getting payback as the killer because the spectre helped them with a deal and brutually kills some others (please they deserve a villian arc for all of the mistreatment, i keep crying bruh)

Reverse

Oops! I did it again

WARNINGS: Gore, blood, etc.

Note: finally i got a straight idea what to do with the request

The soft thumping of your heart is all you can listen to now. The slow beating against your rip in a rhythm it sung on its own.

The glowing color of your heart shuns your surroundings. Tinting the area with the bright color, a light within the darkness.

It makes it easier for you to be spotted.

You stare up at the starless sky, at the mist. It speaks, its voice unclear but it reeks of darkness.

It whispered, granting you a power. Granting you something similar to what you've got when you weren't forsaken.

The power you promise to never use ever again.

But it seems the promise won't mean anything as you opened the panel, staring at the starting button. And clicking it.

The humming of the night wind of the map filled the silence as you ran around, trying to find someone. Anyone. Your steps are loud like a giant stomp. You flinched once in a while involuntarily from the glitch seeping from the cracks of your flesh.

For three minutes you found no one. Not a single life in sight. You groaned in frustration, opening the panel once more to reveal the others location.

Then you saw it, a glowing silhouette crouching next to a generator. You approached, ever so careful to not alert anyone near your presence. Then you saw him. Builderman.

Thinking on the name itself makes your stomach churn in hatred, you hate the feelings. And you hate seeing him more. You walk around the corner of the white wall, striking at him with your weapon.

He gasped, not expecting your presence at all. He wasted no time idling in place and started running. You let out a small laugh, taking fun in the chase he's giving.

SKRR— TUMB

You snarl, covering your eyes as the turrets shoot at you. Slowing you down rendering for you to lose Builderman. Using your weapon you destroyed the turret in one hit from frustration.

You glance at the last path Builderman runs to and follow. Turning your head in each direction to try and spot him, and spot him you did. He's kneeling behind a wall, breathless and exhausted.

You sneak, approaching in slow calculated steps. Avoiding to make any sounds.

CRUNCH—

Builderman spits out the blood running up his throat, he glances down at his throbbing chest and sees a hand penetrating through. His heart in the grasp.

You pulled your hand back with a satisfying squelch of the torn flesh, watching as Builderman's body dropped down on the ground. Bleeding out blood.

You got up and threw the beating heart that's slowly losing its rhythm. You approached his body and took in a satisfying relish before letting out a sob.

What are you doing?

You sniffles, biting your bottom lips. No time to cry, it needs more victims. You need to make it proud. Everyone proud.

You trudge through the random walls, placed in the middle of the map. You stumbled upon one of Taph's traps and hesitantly broke it. Before continuing your search.

One by one you found them.

You watch as Elliot choked on his own blood after you slit his throat from behind before ripping out his heart.

You observed Chance's shaky smile as you plummeted your hands straight into his chest and crushed his heart.

You softly smile as Taph flails around under you, watching you raise your sword above your head and stab it through his heart.

You cornered Noob, seeing them shivers from fear. They feared you. And you can't help but smile. Haven't they always feared you? No matter.

The round ended. You rolled your shoulders, taking all the events from the match in.

Are you really satisfied by it all?

Do you want this?

You want to change, yet why did you do it?

You snapped away from your thoughts as someone nudged you. It's c00lkid. "Can we play chase now?"

You blinked before nodding with a soft smile. You need this small normal break.

[holylulusworld]

Ghosted

Summary: Dating. You’re not doing this anymore.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, former Seth x fem!Reader (mentioned)

Warnings: mentions of past bad relationships, abandonment, being ghosted, unresolved breakup, angst, a hint of fluff, hopeful ending

Dating. Romance. Love. You’re not doing this anymore.

“Why not?” Your new colleague, a cocky and handsome guy, asks. He wanted you to have dinner with him, but like with every man before, you turned him down. “Did I say something wrong? I thought we were getting along very well, and there’s no company policy saying we can’t date.”

“I’m not doing this anymore,” you simply reply, with no sadness or pain in your voice. You became indifferent when it comes to dating, love, or even interacting with men. “I know people say this all the time, but it’s not you, it’s me, Bucky.” You give him a cracked smile and pat his upper arm. “You are an all-right guy, I guess, but dating is not for me. Not anymore…”

Bucky is stunned. He believed there was something great blooming between the two of you. You ate together during lunch break, shared jokes, and helped each other whenever one of you needed a hand.

“What was that?” He scratches his beard. “I thought she liked me too. Huh…did I lose my mojo?” Bucky dips his head to glance at Jake, another colleague from IT.

“It’s not you,” Jake says, knowing about your history with dating. “You didn’t hear this from me, but…”

…And then, Jake, ever the tattletale, tells Bucky how you became indifferent when it comes to love.

Three years ago, …

It was perfect. He was perfect.

Your last relationship left you heartbroken, and you believed there was never going to be a nice guy you’d fall in love with again. But there you were, spinning in your living room in a brand-new dress, waiting for him to pick you up.

After only six months, you and Seth were going steady.

It surprised you that Seth and you immediately got along so well. At first, he looked like one of those self-centered guys. Handsome but shallow.

Luckily, he was not a quitter. Seth talked you into giving him a chance to prove he’s a better man than your ex. He was charming and suggested going to the library to listen to a new author talking about their book.

Seth was sweet and shyly wrapped his arm around your shoulders when the author read a sad passage of their book.

You talked for hours after leaving the library. He liked the same music, reading, and long walks in the park. Not to forget, he wanted to start doing charity work, too, and he loved pets.

You haven’t talked about adopting a dog or cat with him yet, but you have had lots of time. At least you thought so at that point while spinning in your dress.

A funny moment turned into hours of waiting, desperate calls, messages, and so many questions. You didn’t get an answer. Not that night or any other night for two months.

One night, Seth invited you for dinner, and the next day, he just ghosted you. No call. No message. No apology.

You spent weeks questioning yourself, your appearance, hell, even the food you served Seth when you cooked for him.

Out of the blue, the man you believed loved you, and you would spend the rest of your life with, was gone, without as much as an explanation.

It was two months later that you saw him at a restaurant with his ex—the woman he told you was in the past. He used you to make her jealous, so she left her boyfriend.

You laughed about your stupidity. How could you have been so blind and let a man walk all over you again? That day at the restaurant, you swore to yourself you’d never fall in love again… never…

Now, …

“Wow,” Bucky replies after Jake finally stops talking. He can’t believe someone did this to you. You are always kind and the nicest person he ever met. “Why would he do this to her?”

“I don’t know.” Jake shrugs. “Some people are assholes and ghost others. I’m not saying it’s okay, but shit like this happens all the damn time.”

“I understand now that she doesn’t want to date anyone. Fuck,” he curses himself for asking you out. “I should apologize. Right?” Bucky looks at Jake, who’s busy scrolling through his phone. “Jake, can you stop with that for once?”

“Do whatever you want with the information I gave you. Just keep me out of this. You didn’t hear a word from me.”

Bucky awkwardly watches you from afar. Things have been strained between the two of you since you turned him down a week ago.

He averts his gaze when you look his way, sighing deeply. For days, he has tried to find the right words to apologize to you. Whatever he believed was going on between you and him was non-existent, and he feels like a fool.

He walks toward your office, his now cold coffee in his hand. Bucky looks at it, sighing again. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable.

“Come in,” you say as someone hesitantly knocks at your door. You’re surprised to see Bucky poke his head in. “Bucky, hey. Please come in.”

He steps inside, looking around your office as if he is trying to buy himself some time. “Hi,” Bucky shyly says. “Uh—I wanted to say I’m sorry for asking you out without a warning.” Bucky looks down at his shoes, nervously shuffling from one foot to the other.

You blink at his words. “It’s fine,” you hastily reply. “I’m sorry too. You’re a nice guy, and I like you, but… I’m not dating…anyone.”

He nods and looks away. “I never wanted to make things awkward between us or make you feel uncomfortable. I like you too much to do such a shitty thing. Please forget I ever said a thing.”

“It’s not your fault that most of the men are shitty,” you murmur and give him a cracked smile. “If things were different, I’d gladly go out with you.”

Bucky smiles for a second before he turns around and leaves your office without another word.

He wishes things were different, but you’re too heartbroken, and there’s no way he’ll ever convince you that he’d rather die than hurt you.

“Handsome, you’re back,” the waitress at his favorite restaurant greets Bucky. She makes an insider joke only he understands and subtly asks about his best friend, Steve. “Where is your shadow today?”

“He’s out of town.” Her face falls, and Bucky is quick to say, “For business. Next time, he’ll be around too.”

“I reserved the best table for you,” she says and winks at Bucky. He follows her without a word. The table he reserved was for the two of you; now he’ll eat alone as so often.

“Thank you,” Bucky says and sits down. The waitress hands him the menu, asking if he wants the usual. He nods, not in the mood to decide on anything but how to forget about you and his feelings.

She walks away to give his orders to the kitchen, a sly smile on her face. While Bucky tries to busy himself with his phone and scrolls through the pictures of his cat Alpine, she’s greeting the next guest.

“Maybe one of our regulars would be generous enough to share his table with you, miss,” she says, suddenly standing in front of Bucky’s table. “Mr. Barnes, would you help this lady out? She wants to eat here, but there’s no free table.

He gets up to leave the table to whoever the waitress brought to his table. “She can—” His eyes widen as you stand in front of his table. “I can eat at home…uh…she can have the table.”

“We could share.” You are as shocked as Bucky, but somehow, you don’t want him to go. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, sure…” He pulls the chair for you. “My pleasure, Y/N.”

You glance at his phone, giggling because his gallery is full of pictures of a white furball. A cute white cat with the bluest eyes you ever saw. Well, except for the pair he owns.

“You like cats?”

“I like this one,” he replies, with a smile. “That’s Alpine, the queen of my castle. She’s picky and a drama queen when it comes to food, my attention, or…anything in between.” He shrugs. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You nod and smile back. A warm feeling spreads through your chest when Bucky starts talking about his cat and how he found her at a shelter. He tells you that he didn’t go there to adopt a pet, only to accompany his friend Steve, who wanted to pick up his dog.

“I ended up taking her home,” Bucky explains and shows you another picture. “Shit…sorry. I didn’t want to talk about my cat all the time. Uh—I’ll be silent now so you can eat and go home.”

“Hey, uh—” You touch his hand, stopping Bucky from closing the gallery. “Why don’t you tell me more about your cat?”

[hcneymooners]

✸ TRITWWISIYTSTICS ⤷ chapter i. i feel i could right you.

