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andarthas-web · 1 month ago

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From "On Finding Our Temple Covered in Blood"

by Joelle Novey - published 26. December 2024 " [...] I have been scared to say out loud what has been going on for my spirit this year. I wanted to wait to take stock until the war was over. But I’m realizing that holding the devastation of my spiritual life inside me is making me sick. I need to try to write it down.

The bombardment of Gaza and its human toll have been live streamed from the beginning. Basically every day for over a year I’ve seen images on X and other social media that shatter my heart. Smiling holiday and family portraits with names, flinching again and again as I realize every one depicted has been killed.

I could see, even in the early days after October 7, when Israel started dropping bombs on entire buildings, that this could not possibly be a mission of restraint, that was sparing civilians with care, or even had a goal of rescuing the hostages. How could it? It just wasn’t plausible given what I was seeing. Why would an army trying to preserve life or show care bomb Gaza until it looked like the moon, destroying universities, hospitals, mosques, and burying so many families with children in the rubble of their own homes? Why would IDF soldiers loot homes for sport and pose with the things they found if the mission had a defensible and limited purpose? [...]

I read an article by two American doctors – one of them Jewish, Mark Perlmutter – who returned from Gaza saying they had treated one child after another who had been shot in the head – not something that could plausibly happen by accident.

I watched parents wailing over the white-shrouded bodies of their dead children. I watched footage from tent encampments on fire. I saw photos from inside hospitals after days under siege.

We’re not allowed to kill people. We’re not. I’m totally clear on this. We’re not allowed to kill people when we think those people don’t like Israel, or don’t like Jews. We’re not allowed to kill people to make it absolutely impossible that they could conceivably hurt us later. We’re not allowed to kill people because we are angry about some other harm done to us. We’re not allowed to kill children, or their grandparents. We’re not allowed to kill doctors. We’re not allowed to kill journalists. We’re not allowed to kill people because we believe we are indigenous, and we’re not allowed to kill people because we believe they aren’t indigenous. Goodness knows we’re not allowed to kill people because our racism makes us feel like they’re not quite as human as we are – we of all people have been warned our whole lives to be vigilant about where demonizing a certain people leads. WE’RE NOT ALLOWED TO KILL PEOPLE. Why do I feel like a crazy radical for saying this out loud in Jewish spaces? [...]

Starting from early childhood, we were asked to think about the consequences of our actions as important – and important to God. We cast off our “sorries” before Yom Kippur. We were taught that our tradition puts the saving of life above all the other commandments. That everyone is made in the image of God. That saving even one life is like saving an entire world. I spent a lot of my volunteer time over the past two decades helping to support Jewish prayer spaces that felt redemptive, where that holiness was made real. We learned new melodies, set up and took down chairs, organized spreadsheets of volunteer roles, all for moments that felt redemptive and sacred.

Suddenly, in the past year, no one in Jewish institutions seems to want to talk about responsibility. We won’t even acknowledge deaths in Gaza. We save seats for the hostages or pray for the Israeli soldiers but don’t name even one of the tens of thousands of human beings killed in Gaza, with American weapons, under the flag flying in front of our building. We say kaddish and honor our own mourners and grieve our own dead by name, individually. But surely the grotesque horrors being live streamed from Gaza are worthy of our attention, particularly in the United States where the President says he is protecting Israel for all Jews’ safety, where it is our American weapons being dropped on children every day? [...] If we believe in any kind of transcendent Anybody, it is Someone Who knows the truth about the violence in which we are complicit. We can’t tell the Master of the Universe that it’s antisemitic to expect us to look directly at how some of the worst things humans can do to each other are happening in Gaza, with our tax dollars and even our blessing. Any God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is in the rubble with people suffering. How could it be otherwise? Their blood cries out from the ground. Every one made in the Divine image. God knows what Israel’s soldiers are really doing, whether the New York Times headline uses the passive voice or not. God knows what the real casualty numbers are, God knows the horrors. Isn’t this why we wear kippot, to be mindful we are always operating in view of heaven? Shouldn’t it be the reverent thing for every person in every synagogue in America to do a cheshbon hanefesh, an accounting of the soul, of every way we helped create the conditions in which this horror is now possible? [...]

I want to take them away from all this violence Israel is raining down on them with American weapons. Many of these children would not look out of place at Tot Shabbat in any synagogue or at Ramah Day Camp, or on the bimah reading Torah as a bar or bat mitzvah. These are children like our children, so much like our children that I often think, “She looks like this Jewish child I know; he reminds me of so-and-so.”

I have to imagine them into our Jewish communities in order to imagine their lives being honored and valued in our Jewish communities. In any synagogue, I know these same children would be cherished, and loved, and fed as much as they could eat, and even their boo-boos attended to – let alone allowing them to come to bodily harm. But these children in Gaza, who have been living under relentless bombardment for hundreds of days in a row, cannot be mentioned in our Jewish communities. To do so would be intolerably controversial.

I no longer think of myself as praying in the direction of Jerusalem. I pray facing Gaza. I try to imagine explaining to the father of Tala, the girl killed in her roller skates, why I continue to pray in so many rooms that are flying the Israeli flag, the state that killed Tala for roller skating outside. I try to think of the excuses, sentimental ideas I was raised with about it being a symbol of pride and refuge for my people. I imagine trying to explain that the flag has to stay there on account of certain important donors to the synagogue. I try to explain why our religious and spiritual leader, the rabbi, can’t take the political risk of taking the flag down. I could not make any of these excuses to the parent of a child killed in Gaza. Long before I said any of these things, I would be devoured by shame. In matters of uncertainty, we set aside all other considerations to save even one life. We cherish and honor children. If Tala’s father would not accept my explanations, why do I think God would? Why, once again, am I still standing here praying to the One God of eternity who does not slumber, the God of the heavens and the earth, to the One who formed us in the womb and breathed a pure soul into every human being, under this fucking flag? [...] I try to convince myself that these places where American Jews gather to pray are still holy, that God still attends to our prayers in these places, as the IDF continues to bomb hospitals in Gaza, assassinates one of the beloved chefs of the Gaza Soup Kitchen, continues destroying encampments people evacuated to – by burning them alive. I tell myself that it is I who am disgusted and ashamed, while God’s lovingkindness is forever, ki l’olam hasdo, beyond my imagining. I try and try to feel that I am still in a holy community, praying holy words in a holy space. I usually end up just crying instead. Sometimes I leave and walk around outside. [...] But I mostly just feel trapped and helpless in a nightmare, in which beloved teachers and elders have become monstrous. Former religious school teachers, leaders in local Jewish preschools, posting snarky memes about events I know killed real people in Gaza because I watched the carnage on my phone with my own eyes. People sharing the terror and fear of Israeli families having to go into shelters during rocket attacks, while failing to acknowledge that Gazan families have been under relentless bombardment for months, getting buried alive when their homes bury them, with nowhere to flee to and no way out. Safety for just us, absolute silence for them. God is One. I’ll be damned if I let anything distract me from this, the one thing I know for sure. [...] We’re the people who will be known in the United States for the rest of my life as the people who equivocated and defended the horrors the IDF is perpetrating in Gaza now. What is known only to God now will become known to the world. When Jewish leaders make space for “pluralism,” and assure me that people like me are still welcome, it treats defending the killing of 14 pages of babies as a normal difference of opinion that a moral community can tolerate. [...]we need to reckon with why our own religious community, descended from generations of reverent ancestors who never wavered from proclaiming the Oneness of God – why our religious leaders and institutions cannot say, with clarity, that the grotesque violence against a trapped civilian population in Gaza is indefensible and wrong. Starving people as a weapon of war is wrong. Torturing and humiliating people is wrong. This is the kind of thing that should be at the heart of what our communities exist to say in the world, not a marginal area of legitimate disagreement. [...]

the only place I can really find my way into Hanukkah this year is when the Maccabees come back to the sacred Temple and find it neglected, desolate, and covered in blood. The temple inside me where God once dwelled is defiled; our synagogue sanctuaries are, too. I don’t know how else to say it more gently: our once-sacred places are covered in blood.

The only way forward is to begin the hard spiritual work of cleaning up, taking stock, repairing, and maybe, sometime a long time from now, when the bombs stop, and after we mourn every loss, we might find our way to rededication. But in the meantime, I want to be the sort of Maccabee who is brave enough to face the desolation of our sanctuaries with integrity, and who are reverent enough to fall on our faces, rend our clothes in lamentation, and cry out toward heaven for help. "

#Hannukah #Channukah #Israel #jumblr #judaism #hanukkah 2024

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truedairship · 1 year ago

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Have another Fic Title. :)

Six Impossible Things

Thanks for the title, truly, it certainly made my imagination happy! My mind immediately jumped to those Five Times challenges, I wrote Nikola’s part… and then the rest happened. It was most certainly not my intention to make it this dark! Blame it on late night studying and then writing all this in one go I suppose.

A second round through history. Where do you draw the line of how much you dare to affect? When does acting, or choosing not to act, become playing god?

In the end there were many small things she dared to do that, should a mistake be made, might risk altering the timeline. Things her old self hadn’t been able to explain, ‘miracles’ that had been oh so convenient in times of need, funding that had all but fallen into their lap when resources risked running low… In a time before digital surveillance and the World Wide Web, pushing the boundaries of what was perceived to be possible without being detected wasn’t very difficult. No. Her trip to the past had not been a century worth of vacations, but the countless of species thought extinct even by her past self, now safely moved to her new sanctuary made it more than worth it.

Some things, however, were too impossible even for Helen Magnus to accomplish.

She had entertained the idea. Of course she had. Ever since finding out about the energy being cohabiting his body she had tried to figure out a way of separating them. She did not believe it to be the cause of all the violence, but it had certainly played a major role, of that she was certain. However, even with a hundred years to think, she could not come up with a way of keeping it contained. Not without completely altering the future. And perhaps she didn’t dare to find out how much of it was all John in the end. At some point, the victims of Jack the Ripper became a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.

Letting Nikola in on the truth had always been part of the plan. It resulting in him nagging her for investment advice had not. Because one did not need a hundred and fifty years of experience to disbelieve that he would keep a low profile and use the money sparingly. She never told him how much their timeless arguing comforted her. Besides, with the amount times he would come to deplete her wine cellar in the future, he certainly got his fair share of that money either way.

The evening of April 14th, 1912, found one Helen Magnus in front of an empty bottle of whisky, sitting close enough to the fireplace that it could be blamed for the sweat pooling around her neck. Not even her warmest jacket could block out the icy cold gripping her chest. It was not the last night she would spend with a bottle, drowning out the sounds of terrified screams falling silent half a world away.

He knew. Of that she was certain. Why she had ever thought she could keep it from him she didn’t know. The very moment she told him about the time travel, she saw the comprehension in his eyes, the realisation that in her time, she has already seen him die. She wants to tell him about the energy being in John. To ease the bitter heartache of his betrayal. She does tell him to bring a damned spare battery for his suit with him. He never lets her finish, to tell him when he will need it. Perhaps, she thinks, he finds comfort in knowing there is an ending waiting for him in the future. And she can’t help the feeling of jealousy coursing through her because of it.

When an archduke was shot in Sarajevo, Helen Magnus helped a newborn child take its first breaths in Nepal. She didn’t trust herself not to interfere, should she have remained in Europe. Declining the grateful offers of food, she left the house. How could she explain that today, every smell reminded her of the rotting stench of dead corpses. Two wars worth of corpses, and she was now responsible for them all. Her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since she tried to wash the blood of them. In the years to come, she often wondered what right she had, choosing not to change it all.

The first time, she had begged him to stay. Had wanted to force him into accepting more of her blood. Now, standing in front of the newly covered grave, watching the single white tulip next to the flowers her past self had left mere hours ago, she couldn’t help but think that he made the right decision. Espionage and bank robberies aside, seeing the never ending violence of the future would’ve broken her dear Nigel. As he had told her all those years ago, humans were never supposed to live that long. When exactly she stopped thinking of herself as human, she didn’t know.

Heart in her throat, she watched as the consciousness stored in the modified Praxian computer was transferred into the sleeping body. There were things still impossible even for Helen Magnus to do, but figuring out how to retrieve a daughter scattered across an EM-shield was not one of them. Heavy as the burden of it might be, it was her job after all, always doing what others can’t.

#helen magnus #sanctuary #not sure I should post this honestly #fanfic #my writing #(and isn’t that an insane thought)#ask games #thank you for the ask!

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esorydoolb · 9 months ago

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Chapter 2 of my Starfield fanfic "Rebirth: Enter the Void" is up!

This story is basically a collection of slates from Starborn!Alan's crew members and allies. Since I'm not in love with the main companions of Starfield, I'm writing a fic for all my favorite other companions. Chapter 2 is all about my favorite Vanguard and how he meets the spacefarer in another universe ... Enjoy!

Chapter Preview

Moara Otero: All in a Day's Work

No idea how I had made this mistake and not seen the result coming. In my naivety, I thought I could annoy these Spacers into running away, since it had been so easy to sneak into their base, a repurposed level of the abandoned Nova Galactic Staryard orbiting Luna. I had done it multiple times, always at night, when they couldn’t see my ship docking on the gigantic star station. Like a ghost, I had slipped away with their supplies, loot that they had stolen from independent settlers and small farms. My plan had been to exploit their lack of security and organization to make them aware that their crimes wouldn’t go unseen. That went well, until one day it didn’t.

I was sitting in their trap. I escaped two of their sleek black fighter ships, scrambled away with a defective shield, forcing me to hide in the lion’s den, where they didn’t expect me. In the Staryard, I found enough spare parts for emergency repairs. I boarded the repaired ship with a cold trepidation clinging to my frame. Every movement felt like my limbs were made of metal, foreign objects that I forced to work for me. I climbed onto the main deck and secured the Marksman rifle I was carrying in its case, keeping the small arms at my side. Sitting down in the pilot seat, I used my metal fingers to maneuver the ship into space, leaving behind a ransacked Spacers base and a piece of bait that would lure them all the way out to the lifeless ice giant of Sol.

I had raiders and bandits on my tail, angered them enough to chase me through the whole Sol System if need be. And they would – they were already sending a group of professional Ecliptic mercenaries after me to track down my ship and extinguish me like a pestering bug. The logical outcome of this situation was a fight for survival, and the only details I could influence were the when and how. At least that way, I would know when and where they’d attack. I’d already sent out a distress call, but who knew how long until the UC stationed around Mars would respond. At this time of the year, the distance between the two planets was almost minimal. If I was lucky and the Ecliptic had more brains than brawn, they’d be careful about rushing into an ambush, giving the UC more time to arrive. And if not … then I’d be making my last stand here, in the blackest sea. They said that in Old Earth mythology, Neptune was the god of naval victories. I didn’t believe in these old tales, but I believed in a system in which justice prevailed.

I navigated the ship into the cold orbit of Neptune, hiding in the shadow of a meteoroid field and turning off the engines. It gave me a brief moment of calm to think of a plan, but more importantly, I scrabbled about the ship for an empty audio slate. In all this time stationed in Sol, I had never sent a message back home. Not that it hadn’t crossed my mind; inevitably, I just always failed to find a purpose in it.

This time, the sudden fear of being hunted down for elimination had me in a chokehold. There was a ring around my lungs, pressing down consistently until the guilt crushed me, and there was no escaping it. I plumped down in a corner of the ship with the slate in my hand and pressed the button to record.

I’d known the risks when I had signed up to become a Vanguard. Even when looking into the moist, glistening eyes of my little boy, and your eyes, Chianna … I was so aware of the possibility that we wouldn’t see each other again. That’s why it had to have been so hard for you two to understand why I just stood up and left. When I tried to explain what I am going through out here, I was hoping that it’d make you understand a little better. That this is my life, a purpose I am happy to fulfill. Because every time I watched your eyes, it was not only you who looked back, but I could glance the stars, the planets, and the people living out there, in their spaceships, and little homesteads … You reflected my inner soul, like a black shimmering mirror.

I don’t know whether you still think about me at all. My biggest regret is not knowing if I would be able to come back home and still be welcomed. The only times when I feel at peace anymore are when I’m between the stars, reaching out with the sword of justice, an extended arm of the UC. So, if I was unable to perform my job, then I had failed you all, hadn’t I?

Continue reading on ao3

(or start from the beginning)

#starfield #starfield fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #moara otero #starfield companions #YESS FINALLY FIC POSTING #also I always see other people create fancy and cool banners for their fics so I wanted to join

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crimsonbodies · 11 months ago

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❝Now Kiss!❞ 18+ - MINORS DNI … Alan Wake x Joan Newbury | Original Female Character ] WARNINGS: non-con, infidelity, graphic violence. >a/n : heyo! crimson here. so i'm posting on ao3 but thought i'd start posting on tumblr too again! after having writers block for (checks notes) 6 years, i'm back and ready to write smut finally. hope this isn't too much for some people. i'm not into the infidelity trope at all but it would appear that alan wake belongs to me now :) i thought about this. i wrote this. i read this. the guilt is immense. but i'm still gonna touch myself to it at the end of the day because it's hot 😎👍 ENJOI ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

So Alan Wake had a ring on his finger. So what?

Jiwoon couldn’t wrap his head around why the two most gorgeous survivors (besides Yunjin) wouldn’t just confirm their feelings for each other already!!! It super obvious they were meant to be together, and it was driving him INSANE!

Wake had a wife in the real world or whatever but it had to be like a million bajillion years ago since he last saw her, so he didn't understand what the problem was, and he bet Joan was WAYYY better than Wake's wife anyways like C’MON. Plus what if she was dead??? He had half a mind to escape this realm and kill her himself. The mere memory of her was getting in the way of his power couple for god's sake, and Joan was NOT a second lead.