(read on ao3.)

synopsis: here. cw: mentions of death and grief, implied animal death, mentions of injury, azzi's lack of self-preservation.

notes: please let me know what you think. my cycle started and i feel evil and tired, so i would love to know anything you would like to tell me. my inbox is always open, and i love you.

azzi wished people would stop dying, if only to get a moment to herself. as soon as thought left her, she felt swollen with its rot. 

it was just so easy to get exhausted now. she was so tired of lying: about how many supplies they had left, about how well-versed she was in her tasks, about how lonely she wasn’t. the worst were the ones who hurt themselves on purpose, who bled so that they had something in this mess to understand. she wanted to cup her hands around their jaw and bear down until there was a creak and a whimper of pain and tell them, “stop trying to die. this isn’t something you should want. stop trying to die. i’ve been spending months trying to bring back my family, to make them alive again.”

but she didn’t. she was just less careful with their ivs.

she was tired of waking early in the morning when the mists were thick and warping for a single moment of peace. despite the (dis)quiet of the house, she found that she still felt haunted in that wide, open space. she tried her hardest not to look at the locked room to her left when she exited her own, or the picture with the room’s key next to it. 

the country had only taken six days to collapse, though it spent years building up to the days she lived in now. she remembered the first plane that had been shot down just a few state lines over from where it had fled its own airport. there had been several planes butchered in the same manner, several crashes ablaze with flame, blood, and bone. azzi specifically recalled this one, not because it was the first, but because her entire family had been inside of it. 

she couldn’t remember how she’d managed to save her own life. she had been reluctant to go on the trip, had felt something immovable in her chest whenever her parents spoke of her coming. so, she stayed. she had stayed with inês in the stomach of her old home, their backs pressed together in her queen-sized bed. and then, she had only inês. inês like a sister. inês like her child. 

then inês had died, too, and left azzi to weep and wake on her own. 

azzi felt the top of her head ache at the root, the spot where she’d once torn out her hair in grief, still raw in spirit. she ignored it and grabbed the basket atop her counter as she made her way to the garden. she wasn’t hungry herself, but the soil gave her something to do that wasn’t destructive, self- or otherwise. 

when she walked outside, rain lightly lashed the side of her face, and she could see the swell of the clouds, their bellies dark grey and awkwardly ridged. she only turned to the side to slip off the wide-brimmed wicker hat she’d taken from a returning scout, and set it atop her curls to keep her vision clear. 

her outfit was slightly impractical: a long, cotton skirt the color of cow cream and a large grey woolen sweater that had belonged to inês’s father. she’d almost burned it after she’d buried the girl, so irrational with her grief, but had saved it in the end. now, it kept her warm, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel inês with her thin body and buttery, brown hair breathing warm and close against her neck. 

the skirt was bound to get dirty, but azzi didn’t mind whatsoever. this was the cost of sustaining herself. this was her proof of work, of living. her mother would’ve hated her for dirtying it. the thought made her mouth twist uncomfortably into an upward shape that could’ve been called a smile.

she bent slowly, her bones shuddering under the motion, and began to dig her fingers into the soil. she tucked the oiled fat of her fingertips underneath the small rocks and wiggling worms. it was still damp from yesterday’s storm, and it clung to her skin like it couldn’t bear to be parted from her. 

the carrots were late this year, she noted, and the herbs too sparse. but something in the dirt always came through. azzi had learned to trust that. she had to. it was a relief to be able to grow, to be able to avoid the commune’s large mess hall with its horrible silence and relentless, dull pressure.

the edge of the property was far beyond the line of trees, where the hills folded into one another like unmade beds. azzi always gardened with her back to the view, with her face bent toward the home she lived in. she’d never built a gate, despite inês’s nagging. you can’t just let the world walk in, she used to say. 

but azzi believed in openness. in letting things pass through. she borrowed from the land and thought, maybe, if she let it breathe, it would never take more than she could give. she borrows so much from the world—soil, rain, death, survival—and on some level, she knew it would ache to borrow back. the land remained porous because she was.

so there was no gate. no fence. nothing to keep the world out, or her in.

besides, she liked looking at their house. it was a rather large cabin, built and abandoned by a louisana-native who had been an architect before the floods swallowed his homeland. it pulled high into an a-frame, but spots of the south decorated it like sugar spots on a banana peel. 

the porch was vast and encircled the waist of the house like lovers’ arms, four thick columns split into two on either side of the wide wooden stairs. there was a balcony just outside the circular window that birthmarked the roof, but the glass couldn’t open, so it was more for the outside view. that was azzi’s room. 

since there was no gate and no one here, azzi liked to watch over where she lived as she worked. but that also meant that she could be snuck up on. an easy death. 

that’s why it didn’t startle her when she heard it: something soft shifting through the brush. not a deer. not a scout. but also, not a threat. just presence.  a footfall, a pause. the feeling of being observed.

azzi didn’t look up right away. she slowed the pull of her hands, letting a small head of lettuce roll into the empty belly of her basket. the long brown line of her neck twisted meekly as she let the moment stretch, her lungs expanding and contracting with delayed anxiety. she let it linger. the rain had stilled, and now the brim of her hat acted as a small shield from whomever was behind her. her hands were wet with earth.

carefully, she turned around. her shears hung loosely from her hand, the blades dull with mud. there was nothing practiced in her stance, nothing defensive. only the slow, reluctant curiosity of someone who had long accepted that danger, if it came, would not be outrun.

but what met her wasn't an animal. it was another woman. 

tan skin, despite the season. a sweep of wet blonde hair, dirt-streaked and pulled into a loose, messy bun that clung stubbornly at the nape. the roots were darkened, rusted by sun. her cheeks were flushed from effort or wind, maybe both, and a smudge of soil clung just beneath one of her impossibly blue eyes. she stood half-shadowed by the trees, close enough to be clear, but far enough that azzi had to squint a little through the mist.

and slung across her back was a rifle, its matte black stock dulled by rain, the trigger jutting gray and ugly like a sneer.

azzi still didn’t move. she just took her in.

the woman’s eyes swept the space like she was cataloguing it. she glanced at the porch, the rows of struggling herbs, and the way azzi’s cotton skirt clung desperately to her shins. then their eyes met, and for a moment, the air went thinner.

the woman didn’t speak right away. she just gave a small nod, more acknowledgment than greeting. something unreadable passed across her face. it was something like relief, but sharper.

“you always leave it open like this?” she asked, voice low and dry-edged, like she hadn’t used it much lately.

azzi didn’t answer. her fingers twitched once against the shears, then went still. she just said, softly:

“i didn’t want a gate.”

“you’re leaving yourself wide-open,” the woman remarked, raising a pale brow.

azzi’s mouth twitched. “i know.”

and even though azzi knew the answer, she asked her next question anyway:

“did you come from the commune?”

the woman eyed her for a second, took in the wide hat and its little tie beneath azzi’s chin. she decided to be honest. 

“no.”

azzi nodded, though she was unsurprised. the direction the woman had stepped out of spoke from the land miles beyond hers, not the carefully curated path to the main base that fell to her other side. 

“you’ll have to go there if you’re interested in staying.”

the woman pressed her lips together, then said, “you ain’t a part of it?”

azzi tilted her head to the side, and the motion made her look unbalanced. her eyes were sweet and full, brown like a doe’s.

“i am, but i live on my own. they know of me, but since i take care of myself, they leave me be. it’s a relief, i think, to know that they don’t have to completely take care of me. we’re struggling as is.”

azzi wasn’t sure why she was sharing. providing this information only revealed that both she and the commune were weak, an easy annihilation if the woman was so inclined. she didn’t even know if the blonde was alone.

“mmm,” was the answer she got back. 

azzi shifted in place, aching to drop back to her knees and finish cultivating. 

“are you going to kill me?” she asked, just to be sure. azzi’s voice was light, but the question hung heavy between them.

“absolutely,” the woman said, deadpan. then, with no fanfare, she reached for the rifle at her back.

there was a tight pause before, with a few quick motions, she showed azzi how the clip was empty. 

azzi smiled, all teeth, and her skin almost split with the effort. it hadn’t done that in a while. satisfied, she lowered herself back to the ground and gently pushed away a rabbit who had been nibbling at the top of what just might have been a carrot. maybe they weren’t late, she thought with an inner laugh.

“you think they’d let me stay?” the woman called out.

“yes,” azzi responded. the commune never turned away anyone. it almost always irritated her.

“think they’d let me live on my own? like you?”

“mmm,” azzi said, “no. they would probably assign you to me, actually.”

“and why’s that?” the woman asked apprehensively.

“because,” azzi said, with a somber look over her shoulder. “i’m on my own now. i don’t have anyone left. so, i’m the only one with any space left.”

✸

azzi didn’t wait for the official decree. she could now picture cd’s tight smile, her short hair curling at the edge of her jaw as she welcomed that strange woman in.

instead, she dug into the dirt until her nail beds were red and raw. she planted the small bits of the iris that had been left over on the kitchen sill, its petals drooping just as her body had been doing since its owner passed. she sat, small and trembling in the dark as the loss rocked through her. she was learning that grief was a staircase she was almost always climbing. every day, she either got lost or found the landing, but she would never stop stepping on it.   

after, she grasped the top of her basket with both hands and hauled herself up from the ground. the weight of it almost swung her back down, but she only braced her knees and carried on. it was good that the wicker was heavy. it meant the earth, and she, were both capable of production. 

just before she climbed up the porch, she turned and looked out onto the land. the dirt was bloodied with the sunset, the sky shimmering with pale fire as the moon slipped into its opposite’s place. she watched it as it rose, and when it reached the highest peak, and the sun reached its lowest, she opened her mouth and said thank you to both. she repeated what her old neighbors had taught her, just before leaving:

“i am part of your natural world, and i am grateful to live off of you. i am grateful to breathe with you, to walk with you, and to call you home. i am connected to you and i commit myself to taking outstanding care of you, as you do me. i do what is in my power, i am conscious of you. i love—i love you.”

she always stumbled through the last line—everyone she had ever said that to was no longer there to affirm that they loved her back. 

she stepped through the door, the evening light pink and yellow like a fever-filled throat. the colors weren’t necessarily her choice, but the solar grid was twisted and makeshift, so this is what came through. it could be worse, so she let what passed through, well, pass through. 

the kitchen slowly filled with the scent of thyme and boiled bone broth, small bits of fat dripping off the tiny slabs of deer meat she had straining over a simmering pot. the meat was running out, which she didn’t mind, but the woman might. she hoped they could figure something out. azzi was never one for the killing. inês had been braver than her: knife, shotgun, and all. they were balanced that way.

she’d just washed and tucked the produce away, her knife bridged on the oven-warmed plateau of a second piece of flatbread a little larger than usual, when the door creaked open. there wasn’t a single shard of surprise that was felt in her chest. something different settled in. it was so strange, so much stranger that azzi put the knife down. she barely shifted. only pressed her fingers into the edge of the counter, the grain of the wood grounding her.

she supposed it felt rather close to being right about being chosen.

the woman stepped inside without fanfare, shoulders still damp, the rifle still slung over her back. mud flaked from her boots. her mouth was tight, her jaw working like she was chewing on the fact of being here.

azzi didn’t greet her. just scooped a generous handful of meat into the clay bowl closest to her, drizzled it with slick deposits of vegetable soup, and slid the flatbread gently beneath. she placed it all on a pale green porcelain plate, then set a second bowl on top to keep in the heat. like she’d done it a hundred times before.

“you’ll probably want to wash up first.” she looked up to find the blonde’s sharp eyes on her. “take your boots off, please, and set them by the door. the wood is hard enough to clean as is.” 

“you’re azzi,” the woman said, not quite a question. more like a fact she’d been told, somewhere along the way, and it was now being confirmed against the body it belonged to. 

azzi nodded, her curls bouncing with the affirmation. she was already wiping her hands on a linen scrap. “yes.”

she disappeared for a moment, her body folding into the hallway, into muscle memory. the quiet choreography of care. the way you did when someone needed you to know what to do. she returned with a dented basin, a thin bar of pale soap, and one of her better towels. rough but clean. she’d picked it quietly. unconsciously. the one with the frayed edge, she always folded inside.

 her movements were brisk, but not unkind. familiar. this had been routine once.

“water’s hot,” she said. “you just need to turn the valve. red knob. you can leave your things by the fire. put your gun by the door. i’ll handle the rest.”

the woman—to azzi, her name was still unknowable—still hadn’t sat down. her eyes followed azzi’s dirt-nailed hands. then, finally, she sagged like her spine had been holding too much. her knees bent slowly, almost reluctantly, as if suspicious of gravity, and she lowered herself to the floor, resting her elbows on them. her breath whistled slightly through her nose.

azzi stopped, her body stilling gracefully. she took the other woman in. she noticed the way her lashes clung together in wet little spikes. the way her fingers flexed, like she couldn’t quite unclench them. she was running low. her body was fraying. you could see it in the body, even before the eyes gave it away with their glazed water-blue weight. 