He paced around the stage, his home in between games being a massive auditorium. When he wasn’t practicing his performances, he was sitting in a meeting room at a long table with all the other killers. Well, most of them. Some didn’t want to participate in their little reality-tv ramblings, and others had been kicked out for being too rowdy. They had been non-stop teasing him about how Alan and Joan would never get together, and it was torturing him because he knew they were right. He had been around Wake long enough to know that the guilt of ‘cheating’ on his long lost wife was looming over his head every time he was with Joan; and yet his puppy-dog eyes couldn’t hide just how much affection he had for her. It was pathetic. It was dramatic. It had him on the edge of his seat, but the endless “will they, won’t they” had gone on for far too long. It wasn’t enough for him anymore, he needed a real display of affection.

Whenever he had them in a match, he would tunnel out the other two randos just so he could watch them interact alone, or ALOAN as he liked to call them (it was their ship name he made up and he was very proud of it)(he hoped it caught on in the meeting room soon). Even when tensions were high, and they constantly looked over their shoulders, Wake would still spare some time to make a bad joke, and Joan would call it awful but wouldn’t be able to stifle her laughter. Then they would gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes, or even worse, stare longingly when the other wasn’t looking. From the moments where Wake would drop whatever he was doing when he saw her being chased, to the fact that he would never even let her end up on hook in the first place, it was so obvious to every survivor and their mother how they felt, and if they were trying to hide it from people they sucked at doing so. They were even known to the younger survivors as 'mom and dad'. It was CRYSTAL LAKE CLEAR how well they fit together like two puzzle pieces, I mean, CLEARLY since even the killers who didn’t really care about them weren’t denying the chemistry they shared. Even Freddy, who rarely participated in the round table love island conspiracy, had a few choice words when Merchant said Joan could do way better than Wake. You could hear the sound of one of pinhead’s nails dropping the way the entire room froze in shock; it made Jiwoon proud to call them his OTP.

But Jiwoon wasn’t just another annoying fanfiction writer, he was the Trickster! A cold, confident, calculating, killer. He wanted an intimate performance, not 50 webtoon episodes where the couple barely so much as brushes up against each other. He had already read plenty of that slow-burn garbage back in the real world, the comments flooded with disappointment every time a kiss was teased and not given for the seventh time over. He would never do that if he was the author, he would simply give the people what they truly wanted immediately.

And then it hit him. He stopped pacing, bringing his hand up to his face that was curling into a devious smile, and started chuckling to himself. He knew exactly how to get them to admit their feelings. If the forced proximity trope wasn’t enough, he would have to take it a step further.

He needed to get them to fuck each other, even if he had to force them to do it.

/////

Sooner rather than later, the Trickster had made an appearance in one of their matches. Alan and Joan had long noticed how he liked to stalk them, catching on to his constant ploy of saving them for last, but he never really finished what he started. He often seem to give up in the end game, and they would always see him from afar as they ran through the exit gates. Still, they learned not to let their guard down, and were extra cautious around him since he was unpredictable, but he knew it was all a farce. Some would say he was underestimating what they were willing to do for the other, but Jiwoon was banking on it. In fact, they needed to stick to the script that he had been writing for them behind the scenes or all of this would be for nothing. He was risking them never being able to face each other again. The stakes were high, and he was all in.

As per usual, he made quick work of the unfortunate Dwight and David (sorry about your ship Trapper) and quickly made his rounds to the last gen. There were only three left for them to work on, and they almost always worked together on one of them. The map was Gas Heaven in Autohaven Wreckers. He knew exactly where they were headed: the gas station. The false pretence of a safe roof over their head. They would crouch walk over to the gen, unaware that the basement was directly next to them, patiently waiting for the next scene to unfold. And he was right; there they were. From a fair distance away, he could see Joan’s dark chocolate movie-star hairstyle peeking out from the cracked glass of the garage door. In his head, he fantasized about them exchanging meek smiles, their fingertips would brush as they reached for the toolbox at the same time, unable to hide their blushing.

‘Sorry Allie.’

‘You can use it June.’

He pictured them exchanging lovey-dovey nicknames, truly the pinnacle of a completely platonic friendship. Ignorant lovebirds.

‘Keep it together, Jiwoon. It’s… showtime’

He took a deep breath, brandishing his throwing knives before he took off. The only reason it wasn’t wise to form a relationship in the games was the fact that sometimes you were so focused on protecting the other person that you ended up making stupid mistakes, and Wake was due for his own to catch up with him. Joan was on the side of the gen perfectly in line with the doorway. Wake hadn’t even noticed, too busy scanning their surroundings for the both of them and getting his vision caught on the way Joan’s delicate hands made quick work of the wiring. But the hair on Joan’s neck raised as the killer approached, and just as she was about to get off the gen and tell Alan to hide, a firm hand was grasping the back of her black turtleneck. She yelped as she was pried from the engine, and Alan yelled after her as Trickster swiftly walked toward the basement with her over his shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile as he carried her down the stairs, turning the corner and letting her fall to the ground. He had mulled over hooking her in his rough drafts, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, he rolled her onto her back and dropped on top of her.

Wake was usually not far behind whenever she was in danger, and Jiwoon wanted him to see this. He took a blade out and plunged it into the fabric of her long-sleeve, cutting it straight up the middle to reveal her bra. Joan stopped struggling and stared at him in shock, but he wanted her to make some noise so he pressed the blade into her shoulder, just deep enough to make her scream. He started to fiddle with the zipper on the side of her skirt and heard Wake come bustling down the stairs as Joan was quietly pleading ‘no, please don't, no no no stop’. Trickster catches his gaze and Wake stops in his tracks in disbelief at the sight. His blood is boiling and his fist is ready to connect with the killer's jaw, but he knows he can't. He’s not allowed to. He'll be punished.

'Good,' Jiwoon thinks, 'stay on script'.

He holds the older man’s gaze as he stands up, leaving Joan writhing beneath him, holding her wound.

"Heal her." He instructs, and though Alan doesn't quite comprehend what's happening, he rushes to Joan’s side to help her. He sees her exposed chest and cute mint-green bra and forces himself to focus on her injuries, burning a second hole through the hole in her shoulder.

"Allie... Allie..." She cries, grabbing onto his jacket sleeves, her grip loose.

"It's okay, I'm here. I'm here."

He tries to reassure her but there's still too many questions about the situation. That and she’s half naked underneath him and he hopes it isn’t obvious he’s avoiding looking her in the eyes. As he finishes healing her and is about to help her stand up, Trickster lunges at him, downing him in one hit. Joan yelps at the sudden movement, jumping away. She wants to run but her feet feel like they’re made out of concrete, sinking her into the floor. Her and the killer stare at each other as he peers over his shoulder, slowly turning to face her as he starts to close the distance between them. She begins to inch away but her back hits a locker, allowing the Trickster to get right in her face. She turns her head away as he holds the blade of his knife up to her neck, slowly lowering it to trail down her stomach to her waist..

"Take off your skirt."

"DON'T."

Wake's booming voice bellows off the walls of the basement. For someone who was bleeding out, he sure did have a lot of strength left. Maybe it was just desperation, and that's exactly what Jiwoon wanted. He flashed a crazed smile, turning his attention back to the man on the ground. Wake was lying on his stomach, and Jiwoon easily dropped down on top of him, grabbing the back of his hair and holding his head up with a blade pressed into his neck.

"Take it off or I'm gutting him like a fish."

Joan’s hands are shaking. She looks back and forth between Alan’s pleading gaze and the line of red threatening to bloom from his neck. She carefully reaches up to the zipper on her plaid skirt and starts pulling it down.

"June.. don't." he stutters out, his breath shaky.

But Joan listens to the popstar, bending one knee and taking one leg out and then the other. She never pulls her gaze away from the knife, afraid that if she blinks it will be pressed further into his skin. She drops it beside her, revealing her matching panties under her pantyhose, and pulls together her blazer over her bare skin in embarrassment. Jiwoon retracts his knife and suddenly lets go of his grip on Wake's hair. His head drops to the floor. Not much strength left, eh?

"Heal him." he instructs again, and Joan clambers to her partner to stop the bleeding.

'Perfect. Everything is going perfect'.

"You don't have to do this… You can escape… Please… Joan. Please leave me-." Wake pauses between each sentence, breathing heavily, but gets cut off.

"Don't ever ask me to do something as stupid as that. I woudl never just let him torture you to save my own ass."

"Better me than you. I won't let him.. hurt you."

Alan was about to say 'I won't let him have you' but stopped himself. That was not what he should be thinking right now. Joan didn't belong to him, and he was married. He had… Alice. Right. That was her name.. He felt guilty every time he looked at Joan and felt something more than friendship. But in this type of situation the lines were starting to blur. How fucking dare he put his hands on her.

"Who says I'll be the one hurting her?"

Trickster chimes in as Joan finishes her healing. Wake sits up on one knee, still breathing heavily, and Joan bends down with a hand on his shoulder. He reaches a hand up to grab hers, and Jiwoon does his best not to fangirl because holy shit they’re actually touching hands. This was going even better than he had imagined. He made sure to block the exit, leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, but no one was moving anyway. They were far too afraid to anger him.

"You two are gonna put on a show for me, a private show, for your loyal, royal, number one fan. You do what I say, and I'll let you wander the fog together, safe until the next game. How does that sound?"

The pair stared up at him confused.

"A show?" Alan questions, angrily. "What the hell are you talking about? We’re not your playthings."

"Woah, chill out man. I thought you'd be jumping at the chance to protect miss victoria's-secret-model here from the clutches of my toned abs."

Jiwoon points to his stomach dramatically, and Joan blushes deeper, trying to further hide behind Alan. He straightens his back in response, trying to protect her. Jiwoon almost can't keep his act together. He begins to walk towards them again, knife first, and points it right in Wake's face.

"On your back." he instructs, but doesn't wait for him to lie down, instead pushing him down by his shoulders. He groans in pain at the sudden movement, only half-healed. Trickster then grabs Joan by her shoulders, and shoves her down. Her knees hit the floor on both sides of Wake's waist, effectively straddling him. Their crotches connect causing both of them to flinch, and Joan does her best to pull herself off him. He uses their shock to slowly lower himself behind Joan.

"Undo his belt." Trickster whispers, leaning his chest into her back. He presses his knees into Alan’s thighs to prevent him from getting up or kicking her off.

"Wh-.... I-.... I-..." She stutters out, staring at the slightly exposed skin from under Alan’s untucked shirt.

"Unless you want me to make him pick his intestines off the floor, do what I say. Undo his belt. Now."

Joan and Alan hold eye contact again. His gaze seems to beg her not to, but not because he doesn't want her to.

"You don't have to do this Jun-."

Trickster holds the knife to her neck and she gasps. Wake freezes just as he's about to sit up. He knows it's a threat to keep him lying down. Trickster read his movements like a book.

"Oh, but she's going to. Isn't that right, Junebug?"

Joan’s lip quivers. That was the nickname her dad used to call her, the one she shared with Alan. That was the reason he called her ‘June’. How could the killer possibly know that? It frightened her even more.

"I-I'm-. I'm sorry, I-." she stuttered out as she took the metal clasp of Alan’s belt into her shaking hands, fiddling with the loop until it was open and unable to stop her repeated cycle of apologies.

"Now undo his pants."

She does as she's told, and Jiwoon keeps instructing her through it.

"Pull them down. Then his boxers. Gooood girl."

Joan shimmies the fabric down and her pupils go wide as his cock springs free, half hard. She had always fantasized about having her way with him in a match, but not like this. This just made her feel awful. And she felt even worse about how wet she was getting from forcing herself on him. Alan turned his head away, unable to face the effect she had on him.

'That's fine.' Trickster thought, 'Let's see how long you'll be able to keep that up.'

"Put your hand around him. Yeaaah just like that. Now start stroking uppp and downn."

Joan’s grip is loose as she feels the guilt taking over her. Is this really that much better than being tortured with a knife? This was its own fucked up type of torture. Things would never be the same between them when they made it out of here. How could she ever face him again? Jiwoon noticed her hesitation and gripped his own hand around hers, forcing her to grip Wake harder. He guided her hand as she stroked him, and Wake clenched his teeth trying not to let a whimper escape. Her hand was so soft and it felt so good, but it was so so fucking wrong.

"Keep going. Faster." Trickster releases Joan’s hand when he's satisfied she won't disobey him again. He lets the scene play on until he starts to see Wake buck his hips up into her hand.

"Stop."

Joan freezes, Alan’s hard cock pulsing in her stationary hand.

"Don't. Move."

Jiwoon snakes an arm around her waist, bringing the knife between the flat fabric of her bra at the centre of her chest, and yanks upward, cutting it clean in half. Her breasts bounce free, and she's quick to try and cover them but the killer catches her forearms before she can do so, pulling her whole body back and pushing her head forward. Her lips brush across Alan’s tip.

"Open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Do not make me ask you twice."

Joan once again does as she's told, beginning to lick a line up his shaft. Her breath is quivering, and it's hot against Wake's skin. He can't help himself and glances up to see Joan’s tits pressed into his crotch, her face flushed, her lips red. He gulps.

‘Think of Alice, think of Alice, think of-…’ he repeats over and over in his head.

Trickster notices the silent battle and his eyes twinkle. He takes the opportunity to let go of Joan’s wrists and instead gathers her hair back so it doesn't get in her face.

"Start sucking."

She closes her eyes, letting her sinful thoughts take over and hollowing her cheeks out. She was saving them both. She shouldn't feel bad. She also shouldn't be enjoying it as much as she was, but she couldn’t deny the feelings she harboured for him. She knew he must feel something for her. They shared far too many intimate moments for their relationship to be seen as 'just friends'. They were both being reduced to sweating, moaning messes. It wouldn’t be long before their animalistic instincts took over. It was getting Trickster hard just watching them, but that wasn't what he was here for.

Joan went up and down, sucking hard and swirling her tongue around. It felt so good Alan was seeing stars. He closed his eyes and all he could see was her face. She was god damned good at this. Better than his wife, which was a dangerous thought to think but he couldn't help himself. He hadn't felt the touch of a woman in god knows how long, and now a woman he had strictly forbidden himself from touching was hitting his cock against the back of her throat.

"Help guide her head."

Wake was snapped out of his ruminating to see Trickster staring directly at him from behind Joan. It was almost as if he was hypnotising him. His arms unconsciously began to lift and his hands touched Joan’s head, pressing her down and lifting her back up, matching her rhythm. It wasn't long before his grip had tightened and he was shoving her up and down further and faster to get him closer to his high. His hips bucked into her face and it made his belt jingle. He felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge, threatening to burst. But Trickster wasn't done yet. He yanked Joan off of him by her hair, a line of her spit trailing between them, and Alan whined as he felt the cold breeze wash over his raw, aching cock. He was so close.

"You cum when I say you can." The killer said, pleased with the reaction he was getting. He turned his attention to Joan. "We’re only halfway through the show, no skipping to the good part."

He let go of her hair and pushed her over onto Alan, her breasts hitting the fabric of his dress shirt as she was pressed into his chest and felt his bare cock on her stomach. Trickster wasted no time cutting a hole into the back of her pantyhose, ripping them apart with his hands. He then hooked his hands under her shoulders and pulled her back up.

“Move your panties to the side.” He said into Joan’s ear, loud enough for Wake to hear. “And YOU. I’m not touchin another dude’s junk, so hold it up, and make sure it’s straight.”

Time seemed to slow as the words fell from the killer’s mouth. A shameful blowjob for the killer’s entertainment was one thing, but actually making them fuck each other? Just what kind of game was this psycho playing? This was on a whole other level of wrong, specifically a line in the sand that was never supposed to be crossed, and the Trickster was like a strong gust of wind just blowing it away. Neither of them could look at each other, and Jiwoon felt the tension in the air. No one dared to move. Was this a bad end? Did his plan fail?? Was this the one fic tag he had glanced over in the beginning coming to fruition, #no happy ending??? He almost regretted everything he had done to them… Almost. Just as he was about to start waving a white blade in defeat, he felt Joan’s arm moving. She reached down to her groin, slowly pulling the thin fabric away from her sex. He looked down to see Wake’s hand firmly grasping his erection, his head still looking to the side with his eyes closed. The shame wasn't enough to make them stop what he had started. He felt a crazed smile curling at his lips again. HE KNEW THEY WOULD PULL THROUGH!!!! HE SHOULD’VE NEVER DOUBTED HIS POWER COUPLE IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!!!!!! HASHTAG LOVE WINS OR WHATEVER!!!!

He slowly lowered her down. Joan felt the tip hit her and she gasped at the contact as Alan dragged himself over her folds, trying to find her entrance without having to look at it. Rather than shame, the feeling was embarrassment. Neither of them wanted to do this in front of someone, let alone one of the people who killed them for sport. But neither of them could stop themselves. It was just like the Trickster had envisioned. Wake slightly raised his hips to push the tip of his cock inside of Joan, and she couldn’t help but let a moan escape her lips.

“Is it in?” The Trickster asked flatly.

“Y-yes…” Joan had whimpered out. Without warning, the Trickster had let go of her arms, and she dropped down hard onto Alan’s crotch, completely swallowing him. She cried out, having no time to adjust to his girth. He was so big that it was painful. She carefully lifted her hips as her walls burned, but Trickster shoved her back down, and she let out another cry. Alan was suffering in a different way. She was gripping him so hard, her sex was tight and warm and wet, he was holding himself back from gripping her hips and thrusting up into her like a wild animal.