“you’re not gonna be able to wash yourself,” azzi said. not softly, not sharply either. it was just the obvious state of things.

the woman looked up, surprised. then gave a quiet laugh that scraped up and out of her, sharp and exhausted. “no. not really.”

azzi nodded once, then disappeared into the kitchen.

she returned with a small glass vial of oil, jasmine and pink salt, and knelt beside her like it was nothing. like it was the only thing left to do. she worked with care. even without a proper hospital, her bedside manner was inscribed deeply into the lining of her tissue, young as it was.

wringing out the cloth just enough, she pressed it gently to the blonde’s neck, then the crook of her elbow. the skin there was scraped raw in places. she rinsed dirt and flecks of what she knew to be blood from her collarbone, from her jaw. there were scars twisted around her stomach. azzi didn’t ask why.

“lift your arms,” she murmured, and the woman did. mute. trusting, if only because she was too tired not to be.

“tell me if anything hurts,” she murmured.

the woman didn’t, though everything did. 

the water ran in slow rivulets down her chest, catching on the curve of her ribs. azzi tried not to look. not really. but some things revealed themselves no matter where your eyes landed. by the end, she smelled thickly of jasmine, with a hint of rose and the mountains. 

she smelled like one of azzi’s ghosts.

afterward, azzi took the towel and dabbed gently at the woman’s face, smoothing away the last of the dirt from behind her heat-pink ears. then she picked up the comb she’d placed on the floor and began to work slowly through the damp blonde strands, careful not to tug. the hair was heavier now, a wheat-deep gold that was even darker at the ends. she left it loose. didn’t explain why

“my name’s paige,” the woman said at last, voice low, almost hoarse.

azzi paused mid-stroke. then resumed. “that’s a nice name,” she said, pulling the comb’s teeth all the way through.

they ate in silence. just the fire cracking and the muted clink of ceramic. the house sighed in the beams, wood settling like old bone. the birds had stopped. azzi knew it was late, then.

after, azzi stood in front of inês’s room for a long time. not opening it. there was pain just being near it. paige watched from behind her, building a shape of her in her mind. not consciously. just the way you do, when you’re trained to. 

she noted the way azzi’s fingers hovered. how some gripped the others like they could hold them upright. she watched azzi’s grief clutch her hips with invisible hands, saw the way her limbs lifted and curled awkwardly toward the doorknob like it might burn her. her eyes flicked, almost against her will, to the framed photo on the wall.

two girls. one with dark eyes and darker hair, her grin wide, teeth just shy of too large. the other, unmistakably azzi, pressed against her, eyes squeezed shut with joy. pre-collapse. you could tell by the light.

the key next to the frame hung limp on its nail, dust-heavy and stiff. a relic.

“i can take the couch,” paige said gently. quiet, but not unsure. an offer. a line in the sand.

azzi didn’t look back. just let out a quiet breath, a break in her ribs. something fell loose from the crack.

 “no,” she said. “your body can’t handle that right now. it’s fine. i’m in the master.”

she left before paige could reply.

the master was larger than the rest of the house let on. the ceilings stretched higher here, and the walls were painted a soft, dusty cream. the air was warmer. thicker. it smelled faintly of that same jasmine azzi had soaped paige down with, and something a bit more exotic. fig maybe.

the room had been called the marie antoinette room by the architect who designed it. inês had liked that.

the name showed itself without much effort. a chandelier hung, long since stripped of power, but still glinting faintly with dust and its crystalline skeleton of decadence. the bed sat like a small stage in the center, canopied and curtained. its sheets were peach and muslin, clearly survived by someone who had loved it enough to protect it. azzi stepped further in, approaching it with an odd methodology. she folded the quilt back with care, not ceremony.

she had changed into a loose, mid-thigh nightgown, the color of ink. dark indigo, almost black. it caught the light in a way that made it almost look like water, its folds as still as laminar flow. it didn’t belong to this world. or this collapse. paige clocked it. registered the choice.

they didn’t speak as they lay down. just turned their backs to one another like they’d done it before. paige didn’t question the arrangement. not yet. but she noted the oddity of it. sleeping beside another body could be a kind of truce. or a kind of failure. or both.

since the garden, paige had known: azzi was worn down. something in her had stopped flinching. her sense of self-preservation was a sleeping beast, or maybe a murdered one. she was eager to fall on some level, her body constantly primed for the angel of death’s intermittent arrival. for a mistake. for whatever would come first.

azzi reached out, paused, then pulled the curtain closed.

darkness swallowed them.

it was a clean black. not moonless. just total. the kind of dark that was unable to be stimulated. paige felt suspended in it, and maybe that was what made it so easy to plummet, her mind shutting off for the first time in weeks.

they lay back to back. no noise. no light. they lay back to back. no words. just separate prayers whispered into a space neither of them believed in.

azzi didn’t sleep.

her body stayed taut with quiet alarm. the heat of another person so close, unbearable in the gentlest way. 

she didn’t sleep. she couldn’t. her body was humming, wired with the intimate electricity that arrived with a break in solitude. here was someone else, someone warm and breathing. the feeling of being perceived hadn’t worn off. if anything, it pulsed stronger now that paige was so close.

the pressure of a body beside hers, not touching but undeniably there, stirred something dreamlike. she stared into the dark, eyes wide.

paige hadn’t even touched her.  but she’d allowed azzi to tend to her. and that was worse.

they had shared water, and all the while paige had looked at her and seen someone there.

azzi had always been best under pressure. applied or not.

she didn’t sleep. 

but when morning came, she felt something as though she fit better inside her skin.  behind her, paige curled close to the diamond ridge of her spine, knees tucked in. seeking warmth. azzi lifted her hand and slipped two fingers into the curtain’s split, so that she could see the sun.

as the pale fire of a new day bled in and burned her, she thought that something in her felt rested.

© hcneymooners.

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Glimpse of Us

summary: routine became something finnick cherished. but course, the capitol must ruin everything, including his love. but he will still find a way to get her back.

finnick odair x fem!reader

content warnings for the whole story: descriptions of death, torture, starvation, and everything described in The Hunger Games, mentions of suicidal thoughts, implications of S/A

mood board + playlist

previous part | masterlist | next part

Chapter VII

They don’t bring Finnick into the War Room.

Not officially, anyway.

He isn’t invited to the briefings, or given access to intel. The door shuts before he can ask questions, the conversation ends when he walks by. Everything he hears, he hears in pieces—through murmured hallway conversations, closed doors that don’t quite latch, whispered updates passed between people who seem to forget that Finnick has ears. That Finnick has stakes.

Sometimes Plutarch catches him in the hallway, offers a vague reassurance about “progress,” or “developing stages.” Haymitch mutters things here and there, never the full picture. He always ends it with the same gruff line: “You’ll know when you need to know.”

But Finnick needs to know now. Every second he doesn’t feels like a betrayal.

Still, no one looks him in the eye for too long.

He’s not stupid. He knows what they see when they look at him: someone unraveling. A liability. A ticking bomb dressed up in Victory laurels.

Maybe they’re not wrong.

Because underneath the stillness, the silence, something inside him is splintering.

The guilt is constant. All-consuming. It burrows into the cracks of every hour he’s spent here, safe, while you’re out there—Gods know where, Gods know what’s being done to you.

And the worst part is: he left you. The wire snapped. The world exploded. And he hadn’t found you in time.

You had been right there. Somewhere just beyond the trees. Just beyond the smoke. And he’d lost you.

He’d let them take you.

And now the rebellion is moving like molasses—calculating, weighing, waiting. As if there’s time.

There isn’t.

He knows the Capitol better than anyone here. He knows how fast the pain starts. How they break you without breaking the skin. How they take what you love and twist it into something unrecognizable. They don’t need months to do damage.

Just days.

Just hours.

The first time he hears your name again, it’s from behind the glass walls of the Command room.

He isn’t meant to be there. He’s just passing by, pacing like he does now—like if he stops moving for too long, he might fall apart completely.

He catches a sentence midair, Coin’s voice clipped and cool: “She’s still being held with the others. Alive. For now.”

The words hit him like a punch to the ribs.

Alive.

His legs falter mid-step. He braces a hand against the wall, barely breathing.

Alive.

But for how long?

Is anyone asking that?

Because they talk about you like you’re a box to be recovered. An asset. A symbol. Not a person. Not his person.

That night, the silence is a scream inside his head. He thinks of what it must be like for you right now. Are you cold? Are you afraid? Is someone hurting you? Are you being told he gave up on you? That he forgot?

He presses the heel of his palm into his eyes until stars bloom against his lids. Anything to stop the images from coming—your face contorted in pain, your voice crying out for help in a place where no one is listening.

He can’t sleep.

Can’t think straight.

By the time morning comes, he feels like a shell of himself.

Haymitch finds him outside the infirmary the next evening, a bottle in his hand and circles under his eyes darker than the District tunnels.

Finnick doesn’t hesitate. His voice is hoarse but sharp. “I want in.”

Haymitch lifts a brow. “You always want in.”

“I mean it this time.”

“You meant it last time.”

Finnick’s jaw tightens. “I’m not asking to be coddled. I’m not asking for sympathy. I know how the Capitol works. I survived them. That has to count for something.”

Haymitch sighs through his nose. He looks like he’s aged five years in the last five days. “You’re not sleeping,” he says instead.

“Does it matter?”

Haymitch looks at him for a long time. “You’re slipping, kid.”

“I’ll be fine when she’s back.”

“And if she isn’t?”

Finnick doesn’t answer.

Because there is no if.

Two days later, they hand him a transcript.

No context. No warning.

Just a line of garbled Capitol communications and one clear sentence, spoken in a voice that’s raw and crackling through static.

“I’m still here.”

His knees go out from under him.

He catches himself on the edge of a table before he can collapse, his breath leaving him in a broken exhale.

It’s your voice.

Real.

Weakened, but real.

Alive.

You’re alive.

Around him, the others are talking. Plutarch is analyzing the source, Coin is giving orders, and Boggs is marking something on a map. There are plans in motion. Moving pieces.

But all Finnick can hear is you.

I’m still here.

He clutches the transcript in shaking hands, presses it to his chest like a prayer.

The next morning, they call him into the War Room.

Coin. Boggs. Haymitch. A few other officials.

He walks in with a spark of hope flaring in his chest. This is it. He’ll be a part of the extraction. He’ll get to go. He’ll bring you home.

There’s a map spread across the table, zones marked in red. Timelines. Strategized entry points. Extraction windows.

And your name—written in bold above one of the sectors.

Finnick’s eyes fly to the deployment list.

His name isn’t on it.

“I want to be there,” he says immediately.

Boggs doesn’t look surprised. “You’re not on the mission.”

“I should be.”

“You’re compromised,” Coin says, her voice clipped. “Emotionally. We need clean heads on the field.”

“I know the Capitol,” Finnick argues. “Better than anyone. I know the tunnels, the scent of the air, how they manipulate their prisoners. I should be there.”

“You’re too close,” Boggs says. His tone is gentle, but firm.

“I am the mission,” Finnick grits out. “She is everything to me.”

They don’t respond.

Haymitch shifts awkwardly in the corner but doesn’t speak. He doesn’t defend him.

And Finnick feels it then—that isolation, that frozen wall they’ve all built around him. He’s not part of the team. He’s the reminder of what could be lost.

He leaves before they dismiss him, fists clenched at his sides.

That night, he doesn’t try to sleep.

He just sits on the floor of his room, knees drawn up to his chest, the transcript of your voice folded and unfolding in his hands.

I’m still here.

He repeats the words to himself like a mantra, like a lifeline, like they can hold him together.

Because everything else is pulling him apart.

They’re going to the Capitol.

They’re going to try to bring you back.

And he’s not going with them.

He’s just supposed to wait.

Sit still while the people he loves walk into fire.

Hope that you come back.

Hope that you recognize him when you do.

Hope that some part of what they had doesn’t get lost in the dark.

Finnick bows his head and presses the paper to his lips, a prayer mouthed into the quiet, desperate and aching.

“Please hold on.”

He has nothing else left to give but that.

🌊 .·:¨🌊🐚🌊¨:·. 🌊

The knots come easily to his fingers. They always have.

Finnick sits on the edge of a bench in one of the unused prep rooms, a long coil of rope in his lap. The kind the District 13 soldiers use for field drills and training maneuvers. He doesn’t remember picking it up, just that his hands needed something to do.

Anything to drown out the thoughts.

He loops and pulls and tightens without thinking. Muscle memory. Over, under, through. A perfect square knot. A fisherman's bend. A reef knot. Over and over and over.

The rhythm soothes something in him—or maybe numbs it. He isn’t sure there’s a difference anymore.

The rebellion is in final preparations. A few more days, they say. Then the rescue teams launch. You might be back by the end of the week. Or not at all.

He swallows hard against the ache that creeps into his chest every time that second possibility tries to take root. He won’t let it.

***

You were quiet that day. The waves had stilled outside the Victor's Village, the salt-slick wind curling around the porch like it didn’t quite know what to do with itself. The ocean was waiting.

So were you.

It was only a few days after your Games, and you still flinched at loud noises. Still woke up with your fists clenched and breath caught in your throat. Still walked like the arena was stitched to your shadow.

Finnick found you on the steps that morning, curled into a knit sweater two sizes too big for you — one of Mags’s old ones, he recognized. Your eyes were fixed on the water. Like you were trying to find yourself somewhere out there.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat down beside you, dropping a thick coil of spare fishing rope between your feet.

You glanced at it. Then at him.

“What’s this for?”

Finnick didn’t answer right away. He picked up the rope and started working it between his fingers, slow and steady. “We all need something to do with our hands,” he said eventually.

You didn’t ask what he meant. You didn’t need to.

He offered you a strand.

You hesitated. Then took it.

“Start here,” he murmured, guiding your fingers, “and twist toward you. No—yeah, that’s it. Good. Now loop over—don’t let it tangle. Try again.”

You made a face when it slipped. “I’m bad at this.”

He smiled. It was the first time either of you had smiled in days. “You just won the Hunger Games. I think you can handle some rope.”

You looked up at him, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “It doesn’t feel like I won.”

“I know,” he said quietly. And you knew he meant it.

There was a long pause, filled only by the sound of the ocean below. And then, gently, he shifted a little closer, took your hands in his to show you again.

“This is how I got through it, you know,” he said. “After. I’d come down to the docks with a line of rope and tie knots for hours. My hands would cramp. I wouldn’t stop. It was something to do. Something that stayed the same, even when everything else didn’t.”

You didn’t say anything. But your eyes softened.

You tried again.

And this time, you got it.

“Hey,” he said softly, watching the knot hold. “Look at that.”

You exhaled a shaky breath and looked up at him. “Does the pain ever stop?”

He didn’t lie. He didn’t say yes.

He just held your gaze and answered honestly. “It gets quieter. Some days.”

You nodded.

And then you tied another knot.

***

He wonders where you are right now. If your hands are shaking. If you remember that afternoon at all— he way the salt air made your hair curl, the way your laugh, small as it was, had sounded like it didn’t quite know how to exist yet, but was trying anyway.

The knot slips from his fingers.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, rope pooling in his lap like it’s mocking him.

I'm still here. That’s what you said.

But for how much longer?

He presses the back of his hand to his mouth to muffle the sound building in his throat. It’s not a sob. Not really. Just a sound of something caving in.

You were trying.

And now he needs to try too.

Even if they won’t let him on the mission.

Even if all he can do is sit here and wait.

He picks up the rope again.

Pulls. Loops. Ties.

Something to hold onto.

Something that won’t fall apart.

🌊 .·:¨🌊🐚🌊¨:·. 🌊

Finnick sits beside Katniss in the stark studio of District 13, his body tight with nerves, a coil of rope in his hands that he works mindlessly into knots. Each twist, each pull of the rope feels like the only thing tethering him to reality. His hands move on instinct—loop, twist, pull—over and over again. It's a routine, a lifeline. Just like she used to be.

Across from him, Katniss stares at the camera, her features unreadable. She's trying to steady herself for what comes next.

“I can do it,” he hears himself say. The words come out thin, haunted. “If it'll help her. I’ll talk.”

Plutarch nods, stepping aside for the cameras.

When the red light glows and the signal goes live, Finnick lifts his eyes to the lens and begins to speak—not with the charm the Capitol once demanded of him, but with the weariness of a man hollowed out by truth.

"This is Finnick Odair, coming to you alive and well from District 13."

He tells them everything.

How President Snow sold him like a prized possession. How he wasn't the only one. How victors deemed desirable were paraded before the Capitol elite like toys. How they were threatened, controlled, used.

How she was one of them.

“She won her Games at sixteen. She didn’t know what was coming. None of us ever do.” His voice cracks slightly, but he keeps going, hands twisting the rope so tightly his knuckles go white. “She was a favorite. Beautiful, gentle. They said she had ‘softness’—like that was a gift, something they could harvest.”

Katniss glances at him, something shattering in her gaze.

He continues. Names, dates, horrors. The price of survival. The cruelty of silence.

“She was just a girl,” Finnick murmurs. “And they broke her anyway.”

The feed cuts eventually. The room is quiet again.

The mission is underway now. The rescue team is inside the Capitol. And all Finnick can do is wait.

He ties another knot.

Hours crawl by like years.

Katniss sits beside him, arms wrapped around herself. Neither of them speak. Finnick just keeps working the rope in his hands, tighter, tighter. It’s too quiet again—like the worst kind of storm is coming, and all they can do is brace for it.

Then the call comes through.

They’re back.

Katniss shoots to her feet, her face pale but hopeful. Finnick doesn’t even wait. The rope drops from his hands as he bolts from the room, heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat of desperation.

He runs through the hallways of District 13, shoving past soldiers and medics, barely registering the people rushing the opposite direction. He rounds the corner and sees them—stretchers, gurneys, rebels swarming around figures too thin, too broken, but alive.

Alive.

His eyes scan the room frantically.

Johanna.

He stops briefly when he sees her. Her hair is gone—shaved brutally close to her skull. Her face is hollow, bruised, but her eyes are sharp. Angry. Still Johanna. She’s muttering something under her breath, spitting at a medic who tries to touch her. Still fighting.

He wants to ask if she saw you. If you were with her. But his feet are already moving again.

He hears someone say Peeta’s name.

“He tried to kill her,” someone whispers. “They hijacked him.”

Finnick’s stomach turns violently. The words barely register, swallowed by the storm brewing inside him. If they could do that to Peeta...what had they done to you?

What if you’re not the same?

What if you’re worse?

What if—

And then he sees you.

You’re standing by a doorframe, hunched in Haymitch’s coat, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Your skin is pale, lips dry, hair limp and tangled, but...

You’re breathing.

Talking to Haymitch in a soft, uncertain voice. You’re malnourished, gaunt, exhausted...but intact.

He exhales shakily and takes a step forward, then another.

And then you look up.

For a second—just one—he thinks you might run to him. That your eyes might fill with tears of recognition, relief, love.

But instead...

You flinch.

Your body stiffens and you move closer to Haymitch, almost hiding behind him, like you’re afraid. Your eyes are wide, uncertain, like a deer cornered in a snare.

Finnick’s heart shatters.

“Hey,” he says, holding his hands out gently. “It’s me. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

You don’t answer right away.

Then, your voice, smaller than he’s ever heard it, lifts into the air like a tremor.

“Who are you?”

The world tilts.

“What?” he breathes.

You stare at him blankly. Like he’s a stranger. Like none of it ever happened. The beach. The nets. The whispered secrets in the dark. The stormy nights. The love.

Gone.

“I-I don’t know you,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Behind you, a medic freezes. Haymitch’s eyes widen.

Finnick’s knees nearly give out.

“No,” he says, voice cracking as he takes a step forward. “No, it’s me. It’s Finnick. You know me. You- you-”

But your eyes only fill with fear, your body curling tighter into yourself, like he might hurt you.

And that’s when everyone realizes it.

The Capitol didn’t just take your freedom.

They took him from you too.

Your memories.

Your love.

Everything you were together.

Gone.

A/N: i want you all to remember that YOU GUYS asked for this.

Taglist: @jacaeryslover @sundawn1990 @redama @noodleisodd @amara-mars @lovemyself-m-k @goosy-goose @potao-o @womenkisser05 @arsonistlizard @iguanagwen @lover-rep-fanfic@tatumrileyslover  @kimarii-00 @shuri-my-love @saleyeniu @succulent-ruler6 @aphxdea @humongousrunawaytiger @herbal-tea-and-manga @1i1winter @echoingrainydays @technicallyspookymoon @smthabsolutelyunhinged @yeah-idk-either @moon-zoons @shutendoji22 @thatoneamericanblonde @syd649 @curryexpress @harrypotterlovers-things @wonubby @212-apricity

if you'd like to be included in this taglist lmk in the replies!

[belovedenzo]

nsfw theodore nott headcanons…

various sexually explicit headcanons w/ bf! theo

┃words; 1.4k

┃notes; just some things about bf! theo sex. this is my first theo post so I hope you enjoy it !

┃ warnings; NSFW MDNI 18+. toxic! theo. explicit and kinky themes.

┃ Dominant. No matter how tired or lazy he’s feeling, Theo always likes it best when he’s in control. Watching you squirm and lose yourself in the pleasure he gives you, provides him with best high imaginable. He thinks it’s cute if you ever try and make him submit in any way but no matter how hard you may try, you always end up at his mercy.

┃ Sharing. It’s a guilty pleasure of his to watch the eyes of his closest friends eye your figure up and down when you walk into the room. At first it made him see red but once he became confident that you are his and no one else’s- he finds it cute. The idea that any of them think they could have some of you amuses him- the sight of them pining after you even started to turn him on. Eventually he may even let one of them fuck you in front of him, on his terms of course. Mattheo… if you were wondering.

┃ High sex. When you two finally get alone time together- Theo loves to spend it smoking joints in what ever spot he chose that day. Muggle weed has always had it’s way of putting him in the mood- it doesn’t take long before his lips and tongue are all over you. When he’s high he loves to take his time with you, his touch much more gentle that it typically is. He even lasts longer than he usually does, causing you to ache the next morning. ache so good

┃ Brat tamer. If he feels disrespected by you in any way you can except to be face down ass up by the end of the day. If you do something that rubs him just right the wrong way he makes sure that you understand what you did wrong while he’s deep inside of you. His insults and demands can be half heard through your fucked out conciseness- face stuffed in what ever surface he chose to press it into. You try to apologize over and over through your moans and gasps but he won’t be satisfied till your full of his cum. When Theo decides you need to be tamed he’s not nice about it- if there’s one thing he can’t stand it’s a brat. He loves it.

┃ Protective. No one has the nerve to mess with Theo’s girl- but if they did they’d have to get through him first. He loves to have you on his arm- showing you off like a present. In all truthfulness- watching their jealous eyes wander away quickly as he catches their glance turns him on. Their anxiety and fear that they got caught while his sweet girl is tucked under his broad shoulder. Something about the power he holds in that situation makes him want to fuck you in front of them- all of them.