“I-it hurts.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Jiwoon replied thoughtlessly on purpose, leaving room for Wake to speak up and comfort her. And he did, right on script. He reached out a hand toward her, and she met him halfway, reaching out her own to intertwine their fingers.

“H-hey, June. I-it’s okay. It’s okay. Look at me, it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m right here.” His voice was trembling as he tried his best to soothe her. He glared at the man standing over them, and Jiwoon put his hands up in defeat, letting their story play out without any more of his direct intervention. He backed away, watching them from a safe distance, and took out his knives to fiddle with as a warning, making sure Wake got the message. He did.

“O-okay. Okay. It’s alright. I’m alright.” Joan replied, her words just as shaky as Alan’s. Jiwoon didn’t need to tell them what to do next. They already knew. Alan put his free hand on her thigh.

“Start slow, okay? We’ll go slow. Just focus on me. Focus on your breathing. No crying, okay? I know you can be a crybaby.” Alan tried his luck at a joke, and was able to pull a chuckle from Joan’s lips.

“O-okay.” She laughed, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Slow. We’ll go slow.”

“Do you want me to help?”

“N-no no. No. I can do it.”

She delicately raised herself up the smallest amount she could manage, and lowered herself back down. Alan whined at the friction. She felt so fucking good and he needed more. She kept going, steadying her breathing, her grip on Alan’s hand getting tighter. Her walls were relaxing around him, but she was still so god damn tight. She reached a finger to her clit, rubbing it in circles and it made her moans become louder. They were music to Alan’s ears. But Alan had a wife. What about your wife, Alan? Remember her? Her name-... Her… what was her name again…? Joan began to speed up, allowing his name to roll off her tongue, and he tilted his head back, letting it hit the floor as he closed his eyes. Shit, this feeling was dangerous. He began to match her movements, thrusting in and out, the sound of skin slapping skin growing louder. They almost forgot about the other presence in the room. Trickster watched them intently, beginning to palm himself over his pants. Was this the type of stuff survivors got up to in their spare time? He almost wished he could share a tent with Yunjin. Damn, this was fucking hot. It was a million times better than the way he conjured it up in his head. Imagine your wildest fanfiction dreams being acted out in a way you could watch over and over and over again. Oh! He almost forgot! Danny, the Ghost Face, had generously lent him his camera for this very reason, though he wanted him to fail miserably just to see the sad look on his face, he was also secretly a #Aloan shipper.

Jiwoon shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and fished out the silver digital camera, turning it on. He wasn’t into photos like Danny, he strictly wanted to capture videos. He flicked around with the settings until he deemed it perfect, and pressed the shutter. The camera made a beeping noise to signal that it was now recording, and he stalked closer to the couple, capturing their intimate moment forever on film. Joan took notice and started to slow her movements, her anxiety taking over, but Alan reassured her, picking up her slack by thrusting deeper.

“Hey, hey. Keep looking at me. It’s okay June. It’s okay. You’re okay. You're here with me.”

But the Trickster was starting to become impatient. He put the camera on the ground, pointing it toward them.

“Alright, love birds. He smirked. “Time for the big finale.”

He sauntered over to them, pulling Joan off of Wake once again. They both felt the disconnect this time, whining in sync as Joan was pushed onto her back. The ground was cold and unwelcoming. Jiwoon crouched down, spreading his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. Alan also half-sat up on his elbows, looking directly into the killer’s piercing stare, almost as if asking 'what the hell do you want now?'. He leaned in closer to the man on the floor.

“Now get on top of her and fuck her brains out.” Trickster winked.

He pushed himself up off his knees and walked away, back into the corner where he came from, picking up the camera as he went. He waited.

“If you don’t put your dick inside her, I will.” He called out from across the room. “And I know you don't want anyone else’s dick anywhere near her.”

Alan hated him. He hated how right he was. Hated how hearing those words made him feel. Joan was his woman. No one else could have her, not while he was around. Over his goddamn dead body. He turned to his side and got on his hands and knees, crawling the short distance over to her until he was right on top of her, his legs inbetween her own. His tie fell into her face, and she sheepishly reached up to loosen it. He bent his head down so she could pull it off of him.

“Thanks…” He muttered.

She pressed her lips together and nodded in response, looking down. His hard cock was hovering above her stomach, and she felt a bolt of lightning go through her body. Alan lowered his gaze too, eyes landing on her perfect tits. He tried not to think about how he wanted them in his mouth, but he failed miserably.

“I’m losin battery life here, folks. Get on with it.”

The Trickster feigned impatience but he just really wanted them to start talking to each other. He pointed the camera back at them, adjusting the zoom. The pair’s eyes looked towards him, the camera, then back at each other like deer in the headlights.

“I’m sorry we have to do this in front of him.” Alan offered his sympathy, but Joan’s reply surprised him.

“This isn't how I imagined how first time. I wish it was different than this.” She smiled, but tears started to prickle in her eyes.

Shit.

Alan steadied himself, thinking over his options before he got closer to her face, and kissed her forehead gently.

“I promise I will protect you. You’re safe as long as you’re with me. Alright?”

Joan swiftly nodded, trying not to let her tears spill. He continued.

“Do you trust me?”

“I trust you. I-I trust you, yes. Of course I do.”

“Can I put it inside you?”

Joan hesitated, looking down again. Alan was lining himself up. She looked back up and in a moment of bravery reached up to cup his face and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. He was shocked, but kissed her back. That was answer enough for him. They kept kissing as he rubbed himself over folds again, pressing the tip gently in and out. He pushed further in, and Joan gasped, but he caught her lips again and continued to kiss her. He kept slowly pushing in and out, going further each time he went in, until he was fully sheathed inside her. They both let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding.

Yep. This was WAYYY better than the Trickster had hoped for.

“I’m gonna start moving, okay? Are you ready?”

“I-I’m ready.”

Alan pulled back, but paused for a moment.

“Do you… want this?”

“What?” Joan asked in disbelief. Trickster cocked his head to the side behind the camera. Was he really asking this right now?

“I like you, Joan. If we’re really doing this, I need to know that you want thi-.”

He was cut off by Joan reaching up again to kiss him. She was the one to pull back first so she could reply.

“Alan Wake, you big stupid oblivious man. I like you. So much. I didn’t want to overstep but, wasn’t it obvious…?”

“I… I like you too. I like you so much too-.”

Wake’s words were cut off again by himself this time, pressing their lips together, this time with a hunger he hadn’t felt in a long time. Joan reached her hands up to run them through his hair. Jiwoon was screaming internally. He felt like a fan watching their idol finally receive a daesang after being with them since debut. He was SO making his own #Aloan banners and lightsticks when he got back, and he was SO rubbing it into Merchant’s face. Hell, he wanted to throw a fucking pizza party. He should start planning that ASAP.

Alan pushed himself back inside Joan, and she flinched as he spread her walls apart. She was soaking wet and her juices were rubbing all over Alan’s crotch. He began to speed up as he pushed her legs further apart, pulling her down by the thighs, closer to his body. They never broke the kiss, moaning into each other’s mouths. Joan removed her hands from his hair and brought them to his dress shirt, fumbling around with the buttons until they were all undone. She ran her hands over his toned torso, wanting to feel as much of him and she could. This made Alan pull back from the kiss and adjust himself, and Joan was confused until he gripped the sides of her hips and began pounding into her with the fire of a thousand suns. The basement was filled with the sound of their love making, loud, breathy moans, each other's names falling lovingly from their lips inbetween deep kisses, and the hot squelching noises of their juices mixing between them. Joan's back arched off the ground and she closed her eyes, one of her hands coming up to cover her mouth, embarrassed at the noises she was making. Alan saw what she was doing, and had other plans. He took both of her wrists in his hands, pulling them up over her head and holding them firmly in place.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I want to hear you.”

He sped up his pace even faster, dipping his head down to lick and suck on her neck. Her breasts bounced against his chest, feeling her nipples against him was driving him crazy.

“W-wait, that’s- ah, s-s-sensitive-, ahh.”

Hearing her say that had him sucking harder, leaving a trail of hickeys leading down to her collar bones. He started kissing a line down to her breasts, and adjusted his grip on her arms, moving them so they were beside her head. This allowed him to keep going down her body, and he licked over one of her nipples as her body curled to the side and his cock to hit a sweet spot inside her. The sound she let out went straight to his groin, and he alternated between sucking and biting on her breast and nipple. He let go of one her wrists to take her other breast in his hand. She brought one of her legs up and rested it on his shoulder, letting him thrust deeper inside her, hitting her cervix.

“A-Allie… Allie- ah, I-I’m gonna- o-oh my god I’m gonna-.”

She stuttered out his pet name as she felt the build up between her legs like a dam threatening to burst. Her stomach was coiling tighter and tighter into itself. Alan let go of her other arm, and she brought them down to grip onto his forearms.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck i’m gonna- I-I’m, oh fuck Alan.”

“Cum for me baby. Cum for me. It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you. You're safe. I've got you baby.”

He whispered sweet nothings in her ear as he felt her begin to tense around him, keeping his same pace to drive her straight over the edge. She was going to speak up again, but her orgasm suddenly hit her, and she sputtered his name over and over again between moans as her whole body violently twitched underneath him. She threw her head back, and it hit against the ground before he placed his hand under it, stopping it from hitting the concrete floor. He slowed his thrusting as her walls pulsed around him, trying to milk his own orgasm out of him, but he wasn’t ready to cum yet. He planted gentle kisses all over her face, landing on her lips.

“You’re doing so well baby, you’re doing so well for me.”

Her chest was heaving, her breathing heavy as she came down from her high, her eyes fluttering. Alan continued to kiss her neck softly, slowly pushing in and out.

“Can I keep going, or do you want to stop?”

Joan thought about it as if she had a choice. Her droopy eyes glanced over to the killer in the corner, his camera flashing to signal that it was still recording. Alan followed her gaze, nearly forgetting the reason they were doing this in the first place.

“W-we can stop now-.”

“No.”

He began to pull away from her, but she stopped him, putting a hand on his cheek and giving him a soft smile.

“I want you to keep going. Keep going until you're satisfied.”

“I-I… don't want to overdo it.”

“You won’t.”

“Please tell me if I do.”

“I will. Of course I will… He told you to fuck my brains out, remember?”

“Pfft.”

That earned a snicker from Wake. At least she could still find some humour in this situation, as fucked up as it was.

“You really want me to fuck your brains out…?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I walk with a limp back to the campfire. Do your worst, Wake.”

Joan smirked, and it caught Alan off guard. This was a new side he was seeing for the first time, and he didn’t hate it.

“Alright. You asked for it.”

He pulled out of her, wasting no time to flip her onto her stomach. The cold floor made her nipples hard, and she shivered at the contact. He grabbed her waist, pulling her ass up into the air and spanking it with a loud smack. She yelped from beneath him, but moaned into it. It was his turn to smirk.

‘Do your worst, huh?’ he thought. But he wanted to save some stuff for when they were truly alone. He grabbed the waistband of her ripped pantyhose and her underwear, pulling them both down in one swift motion and smacked her now bare ass again, enjoying every new noise he could pull from her lips. He took a good look at her sex, and she could feel his burning gaze, becoming embarrassed. She was about to regret asking for more when he plunged two fingers into her, scissoring them around a bit before adding another. She was so fucking warm, and soaking wet. And the smell of sex was driving him insane. He wondered if she ever touched herself to the thought of him, and the image of her whimpering his name alone in her tent set off something inside of him. He pulled his fingers back and licked them clean.

Shaking off his blazer, it dropped to the floor next to him. He was sweating like a mule. He decided to take off his shirt too, it was already half off anyway. He looked back down to Joan, and decided to undress her too.

“Put your arms back for me baby.”

She did as she was told, and he grabbed onto the cuffs of her own blazer, pulling it off with the remnant of her turtleneck, leaving her bare back exposed. She put her hands back down to the floor, shivering again, but he grabbed her biceps pulling her back. He pressed his chest into her arched back, and she rested her head on his shoulder, looking up at him.

“I wanna feel you baby, your skin on mine.”

“I-I’d like that.”

Joan stuttered out a reply as she felt his cock get hard again, pressing into her ass. He released her arms to grab her boobs, and kneaded them, softly tugging at her nipples. His cock was dripping with precum as he rubbed himself against her, and she pressed herself back, further into him.

“I’m gonna put it in.”

He was about to reach down one of his hands but she stopped him.

“No, let me… Okay?”

Her fingertips brushed against him, delicately stroking him, and his breath hitched.

“O-okay.”

He returned his hand to her breast, and planted a trail of kisses across her shoulders as she prepared herself. She rubbed him along her folds until she settled on her hole, and pushed back to bury the tip inside her. Alan thrusted the tip in and out a few times before jerking his hips forward and back, immediately setting a relentless pace. Joan cried out, not from pain, but from the pleasure taking over her. Wake could tell the difference and didn’t stop, letting his carnal instincts take over. He shoved himself deeper and deeper inside of her, his pace as rapid as his own heartbeat that was pounding out of his chest. Fucking hell she was melting around him. He wrapped his arms around body and burried his head in his neck, holding her firmly in place as if she would disappear, biting down on her shoulder, leaving a mark but not drawing blood. She tried to meet his pace but it was proving to be impossible. He was eating her like she was his last meal, he wanted to devour her whole. He kept trying to remind himself how dangerous this was, but he didn’t care anymore. He wanted to make sure she remembered the shape of his cock. It felt so good, and she sounded like heaven. She couldn’t stop moaning and cursing.

“God I just want to destroy you.” He let his thoughts mix with his words as he felt his climax reaching its peak. His breathing was heavy, his voice low and husky. He was almost growling.

“I’ve held back for so, so long. I’m not gonna let you go so easily.”

“Allie, A-Allieeee, ugh. Don’t stop Allie. I-I’m gonna-”

“Keep saying my name- ugh, k-keep saying my name. You’re mine. O-only I get to- ugh.. fuck you like this. Fuck, Joan. Joannn. Ughh Joan.”

His movements were becoming erratic and sloppy, and his grip around her tightened, bending her over slightly to fuck into her from a different angle. He was so damn close. He was gonna fill her up so good. So fucking goo-.

“F-fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK, ugh, Joannn. Fuuuck, ughhh.”

He sputtered out, his voice turning into a sweet melody of whimpers as he pumped everything he had into her. Joan felt her walls get sticky, and Alan didn’t relent his pace. Her second orgasm washed over her as he continued to cum, holding her firmly in place as he felt her spasm under him. She dropped her head forward, exhausted, and he finally began to slow to a stop. Their breathing was the only thing they could hear as he gently relaxed his grip and pulled out of her. Joan collapsed on the ground, her ass sticking out in the air, giving Alan the perfect view of his cum dripping out of her.

Damnit, he wanted to fuck her again.

“You think you can get pregnant in here?”

A chipper voice broke through the private moment, causing Wake’s head to snap in the direction of the sound. The Trickster was right beside him, leaning forward and admiring the view. Wake quickly grabbed his blazer off the floor and draped it over Joan’s rear, covering her from the killer’s sick gaze. He got between them as he stood up and pulled up his boxers, staring daggers into the idol.

‘Hey, that’s my job.’ he thought, flashing Wake a smile. Wake just furrowed his brows deeper.

“Show’s over, pal. We did what you wanted.” He said sternly. They had held up their end of the deal, now it was time for Trickster to make good on his word. He chuckled, leaning back to stand up straight.

“Yeah yeah, I suppose you did.” ‘You did that and more,’ he thought to himself. “Well! I’ll let you two get dressed. I’ll be just upstairs.” He sang as he sauntered up the stairs, leaving the pair alone. Joan had begun to get up from the ground, turning herself over to sit down properly. She realized she was sitting on Alan’s blazer.

“Oh- Alan. I’m making your jacket all… gross. ” She whispered the last part, a bit ashamed. She began to stand up but forgot her pantyhose were around her thighs, limiting her movement. Her feet caught on themselves and she began to tumble forward, colliding with Alan’s chest as he caught her in time, her breasts pressing into him again. He sighed lovingly, looking down at her.

“So… walking with a limp, huh?”

She blushed, hitting his shoulder.

“Not a word until we’re out of here mister.”

“Are sure you're able to walk out of here?”

“Not another word!” She huffed as he laughed, pulling herself off of him only to be pulled back, a kiss pressed against her lips. Alan’s gaze softened as he pulled away.

“I love you.”

“!”

Joan squeaked at the sudden confession. He WHAT!? Alan LOVED her? Her!? The same her that was an absolute liability in matches and wouldn’t know map sense if a pallet hit her in the face, and Alan was there to save the day every single time. Steam came out of her ears as her brain tried to process the information. Alan frowned awkwardly at her overthinking.

“You don’t have to give me an answer-.”

“I LOVE YOU TOO.”

His eyes went wide as he was cut off by Joan's sudden yelling. Embarrassment washed over her face and she dropped her gaze to the ground.

“I-I mean.. I love you too, Allie. I have.. for a while…”

She sheepishly looked up at him, suddenly scared to hear his response, but was met with a goofy grin instead.

“What…?” She asked, wondering if something was funny.

Alan offered no verbal response and instead started laughing, lifting her up and twirling her around.

“A-Alan! Hey!”

She joined in on laughing with him, and they spun around giggling until they settled down.

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”

He flashed a genuine, glowing smile, and all Joan could do was warmly smile back, careful not to start sobbing on the spot. That would have to wait for later, when they weren’t in a literal meat freezer.

Oh. Right.

They both seemed to realize where they were again and quickly released each other, beginning to pick up their clothes and get dressed. All the while, Jiwoon was quietly listening on the staircase, looking like the meme of the guy crying while holding the lightsticks in Wake Up, Girls!