┃ Face fucking. There’s nothing better than the view Theo gets of your mouth wrapped around his cock- deep down your throat. Tears sit in the corners of your half lidded, blissed out eyes, streaming down the sides of your rosy cheeks while he pushes your limits. He loves having you like this, fist fulls of your hair entagled in his fingers- having full control over your mouth and the pretty little head attached to it. If you try and intervene, punishment will be near in your future so you’ve stopped trying. However he knows you love the attention so the alligator tears don’t fool him.

┃ Thigh Riding. His hands hold onto your hips unyieding- your flesh making contact with his. He has you situated, your legs around the midst of his thigh. It always starts out painfully slow, Theo loves taking his time dipping your hips up and down closer to his thigh to tease your clit with contact. Once he starts giving you that sweet tension your pussy is begging for it doesn’t take long for you to finish all over his firm thigh. He never lets you have control of your own hips while your ride, but you’re always content submitting to him.

┃ Ass guy. Theo loves your ass and that’s final. Of course he thinks all of you is sexy but he can’t deny he’s an ass man. Most of his favorite positions to have you in, include your ass posted up nice and spread for him to see. The way it moves along with the snapping of his hips while he’s fucking you, or the way it shimmies behind you as you walk. It’s a huge turn on for him.

┃ Choking. The place his hands have always gravitated towards has been your neck. Even if it’s an innocent grab at your nape to show affection as you walk through the halls- his hands can be found resting on your neck. More often though, the reasonings aren’t as innocent. This is the best place for him to make you as small and vulnerable as possible. His grip is consistently anchored stiff but depending on his mood he may actually allow you to breathe.

┃ Cheating. Theo loves you- a lot. In fact, the feelings he’s had for you over the course of your relationship have been some of which he’s never experienced before. However that may be hard to believe due to his past of unfaithful actions. If you don’t give him enough attention for what ever reason it may be- Theo will eventually cheat. Some of the reason may be even out of spite, he can be just as vile as he can sweet. Any time you have attempted to stand up for yourself he simply manipulates you into forgiving and forgetting. Aka he makes you cum

┃ High pony tail. Undeniably- there is nothing you can do with your looks to turn him on more than a high pony. The way it pulls all of the hair out of your face has always been a big factor in the ponytail being a favorite but that’s not the only reason. It reminds him of how you look when both of his hands pull your hair back nice and tight- gripping it at the crown of your head to keep it out of the way while he forces his length down your throat. It makes you look sexy and brings back good memories- what’s there not to love?

┃ Mirrors. One reason why Theo loves fucking you in the prefects bathroom- is the mirror. Forcing you to watch yourself get the best dick of your life should be considered a treat. He’s always wanted to show you how fucked out your face looks when your below him and with a mirror- he can do just that. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t also like to watch as he pounds your cheeks from behind, watching you close your eyes in embarresment through the reflection at the slapping sounds. If you keep them closed for too long- he’ll force them back open if he has to, you have to watch. The way your face contorts and emotes amuses him, proving to himself yet again that he has you dick whipped.

┃ Hair tugging. This is one that you’ve almost grown to hate. Not only does Theo love to pull your hair during a usual rough sexcapade- he also does it when he thinks you need to be taught a lesson. Theo has never been afraid to hurt you and you know that- but merlin do you hate the snappy little hair pulls that he does when he doesn’t like something you said or if you disagree with him in front of his friends. Yeah- he has the nerve to do it in front of everybody. His long fingers yank and pull at your longest strands, a small sting kissing your scalp- his way of saying “stop.” When he’s in an extra loving mood he’ll even play with your hair which you love- but if he’s in an extra terrible mood you can except your hair to be yanked just a little harder while he takes his shitty day out on your pussy.

luv, spell

taglist; plz lmk if u need to be added or removed! @draco-malfoys-lovergirl @dearmisshoney @shyamanuensis @riddlesbunny @enzosbabyangel @juliet-017 @ur-local-wizard @nottsstar @nottsamor @nottslove @riddlesrizzler @riddlesgirlie @riddleswhcre @riddlesgrl @eternalbuckley @obsessedwithceleste @pizzaapeteer @nemesyaaa @hayleygrrr @nemesyaaa @prythiansprincess @writingsbychlo

[satocidal]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Cult Leader and his what?

a/n: just my thoughts about cult suguru and his assistant - i'll expand on this so soon because you need to have a meet ugly version of these two

But I always love to imagine Suguru Geto, cult leader! Suguru, to be specific with a non-sorcerer reader, again for the specifics, his personal assistant. It’s Big Bad Suguru, at the prime of his cult era right, 27-28 and just a fresh out college/in their last year reader (in my thoughts, it is a 7-8 year age gap) who somehow find each other and it just works, very well for them.

Nobody would be more shocked than Suguru of course - a monkey? In his office? In his surrounding, in a way that not even sorcerers were provided the privilege to? In his personal space? It beat all his logics - but he rarely cared for that when his documents were so perfectly arranged, when you were ever present at his beck and call, because maybe, it kind of serves his ego.

And because he does adore it when you use cutesy crafts on his documents (pretends he allows it because nanako and mimiko like it).

Thus, somehow, unlucky or not - you two work along, why, how, when and what don’t matter because it works.

Suguru is very non-chalant about it too, chime in with polite good mornings to everyone and then, maybe glance at you once. You would think he’s mean, rude even, manipulative in the very least - but Suguru maintains his relations well, if he’s chosen to trust his work force and his very ideas and plans with you (because of course, he loves rambling about that all the time) - he makes sure you can offer the same trust.

After all, that’s the basic idea of his cult too, isn’t it? Always trust in suguru. 

One would think he'd be mean, but i don't think Suguru truly is capable of that - especially since you are a college student (let it be, that you needed the money he'd giving); he has first hand experienced stress, albeit a different kind but he's no stranger to it - sure, distant could be a word to describe the intial phases of your relation.

But that's only prompted because he's unsure of how he'd end up reacting around you, you know? because you are such a stark reminder to everything he's left behind - reminder of what he wants to hate.

Still and yet, he tries and so do you.

It was a simple job, comparatively - and he paid handsomely, and through and through, he did make sure you weren’t dead anyways + rest of his family was actually open to talk to you, so that was endearing too. 

You can’t really see curses either right, so sometimes, if he’s chatty - mid-procession he’ll start muttering to you about the issue, or if not that, bitching about the wealthier suckers that come to him.

I like to think initially, Suguru would be hesitant still - but you have the skill set and since he forces you to not talk (you tried, it didn’t work) - you offer him a great listening partner. And thus, slowly, the distance slowly blurred.

Some late night work meetings where he caught you staying up late has him questioning your classes the next day, he begins asking about those classes itself, allowing you to work on some assignment if he has nothing for you to do - eyeing you carefully as you work. He begins allowing your lateness in the morning, especially if you look like you were running on less sleep - because he knows and understands.

Simple glances turn to muttered ‘mornings’ when you hastily provide him with the whatever-cult-leaders-do-schedule and the bitching about work-partners turns into slow conversations, just about anything. 

I like to think Cult Leader! Suguru would have the softest heart for his little assistant, despite what everyone believes.

[fckmebarnes]

˗ˏˋ ★ bliss ★ ˎˊ˗

bucky barnes x stoner!reader

word count — 3.5k words

18+ MEN AND MINORS DNI — cw: weed. color system use. daddy kink. bucky uses a vibrator on you. he’s stoned out his mind man. slight gagging (panties in mouth) multiple orgasms. bucky eats you out from the back for a second. slight breeding kink.

note — hii. older fic here! i like to headcanon weed is the only thing that really affects bucky’s system so..here’s this <3

you sat on the couch with your stash in your lap, opening the jar that you had decorated with moss, a few mushrooms on top and dirt on the bottom to make it a little bit more disguised when people came over. you took out a few buds and put them in your grinder, twisting the top so they would be able to be rolled into a joint.

“hey pretty girl, what are you doing?” you heard bucky from the entrance of the hallway, leaning on the wall with his arms over his chest. he watched you careful, observing the way you licked your bottom lip as you twisted the grinder, making sure to get everything down fine enough to roll the joints you wanted to smoke with buck.

“just rolling a few joints, baby. i found a new strain i wanna try with you, supposed to make you super horny.” you were half joking, but half serious. you both usually got really handsy while smoking, but this was supposed to be something else entirely.

bucky didn’t know how his body would react to weed — his super solider strength and health made it nearly impossible to even get tipsy off beer. so he was a bit nervous to try it.

he shifted on his feet, raising his eyebrows as he watched you turn the top of the grinder before taking it off and dumping it on your rolling tray. you had it balanced on your knees and the joint paper in one hand as you started to put some of the now ground weed on the paper.

“oh yeah? as if im not hard every time im around you.” he laughed as he came over to the couch, sitting next to you and wrapping an arm around the back of the couch, his eyes trained on your fingers.

“yeah, i guess thats true. but still,” you chuckled as you finished off the first joint, and started on the second. you felt his hand rub your lower back, feet crossed at the ankles.

when you finished the second one, you gave them to bucky to hold on to while you cleaned up your rolling tray and put everything back. you tucked everything neatly into the drawer that was on the side of the couch and came back with a lighter taking the joints from him. you placed one of them on the coffee table and held the other in your fingers as you lit the end.

“you look so pretty right now.” he commented, and you blushed as you got the end to light, took a deep breath in and held it for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. you took another hit before handing it over to bucky.

he took it in the middle of his fingers, placing it between his soft plush pink lips and taking a long drag. he leaned his head back and held it in for a few seconds before exhaling, seeing the smoke disperse into the air. you blushed, watching bucky smoke. youve never smoked with him, but fuck was he pretty.

he let out a few coughs here and there, but he quickly recovered as you figured. he seemed to be doing okay.

after nearly finishing the joint, you were blissed out, eyes feeling like they were nearly shut but you knew they weren’t, your limbs feeling so light and your brain on autopilot. you looked over at bucky who had a grin on his face as he was already looking at you.

“what’s so funny, buck?” you giggled as you spoke, his smile growing wider as he shrugged.

“nothin’” you placed the end of the joint on the coffee table before turning towards bucky, your legs thrown over his thighs. you poked at his tummy making him laugh.

“how do you feel?” you wanted to make this high as pleasant and relaxing as possible, not wanting him to have a bad high and be in a bad mood.

“horny.” he simply spoke, looking over your face as you blushed. well, that was one feeling he would get when high. he cocked an eyebrow when you took a second to reply, gripping your hips and making you straddle his waist, his hard cock brushing against your panties as you sat.

you never wore any pants when you smoke, only his big t-shirt and bucky was only in sweatpants, your hands on his chest watching as he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and looked at you hungrily.

his hands roamed over your skin, making him feel like he was on cloud nine as he touched you. he had never felt anything as soft as you in his entire lifetime, and he needed more. he loved getting those pretty noises out of you, and he needed to need to be in you now.

you watched over bucky’s face, his eyes glassed over, steady breathing as he looked at you, his big blue eyes looking up at you and becoming entirely engulfed in black.

his hands tugged the bottom of the shirt and tore it off, leaving you nude on top of him in only your panties. you let out a gasp as you watched his eyes becoming blown out with lust and hunger. he grinded his hips against yours, fingers painfully gripping your hips and keeping you anchored against his throbbing cock under his sweatpants.

“bucky..” you let out a moan as one of his hands tweaked your nipple, the other still guiding your hips against his. he needed you, and he needed you now.