His ship had finally sailed.

/////

As they made their way up the stairs, the Trickster was awaiting them at the top, leaning cooly against a locker, admiring his nails absentmindedly. He totally hadn’t been eavesdropping, psh, not a chance, he would never do that. He looked at the survivors up and down. Joan had chosen to discard her mauled tights, and was wearing Wake's dress shirt. Wake wore his jacket with no shirt underneathe. Both of their hair was a bit of a mess. And they were holding hands.

STAGE CLEAR .ᐟ‧₊˚✩彡

“I suppose a deal’s a deal.” Trickster said nonchalantly, trying to sound as bored as possible. He sighed extra loud for dramatic effect. Alan raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. So, we’re gonna go work on the last gen-.”

As if God himself had intervened, the last gen lit up across the map, signalling its completion, and the exit alarm started blaring. They all heard the exit gates opening and stared at each other in disbelief.

It seems the Entity had had enough and was telling them to get the fuck out.

“I’ll, uh… walk you two out. Ha ha… ha.” Trickster said, trailing off his laugh. He was sure to get a mouthful when he got back. He hoped the beating wasn’t too bad this time. He knew it would be. It was worth it. Totally worth it.

He swivelled on his heel toward the exit and led the newly announced couple to the edge of the map and through the exit doors, stopping just before the spikes came up signalling he couldn’t go any further.

“Pleasure doin business with ya, Wakey. Let’s do this again sometime, yeah?”

Alan let go of Joan's hand and straightened his back, getting right in Trickster’s face.

“Let’s not, yeah?”

Jiwoon felt his overwhelming presence and immediately backed down, dropping his shoulders as if to protect himself. He placed his hands in his pockets and felt the cool plastic casing of the digital camera. His eyes flickered back and forth between the pair. He was about to say something along the lines of ‘have a safe trip home!’ but felt he had said enough for the day. He simply nodded as Wake led Joan into the fog, placing a hand around her lower back and pulling her closer. The pair had seldom thought how they were going to start to unpack what had just happened to them. They felt it was in their best interest to just ignore it and hope for the best; they'd jump off that bridge when they got to it. But they had one another to help the other through the nightmares now. There was no space left between them anymore, no need to keep each other at arm's length. They were truly together. And they'd be even more together sharing a tent later tonight to finish what they had started without a serial killer across the room.

Jiwoon watched as they started to disappear, and noticed Joan was slightly faltering as she went. Was she walking with a limp…?

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck and looking around as if someone could be watching him. When they were completely gone, he let his crazed smile light up his face and he squealed, jumping around and waving his hands in the air.

The other killers were not gonna BELIEVE this.

#alan wake #alan wake smut #alan wake x ofc #alan wake 2 #dead by daylight #trickster #smut #now kiss!#i know he's married and i love him and alice together so very much #something just took over the worms in my brain and i needed to have sex with him i'm sorry

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endofapaige · 1 month ago

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A 2025 Mindset

The earth spins once more and another year rolls in. I am yet again sat in my bedroom wondering just what I am doing with my life. Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a depressing post, just reflective, I think.

I’ve evolved a lot in 2024. I’m starting to gain some confidence, something I never thought I’d manage. It helps having people around me singing my praises. You know that saying that’s like ‘say it enough and they’ll believe it’ that’s usually applied to bullying, I think it works for the positive stuff too. It’s my career mindset that has developed the most. Stepping into the editorial team on my university’s paper has been an absolute God send. I’m loving it, I really am. I’ve had so many conversations with different people in the team reflecting on if the job is what we expected of it, and it isn’t really, but it’s been such an incredible insight. I have learnt that I can manage people, that I am not useless, and I am approachable and friendly. I am capable of so much more than I originally thought, and I have met so many incredibly talented people along the way.

I never thought I’d be in a situation where I’d be so passionate about something, and so good at it that external parties would be coming to me asking to write for them. But I am and they have and I have been able to partake in so many opportunities I would never have dreamed of because of it.

2025 is going to be a year of new experiences. I’m moving out in July, just for a year while I do my final year of my degree. I did it before while I was at university the first time, but I don’t think that really counts considering I was at home more than I was in the flat. This time I’m moving in with friends and my boyfriend. It’s going to be a challenge for sure, can you imagine living with four boys? But it’ll be a fun experience, it’ll be a lot for my own personal development, though it remains to be seen whether I will end up sentenced with manslaughter or get out of the year unscathed and a semi-functioning adult.

I want to develop a new mindset this year. Try to get over my social anxiety a bit. Try to chat shit to everyone like I do to my mum and dad, because I am an absolute hoot, yet very few people get to actually experience it unless I’m drunk. I want to take things less personally, manage my FOMO, come to terms with the fact that if my friends are hanging out without me it does not mean they automatically hate me. All that means is they’re doing something they know I won’t like, so really, it’s quite nice that they are subjecting me to it. I want to try and ween my way off my phone, become less reliant on social media and do more of the other things I enjoy. Read more, write more, get back into fiction writing, learn to crochet.

Looking forward to 2025, if I can manage a fraction of the things I want to do this year, it will be a good year. A boring one maybe, as I’m saving all of my spare money for the flat when what I really want to do is to book a holiday or a thousand and one concerts and shows. I find it hard to be content with mundane life, but I need to learn to embrace it and fantasise normality or else I will be chasing an unidentifiable, unrealistic expectation for the rest of my life and I will be living unsatisfied forever.

There’s a lot I want to do with my life, but it’s awfully hard to know where to start. I’m only writing this now because I was staring at my wall deciding if I wanted to colour or cross stitch, telling myself that I don’t feel left out that my friends are playing Lethal Company in a discord chat they have banned me from. Acceptance is the key to success, isn’t it? Accepting that all of this is okay, making the most of my friends when I do get to spend time with them rather than lingering on the gut feeling when I’m not. Prioritising the discord gossip sessions with my uni friends when we’re supposed to be completing our assignments, savouring every moment I get with my boyfriend so when he’s gone, I can tell myself it’s not so bad because in 7 months he’ll be just a room away at all times.

I have to start somewhere. So, I am starting here. Telling the void what I intend to do, so I can hold myself accountable against it. Finally intending to do something about my insecurities rather than expecting everyone else to accommodate them.

#lifestyle #girl blogger #blog #new year 2025 #blogging #writing life #writeblr #story of my life #new years resolution

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years ago

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slumber party ~ bo burnham

word count: 3072

request?: yes!

@mcknenzi “Was wondering if you could write a bo burnham smut?? I don’t know where to request so I’m asking here😅, could you do one where you’re having a sleepover with your bestfriend (bo) and your little sister takes the extra bed because her friends over too, and you and bo need to share a bed, Y/N falls asleep and moans in her sleep and Bo just 🤷‍♂️ does something and she wakes up and yeah..”

description: in which their friendly sleepover turns into something more

pairing: bo burnham x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (wet dreams, praise, pet names, oral (f receiving), dinp, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids))

masterlist (one, two)

You walked into the spare bedroom to find your sister and her friend already laid out on the bed, watching something on TV with a bunch of snacks covering nearly every inch of the bed.

“(Y/S/N), get out,” you told her. She shook her head which caused you to roll your eyes. “Come on, I mean it. Bo and I are tired.”

“Cindy’s sleeping in here tonight,” your sister responded, not taking her eyes off of the TV.

“No she’s not. Bo is.”

“I called dibs on this room first.”

“She can sleep in your room. You have a TV up there, it won’t make any difference.”

“My bed is too small for the two of us.”

You could feel your annoyance starting to grow. You really wished your parents were home so you could call out to them and make them force your sister and her friend back to her room.

“Besides, why does she have to sleep in my room but Bo can’t sleep in yours? That doesn’t seem fair,” your sister countered.

“Because mom and dad’s rule is that whenever Bo is over he has to sleep in here. You know that. Now, for the last time, get out.”

She shook her head again. “Mom and dad aren’t home tonight, so I called dibs on this room for Cindy. Bo can sleep in your room tonight.”

She waved her hand to try and tell you to leave. You opened your mouth to argue with her again, but Bo took hold of your arm. “There’s no use, she’s not gonna budge. I’ll sleep in your room and if you get in trouble, just throw her under the bus.”

You glared at your sister once more before slamming the guest bedroom door shut and stomping towards your own room. Bo followed closely behind, chuckling at your reaction.

“God, she’s so annoying,” you said once the two of you were in your room. “She really thinks she can just break the rules mom and dad have had in place for years. She knew you were coming over tonight. She probably invited her friend just to annoy me. I wonder if mom and dad even know that she has someone over for the night.”

“Don’t call them to bother them right now. Just bring it up to them when they get home tomorrow. Like I said, throw her under the bus and you’ll be fine.”

You sighed and fell back onto your bed. Bo followed, laying back next to you in a way that both of your heads were brushing against one another.

Bo had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. You had met him in elementary school and became best friends almost instantly. You were pretty well inseparable since that first moment. Despite this, your parents still had a strict “no boys” rule for you and your sister. So, whenever you’d have Bo over for the night it was just common sense that he would be sleeping in the guest bedroom.

You and Bo had planned for this sleepover nearly a week in advance. Your parents were gone for the night on some “special date night”, but trusted you enough to allow you to have Bo over while you’re gone.

“You know the rules,” they repeated at least ten time between you asked and the moment they left. “No drinking, no smoking, no partying, and he is not to be in your room.”

If they knew that he was even laid on your bed with you right now they’d probably freak.

You knew that Bo had a point. If they came home and found him there, you could just rat out your little sister. She hadn’t asked to have a friend sleepover (not that you were aware of anyways) and she knew your parents rules. But, even with ratting her out you knew your parents would be pissed if they found out Bo was sleeping in your room.

I’ll just have to be mindful of getting him out before they come home, you thought to yourself.

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth and get ready for bed,” Bo said after a while of silence. “Do you guys have any blankets and pillows I could use?”

You looked over at him in confusion. “Why?”

“I’m sleeping on the floor, aren’t I?”

You shook your head. “No! My bed is massive, we can both sleep in it. I mean...unless you’d rather not, which I would totally understand.”

“Aren’t we already playing with fire by having me stay in your room? Your parents would freak out if I stayed in your bed, too.”

“Only if they found out. Which they won’t.” Bo opened his mouth to say something else, but you cut him off before he could. “It’s been settled, you’re sleeping in my bed. Go brush your teeth.”

Bo rolled his eyes, but knew there was no use in arguing. He grabbed his toothbrush and his pajamas and headed for the bathroom. He took his time in brushing his teeth and changing out of his clothes. He knew it was a bad idea for him to sleep in your bed. You kept assuring him that your parents wouldn’t find out, and he was sure that you’d keep to that promise, but he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea because Bo’s feelings for you weren’t entirely friendly.

It was a cliché, but once you and Bo had entered high school, he realized he was viewing you as more than just a friend. Of course, he didn’t want to tell you that. You had been best friends for so long, you had spent more time together than you had apart. He didn’t want to lose you, so he kept his feelings a secret.

But it definitely was not gonna be easy sleeping in a bed next to you.

When he returned to your room, you were already out like a light. You had all the bedroom lights off except for the lamp on your bedside table. You were laid on your side close to the edge of the bed, giving Bo as much space as you could without falling off of the bed. He sighed and put his stuff back in his bed and finally got into bed next to you.

You were right, your bed was big enough for the two of you. Even if you hadn’t positioned yourself so far away from him, there would have been plenty of room for both of you on the bed.

Bo laid down on his back, trying to keep his distance from you the best he could. He felt awkward at first, not really knowing what to do. He had been tired earlier, but now every ounce of sleep had evaporated from his body. He felt like he had to be up all night just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid in his sleep.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally felt comfortable enough to let his eyes droop. Neither one of you had moved in that time, and he had finally come to terms with the fact that he had to share a bed with you for the night, so he figured it was safe to fall asleep.

Until he heard a moan escape from your lips.

His eyes popped open at the noise. He thought maybe it was just a sleeping noise you made, until he heard another moan.

Yeah, he thought. That’s definitely sexual.

He could feel his dick pressing against his boxers, begging to be let out. He tried to think of something else, anything to make this stupid boner go away, but another moan spilled from your lips and he knew he was a goner.

I gotta get out of here. I can’t be in this bed with her right now.

He started to sit up when he heard, “Bo.”

Bo looked over in horror, thinking you had woken up and caught him in his aroused state. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that you were in the same position - on your side, arms tucked under your head, legs curled against you - with your eyes still closed.

And then you said it again.

“Bo.”

This time followed by a moan.

And that’s when he realized.

“Oh, Bo.”

She’s dreaming of me?!

It felt too good to be true. He thought maybe you were pranking him or something. There’s no way that you were having a dirty dream about him while he just so happened to be asleep next to you.

But then you moaned again, followed by his name one more time.

And that was enough for him. He wanted you.

Bo reached over to you and put a hand on your shoulder. You stirred a little, but not enough to wake you up. He shook you a little, again to no avail.

“(Y/N),” he said. “(Y/N), wake up.”

Your eyes slowly opened. An annoyed look crossed your face and Bo couldn’t help but feel somewhat pleased that you were annoyed to be woken from your dream.

“What?” you said, sheepishly. You rubbed your eyes and rolled onto your back. It took a moment for you to register Bo’s face. “Bo? What’s wrong?”

“You were talking in your sleep,” he told you.

Your face immediately heated up with embarrassment. “Oh. I-I’m sorry. Was...was I annoying you?”

He shook his head, trying to contain his smirk. “Not really.”

“What was I saying?”

“My name, followed by some moans.”

You buried your head in your hands and groaned. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Bo. That must’ve been so embarrassing to hear. If you don’t wanna stay the night now, I understand. God, I’m such a fucking - ”

You were cut off by his lips against yours. The action took you by surprise but it didn’t take you long to melt into the kiss. You wrapped your arms around Bo’s neck as he put his on your waist, guiding you so that you were sitting on his lap.

Maybe I’m still dreaming, you thought to yourself. If I am, I hope I don’t wake up.

Bo cradled you with one arm and laid you down on your bed. His kisses moved from your lips to your jawline, and then to your neck. You moaned as he left wet kisses all over your neck, and gasped when you felt his teeth nip at you.

“Don’t do that!” you whisper-yelled. “If you leave a mark my parents will kill us!”

“That’s why I left it somewhere they won’t see,” he said, giving you a cheeky smile.

He continued to kiss whatever skin you had visible, moving down to the neckline of your shirt. It went down far enough that he could’ve buried his head in your boobs if he wanted, but he stopped to look up at you first.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You nodded, not sure you’d be able to speak.

With your permission, Bo put his hands under your shirt and slipped it over your head, leaving your chest bare to him. You never wore a bra to bed, and you didn’t think you’d need to with him.

Bo took one breast in his mouth as he started to knead the other one in his hand. You moaned in pleasure as his tongue swirled around your hard nipple. You whimpered as you felt him pull away, but you were silenced as he kissed you again.

“You have to be quiet,” he said. “Don’t want your sister catching us.”

He kissed down your body again, reaching the waist of your pants. You didn’t give him the chance to ask if it was okay as you slid off your pants and panties.

Bo smiled up at you. “Good girl.”

You could feel the wetness growing between your legs at his praise.

He started by kissing over one of your thighs at a painfully slow pace before moving to the other and kissing over that one as well. You felt like you could’ve been close to tears when you finally felt his tongue pressed against your clit.

You had to put a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans as he began to devour your pussy. His tongue lapped you furiously, as if you were the last meal he’d ever have. With your free hand, you reached down to tangle Bo’s hair between your fingers. You felt lightheaded with pleasure and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to last like this.

“B-Bo,” you stuttered, still trying to keep your voice down. “I’m-I’m so close.”

“Cum in my mouth, princess,” he said. “I want to know what you taste like.”

You had to cover your face with a pillow to fully mask the sounds that came out of your mouth as you hit your peak. You shuddered with pleasure and your stomach tightened in an almost painful way. It was the hardest you had ever came in your life, and certainly the hardest another person had ever made you cum.

When you removed the pillow from your face, Bo was hovering over you again. You could see some remnants from you on his chin, which made you smile.

“You got something there,” you teased, gesturing to his chin.

“Really?” he asked. “I wonder what it is.”

You giggled and pulled him down to kiss you again. You could taste yourself on his tongue, which was enough to ignite the fire in you once again.

“There’s condoms in the drawer of my nightstand,” you told him. He gave you a look that caused you to chuckle again. “Just in case. You know mom and dad’s rule, but I bought a box in case of a moment like this.”

Bo reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom. He ripped the wrapper open and quickly rolled the condom down his length. He was rock hard and throbbing. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last long, but he wanted to make you feel good.

He lined himself up with your entrance and looked down at you. “Are you sure?”

“I’m so sure,” you told him. “Please make love to me, Bo.”

With your assurance, Bo slowly pushed himself into you. You gasped as the feeling of him filling you. He paused a moment, mistaking your pleasure for pain, but when he realized the look on your face was fair from painful, he kept going.

When he was fully inside of you, Bo felt like he couldn’t move. He didn’t know how long he would last. You felt so good squeezing around him, and he was already so turned on by the events leading up to this moment. He didn’t want it to end so soon.

“Please, Bo,” you begged. “Please move.”

“I don’t think I’ll last long once I start moving,” he admitted.

“That’s okay. We have all night to do this as much as we want.”

And with that, Bo’s hips started thrusting into you.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving red lines with every thrust. He buried his head in your neck, kissing all over and making sure he didn’t stay to one spot for too long in case he accidentally left a hickey. You were pressed together as closely as you could get but it still didn’t feel close enough. You wanted all of him, in that moment and in every moment to come.

The feeling of Bo’s mound pressing against your clit made another orgasm build inside of you, and you could tell by how his thrusts were starting to become sloppy that he was getting close, too.

“You can cum if you’re close,” you whispered in his ear. “I won’t be far behind you.”

With your permission, Bo pressed his lips against your neck and groaned as he spilled himself into the condom. As you expected, the feeling of his orgasm sent you into your second one. It wasn’t as intense as the first, but it definitely felt so good.

You were both laid there, wrapped up in one another for some time. Neither one of you wanted to make the move to pull away first. You were both nervous that the moment you separated, everything would change. That the other would regret what had just happened and that your friendship would never be the same.

Bo was reluctantly the first to let go, pulling out of you so he could dispose of the condom and clean himself. You watched as he wrapped the condom in a paper town and threw it into your garbage bin, making it so that you parents wouldn’t accidentally see it when they came home.

“Was that okay?” you asked him.

He turned to look at you, arching an eyebrow at your question. “I feel like I should be asking you that.”

“Well, it was more than okay for me,” you said.

“It was more than okay for me, too.”

“Okay.”

You both chuckled at your awkwardness.

Bo climbed back into your bed and took you into his arms. This felt better. It didn’t feel as tense now as it had moments ago. Despite what had just happened, everything felt okay.

“Should we discuss what just happened?” Bo asked.

“I guess we have to eventually,” you responded. “I guess the first question would be for me, which is why was I having a wet dream about you.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely my number one question.”

“It’s...well...god, it’s such a cliché, but I like you, Bo. I have for a while now, but I didn’t really know how to tell you. Or if I should even tell you. I didn’t want to say something and have you not feel the same way and mess things up between us.”

Bo looked at you in shock. “Really? Cause I’ve felt the same way for years.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah! Since, like, sophomore year.”

“Oh my God, we’re disasters.”

You laughed again as you settled against Bo’s chest. You could hear his heart beating. It was soothing enough that you felt yourself being pulled back into the world of the unconscious.

“So, where does that leave us?” Bo asked. You tried to respond, but yawned instead. Bo chuckled and kissed your forehead. “We can pick this up in the morning. Go back to sleep, princess.”

“Okay. Goodnight Bo.”

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

#Bo Burnham #bo burnham imagine #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham smut #imagine #one shot #request #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

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Moments of Despair #1 [Genshin Impact/Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: “The man who was on fire and realized it too late.”

(A series of works where the boys deal with the passing of their beloved).

Albedo's despair

Warnings: angst, tragedy, major character death, graphic depictions of violence perhaps

(A/n): Had these ideas for a while after reading @/serensama To Mourn series of another fandom. So much sorrow and feeling I just was inspired to write 😫

_______________________________________________

The moment you fell lifeless in Diluc's arms, he wanted to disappear.

It was raining again, he had always despised the rain. How it trickles down the slope of your cheek, like tears falling from the heavens. The sight of it mixing with your blood creating a thin stream of red rivers flowing beside him. They patter down obnoxiously because time didn't care, the gods don't care, the world didn't care. You were just a small fragile person to their eyes but to him you were his light. A candle that used to shine in his dark world was now dissipitated by the waters of reality.

Many droplets have passed and he was still holding you. Diluc could do nothing but stare. He hadn't shed any tears nor could he make a coherent sound. Perhaps it was because his tears have long run out when his father was held in the very same way. Or it was because he was heartless. He's usually told for being cold and indifferent. But the pain clenching in his chest was proof that he still had one (proof that it was still beating), much to his dismay. It would be better if he didn't.

So why can't he just look away? Your wounds, your bruised features, everything now etched so deep into the back of his conciousness that is was starting to awaken his worst nightmares. They were the source of the bile growing in his stomach. The irony stench filling up his nostrils felt so sickening. He couldn't turn away. You're dead. You're dead. You're dead. As if reality had yet to register, or maybe he refused to accept it, Diluc helplessly gazed down your body with blank and empty eyes.

"Master Diluc..."

Jean's voice called out to him pitifully. He rises up with his back turned, ignoring the stares given to him, "Leave. The knights of favonius are not needed here."

"But she's a Mondstadt citizen," The anemo user retorts, slightly taken aback by his impassive reaction, "It's my responsibility to ensure this case doesn't go unnoticed."

Unnoticed. Diluc scoffs in his mind, what a tasteless joke.

"It seems you weren't listening," he announces as his head was turned ajar so they could see the deep hatred glowing red in his eyes, "Leave. Now."

Jean's lips trembled before barely being able to say, "Alright" and retreating her knights back to the city. Kaeya narrows his gaze at his bother, the sorrow was evident through his pupils. He steps forward until he was arms length away from his brother. Too little too late, another failure was added to the belt.

Kaeya was a man of many words but for once he was at loss of what to say. No underhanded suggestions, no ideas taunting him to spill his thoughts, he simply asks Diluc, "What are you planning to do now?"

Silence. Kaeya couldn't predict what sort of expression his brother was making as he looks at your corpse. It brought a heavy weight of unsettlement upon him and here he thought he had already grown used to his brother's quietness.

Slowly, he turns around while letting the water pour down his face. Kaeya tightens his jaw as Diluc drags his feet towards him, stopping when their shoulders were parallel, "It's none of your concern."

"You're just going to leave her here?"

There was a slight pause which was enough of an answer. The Cavalry Captain sighs when he watched him walk away, what was the point of asking when Kaeya knew Diluc so well? He glances at your form before swiftly shutting his eyes.

It was his concern.

-------

A week later, the staff of the Ragnvindr household could hardly recognize their Master's appearance. They knew not to bother him when he decides to lock himself in his chambers. Diluc drowns himself with work from hours to no end as he connects the findings of the person that took your life. As expected, it was one of his enemies- a fatui member. The question was, which one?

"Master Diluc, I beg of you, please take care of yourself," Elzer pleads.

The pyro user didn't bother to spare him a glance or look at the tray of food he carried.

Food...you always brought them whenever he had to work overtime.

"I do not remember specifiying anyone to be allowed in my office," he voices aloud, "If it's related to business affairs simply leave that with Adelinde and I'll take a look at it tomorrow."

"I understand. But you've been working all day and night yet refusing to take any breaks in between. At this rate, you'll harm your health."

The feather pen in his grip kept dragging it's course, "This is beyond the duties assigned to you Elzer."

"That's because it was a request sent by your father," he adds, knowing that stepping over his boundaries may cost him, "If Master Crepus was still here, I'm sure he would have said the same thing."

Taking a deep breath, Elzer lays out his last card, "And also your wife."

The pen slows into a halt.

No one had brought you up until now. Elzer anxiously watches his Master shifting in his seat, his red bangs covering half of his face but he could still see the frown pressing firmly on his lips. It wouldn't be a surprise if Diluc suddenly bursted at him for mentioning such a sensitive topic, all that matters was his master's well being and Elzer was willing to risk everything for it. But nothing. Diluc turns his attention ever so slightly at the tray he carried.

"Fine, but I'm not eating that."

"What? Wasn't this was her favourite-"

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

Elzer furrows his brows before sighing, "...No, Master Diluc."

He exits the room while carrying the fresh dish of Once Upon A Mondstadt that you loved so much. The door closes with a soft click and he was alone again.

People found it strange how Diluc seemed so vacant to your passing. He didn't even show up at your funeral. Instead, he continues his duties as a Mondstadt nobleman like usual while taking care of business matters associated with the winery. Except those who were close to him could see the difference in his actions. Apathy, he was so mechanical in every task he did. Like a marionette attatched on strings, a doll without a soul. After all, his soul died the moment when yours did too. What remains was a shadow of Diluc and a being existing solely for revenge and duty. He was nothing but a remnant.

Fatigue begins to wash over him and he fights to stay awake. Because once he gives in it will all be over. Once he closes his eyes, he would see your face with a multitude of images from the past. He would hear your voice calling out his name from a distant space as it echoes off the walls of his mind. He would fall into a dream where you were still with him and as always, waking up to see that it was never real.

I should have pushed you away.

Because what hurt Diluc the most wasn't that you were gone, rather, it was how you were still here.

Then you'd still be-

Something breaks and it turned out to be the pen he was holding so tightly. Only now Diluc realized how fast his heart was thrumming as beads of sweat began rolling down his forehead. Focus. Don't waste time. He won't grant himself the liberty of anything when your murderer was still on the run. Every wound they inflicted on you was going to be returned in tenfold. He'll make sure of it. That's why, he refuses to think about you at all. Diluc occupies his mind with other matters since at this point, work was the only efficient method of keeping his sanity in tact.

She needs you to focus.

The door opens and Kaeya enters the room while holding a document, "We found the guy."

His reaction was immediate, "Where?"

"Hm, now that we meet, it's actually quite debateable," The captain notes wryly, "When was the last time you've gotten proper rest?"

"I don't have time for this, either you tell me or I'll do it by force."

Kaeya couldn't help but sigh, "Apologies but you don't seem to be in any state for a fight. I'm sure you know how it would end up if you were to face your enemy right now."

"..."

"Diluc, this isn't healthy," Kaeya asserts, it's been a while since he sounded so sincere, "I'm not here to prevent you from doing what's necessary however, perhaps it would be better if I finished it in your stead."

"No," Diluc stubbornly answers, "Hand that over."

"...Heh, then there's really nothing I can do to stop you it seems," he whispers with a sad smile, "At the very least, be careful."

"I intend to," The pyro user snatches the paper parchment out of Kaeya's hands before opening the window, "Also, if Elzer returns, tell him there's a few errands I have to take care of."

The night was a full moon and the sky was empty, Diluc leaps off the edge and disappears into the darkness. There was no telling of what could happen next. Since you weren't here, it was up to Kaeya to watch over him.

-------

The claymore dropped to the ground with a clang as it soaks up the blood of the fatui he just killed.

Diluc was tired, so tired.

He slumps down against the wall from pure exhaustion, all that adrenaline and hatred went up in fumes, leaving behind whatever was left in his heart: nothing. Two hours, not even that far from Mondstadt, the fatui hid in an abandoned building as he cowarded for his life. When Diluc arrived, he never expected this monster to be so weak. This was the person who murdered you? A pathetic nobody that was simply following orders? This was the reason why he lost you forever?

In the end, the only one to blame was himself, for being weak and unable to protect you. He was supposed to be your hero ("Darknight hero," you'd always tease), the rock that shields you just as you had been the warmth he longed for many years, did he give you enough? Was this enough? He thought avenging your death would grant him a peace of mind and the justice you deserved but deep down, he knew it will never be enough when it comes to his love for you.

"Diluc."

He closes his eyes, he hears your voice. He was so tired, it wouldn't be a surprise if he started hallucinating.

"Diluc."

"I'm sorry..."

The man lets out a trembled breath as he apologized to the image of you in his mind. I'm sorry I failed you. They were repeated like a mantra in hopes to reach you somehow. Of course that was impossible, his feelings, his emotions, love and sorrow altogether will never reach you again. And your arms that once comforted him and brushed his hair with a soothing voice, saying everything will be okay, where are they now?

"Diluc."

"Stop," he didn't want to hear your voice.

"Diluc, I'm here."

"Stop..."

"Diluc..."

He jolts his eyes open and lets out a yell, what was he saying? He doesn't know. All he needed now was to drown out the fake voices mocking in his head. Diluc grabs the nearest object and shatters it against the floor, the dam was broken and it flooded uncontrollably, breaking everything in it's way. The abandoned house was filled with loud cries of a man sobbing with agony like a broken-hearted child. He crumbles to his knees and falls to his side, lifting his forearms while clutching his face.

And screamed.

Archons, what did he do to deserve this? Why do the people he cherish get taken away from him? Diluc never wanted to be the Darknight hero if it meant having his father perish in his arms. He didn't want the feeling of stabs against his chest with every breath he took. He didn't want to feel cold while knowing it was because you weren't here to hold him. He didn't want your voice, your pictures or your memory.

He wanted you.

"(Y/n)..." he chokes. Rolling to his back, Diluc moves his arms to cover his eyes, letting the tears run down to his ears, "(Y/n)..."

For who knows how long, he lays there in the abandoned building and mourns. Diluc doesn't have the strength to move from his position, he found himself staring mindlessly through the cracks of the roof when his voice had gone hoarse. The corners of his eyes still burned and his head was throbbing with so much pain. Maybe he should just stay here but the thought of being in the same room as your murderer was unfathomable.

Picking up his claymore once again, Diluc drags himself out of the door. Where would he go? It's not like he had a home to return to because home was when he was with you. A doll without a soul, the marionette moves as if the strings have commanded him to do so. Where ever it takes him, he didn't care. He just knew he had to go.

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butwhatifidothis · 2 years ago

Note

Have you ever considered, once you finish sporking that fic, washing the taste out of your mouth by taking a look at fics in the fandom you like/think deserve more attention?

Even one of my favourite sites, Cake Wrecks, does a feature on Sundays were it's cakes they think are really nicely-decorated so it's not all downers.

😭 i think i need to clear up something lmao

I already read fics that I enjoy - reread old ones, look out for new ones, write a good few myself (here's two of them lol). I read my trashy little otome isekai villainess manhuas that I love to death. I play the shit out of Hades. I play DnD with irl buds every Wednesday. I'm watching - and rewatching - episodes of the new Bleach anime, and am eagerly awaiting for June to come around to give more. I play Smash Ultimate with my big sis and lil bro. I replay VW every now and then. I play BBS and hope to finally pull the last couple Valentine's/Academy Momo's I need to have fully completed all the Momo's in the game (so far).

I already do plenty of things that I thoroughly enjoy doing - I talk about the fic a lot here, but y'all don't have to worry; I do, in fact, do things I enjoy doing lmao.

But! I do want to give some attention to fics I really enjoy! I've already talked about most of them before, but it never hurts to do it again lol. Most of them are dmcl so if that's not up your alley, well, rip, but if it is then yeah!

Princes of Silver and Gold is sooo good - and very meaty! It deals with Dimitri and Claude getting bopped back to the prologue after the events of Saving Derdriu, after a mysterious spell seems to ambush them during a moment of peace. It's has a lot per chapter to take in - 4 chapters, +129,000 words, a very dense read - but imo it never feels like too much. I've reread this a good few times actually! There's a lot of 3H's lore that's played around with and given more oomph to it that really makes the fic feel alive, which is always nice.

Be Not Proud: an absolute downer for sure, can't ever get through it without snivellin' and snottin', but it's a really touching look into Nader and Claude's relationship. It revolves around Claude's last moments on a CF run where he isn't spared - very sad oneshot, but very memorable imo.

Everyone Leaves Eventually: an interesting oneshot about the Black Eagles leaving Edelgard's side one by one as she gets more and more aggressive with her war, from Hubert's POV. Granted, Hubert is more than a smidge OOC for it to work - he's given a good bit more morality than he's shown to ever have canonically - but as a concept it's interesting, and it's a neat read all around. If you're willing to accept that this Hubert is less like canon!Hubert than he ought to be, I'd definitely recommend it!

Survivor's Burden: another one that's kind of a downer, but with a much happier ending than Be Not Proud. Revolving around the idea of Claude and Dimitri surviving SS Gronder, with Claude doing his best to keep him and Dimitri alive in the woods. It's a bit long for a oneshot - a bit over 30,000 words for one sitting - but! It's definitely worth it imo. Plus! It was part of the dmcl Big Bang that happened a couple years ago, so this one also has great art to go along with it at certain points!

to this vow, i hold fast: yet again this is being recommended by me lmao because it is beyond amazing. It's a slow-burn dmcl political-marriage AU of post-war Fodlan, and it's just a joy to read through. The one thing I'll say about this one, as much as I love it to bits, is that, hm... you can tell the author also ships Dimi///leth. Understandable what I mean by that once you read it, and it can be quite a bit annoying to see it imo, but also imo it doesn't take enough away from the quality for me to ever do anything but recommend it lol. This multi-chapter fic is actually almost complete, from what I understand! So there's that too.

seeking humanity: a dmcl AU where Claude is a traveler and Dimitri is (seemingly, anyway) the god of death, and they make a pact: Claude either gets Dimitri to like humans in half a year's time, or he gives up his soul to Dimitri. I am a huge fan of how the characters are, well, characterized in this fic; everyone is just a joy to read through! Even characters I don't care that much for (especially with how they tend to be written in fics), like Leonie and Lorenz, are just great. And the mysteries this fic has in it are also really fun to think about, with all the crumbs the story lays down to try and follow.

please give them a shot!! If they're up your alley anyway lol

#ask #anon #like y'all do NOT have to worry lmao I have plenty to keep me happy and entertained

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twodimecastle · 3 years ago

Text

fifty bucks & six months.

spencer reid x gender neutral reader new relationship, secret keeping nonsense, 4.5k words, ao3 a/n; turns out i love writing texting fic but tumblr destroys the formatting rip

zero months.

You smile conspiratorially, extending a pinkie towards Spencer and he gives you a skeptical look.

“You know the odds of being found out immediately are-” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Astronomical, I know. I know. But don’t you think it’ll be fun to see how long we can push it?” you wheedle, not caring that your voice sounds more like begging than is strictly dignified because seeing the way Spencer’s nose crinkles in amusement at your heavy handed persuasion is too adorable to pass up. You scoot closer on the couch, tapping the end of his nose with your pinkie finger, letting him catch your hand between his as you continue “I think we’ve got a good shot at hiding it for a little while. It would be like a game.”