“gotta fuck you soon baby. just bury my cock in that sweet pussy of yours, can’t take it anymore.” he gritted his teeth as he picked you up swiftly and carried you to the bedroom, his mind only tunneled on one thing and one thing only.

he plopped you down on the bed and ripped your panties off, throwing the now shredded clothing to the side as he took his boxers and sweatpants off. your mouth watered at the side of his cock springing free, the tip leaking pre-cum, red and swollen. you kicked your lips as he watched you, chest heaving up and down with each pant.

“color system. got it?” you nodded your head eagerly, watching him smirk as he pulled your legs to the edge of the bed, a yelp leaving your lips as you felt his cock head brushing your clit.

“fuck.. can’t wait to feel your tight pussy around me,” you blushed softly as you took grip of the sheets and you wiggled your hips closer to him. he pushed your hips down on the bed and shook his head.

“as much as i want to fuck you right now, you won’t be making a move or making a sound. you’ll cum when you are given permission, got it?” you nodded your head as he grabbed his cock and harshly smacked your clit making you let out a moan.

“words, sweetheart. use em.”

“yes..” you panted out, just wanted to feel him take you. he smacked your clit once more with his cock, pinching your thigh.

“yes, what?” he groaned out, watching you whimper under him. normally when he was sober he wouldn’t be so dominating. but something about both of you being high out of your mind, being able to feel your dripping cunt the second he told you he was horny he needed to manhandle you.

“yes, daddy.” a moan escaped his lips as you spoke, teasing your entrance by just barely entering the tip to your hole, before taking it away. you tried to squeeze his head before he took his cock away, whimpering at the missed opportunity. he smirked, rubbing his shaft as he stepped away and went to the closet.

you froze in your spot, knowing exactly what he was getting from that box. you had shown him one of your new toys you had bought while he was away for a mission, promising you wouldn’t use it until he got back and you had kept that promise.

he came back with the purple vibrator, tossing it in between his hands as he came over and stroked his cock in his hand, wetting his lips with his tongue over and over again, growing more hungrier for you by the second.

“so good, just wanna eat you up. this pretty pussy is going to be weeping for my cock, you hear?” you moaned as he set the vibrator on the middle setting, biting your lip and nodding your head. he took the vibrator away and smacked your clit once more, twisting the bundle of nerves in his fingers.

“thought i told you to not make a sound. dumb little baby can’t even listen to directions, huh? need me to stuff that mouth with your panties?” he didn’t let you answer as he walked over to the panties he threw to the side and came back over to the foot of the bed, leaning over you so his cock rubbing against your clit as he pressed your panties to your lips.

“open.” you did as you were told and shoved your panties into your mouth, the taste of your arousal making you want to moan out in pleasure but you bit it back. you didn’t want to get in any more trouble.

“good girl,” you whined at the praise as he pulled back, the vibrator rubbing against your folds and collecting your slick before running over your clit, making your hips jerk forward at the feeling.

usually when you were high sex wasn’t this good, but something about bucky being high out of his mind with you on this new strain and needing you as much as you needed him made you wetter.

“this pretty pussy is soaking the bed, sweetheart. what’s got you so worked up, huh?” you looked at him as he smirked, softly patting your cheek as he teased your entrance once more with the tip of his cock, hissing at how wet you were.

“fuck, baby. so fucking wet.” your blissed out mind didn’t even realize how farther he had pushed into you until you heard him moan above you, the vibrator still circling your clit. the vibrations from the toy shocked through his cock and made him make the most obscene pornographic moan you have heard from him to date. you gripped the sheets as you watched him tilt his head back, his jaw going slack and eyes screwed shut rutting his hips into you a little further.

you wanted to moan with him, wanted him to lean over so you could feel his skin underneath your fingertips and leave scratches, wanted to leave you marking on him so everyone knew he was yours. you didn’t want anything in this town thinking he belonged to anyone else but you.

“shit, pretty baby. clenching around me so right, can feel you’re gonna cum, wanna cum baby?” you whined as you nodded your head, realizing how tight the ball in your stomach was when he mentioned it, not being able to focus on anything after that point. he clicked the vibrator up to the highest settling, a loud whine coming from your throat as you arched your back when he bottomed out.

everything was all too much but so good at the same time. he was a moaning mess as he reveled in the feeling of your wet and warm pussy clamping around his cock, almost making him cum at the sight of you with panties stuffed in your mouth. he reached over and yanked the panties out and tossing them to the side, grabbing your jaw in his fingers and made you look at him.

“let me hear you, cum ‘round my cock, you hear?” he squeezed your cheeks as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips, circling the vibrator on your clit as you came on his cock, moaning into his mouth and squeezing him as hard as your muscles could. you hadn’t came this hard in a really long time. he thrusted in and out of you slowly, pulling your orgasm out as long as he could before he turned the toy off and tossed it to the ground, his fingers both gripping your hips and slammed into you.

“daddy.. fuck me.. fuck..” he groaned at the nickname, bringing your thighs to your chest and your ankles on either one of his shoulders.

“so fucking pretty, shit baby look at you. creaming all over my cock like a little whore. so drunk on my cock aren’t you?” you could only nod your head at the tip of his cock kissed your cervix several times, making another orgasm wash over you without warning. he chuckled darkly, kissing your ankles as he watched your eyes screw shut and ride out your high.

“another one baby? let’s see how many times i can make you cum. what’s your color, angel?” he watched as you opened your eyes and looked over at him, a smile on your face as you painted out.

“green, fuck daddy, it’s green..” he let out a low growl at the nickname, pounding into you and listening to how sickly sweet your moans sounded as he screwed into you. he loved how you sounded, loved how you felt around him. his high mind was something else, and he didn’t know how good fucking you would’ve been. he needs to get more of this shit and fast.

he slowed down as you whined when he pulled out. he chuckled, putting your ankles down and leaning over to kiss you.

“want you on your hands and knees, angel.” you turned over, stuck your ass up in the air as you felt a slap on your left cheek, pushing your ass back as you moaned when he rubbed the flesh. you stayed on your elbows as his face was level with your soaking pussy, licking a strip up your core making you moan.

he loved how sweet you tasted, how responsive your body was to him. he wanted to watch you squirm under his tongue for the rest of the night and he would have if he didn’t want to cum in you so bad. he played with your hole with his tongue for a moment longer as he stroke his cock, your slick coating his shaft. the noises coming from him eating your pussy and stroking his cock made you wetter if that was even possible. you felt your slick run down your leg with a mix of his spit.

he pulled away and rubbed your entrance with his tip, before fully bottoming out inside you, taking it slow to feel how your velvety walls stroked his cock. he let out a moan as his hands landed on your ass, your back arched and your cheek shoved against the pillows drool falling from your lips. your eyes were hooded from two orgasms already, and it only made his cock twitch as you moaned when he slapped your ass.

“shit baby.. at a loss for words. you look fucking gorgeous.” he thrusted into you, his hand trailing down your spine before gripping your hair and tugged it, using it as leverage to fuck himself into you.

“harder..” it was a soft moan, and he hardly caught it until you said it again.

“harder, daddy. pull my hair and fuck me harder..” he groaned loudly as he twisted your hair in his fist, pulling your head to meet his shoulder still pounding into you. he loved who you turned into when you were high and horny.

“little minx, can’t get enough can you? dumb little slut only needs me to go harder. wanna cum, don’t you?” you merely nodded as your eyes were closed, moans leaving your lips left and right from your swollen lips. he licked his lips at the side, his hand wrapping around your throat and gripping the sides gently.

“color, angel?” he wanted to double check before he gripped your throat tighter, the cool touch of his metal rings digging into your skin and fucked you harder.

“fucking green, daddy. keep going.” he let go of your hair and let out a groan as he reached his hand to your clit, his other hand gripping your throat harder making you let out a strangled moan.

you loved feeling this with him, the rough, hot passionate sex made you feel more connected with him, made you feel like you were one as he was fucking into you. it was something not a lot of men could do with you, none of them could ever compare to bucky.

you gripped his arm that was around your throat, feeling another orgasm come up fast, not knowing how many this was. you clenched around his cock, feeling it twitch inside you telling you he was just as close as he was.

“cum in me.. please..” he loved when you begged, when you wanted him to fill you up to the brim. his fingers squeezed your throat a little tighter, a devilish smirk coming across your lips as his fingers circled faster on your clit.

“dumb slut, love when you fucking beg for my cum. gonna fill this pretty sweet push up so much you’ll be feeling me for days, cum dripping down your leg so you’ll never forget who owns this pussy.” he hot breath was on the back of your ear, strangled moans leaving your mouth and your mind becoming fuzzy as he thrusted up into you, your stomach leaving a burning sensation as you came the hardest you had around his cock.

“good fucking girl. my good girl..” he thrusted into you hard, his thrusts getting sloppier as he reached his peak, hot thick ropes of his cum coating your wet walls. he let go of your throat as the two of you moaned together, him fucking his cum back into you before you whined at the oversensitivity. he slowed down before taking his hand from your clit and pulled out, pushing your head down on the mattress softly as he watched his and yours cum drip out of your.

“so pretty.” he wiped a streak of mixed cum off your leg that was running down before licking his fingers and moaning at tasting you and him together.

you let out a pant before relaxing your back, dropping your hips to the mattress and closing your eyes. you felt his metal hand rub your ass and over your back, leaning over you and feeling his hard cock on your ass. you knew he wouldn’t try to fuck you again, but you knew it took a little while for his cock to soften.

“you did so good for me baby, so fucking good.” his praises only made you whine as you nodded, only now wanting to smoke the other blunt and cuddle him for the rest of the night. he tapped your cheek softly before going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm wet towel, spreading your ass and cleaning up the mess. you rolled over onto your back as you watched him grab two pairs of his boxers.

he pulled on his pair before walking over to you and putting his pair on you, up your legs and covering your sex.

“bucky..” you whined softly as he pulled you up by your arms, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss.

“yes, angel?” you looked up at him, admiring his face after sex -- his hair sticking to his forehead, hi s puffy and red lips from kissing them so much, and hi face that glowed.

“wanna smoke the other joint and cuddle for the night. please?” he looked down at you as you pouted, trailing kisses down to your neck and to your exposed chest before humming against your skin and breathing your scent in.

you smelled like heaven to him, even after sex. he knew he was a goner. his half high mind nodded his head, walking over to the closet and pulling his red henley shirt from the hook, walking back over and dressing you.

he knew you loved his clothes after sex, even if he was there. he knew it relaxed your muscles and made you feel even calmer and cuddlier after everything and he only wanted his baby happy. he pulled on his sweatpants before scooping you out of bed and down to the living room, setting you on the couch.

“is my angel hungry? i’m pretty hungry, and thirsty. didn’t know how bad i could get thirsty.” you chuckled and nodded your head, leaning over to grab the other joint from the coffee table.

“my baby have the munchies?” he blushed before kissing your forehead, taking an inhale from the joint in between your fingers. he cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours before exhaling into your mouth as you inhaled. he pulled apart and you exhaled, a blush rising to your cheeks.

this man was going to be the death of you while he was stoned.

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫

chapter I | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: swearing, weed, creepy guy, slightly suggestive, tension (if u squint).

꩜ WC: 4.9K

꩜ A/N: okayyy soooo, i’m starting a new series, it will be a slow burn so bear with me. Im excited for this and all the yearning to come woohooooo! just your typical loser lesbians who are best friends and there’s tension but they don’t know it yet alright…

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How can we tell something is complicated? Is it because the easy way isn’t available — or because we crave the possibility of more?

Life is full of complex things like the human brain or death or love. Especially love.

The line between love and codependency is blurry, if it even exists. Do we cling to the people we love because we need them — or because we don’t know who we are without them?