Spencer draws your captive hand to his lips, brushing them across your knuckles and watching fondly as you forge ahead in your campaign to persuade him, enjoying the show and the attention too much to tell you he’s already on board. Your eyes are shining with the prospect of the caper, and you’ve made no move to take your hand back from him, and Spencer’s pretty sure he’d be more than happy to sit with you in this moment forever. “I mean-” you go on, gesturing animatedly with your free hand, “you’re like-a really good liar when you want to be. And everyone else always forgets how good you are at it.”

He snorts at that and the sound makes you light up, eyes tracking the arch of his brows, the warmth in his soft brown eyes, memorising the way he looks like this; utterly unbothered, completely at ease. It might be your favourite version of him, but that race has always been a tight one with no clear winner in sight. You have lots of favourite versions of Spencer. Twisting your hand in his, you tangle your fingers together, savouring the way you feel his thumb glide delicately along your skin and the unhidden joy in his face at the simple show of affection.

Time to play your trump card.

“$50 says we can hide it from the whole group for at least six months. If everyone figures it out before then, you win. But if not everyone has worked it out by then, I win.”

The mischievous shine in your eyes is irresistible, and Spencer smiles, disentangling one of his hands from yours to extend his own pinky finger.

“You’re on.”

The words barely make it out of his mouth before you’re colliding with him, pressing your lips to his.

two months.

“So, how long has this whole thing been going on?” Derek’s question catches Spencer off guard, and, based on the way he can see you freeze in his peripheral vision, takes you by surprise as well. Sliding into the driver's seat of the SUV, Derek continues “I hope you didn’t think you were gonna be able to keep me in the dark for long, pretty boy. You should know better than that.”

Following mechanically after him, Spencer takes the passenger seat, trying to frame his next statement as carefully as possible as he hears your door close and the car start. “We were-going to tell you guys-” he begins uncomfortably, glancing back to you for support, but you look just as on edge as he feels. “We were just gonna-keep it to ourselves for a while-before telling Hotch and everything-” he tries again, the mounting tension levering his shoulders higher and higher with every passing moment, but then Derek just laughs, shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m happy for you, kid. For both of you.” He spares a look at you in the back seat through the rear view mirror, and you can feel the tension in your jaw relax, the furrows in your brow straightening out at the note of approval in Derek’s voice. “I’m glad you two finally figured it out,” he says, fondly, and you laugh.

“I bet Spence we could keep it from you guys at least six months,” you explain, reaching forwards through the centre console to link your pinky with Spencer’s, and the touch of your hand releases the last of the tension he had been harbouring as he covers your hand with the other one of his own. He knows Derek clocks the motion, filing it away in his mind somewhere, but he doesn’t care about the scrutiny so much right now. Not when your hand is so warm and comfortable in his.

Derek reaches for the dial on the radio and flicks through the channel, thinking about something, and as you watch, a slow mischievous smirk spreads across his face a moment later before he glances first at Spencer and then at you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he says to you, and Spencer can feel a familiar grin tugging at his own lips as he watches a plan take shape in his friend’s eyes. “I’m happy to sit on this information for a while for a cut of the winnings from whichever one of you comes out on top.” He snorts good naturedly as he continues “I have my own bet to win with Prentiss, so if you two help me win that one, I’ll cut you in too.”

“A quid pro quo of sorts,” Spencer says slowly, and he feels your fingers tighten around his, as you snort softly, and he knows instinctually you’re grinning the same way you always do when you’re winning a game. “I think we can do that.”

Derek grins, turning the music up as he nods, eyes on the road. “Then you two love birds have got yourselves a deal.”

two months and two weeks.

PG: youre not as slick as you think you are ;)

YN: ???

PG: ;))))))))) you should invest in some concealer for your work bag sweetness or tell the good doctor to pay more attention to whats visible in your work clothes

YN: oh my fucking god wait how do you even know thats how that happened

PG: im all knowing and all seeing im like the omnipotent goddess of the fbi

YN: derek blabbed

PG: he sang like a canary but also im an omnipotent goddess im also totally clued in on the whole bet situation with em so for the low low price of every single juicy detail about how this adorableness went down you can buy my silence :)

YN: im getting derek decaf coffee on all coffee runs from now on >:( traitors dont get caffeine

PG: darling sweet angel i need deets all of them like immediately

YN: >:( fine ok so. after that case down in georgia a few months ago? the weird one? with the creepy mother son thing?

PG: omg yuck pls dont remind me im here for the CUTENESS not the MURDER

YN: sorryyyyyyy anyway so spence was like being super weird about it all on the plane and whatever but he was doing that super annoying thing where he ignores it and says hes fine so everyone leaves him alone

PG: YEAH why does everyone here do that ALL THE TIME its SO annoyingggg

YN: ikr its insufferable and like super not subtle ANYWAY. spence was being weird and whatever and i just. refused to let him sulk on his own or whatever like i could tell there was something bothering him and so after work i insisted that we were gonna get like shitty diner food or whatever and watch a movie and he knows better than to say no to me

PG: smart boy

YN: so we got fries and milkshakes and then went back to his place to watch a movie and he was still like weird and silent and like brooding yknow? but whatever just figured hed talk about it when he was ready so i put on a movie and offered to make popcorn and then he was just staring at me and he looked so SAD and TIRED and i thought id done something wrong like the poor guy looked like he was gonna cry and i was panicking over fucking popcorn and then he says ‘why are you always so nice to me?’

PG: oh my god hes like if a sad victorian orphan was actually a triplicate phd holder

YN: i was SO thrown off i was like spencer. spencer were best friends. ive been forcing you to hang out with me for years now why do you THINK im being nice to you its bc i care about you asshole and then. like after another million years after letting me sweat it out over whether hes about to cry for like fucking years the asshole grabs my hand and says. i shit you not. ‘you know im in love with you, right?’ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PG: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YN: anyway hes my boyfriend now :’) dont tell anyone tho gotta win the bet

four months.

Lingering by the elevator, you glance around at the uncharacteristically silent office building, waiting for Spencer to leave the bullpen. The sound of his footfalls drawing nearer makes you smile and you mentally applaud yourself for suggesting the two of you remained behind after disembarking from the plane, taking advantage of the manufactured privacy to take the same car home, back to his apartment.

When he sees you waiting for him, he can’t help the soft fond smile that tugs at his face, as he reaches for your hand, sliding his fingers into yours with a gentle squeeze, the quiet of the building allowing him to indulge in the show of affection. You return the squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder with a yawn and as he presses a fond kiss to your temple he’s rewarded by a sleepy hum of approval from you that sends a rush of quiet joy shooting through him.

“At least we won’t be sleeping in hotel beds again tonight,” you say, voice weary, and Spencer nods as he shuffles you into the elevator. The doors slide shut and the elevator starts to move and in the moment of absolute privacy, you steal a kiss, tilting your chin up to catch his lips with yours, revelling in the soft huff of surprise he lets out, even as he smiles against your mouth. Even after months, the simple act of kissing Spencer still feels new and thrilling somehow, like you can’t quite believe it’s something you’re allowed to do.

His nose brushes yours and he breathes “unless something big comes up, we get a sleep in tomorrow too,” and the way you beam at him sends his heart racing in his chest, unable to look away from the fondness shining in your eyes.

As the two of you exit the elevator and make your way through the Bureau car park, you tuck yourself against his side, wedging yourself under his arm with a happy sigh, eager to get yourself horizontal and asleep as fast as possible. Spencer brushes his lips against your temple again as the two of you close in on his car, almost free and clear of the office when a voice behind the two of you brings you up short.

“Reid?”

Spencer is reacting before his mind catches up, turning on his heel towards the sound of Hotch’s voice echoing through the parking lot, conscious of the incriminating way you’re still tucked against his side, even as his brain is rifling frantically through any possible excuses for the current circumstances.

“Hotch-” you step away from Spencer, cheeks flaming, not wanting to chance a look at him. “I-we-thought everyone else had gone home,” you trail off lamely, trying your hardest not to balk under Hotch’s ominously impassive scrutiny. A second passes, then another, and the short silence feels like months, or years even as the three of you stand locked in a stalemate.

“I take it the two of you would prefer to keep this under wraps?” He asks, finally, and it registers with Spencer, somewhat belatedly, that Hotch’s tone isn’t admonishing. It isn’t enough to dissipate the tension coiling in Spencer’s muscles just yet, but he spares a glance at you as he nods, and a moment later, Hotch gives the two of you a curt nod of his own. “I’ll tell you what,” he says, a shade of irony colouring his voice. “If you two fill out the paperwork for in-team relationships for me, I’ll keep it to myself. I understand privacy is hard to come by in our office.”

The words take a while to fully sink in, and you’re conscious that you’re standing there blinking and gaping at your boss like a bemused fish for a good few seconds before you’ve composed yourself enough to say “absolutely, sir. Of course. Thank you.”

Hotch nods again, heading towards his own car, and as he passes the two of you, a brief smile flashes across his face.

“Congratulations, you two. Get some sleep.”

four months and three weeks.

Spencer isn’t sure how late it is, but he knows you’re not asleep yet, the faint glow of your phone screen casting faint distorted shadows across his room as your free hand rests lightly on his chest. In the dark blue twilight of his room, the space feels undefined and dream like somehow, the line between his mind and his surroundings blurry or indistinct somehow, and as you huff out a near silent laugh at something on the screen in your hand, a thought rises to the surface of his thoughts like flotsam on an unwanted tide.

The more clinical part of his mind notes the autonomic response in his body, the way his heart lurches unpleasantly in his chest, heart rate rising with an influx of cortisol through his nervous system, automatically rifling through ways to control the anxiety response. Age old instinct surges forwards, starting to push his spiralling anxiety down out of sight so as not to bother you with it, but then your hand shifts infinitesimally on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his pyjama shirt, and for once his body is miles ahead of his brilliant mind, your name is leaving his lips before he’s really aware of it happening.

Your gaze flashes up from your phone at the sound of his voice, soft and hesitant, and you let the screen go dark as you set it down. You can feel Spencer’s heart hammering against his ribs under your palm, and your brows knit together in concern as you shift closer to his side, tracing gentle circles over his shirt with your fingertips, the repetitive motion intended to soothe, though you’re not sure if it’s for his benefit or yours.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask softly, working hard to keep the rising worry from your voice. After three years of friendship and almost six months of dating, you know him well enough to sense when his propensity for overthinking and catastrophizing is slipping out of his control. You can feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, whatever he’s about to say cut off by second guessing, doing nothing to pacify your concern. “Spence? Is everything okay?” You ask again.

“This-bet-hiding our relationship-it’s-” he trails off, throat tight as he rolls onto his side, facing away from you, and smushing his face into the pillow, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. You’re the kindest person he’s ever met, but offering up this kind of raw insecurity feels like pulling teeth. Even if it’s you. Especially if it’s you. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out if you care about him enough to stay when his racing mind gets the better of him. The pillow muffles his voice as he says “never mind.”

You feel your own heart rate tic up in response to that, matching the wild beat of Spencer’s that you could feel under your palm only a second ago. “Baby, talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

He shakes his head, face still hidden in the pillow. “It’s stupid.”

He can feel the rush of your breath on his back as you sigh, and your voice is almost achingly patient as you say softly “it’s not stupid if it matters to you.” There’s a long pause, and you press yourself against his back, settling close and letting your hand slide over his side to rest on his chest, the heat of his skin sinking into yours even through his thin shirt. In spite of his height, he feels so small as you wrap yourself around him, drawing closer, trying to reassure him without yet knowing what he needs to be reassured of. “Spence?”

“Are you ashamed of-being with me? Is that why you want to hide it?” The words are almost whispered, the sound almost lost against his pillow and your heart sinks, plummeting faster and further than if you’d dropped it off the side of a skyscraper. You should’ve known he might worry about that, should have realised it might have felt that way. Remorse rises hot and bitter in your throat and you swallow it down, trying to steady your voice.

“Spencer. Sweetheart. No. Never. I could never be ashamed. I love you. I’m so sorry.” Your arms wrap more tightly around him and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, the tension you can feel in every inch of his body making you feel more cruel and short-sighted than you already do. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it might feel like that. I could never be ashamed of being with you, Spence. You’re my favourite person.” He takes the kind of shaky, shallow breath that comes with trying not to cry and your heart breaks a little more as one of his hands slowly moves to cover yours where it rests against his chest, just over his heart.

As his hand rests over yours, his thumb strokes lightly along your knuckles, and he knows you know him well enough to notice the way his hand trembles, just a little, because then your hand is shifting against his, turning to clumsily tangle your fingers with his, holding tighter to him as he tries to collect himself, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath as his eyes squeeze shut. He can hear the contrition in your voice as you say softly “I’ve never really liked having people know everything about what’s going on in my life. And I love our friends but-something like this, that’s so-special? So new? I wanted to be able to keep it to just us for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice comes out a little shaky, scarcely more than a whisper, and it’s more than you can take as you pull back and gently force him to roll over to face you. He’s not crying, but his eyes are glassy and you recognise the fight to keep the tears unshed in the tight set of his jaw and the hard line of his lips. Leaning on your elbow, you lift your free hand to gently smooth out the furrows of his brow, letting your fingers linger along the planes of his face.

“Why are you sorry,” you ask gently. “You don’t need to be sorry, baby. Not for talking to me about things that bother you. We can tell everyone else tomorrow, if you want? We can call off the bet. Derek will live. If he’s got a problem with it I’ll turn all his shirts into crop tops.”

He can tell the joke is a last bid attempt to make him smile, to ease his fear, and it works. In spite of the anxious weight in his chest that feels like it’s pressing him into the mattress, Spencer laughs weakly, meeting your eyes, and he watches as a relieved smile breaks across your face, releasing your lower lip from where you’d trapped it worriedly between your teeth. The unmitigated affection that floods into your eyes renders him momentarily breathless as he takes in the moment. You’re still here, still trying to take care of him. Just as kind and steadfast as ever.

“No,” he says eventually, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down on top of him like a living weighted blanket, letting your warmth chase the bulk of the tension from his body and luxuriating in the way you curl into him, one hand sliding into his hair. “We shouldn’t call off the bet. We still have to take Emily’s money, remember?”

Your sleepy laugh is the last thing he hears before his eyes close and the feel of your body wound around his lulls him to sleep.

five months.

SR: Can I talk to you about something?

DM: you dying or something? that’s a really fuckin ominous text to recieve out of the blue

SR: I’m not dying, why would that be what you assumed? I just have a question.

DM: just a figure of speech but what’s up?

SR: It’s about your bet with Emily. What’re the terms for it?

DM: wym?

SR: What exactly did you two make the bet about? What needs to happen in order for you to win the bet?

DM: does this count as collusion?

SR: Technically yes, but calling it collusion implies a certain degree of illegality.

DM: whatever anyway the terms i made with em were that you’d make some kind of move before your birthday but she reckoned you were gonna need some kind of near death experience to do anything about your crush why?

SR: I’m just making sure I have all the information.

DM: what’s going on pretty boy? you planning something?

SR: Maybe.

DM: not a helpful answer reid is everything good?

SR: Everything’s fine. We’re just figuring some stuff out. Nothing to worry about.

DM: is there something you’re not telling me?

SR: Don’t worry about it.

five months, three weeks and six days.

In the chaos that was the scramble from the briefing room to the jet, you haven’t yet had the chance to speak to Spencer about the outcome of his most recent thesis defence panel. By the time you’ve got a moment to breathe, the jet is underway, coasting across the country towards Montana, the whole team settled in for the six hour flight. You corner him in the tiny kitchen area of the jet as he’s making a mug of mediocre coffee, fingers tapping out an absent minded rhythm on the countertop as the coffee machine whirs, clearly not paying attention to anything outside of his head.

“Hey, boy genius.” He jumps, whirling around, eyes wide with surprise, and you smile fondly. “So?” You demand, and Spencer raises an eyebrow in confusion. You snort, rolling your eyes as you elaborate. “Your defence panel. Did it go okay?”

You’re shifting your weight and fidgeting restlessly with the belt loops on your pants and as he studies you for a moment, it occurs to Spencer that you’re nervous for him over this outcome. The thought brings an almost giddy smile to his face.

“You know this isn’t my first thesis defence panel, right?” He says mildly, deliberately burying the lede, enjoying the way you scowl in irritation too much to answer your question right away, too enamoured with this display of concern on his behalf.

“Don’t be difficult, Doctor Reid. It’s still a big deal.” He just shrugs noncommittally, and you huff, swatting his arm lightly. “So did it go well?” You ask again, eyes narrowing as you try to dissect his microexpressions, trying to discern the answer he seems determined to keep from you for yourself. A few seconds later, he relents.

“I can now add degree number six to my wall.” He confirms. Getting degrees doesn’t hold the same rush of pride for him now, the accomplishment feeling somewhat less exceptional as he acquires more of them, but the way your face lights up with pride for him reminds him how special the things he’s capable of can be. You’ve always made him feel like more than the sum of his parts somehow, like something infinitely more precious than he always assumed he is.

“I fucking knew it. That’s amazing, Spence,” you say, chest warm and full with pride and love, and his almost shy smile in return is enough to make a decision for you in a split second. Your hand dips into your back pocket, drawing something out, and you carefully hide it from view in your palm as Spencer tracks the motion curiously with his eyes.

Your eyes are shining with affection and something that looks like mischief and the way you’re smiling at him is more than enough to divert his attention as you step closer, just barely noticing as you slip something into his hand. You’re dangerously, distractingly close now, and he’s conscious, if somewhat distantly, that neither of you is concealed from the rest of the team, scant meters away in the seating area of the jet. But you’re smiling and close enough for him to feel your breath on his face and suddenly your lips are on his, and even after nearly seven months of being able to touch you like this, it’s enough to make him forget everything else as he melts into the contact, savouring the warmth of your skin and the faint smell of your shampoo.