Still, love is more than need. It's more than survival.

Of course the easy way is not to feel.

But then again — what’s the point of life without love?

Without being consumed by it? Without being absorbed?

Ellie always felt like love wasn’t meant for her. Yeah sure she had been in a few relationships in the past, casual summer flings, but nothing that got too serious. The moment someone wanted to put a label on her she was out the door.

Maybe she was doomed from the start, sentenced to suffer in loneliness for the rest of her life. Maybe it was karma for all the shit her ancestors had done.

Or maybe... she was just twenty-one, and spiraling.

But then she met you.

Her best friend. Her whole world.

You brought sunshine into her life like it was nothing. Like it was easy.

She smiled more. Went out more. God — she even made stupid jokes just to hear you laugh. Saying you made Ellie’s life better was an understatement.

How it started?

It was a casual Thursday. Ellie was tired — the kind of tired that settled deep in her bones. She’d been up since 5 a.m., chasing the sunrise for an early shoot, and stayed late at the studio the night before, hunched over rolls of film, watching images slowly come to life. Now, all she could think about was the couple she’d photographed that morning — mid-twenties, freshly engaged, smiling like they had the rest of their lives mapped out. Some people had it all figured out, she thought. Settled. Steady. Meanwhile, she was here — at her usual breakfast spot, an old fashioned diner, squinting at her laptop, scrolling through photo edits with aching eyes. Her camera bag sat beside her on the booth seat, worn and stickered to hell — Savage Starlight, Sleater-Kinney, a faded rainbow sticker that had started peeling at the corners.

She yawned into her tea, hood up, headphones loosely slung around her neck, when someone placed a plate down in front of her. chocolate chip pancakes, soft scrambled eggs and bacon — her usual.

Ellie blinked up, and you were standing there, wiping your hands on a dish towel tucked into your apron. Your eyes flicked toward the camera case.

“Savage Starlight,” you nodded at the sticker. “God-tier taste.”

Ellie froze for a second, then smirked. “You read that?”

“Duh,” you said like it was obvious. “Issue 8 ruined me emotionally for weeks.”

That pulled a laugh out of her, the first real one she’d had all morning. “Same. Still not over that ending.”

You smiled, shifting your weight to one foot, clearly not in a rush to leave. “Cool camera, by the way.”

“Thanks, she’s my baby” she said, suddenly aware of how wrecked she must look — messy bun barely held up, camera strap indenting her neck. “—I’m Ellie, by the way.” She stuck her hand out, immediately second-guessing it.

Was that too old-fashioned? Joel really was rubbing off on her.

“I know. I take your order every other Thursday.” you said, shaking her hand.

She blinked, embarrassed. “Right. Sorry. Early mornings kinda melt my brain.”

“No worries,” you grinned, and Ellie noticed the little pin on your apron — a tiny, pixelated spaceship with your name on it, stupid stupid stupid. she thought to herself for not noticing it earlier.

And since that moment, something shifted. It wasn’t anything loud or life-altering, not some cheesy movie moment with music swelling in the background. But it was something. A small click, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

Ellie became obsessed with you, in a way that she needed to be around you or her day wouldn’t be complete, she needed to hear your voice, your laugh, you calling her stupid for a dad joke she made, she just needed you, her best friend.

From then on, Ellie started showing up more often — not just on Thursdays anymore. Sometimes it was Tuesdays. Sometimes Saturdays, right before the lunch rush. She claimed it was for the pancakes, and not the terrible service (she earned herself a playful smack on the head for that). She’d sit at her usual corner booth, camera bag by her side, flipping through photo previews on her laptop, waiting for your shift to end.

Ellie would usually show up with the latest issue of Savage Starlight, sliding it across the counter like some sort of sacred offering. It became an inside joke — your “weekly trade deal,” she'd say. In return, you’d draw ridiculous little faces into her pancakes with extra chocolate chips — crooked grins, wonky eyes, sometimes a very unflattering interpretation of Joel. She thought it was hilarious.

You’d complain about the usual chaos — rude customers, shit tips, kids treating the floor like their personal warzone. Ellie would listen between mouthfuls of bacon, eyes gleaming.

“Sounds like you need a cig break,” she’d propose, already halfway out of the booth.

And that’s how most of your breaks ended up — at the back of the diner, sharing a cigarette with your best friend, the smoke curling into lazy spirals between your fingers. Who would’ve thought the best thing to come out of this job would be the quiet girl who used to sit in the corner booth alone, camera gear spilling across the table and making it a logistical nightmare to serve her food?

You ducked behind the counter, catching your co-worker scribbling down an order on a pad.

“Taking five,” you whispered into her ear, already slipping off your apron and tossing it over the stool.

Ellie was waiting by the door, cigarette hanging from her lips, hands in her pockets, grinning like an idiot. Moments like these, quiet, in company of you, were the highlight of her day.

The metal door creaked behind you as you stepped out into the alley, greeted by the smell of old grease, cigarette smoke, and freedom.

“You have no idea how much I despise this uniform,” you groaned, tugging at the stiff collar of your work shirt like it personally offended you. “Why do they make us wear these stupid skirts and hats?”

Ellie chuckled, flicking the lighter and shielding the flame with her hand. “You look cute, very… militant barista chic”

You gave her a flat look. “It’s a literal open invitation for creepy dudes to stare”

“In that case I’ll beat them to death with my camera tripod” she said around the cigarette, grinning as she passed it to you. “I would like to see you try honestly.”

You took a drag, leaning your back against the brick wall, bumping your shoulder into hers lightly. “I’m just saying, Hooters uniform has more coverage than this… thing.”

Ellie nodded solemnly. “Oh yeah? Are you a Hooters expert now?”

You snorted, passing the cigarette back. “Certainly more than you. I wish I could just spend time with you in your stinky little studio instead of serving Ice lattes to Karens”

Ellie blinked, a flicker of something crossing her face — but she masked it quickly with a laugh. “Obviously. I’m way prettier.”

“Thats certainly one way to put it.”

“Rude.”

You both stood there for a while in comfortable silence, trading the cigarette and small complaints about the day, until your five minutes were definitely more like ten and your co-worker cracked open the back door to glare at you.

Ellie just winked and mouthed bitch. She checked her phone, winced, then let out a dramatic sigh like the world was ending. “Shit. I’ve got a shoot in twenty minutes.”

You blew out a stream of smoke. “Ugh, fine. Go be artsy and productive or whatever.”

“I will. Gotta make the girls look ethereal in a field of flowers or something,” she joked, already stubbing the cigarette out on the wall and stuffing it into an empty Altoids tin she kept just for that purpose.

You rolled your eyes. “Tell them to pose like they're not better looking than me or I’m gonna have a problem.”

Ellie gave you a look, smirking as she slung her camera bag over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re the muse.”

You flushed but covered it with a sarcastic bow. “Obviously. Anyway, I’m stuck in hell for two more hours, but I’ll text you after. You still down for the movies tonight?”

“Dina threatened me if I bail. Jesse’s picking the movie, though, so get ready to watch something with car chases and unnecessary explosions.”

You groaned. “He has the worst taste. I swear if it’s another Fast and Furious sequel I’m leaving.”

Ellie laughed and started backing down the alley, walking backwards. “You say that every time and yet you stay. For the family.”

You threw your apron at her. She dodged it.

“Text me when you're done,” she called out before disappearing around the corner, entering her beat up truck.

Back inside, the rest of your shift crawled by in a blur of clinking mugs, whiny toddlers, and low-tip customers — but it was easier to survive knowing you had a movie night waiting, with your best friends, and Ellie sitting next to you in the dark, probably whispering dumb commentary in your ear the whole time.

You smiled to yourself as you cleared a table. Just two more hours.

The field was nice. Golden-hour kind of nice — warm light slicing through the tall grass. Ellie adjusted the settings on her camera, peeking through the viewfinder at the group of girls twirling in their flowy pastel dresses, laughing like they were in a Greta Gerwig film.

“Alright, ladies, pretend you like each other!” she called out, grinning.

They laughed and did that overly-exaggerated cutesy pose thing, arms slung around each other, a couple fake-kissing cheeks. Ellie snapped the shots effortlessly, stepping around them with practiced ease. Her brain clicked into auto-pilot when she was shooting — light, angles, timing — the rest of the world faded.

Except for one of them.

Cat.

Bridesmaid number three. Mid-20s, pretty, clearly knew it — and knew how to work a camera. She'd been giving Ellie a look since they started, the kind with too much eye contact and a little too much lower lip biting.

"Should I hold the bouquet like this?" Cat asked sweetly, lifting it chest-level and tilting her head just enough to make it obvious.

Ellie didn’t skip a beat, snapping the shot. “Sure…unless you’re auditioning for a rom-com in which case, maybe tilt it a little more—yeah, that’s the angle. Nailed it.”

The girls laughed and whooped like they were in a music video.

Cat winked at her. “You’re kinda funny, camera girl.”

Ellie smirked but didn’t look up from her camera. “Only kinda?”

The flirting kept bouncing like that for a bit — harmless, surface-level, the way Ellie always played it when she wasn’t invested, just bored. She never let it get too deep, not like with you. After wrapping the shoot and handing off her card to the bride, Ellie was stuffing her camera into her bag when Cat came up to her, twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers like she practiced that in the mirror.

“Hey,” she said, kind of sing-songy. “You should give me your number. You know, in case I wanna book you for something… personal.”

Ellie bit back a grin, already zipping her bag. “Oh, totally. Here—”

She grabbed a pen from her tote and scribbled a number on the back of a coffee receipt. Not hers, obviously. Some random number she made up.

Cat took it, all flirty and hopeful, and Ellie gave her a small salute before heading toward her truck.

As soon as she was out of sight, she cracked up to herself, shaking her head.

“Yeah, good luck with that one.”

She wasn’t mean. Just... not interested. Not in Cat. Not in anyone lately.

Only person she actually wanted to hear from was probably just clocking out of that stupid diner, peeling off that stupid uniform and texting her with some dumb meme or a rant about someone leaving syrup on the counter.

She checked her phone.

No text yet.

She leaned against the side of her truck, thumb tapping lazily against the metal, waiting. Like clockwork, her phone buzzed in her back pocket. A text from you.

It was a photo—your middle finger proudly raised beside your diner uniform, crumpled and defeated on your bed. “im out. pick me up at 6?”

Ellie chuckled, typing back: “Only if ur wearing the uniform.”

Your response came quick: middle finger emoji.

Still grinning, she climbed into her truck and headed to her studio (which, technically, was also her apartment—but calling it the studio made it feel a little more like she had her shit together). She was planning on washing off the day and changing into something comfortable for movie night at Dina’s.

Meanwhile, back at your place, you kicked off your shoes the second you walked in. Your roommate wasn’t home—probably still stuck at work—so you shot her a quick text letting her know you’d be out late. You peeled off your uniform, and threw on your robe before texting Ellie again: “home. picking me up at 6 still right?”

You stepped into the shower, determined to scrub off the smell of burnt bacon and sticky syrup, letting the steam pull the exhaustion out of your bones. Afterward, you got caught up scrolling on your phone, time slipping past unnoticed… until there was a sharp knock on your door.

“Shit,” you muttered. Then louder: “HOLD ON, I’M COMING!”

Still wrapped in your towel, you darted to the front door and flung it open. Ellie blinked, caught off guard. Her eyes flicked over your towel-wrapped frame a second too long, before she quickly covered her grin with a hand, trying (and failing) to play it cool.

“I am so, so sorry,” you said, pulling the towel tighter around yourself, suddenly feeling too exposed. too self conscious. “I got distracted and totally lost track of time.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, but her voice stayed teasing. “You sure you’re not trying to seduce me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Ten minutes. Swear.”