You pull back a second later, the kiss over almost as soon as it started, but it’s enough to attract attention, and you can hear a belated ‘oh SHIT’ from Emily in the main cabin of the jet. In your peripheral vision, you can see money changing hands, your friends scrambling to react, but you don’t look at them, choosing to enjoy the bemused, affectionate look on Spencer’s face as his brain catches up to the events unfolding around the two of you.

“I was tired of keeping it a secret,” you say fondly, loud enough only for him to hear. “You win.”

Blinking in confusion, he finally tears his gaze away from yours, fingers uncurling to reveal the fifty dollar bill you had pressed into his palm right before you kissed him. The penny drops and he snorts with laughter, shaking his head in half hearted indignation as his other arm loops around you, pulling you in, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face from the rest of the team as he kisses your temple, revelling in the way you wind yourself around him in response.

“I was gonna do this in like two days. I wanted you to win,” he murmurs against your hairline, and he can feel your faint laughter.

“Too bad, baby. I’m used to getting my way,” you say, pulling back to steal another quick kiss before peeling yourself out of his arms with a wink, turning to face the onslaught of ‘care to fucking explain that’ and ‘I fucking told you so’ from the rest of your friends, tugging him with you by your joined hands.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #dr spencer reid #my writing #spencer reid fluff

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

Text

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Wednesday

Monday Tuesday Thursday (Part 1) Thursday (Part 2) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, getting outed, f slur and d slur, homophobia, puking, toxic friends

Word count: 5,160

(A/N): woah, thank you all so much for all the positive feedback, that really makes my day!

The room was quiet with the exception of the clacking of the keyboard and the soft chirping of crickets outside your open window. The stars twinkled in the sky as the night droned on and on. There was a loud rustling outside your window, but your sleep deprived mind didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t important at the moment, the only important thing right now was finishing your work.

Throughout the night, you worked endlessly on your friend’s work. The essays were relatively easy because Adrian and Annie had luckily chosen topics that you’re somewhat interested in, so at least finding the sources was enjoyable. You had gotten your essay completely written and proofread, Annie’s outline finished, and Adrian’s sources analyzed. You would start on Sammy’s presentation after you finished Adrian’s outline. Hours upon hours passed by you as you worked, yet you didn’t notice the time once. You worked uninterrupted with no breaks. Well, one break to talk to your dad about how you weren’t hungry, but you got back to work right after he left your room. You couldn’t waste any more time than you already have.

Your eyes felt heavy as you typed on your keyboard, working on putting Adrian’s sources together cohesively so that the writing would flow seamlessly. You paused your typing to rub at your tired eyes so you could keep working, you couldn’t afford to fall asleep. You had to get these done as soon as possible if you wanted their forgiveness.

The blaring of your alarm startled you out of your focus, making you fall backwards out of your chair with a yelp. Landing painfully on your back, you laid on the floor trying to calm your racing heartbeat. You looked out your window. Hints of pinks and yellows were starting to make a gradient with the lightening dawn sky. Shit, you were so focused on getting your work done that you didn’t take account of the time. You just knew today was gonna be long. At least after school volleyball practice was shortened because of finals tomorrow.

You groaned as you pulled your tired form off from the ground. You made your way downstairs and plopped yourself down at your usual place at the table, burying your face into the crook of your arm. You felt yourself drift off into a blissful sleep, the wood of the table suddenly seemed very comfortable at the moment. Not long after, you were jolted out of your peaceful sleep by a loud crash. Jumping up and looking around with wide eyes, you saw Tubbo looking at you apologetically. There was broken glass in front of his feet on the floor.

“Sorry, (y/n).”

You just stared at him blankly as you slowly blinked. Philza didn’t spare you a glance as he whisked the short boy away from the glass. “(Y/n), can you please go get the broom and sweep this up?”

You nodded, hauling yourself to your feet and walked over to the storage closet, pulling out the broom and dust pan. You mindlessly sweeped up the glass, your limbs feeling heavy. After throwing the glass away, you rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out a mug. The bitter smell beckoned you welcomingly, working its way through your nostrils and digging itself deep into your brain. Just as you were about to pour yourself a cup, a hand snatched the coffee pot away from you.

“You shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“You let Techno and Wil drink it, so why can’t I?”

“(Y/n), you’re a full year younger than them and you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday.”

You felt your eye twitch, “I’m only a year younger than them! There’s literally no-”

“(Y/n),” his warning tone cut you off, putting the pot back into the coffee maker, “you aren’t going to drink this. That’s final. Get a glass of water.”

You huffed and pushed past him to the sink to fill your coffee mug with water. You’ve been drinking coffee for a while behind his back, so you were used to its effects on your body. You supposed that you’d just beg Wilbur to take you to the cafe so you could get your sustenance. He always relented for you.

You heard him chuckle, “you’ll thank me when you’re older.”

“Mhm.”

You plopped down next to Tubbo nursing your mug of water, trying to make small talk with him. One by one, your brothers made their way to the table. Tommy was talking and gesturing wildly to Tubbo like he normally did, Wilbur looked as dead inside as you felt, and Techno made it a point to ignore you. When someone pissed him off, he can hold a grudge better than he could hold onto his knowledge of Greek mythology, and that’s saying something. Man is obsessed with Greek mythology.

Breakfast went by in a daze with you struggling to keep your eyes open. At one point, you almost fell asleep sitting up, only to be woken up by Tubbo shaking your shoulder to get your attention. When breakfast was almost done, you had only eaten about half your breakfast.

Drifting off again, you were startled awake by the screeching of the chairs against the wooden floor and loud shouts coming from your brothers. You didn’t have the energy to race them to the bathroom like you usually did, you’d just freshen up after they were done. You tried to stand up to go to your room to get dressed, but you were stopped by a hand on your shoulder forcing you to sit back down. Looking up, you were met with the concerned, yet stern eyes of your father.

“You’re not leaving this table until you’ve eaten at least a few more bites and tell me why you’re so tired.”

“I just stayed up later than I normally do finishing up some homework, it won’t happen again.”

“It better not or else I will make you stay home next time. When’d you go to bed last night?”

You avoided his eyes, “around one thirty or two.” You couldn’t tell him that you didn’t actually go to sleep last night, he’d flip.

“You know, you’re a terrible liar.” Shit.

Looking him in the eye, you spoke more confidently. “Three in the morning.”

“(Y/n)-”

You felt a sudden rage start to twist inside you as he started to lecture you about taking better care of yourself. He was treating you like a child and you were not having it.

“-young kids like you need to- are you even listening?”

You set your jaw and willed yourself not to explode at him. “Dad, I’m not a child. I know how to take care of myself.”

You saw him narrow his eyes and purse his lips in frustration, “well, obviously you don’t if you’re not eating or sleeping well,” his eyes softened. “I’m starting to worry about you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t because I’m fine,” you snapped at him. “I’m going to get ready.”

You stalked out of the room and stomped upstairs. Passing a shocked Tommy and Tubbo, you made your way into the bathroom to get ready. The person that stared back at you in the mirror looked pale and had dark eye bags accentuating her tired eyes. She had red pimples dotting her face more than she usually did. She was ugly, revolting. The girl you remembered her being was confident in her appearance and walked with an air of importance. Now, she was a decrepit thing that was run down and scared of her own shadow. You couldn’t recognize the girl that stared back at you anymore. You should’ve been able to; after all, she was you and you were her.

You rushed through your morning routine in the bathroom avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bathroom door only to be met with Wilbur’s chest, his hand poised in the air in a closed fist ready to knock on the door. He stepped back.

“We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry up.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “Wil, we still have twenty minutes before school starts. We don’t have to leave for another ten minutes.”

He gave you a smirk, “well, you want coffee, don’t you? You look dead.”

“Oh thank god. I feel dead, I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“When’d you go to bed?”

“I didn’t.”

“Christ, (y/n) I knew you were a dumbass, but not that much of a dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes, walking around him and into your room. You felt a stab of hurt in your heart. “Fuck you.”

Before you could close the door, he shouted out a cheeky “love ya too (y/n)!”

You took off all your clothes slowly and stood in front of your open closet deciding on what you should wear today. You figured that since you felt like absolute shit, you should probably put a little bit more effort into your appearance. Picking out your favorite flannel shirt and favorite pair of pants. Smiling at yourself in the mirror in your room, you felt slightly more confident in your appearance. You felt like you could walk around the hallways at school without as many peering eyes trying to figure out your every secret. But maybe that was just the sleep deprivation talking. You tend to be more impulsive and emotional when you’re sleep deprived.

You slung the backpack onto your back with less difficulty than in the previous days. Your back was healing faster than you thought it would. Now, it barely hurt and the swelling completely went away.

You went downstairs and slunk past the kitchen where Philza was talking to Tommy and Tubbo. You didn’t want them to notice you, you felt somewhat guilty for snapping at your dad. You slipped through the front door and hopped into the passenger seat next to Wilbur. You three usually rotated seats counterclockwise and took turns driving each day. Now, you were just waiting for Techno.

“Well, you look less homeless today.”

“Thanks Wilbur, I just felt like looking a little nicer than usual.”

“Who’re ya dressing up for? Is it Adrian?” He asked with slight disgust. He hated Adrian almost as much as he hated Annie and Sammy. He thought he was nothing more than a fuckboy looking to get into your pants. Little did he know you were secretly a raging lesbian so deep in the closet that you’re froliking with Aslan through the flowerfields of Narnia.

“Wilbur, I’m gay why would I-” you froze, cursing your sleep deprived self for lacking a filter. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt anxiety start to seep into your veins and pump around your body, filling every single nook and cranny with dread. You could feel tears welling in your eyes as you stared at your shaking hands horrified at yourself. How could you just… just out yourself like that? How could you be so careless? So stupid?

You barely felt it when Wilbur reached over to press a gentle hand on your arm. “(Y/n), are yo-”

“I-tha-that was a joke, I’m not gay, I’m straight.” Your words came out in frantic jumbles, desperately trying to fix your slip up. Oh god, you really fucked up this time.

“(Y/n), brea-”

“I swear I’m not gay, I like men, I do. I-”

“(Y/n), breathe with me.” Wilbur’s firm, yet gentle voice demanded. He placed your hand on his chest and took in a deep breath, held it, and released it slowly. You tried your best to follow him, but after about ten minutes, you were slowly but surely calming down. It was a lot faster calming down from a panic attack when you had someone helping you breathe. You’ve never gotten help with a panic attack before, it was nice. Becoming more aware of your surroundings, you took notice of the soft fabric of Wilbur’s sweater, the gentle thumping of his heart, and his worried expression. You also became aware of the extra hand rubbing small circles into your shoulder from behind your seat. It was Techno.

Taking in a shaky breath, you took your hand out of Wilbur’s grip and clasped your hands tightly in front of you, shrugging Techno’s hand off from your shoulder.

“...Can we please leave? I don’t want Dad or Tubbo and Tommy seeing me like this.”

Wordlessly, Wilbur started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. At the intersection, he turned in the opposite direction of the school. “Wilbur, where are we going? The school’s the other way.”

“We’re going to the cafe for some coffee, my treat.”

“But school starts in five minutes, we’re gonna be late if we go to the cafe.”

“Actually,” Techno’s deep voice chimed in, “school started ten minutes ago. If we’re already late, there’s no harm in skipping first block.”

“Tech, I literally have no idea what’s going on in stats.”

“I’ll give you my notes.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Wilbur pulled into the cafe’s parking lot, “don’t be stupid, (y/n). You can never bother us.”

You didn’t say anything as you left the car and headed into the cafe. You could think of plenty of ways you could bother your older brothers. You bothered everybody just by being in their presence. You just had that effect.

Your brothers followed you into the cafe, glancing at each other worriedly. You three quickly got your orders and sat in the secluded back of the cafe. Soft jazz music drifted throughout the quiet cafe.

“(Y/n), we need to talk about what happened. Was this your first panic attack?” Wilbur asked you gently.

“...No, I’ve had them before.”

“Were they always this intense? You’re still shaking.”

“That one was nowhere near as intense as the ones I usually have.’

“Usually? Do you have them often?” Tecno asked.

“Yeah, usually a couple of them a week since the middle of freshman year. Nothing I can’t manage.”

“So you’ve been doing this on your own for three years? You could’ve gotten us to help you.”

You sighed, looking down at your steaming cup. “...I couldn’t’ve. Don’t get me wrong, I know you guys could help me, but I-I just couldn’t. No one was supposed to find out.”

“Promise us that you’ll come to one of us when you have an attack. We care about you, (y/n).”

“I… I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

The table fell into a comfortable silence as you all sipped at your drinks, the comforting taste of the bitter coffee dancing across your tongue.

“Ya know, we don’t care that you’re gay. A lesbian called me ‘actually pretty funny’ once and I’m still riding the high.”

“Yeah, you’re still you. Nothing changes the fact that you’re our little sister.”

You smiled as you felt warm inside. You knew your brothers loved you, but you didn’t know that they loved you for being you. You didn’t think anybody loved you unconditionally like that, and that made you feel genuinely happy.

“Thank you guys, for everything. I-I can’t put into words how much that means to me, I love you guys so much!”

“We love you too,” Wilbur smiled before he dropped it into a stern frown. “But if any girl hurts you, we’ll have a stern talking to her.”

“Yeah, we can’t beat up girls. We’ll put her in her place alright.” You snorted into your coffee, almost spilling it on yourself. Quickly setting it down before you could baptize yourself with the scalding liquid (though, you did consider coffee to be holy), you wiped at your teary eyes.

“And that’s why I love you guys.”

“We’re serious, she’ll be wishing she got beat up after we’re done scolding her.” Wilbur said seriously before he broke into a grin and started laughing.

The conversation carried on about your sexuality, how you found out, when you found out, if you’ve told anyone yet (they were honored that they were the first people you’ve told, even if you did it accidentally mid-panic attack). Eventually you had to go back to the school before your second block started. You three split ways to your separate classrooms.

Annie and Adrian were locked onto you as soon as you walked through the door. They looked angry at you. What’d you do this time to piss them off?

“Where the fuck were you this morning? We were looking everywhere for you,” Annie seethed.

“Yeah, you wasted so much of our time looking for your sorry ass. You ditch us again?”

Oh, that. “Look, I didn’t mean to skip out on you guys again. It was a rough morning.”

“That’s funny because we also had rough mornings, yet we still hung out with each other. You aren’t special.” Adrian rolled his eyes at you.

“It’s gonna take more to apologize. We don’t let things like the little stunts you pull go off scott free.”

“Oh, Annie I have the best idea,” Adrian squealed, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly.

“What is it Dri?” Annie’s eyes shone.

“Our little (y/n) can set you up with one of her brothers and she can go on a date with me on a double date! It’s foolproof, not even someone as dumb as (y/n) could fuck it up.”

“I don’t think that’s a good id-”

“It’s perfect Dri! Can it be with Wilbur? He’s literally so hot! Oh, the way his fingers can work that guitar…” Ew. The thought of Wilbur and Annie together made you scrunch up your nose with disgust.

“I’m sorry, but Wilbur’s actually dating Sally Fishmin right now. They’re actually really cute together-”

“God, how could someone as hot as Wilbur go for Sally Fishmin? She’s disgusting, always smells like fish,” Annie gagged, then gasped. “Wait (y/n) do you actually think that she’s more deserving to be with him than I am?”

“No, I nev-”

“Really? Cuz you just did. Glad to see you care about me, (y/n).”

“Annie, you’re literally so beautiful. I never said that you don’t deserve him. You deserve the world. I can’t split them up, but I can do more homework for you.” She perked up immediately, “awe, thanks love! That’s what happens when you actually put effort into how you look.”

“Speaking of, did you get that shirt out of the trash? It’s really not a look.” Adrian snickered to himself. There goes what little confidence you had. You actually thought you looked decent today. You felt grateful for your friends, they always told you the truth about how you looked when everybody else lied to you.

Before you could respond, the bell rang and everybody took their seats. Luckily, Mr. Todd assigned today as a work day for your final research essays. You had finished Annie’s and got Adrian’s thesis done before the bell rang. While you were working on their essays, they were mindlessly scrolling on their phones and texting someone.

You, Adrian, and Annie met up with Sammy and went into the lunch room. You tried to line up in the lunch line with them, but they laughed and told you that you’re fat enough and you needed to lose weight. What did you do to deserve such considerate friends? You really owed them one for always looking out for and putting up with you.

While you were waiting for them, you pulled out your phone. To your surprise, Haley texted you a screenshot of her conversation with Unknown. You felt a chill run down your spine. All four pictures were of you. You rubbing your eyes as the light of your computer provided the only light in the room. Your bare back facing the camera as you stood in front of your closet this morning. You sleeping a day ago (you felt sick as you realized that whoever took the picture was standing directly over your bed). Lastly, you and Haley holding each other’s hand under the moonlight last night. Attached to the pictures, Unknown had typed “you have one more day or else sleeping ugly gets it. Do not tempt us.”

Hales : )

(Y/n), how the hell did they get these pictures of you

Did you seriously leave your window open???

Why wouldn’t you close your curtains

Oh god, do you think they saw us in your driveway????

(Y/n)

Haley calm down

Hales : )

I know you’re not telling me to calm down right now

You have a stalker

One that can GET INSIDE YOUR ROOM

(Y/n)

We’ll get to the bottom of this

Like I said, I don’t care if my pictures get leaked

I care about your pictures

Until we figure out who’s doing this, we need to lay low

Hales : )

Hanging out last night was a mistake

I shouldn’t have gave you a ride

I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you

I’m straight

And you are too

You said it yourself

We can’t talk anymore (y/n)

(Y/n)

I’m not straight Hales

I’m gay

And I like you

Like you like you

Hales : )

I’m sorry (y/n)

But I’m straight

We can’t talk anymore

Goodbye.