You vanished down the hallway. Ellie flopped onto the couch, pulling out her phone and texting the group chat: running late but grabbing snacks first. don’t start without us.

She shifted to get more comfortable—and caught a glimpse through the crack in your bedroom door. Two inches. Practically nothing. Not on purpose… right?

You were slipping on a hoodie, back turned, still in just your bra and pants. Ellie’s face flushed instantly. She snapped her head away like the door had personally scolded her. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands. “Fuckin’ creep.”

Before her spiraling could get worse, you emerged from your room, hoodie on, tugging on your shoes.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing your keys and swinging the door open. “Let’s go.”

Ellie followed, still flustered, and absolutely not ready to unpack any of what just happened.

The sky was starting to turn soft and purple as Ellie pulled out of your complex’s parking lot, her tattooed arm flexing, hand grasping lazily on the wheel, the other fiddling with the volume knob. Some old indie playlist was shuffling through the speakers—Ellie music, as you called it. You leaned back in your seat, hair still a little damp from the shower, hoodie sleeves pulled halfway over your hands.

“So?” you said, glancing at her. “How was the rest of your very glamorous day?”

Ellie let out a snort. “Oh, you know. Just got aggressively flirted with by someone named Cat.”

Your head turned so fast it nearly cracked. “Cat?”

“Bridesmaid number three. Said I looked like I’d be good with a camera and my hands.” Ellie smirked.

You groaned, but came out more like a failed laugh. “Ew. Who says that?”

“She did. With full confidence. Honestly? Kinda impressive.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Tell me you didn’t flirt back.”

“I mean, a little. For the bit.”

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest. “You’re shameless.”

“Hey—she asked for my number, I panicked and gave her Joel’s landline. So I think I redeemed myself.”

That made you burst out laughing, and gave you a weird sense of relief. “Oh my god, imagine her calling and Joel picking up.”

“‘Hello, Miller residence.’ And then just click.”

You were still giggling when you turned toward the window. “You’re evil.”

Ellie looked over at you for a second too long, a crooked smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re just jealous.”

You scoffed. “Jealous of Cat? Please. I wear a dumb visor and serve bacon to men named Dennis who tip in nickels.”

“That’s hot.”

You rolled your eyes. “My shift was hell. I had a kid throw a hashbrown at me and scream because I gave him the wrong syrup. Like. What syrup could he possibly need at age four? It’s all just sugar.”

“Future criminal behavior,” Ellie said. “I would’ve drop-kicked him.”

“Oh believe me, I considered it. But then I remembered I’m trying not to go to jail this year.”

“Personal growth,” she nodded solemnly.

There was a comfortable silence after that. The kind that didn’t feel like it needed to be filled. The kind you only got with someone who knew you well enough to not need noise. But still, Ellie spoke again, a little quieter this time.

“Hey,” she said, eyes on the road, voice soft. “We still have to get those snacks.”

You turned your head, smiling without really meaning to. “7-Eleven stop?.”

“7-Eleven it is.”

The buzz of fluorescent lights and the faint hum of the refrigerator coolers welcomed you as the door to the 7-Eleven swung open with a mechanical chime. Ellie held it open for you with a sarcastic bow. “After you.”

You rolled your eyes smiling. “Wow. So chivalrous. All for a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”

“What can I say?” she shrugged, grabbing a plastic basket. “I’m a provider.”

You split up for a second—Ellie going straight to the drinks section while you scanned the candy aisle, already filling your arms with too many options. Gummy worms. A Kit Kat. Those sour blue raspberry straws Ellie claimed she hated but somehow always ended up buying.

You were just about to decide between a regular-sized Snickers or the obnoxiously large King Size when a voice behind you broke the silence.

“Damn,” the guy said, eyeing you up like you were on sale. “If I was your man, I’d never let you out the house looking that good.”

You didn’t even turn to look at him at first, just dropped a pack of sour candy into your basket.

“If you were my man,” you said, glancing over with a tight smile, “I’d move states and change my name.”

He scoffed. “Damn, you don’t gotta be a bitch about it—”

“—And you gotta be stupid enough to not take a hint” Ellie appeared behind you, sliding an arm around your shoulders with a lazy grin, completely playing into the moment.

The guy blinked, probably about to say something else, until Ellie looked at him, really looked at him and whatever speech he had left drained from his face. He turned and walked off without another word.

“You find the sour blue raspberry straws?” she asked casually, like nothing had happened.

You nodded, leaning into her like it was muscle memory. “Yep.”

Something always shifted in Ellie when guys like that got too close. She didn’t make a scene, didn’t have to, but her jaw would clench just a little, her voice would drop, and suddenly she wasn’t just your best friend. She was your shield, your protector. And no one got to talk to you like that when she was around.

Once he was out of earshot, you burst out laughing, nearly dropping your armful of snacks. “Babe is new”

“It felt right,” Ellie said, grinning. “And also hilarious. You should’ve seen his face.”

You were still laughing as you dumped your haul on the counter. “Thanks for the save, my prince charming.”

“Anytime,” she said, tossing a couple of sodas beside your loot. “Protecting you from weird dudes is in my contract.”

“Oh yeah?” you raised a brow. “Where’s this contract?”

“In my head,” she said.

You shook your head, still smiling. “We should make it a real thing. Ellie Williams: official candy mule and creepy guy repellant.”

“I prefer the term bodyguard,” she said, pulling out her wallet. “But yeah. Works for me.”

Dina’s apartment smelled like buttery popcorn, weed, and that vaguely sweet candle she always left burning on her windowsill—something with a name like Midnight Fig or Velvet Moon. The TV was already on when you walked in, credits of some old romcom playing, Jesse sitting cross-legged on the floor, halfway through a bag of gummy worms.

“You’re late,” Dina called from the kitchen, not even looking up as she stirred something in a pot. “Movie night rule number one: punctuality. Rule number two: bring snacks. Did you guys bring snacks?”

“We were on time,” Ellie said, kicking the door closed behind her. “But somebody forgot I was picking them up.”

You shot her a look. “I was in the shower. I told you to pick me up at six, not barge in at six.”

“Oh my god,” Jesse muttered. “Just make out already.”

“Shut up,” both you and Ellie snapped at the same time. Jesse loved to poke the bear when it came to you two, claiming it was funny how flustered you both got.

That only made him grin wider.

You dropped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, pulling a throw blanket over your legs and tossing a bag of hot cheeto chips onto the coffee table. “There. Snacks.”

Ellie flopped down beside you, her thigh barely brushing yours. Not enough to say anything, not enough to move away—but enough to notice. She leaned back, hands behind her head.

“So,” Dina said, walking over with a bowl of something that looked suspiciously like boxed mac and cheese. “Ellie, how’d your shoot go? You flirt with any bridesmaids?”

You groaned. “Don’t encourage her.”

Ellie smirked. “Told you already. Bridesmaid number three. She winked at me and called me ‘camera girl.’”

Dina wheezed. “Wait. Wait. Did she give you her number?”

“She asked for mine,” Ellie corrected, proudly. “I gave her Joel’s landline.”

“Are you trying to get disowned?” Jesse asked, taking a handful of popcorn.

“I’m trying to avoid drama with a woman named Cat,” Ellie said, dead serious.

You shook your head, “You’re impossible.”

Dina squinted between you two, then looked at Jesse. “Tell me they’re not already dating.”

“Not yet,” Jesse said, popping a gummy into his mouth. “But they will be. I give it, like, three months. Maybe two if there’s a karaoke night.”

You threw a pillow at his head. Ellie snorted and leaned closer, her arm grazing yours again.

“Anyway,” Dina said, tossing a remote into Jesse’s lap, “are we watching Jennifer’s Body or are we letting Jesse pick another sad man movie again?”

“Jennifer’s Body,” you and Ellie said at the same time.

And just like that, the night rolled on—warm, loud, stupid. Full of bad jokes, half-eaten snacks, and shared glances neither of you really knew how to deal with yet.

Not tension, exactly. Not yet. But something.

The movie had long since faded into background noise, replaced by gossip and stolen bites of popcorn. Jesse and Ellie kept chucking snacks at each other like overgrown children, until Dina groaned from the armchair, "You idiots are cleaning all this shit up. Y’all are like toddlers when you're together."

They both laughed, Jesse flinging a pillow in her direction, which, of course, kicked off a full-on war. You were winning—striking Ellie with a pillow like your life depended on it—until she fought back three times harder, knocking you onto the couch and sending the whole group into hysterics.

This was your group. The best friends you ever had.

You’d all met not long after you and Ellie did. Jesse and Ellie were practically siblings, bonded since childhood, while you’d known Dina since high school—trauma-bonded over shitty exes and academic burnout. She knew you like the palm of her handl You definitely were an incredibly different group of humans, but it’s what made things more genuine with y’all.

You and Ellie had a secret running bet about Jesse and Dina. After one drunken party makeout they swore never happened, they’d been in full denial mode, sneaking glances and pretending it meant nothing.

Ellie bet $20 and a month of free rides that they'd never admit it. You, being the romantic, countered with a month of free pancakes and $10 that they would.

(Not that they needed to know about it.)

A blunt or two made its way around, leaving everyone pleasantly buzzed, limbs heavy, laughter echoing off the walls. Jesse and Ellie were laid out flat on the floor. You sprawled on the couch with Dina nestled between your legs, her back to your chest. It was warm, hazy, perfect.

You glanced at your phone—2:57 a.m. Saturday. No work tomorrow, thank god. You’d definitely get fired for showing up this stoned.

Your fingers idly played with Dina’s hair while she giggled at nothing. Jesse and Ellie were arguing about something in the background, their voices fuzzy through the weed fog. Eventually, Dina stretched and yawned, announcing she was going to bed.

“If anyone’s crashing, cool. Just don’t open the windows and don’t trip balls in my apartment,” she mumbled.

Jesse followed behind, only to get a very loud, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM, I’M NOT HIGH ENOUGH FOR THIS.” He retreated to the guest room in defeat.

Ellie dropped down on the couch next to you, head tipped back, eyes glossy.

"You don't have an early photoshoot with your kittycat tomorrow?" you teased, glancing at her sideways.

"You wish. I might as well just cave and give her my real number," she said with a lazy grin.

“And forget about me?” you said, bumping her shoulder.

"You know I would never."

"Oh, I know. Im just fucking with you" you smirked.

“Oh yeah?,” she shrugged, grin widening. “I think you would like that.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Your favorite one.”

“I think that’s why we’re best friends.”

“Yeah, you’re my best-best-best-friend-ever-in-the-world,” she said, slurring it like a spell. “But shh, don’t tell Jesse. Sensitive guy.”

She held a finger to her lips like she was sharing an FBI top-secret, you laughed, shaking your head.

Shortly after that, you dozed off on the couch, your head resting on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. She could smell your shampoo, faintly sweet, and the ever-present scent of maple syrup that always clung to you no matter what. Like it was just… yours. Branded in her brain.

Your thigh was warm against hers, and yeah—it wasn’t weird. You were always like this. Close. Safe.

But then Ellie’s mind flicked back to your apartment. That two-inch crack in the door. The sliver of skin, the bra strap, your back. She’d looked. Not on purpose—but she’d looked. The weed was fucking with her head.

Her chest tightened. Was that weird? Creepy?

But best friends think about stuff like that sometimes… right? Like, it wasn’t a big deal to know your friend was hot, and protecting her from creepy guys knowing you’d treat her so much better In a normal, totally non-weird, completely platonic way. Right?

She tilted her head slightly, watching you breathe, peaceful and soft beside her. Her brain finally quieted.

You were her best friend.

And that would always be enough.

Right?