With each text she sent you, you felt your heart drop deeper and deeper into your stomach until you felt your heart shatter in your chest, the pieces lodging themselves deep within you and ripping you open from inside out. How could you be so stupid to think that soemone as perfect as Haley Andrews, arguably the prettiest girl in the senior year, go out with (y/n) Minecraft, a known trainwreck. Annie’s shrill gasp sounded right next to your ear, making you gasp and drop your phone onto the table with a loud bang.

“OH MY GOD (Y/N) YOU’RE A FAGGOT? WERE YOU HITTING ON ME EARLIER? YOU FUCKING PERVERT.”

The entire cafeteria fell into silence as they listened to Annie’s shrieking. Whispers started to meld together.

“(Y/n)’s gay?”

“How gross”

“Damn, I was gonna hit it”

“We have a dyke going to this school?”

You felt like you were suffocating as the whispers and Annie’s yelling jumbled together in a disorienting cacophony. Adrian and Sammy both glared at you from behind Annie with a hatred that you didn’t know they had for you. You tried stuttering an apology, but you were quickly shut up by Annie harshly slapping you across the face.

“I don’t wanna hear it, fag. You’re going to finish our essays and you’re never gonna talk to us again. Do you understand me?” When you didn’t respond, she slapped you again. “I asked you, do you understand me?”

You frantically nodded your head, grabbed your backpack, and sprinted out the door without any real destination in mind. You sprinted before you found the bathroom that nobody used. Ducking into a stall and slamming the door, you felt yourself start to hyperventilate. You couldn’t feel anything except for the tightness of your chest. You couldn’t see anything. You couldn’t hear anything. You faintly tasted bile rising up in your throat as you bent over to empty your stomach. You threw up everything in your stomach until you were left sitting on the dirty floor painfully dry heaving.

You sobbed on that floor for what felt like hours. Everybody knows your secret now. Your dirty, dirty secret. God, you were a pervert weren’t you? You made people around you comfortable by just being you. Faintly, you felt your phone start to buzz in your pocket, your shaky hands scrambling to fish it out. They were all texts from your brothers.

Wilby

(Y/n) I heard what happened

Are you okay????

Please answer me

Where are you

Technology Sword

I’m gonna kill them

I swear to god they’re dead

Blood for the blood god

(Y/n)

Pls dont do anything or hurt anyone

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

Wilby

Tell us where you are

(Y/n)

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

You silenced your phone and put it back into your pocket, once again feeling yourself start to dry heave again. Your sobs and gags echoed throughout the bathroom. This is by far the worst panic attack you’ve had yet, and it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna stop anytime soon. You heard the final bell ring and students start to rush to their lockers to get home, so you tried to muffle your shaking sobs the best you could. You had at least an hour before you had to go to volleyball practice. Until then, you would stay in the bathroom trying to ground yourself.

Luckily, you managed to calm down to the point where you stopped crying and dry heaving. You were only shaking slightly. You felt numb and completely drained from your panic attack, practice today was going to be a struggle. You cautiously walked through the empty hallways jumping at every little noise. When you finally reached the locker room, you made a beeline past Zara and Jazzy to your locker. You pulled out your uniform and changed in one of the bathroom stalls.

Practice went by with the girls on the team giving you sympathetic looks and Haley ignoring you. Not that you noticed, you were ignoring everyone and putting all of your focus on the ball. The entire practice, you felt light headed and drained. Fortunately, practice ended right as you felt like you were going to pass out.

You changed as fast as you could and pulled out your phone.

Dadza

Come outside, I’m here to pick you up

You felt a dread pool in your stomach as you stared at the text. Did he find out? Was he going to kick you out for being gay? Wilbur and Techno wouldn’t let him do that to you, right? Reluctantly, you left the sanctuary of the bathroom stall and rushed out of the locker room and out of the school. Sure enough, your dad’s car was parked in the parking lot. You glanced over to where Haley’s car was parked last night and saw glimpses of you and her chasing each other and laughing into the night sky without a care in the world before you ripped your gaze away to stare at your walking feet.

You reached your dad’s car and sat in the passenger seat. Your dad grinned at you. “Hey hun, how was practice?”

You merely shrugged your shoulders at him. You didn’t have the energy to talk to anyone at the moment. You felt extremely drained.

“What’s wrong, did something happen? You can talk to me.”

“...I’m just sad that the season’s over tomorrow.”

“Don’t be sad kid,” a gruff voice coming from behind you made you jump. “That’s pussy shit.”

You yelped and whipped your head around to look at whoever said that. Your uncle’s cocky grin greeted you. You felt yourself grin back at him.

“Uncle Schlatt!”

“The one and only.”

“How was your business trip? You’re home early.”

He rolled his eyes, “boring as hell. I’m so fucking glad I got out early, I woulda blew my brains out if I had to stay there any longer.”

“Schlatt!” Philza reprimanded him, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“What? I’m just telling the truth. I woulda!” He defended himself.

Your dad gripped the steering wheel. “You didn’t have to say it in front of (y/n).”

Schlatt scoffed, “please, she’s heard me say worse.”

As they bickered, you felt yourself zone out as you looked out the window. Houses and street signs passed by in a blur as the car moved down the road and pulled into your driveway. You got out as quickly as you could and made your way into the house alongside your uncle and dad. As soon as your uncle walked through the door, Tubbo barrelled into him and pulled him into a tight hug. Schlatt laughed loudly and bent over to pick him up into a hug. You smiled at the father and son as Philza gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen. He opened the oven to check on something cooking inside of it and turned to face you, leaning against the counter.

“So what’s really wrong?”

“I already told you, I’m sad the season’s almost over.”

“It’s something more than that,” as you opened your mouth he quickly added, “and you can’t say that it’s because you’re tired. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You sighed and mimicked his actions. “...It’s just been a long day. I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Without warning, he pulled you into a warm hug, your face being shoved into his shoulder and him rubbing circles into your back. “That’s okay, just talk to me when you’re ready. I won’t push you.”

That broke you. Throwing your arms around him, you started to sob into his shoulder. He started to rock you back and forth whispering reassurances into your ear.

“That’s good, let it all out.”

“I love you so much.”

“I’m here for you.”

With each sentence to fall out of his mouth, you felt more at ease and safe. Your dad always did a great job at making people feel safe, that was just his natural talent. After a while, you pulled away from him.

“Do you feel better?”

You smiled tiredly at him, “Yeah, I really needed a hug.”

He turned around to check on dinner, “I bet, you look like you’ve been to hell and back. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just know that I’m always here for you and I love you.”

The rest of the family flooded the kitchen after a while of you two talking. Dinner went by with Schlatt laughing loudly and telling stories about the people he met on his business trip. Every now and then, Wilbur and Techno would glance at you, but you ignored them. You just wanted dinner to end so you could pass out in your bed. Once dinner was over, you helped your dad gather everybody’s plate and put them into the sink. The rest of your little family went to the living room to start a game of Monopoly. The last time you all played that ended in fresh bruises and shed tears.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed, I have to get some rest for finals tomorrow.”

“But (y/n), it’s Monopoly! You love Monopoly,” Tommy exclaimed.

“That’s alright, you look dead on your feet kid. Go get some sleep.”

“Thanks Uncle Schlatt. Goodnight everyone, love ya.”

A flurry of goodnights and love you’s follow you as you leave the room and drug yourself up the stairs. Without a second thought, you closed your curtains and plopped face first onto your bed. You passed out without even making sure you were fully on your bed.

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rein4r1 · 3 years ago

Text

I’m Getting You Out

Warning/s: Familial Abuse, Implied Depression, Sex, Not proofread

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Pairing: [MODERN AU] Eren x F!Reader

AN: I’m still practicing on writing smut I promise. English isn’y my first language so...

Eren promises to get you out of that f*cking hellhole

Statistics are numerical figures resulting from research. And statistics show that one in seven children are exposed to abuse at home.

To become a part of a whole is to be subjected in a fractional value in a case of one of many. Just another victim. Just another unfortunate case.

You have wished for nothing more but to be treated as a person, a human being. Society should have spared people like you from becoming into something inanimate. When at home, you are nothing but an object of captivity, breed to become an investment in a capitalistic dystopia.

You grew up feeling nothing but a bruised porcelain doll. They used you, in many ways you couldn’t even count. From being treated as their personal punching bag, to an insurance that is meant to project the contradicting state inside of your home whenever you face your parents’ friends.

Every moment you make is monitored by invisible cameras. That’s why they say the walls have ears, and the ceiling have eyes. Do you even get to decide for yourself? Everything you do has been regulated to their ideals. “It’s because we love you.”

You are nothing but a dumbed down version of a golden child. Used as a puppet, nothing more and nothing less. They do it because they love you. And you believe it.

You have never prayed for anything, God is nothing but a being who abandoned you. But for once in your life, you have never wished for something, and its in a form of a young handsome boy named Eren Jaeger.

The irony of wishing someone you once hated. You hated him at some point, but only because you know what he said about your family is true. That “your family is nothing but leeching bastards who even sucked their child dry.”

Deep down, Eren’s straightforward comment haunted you. And hearing it from someone so transparent, made you anxious. You needed to hear it, but the creeping anxiety says otherwise.

And because you blame yourself for being like this, you hated Eren Jaeger.

Eren was wrong, for saying it straight of the bat. He even got Armin to hit him for saying something overwhelming.

He was wrong for saying it right out of the blue, but what he said is nothing but the unequivocal truth.

He knows your parents, leechers of society. Leeching of his wealthy father. He hated them, but not as much as you do.

He saw you in the winter of his sophomore year in university. There you stood like a statue, with restrained movements. He wanted to hate you too, but seeing that you’re your parents worst victim. Made him see them as devils.

He didn’t pity you, Eren and freedom are one. He believed that you should be free of the cage that reduced you into your parents’ slave. He knows you have your wings, and you can fly. You just need help.

He talked to his therapist once, about a bird with their claws tied. He knows that the only way for the bird to fly is if they used its wings, but he wants to help it destroy its cage.

So he did, the moment Eren decides to become your friend, you felt there was something wrong. Something wrong in the status quo. Like a change in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t sudden per say, but there is a shift. And you don’t mind it.

Having Eren is like finding comfort in a state of distress, it felt like breathing fresh air in an area saturated with pollution. For you once in your life, you get to feel what freedom is all about. That you get to be unorthodox in a way your parents wouldn’t imagine.

And maybe that’s how you fell in love with him. As much as you believe that God should beg for your forgiveness, you begged him to let you be with the person you love.

The attraction wasn’t one-sided. That the more Eren spent time with you, he gets to be with the you that the universe failed to see. The you who made the mundane things in life enjoyable. The you who’s eyes light up in watching every studio ghibli film. The you who is Eren’s girl. His girl.

You have sought his heart and he is willingly giving you every piece of vulnerability. Because you are the girl that the Eren Jaeger loves.

And now he gets to say it, confessing your love under an oak tree in campus. And he gets to say it to you, whisper it to you in the secluded corner of the library where you get to share kisses in secret.

And he gets to say it out of the blue, when you order your coffee and you ask for his. “Baby, I love you so much.” And every letter and every word never fails to trigger the butterflies.

And he gets to say it with you at night, whenever he sneaks into your room. His touch claiming every piece of your skin. His kisses traveling all over your body. And when he’s deep inside you, he whispers his love to you.

“I love you baby, God I- Fucking love you. Feel so good around me.”

“You’re so- so good to me baby f-fuck.”

And you’re beautiful like this, getting lost in the pleasure he gives you. “Baby please cum for me- baby please.” And you do, he fills you of him straight after, marking you as his with his cum.

You’re his, and he’s yours. Such simplicity in complexity.

Eren is no good person, he knows he would kill for you, set the world in flames for you. But as much as he wants to fall into his instinct, he respects you so much, that he has become your loyal servant. Ready to go to war for you.

That’s why every time he consoles your crying figuring, reasons of what they had done to you, again. Everything turned red, the word “fight” repeating in his head again and again until you begged him to just take you into his arms, and fuck you until you forget the horrors of in the form of the people who gave birth to you.

But on this particular moment, something was off. Seeing the bruises on your skin has completely set him off. God forbids he sees your parents, because he will become a criminal you’ll hate.

But you don’t want him to kill for you, because killing means he’ll be dragged away into some worn down prison, and you fear for him. But you fear for losing him the most.

He place his hands on your cheeks wiling away the tears that continue to betray your godly eyes.

“I promise to get you out of there baby fuck- I PROMISE” And he embraced you once more, because this time he’ll forcefully open the cages to your prison.

He kept his promise, because two days after that, you left everything behind. Destroyed all your photos that tells of your life in this hell. They don’t get to remember who you are. They don’t deserve that.

And from that day, the bird flew with its wings. Claiming back its freedom and happiness. Now with the person you love.

#eren x reader #eren smut #eren fluff #eren jaeger #eren yeager #aot #snk #aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #attack on titan x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #tw abuse #tw depression #tw smut

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otvlanga · 4 years ago

Note

Hc: Miraak has a huge crush on the LDB but doesn’t know how to convey his feelings and is just super awkward with romance in general

okay LOOOONG post time because I love last the dragonborn/first dragonborn shit OKAY. Very long post because god dammit, I ramble too much. This might sound like a toddler wrote it.

Miraak literally hasn’t seen another human being in 4,000 years, he probably loses his shit when the feeling of just being attracted to someone punches him in the face.

He’s just chilling on a giant book in Apocrypha, dipping his toes in the ink water or something and planing how exactly he’s going to kill the Dragonborn to the very detail. Then they actually arrive in Apocrypha, and the very fibers of their souls are screaming out to each-other like “same hat!”, and it feels like every inch of himself is burning on the inside, while the outside remains blandly mild in the stale humid air of Apocrypha.

But he’s a strong minded man, so he swallows it down and continues on with his edgy monologue. He tells the Dragonborn he must kill them, but he can hardly bare hearing the words come from his own mouth as they’re paralyzed on the ground right in front of him. He can practically taste the power radiating off them, layers and layers of dragon souls woven together and wrapped around their own soul, the very soul he knew the in’s and out’s of despite not knowing a thing about the person that it belonged to.

And THEN the poor man’s brain is like “oh no they’re hot” and he's dealing with emotions and thoughts that he hasn’t had since before the first era. He can’t even remember the faces of anyone he used to know, or whether or not he liked looking at them. All he knows is that he’s seeing a face that looks so foreign but feels so familiar, and he does like looking at it, and he doesn’t know why he does. All he knows is that the dragon soul inside of him is thrashing within it’s flesh prison, desperate to be as close as possible to it’s only match.

Dragons by nature, are not empathetic or familial creatures. They can be, as such is the case with Paarthurnax, but it is not an instinct they have embedded in them like mortals do. Miraak is a human, cursed to the same raw feelings as any other would be. Dragon souls vibrate with each other on a level that human souls do not. A dragon can always feel another dragon.

That sense of automatic familiarity paired with the inherent human desire for love and belonging? Paired together they do not bode well for a man trying to kill the only other living being in the universe who understands him. The only one. Every dov is a piece of Akatosh, all siblings in a special way, but no dragon will ever think, feel, and care the same way humans do. He could never find solace in the company of a dragon.

Now that their souls have had a glimpse of each other, every moment he spends thinking of killing them sends the dragon inside of him wreathing in agony and distress, something dovah are not accustomed to feeling. Before he realizes it, he’s going out of his way to appear in spectral form in front of them to absorb the souls of their kills. He finds himself speaking to them, lingering for a few moments longer than necessary, invigorated just by the feeling of being near them in an intangible spectral form.

He tries to convince himself that all these odd things he’s feeling are just his inner dovah aching for the power of absorbing their soul. He tells himself that after he kills them, it will all go away, and he’ll be able to finally tear free from Apocrypha. (hes dumb forgive him its been a while)

He has no need to show off, all he needs is to get the job done and over with as quickly as possible. And yet, he casts Dragon Aspect on himself without even realizing it, dancing around them in combat and stalling, using the Thu’um when he doesn’t even need to. He doesn’t realize that his actions mimic a dragon’s, bringing as much focus on themselves when they want to appear boastful and magnificent, rare moments of civility and friendly indulgence where they bask in each other’s vanity and challenge each other in friendly competition.

The dragon companions he keeps with him in Apocrypha are very confused as to why he’s technically doing the dragon equivalent of flirting when he’s supposed to be killing them and reaping their power. Humans are so weird amirite?

If the Dragonborn spares him and finds a way to free him from Apocrypha and team up with him, he would not be able to properly address or recognize his feelings for a long time. It’s not until he’s grown accustomed to seeing couples hold each other close in the cold and whisper sweet things to each other, or heard a few sappy love songs/poems from bards that it starts to dawn on him. And when it does, he’s distressed because he remembers next to nothing about what it means to care for someone. Even in his time as a Dragon Priest under Alduin’s rule, he didn’t get to indulge in petty things like love and affection. His role was a full time commitment. Of course he had seen people courting each other outside of just having children, but he had never experienced that himself.

He’d show his affections in very strange ways, because he isn’t quite sure how to say it, and he’s still in partial denial of it all. It would be borderline annoying and obsessive things, like insisting on healing all of the LDB’s wounds even when they’re perfectly capable of doing it themselves, or needlessly jumping in front of them during battles with dragons because he gets over-protective without realizing it. It gets to the point where the LDB has to pull him aside like ”bro what the fuck is your problem it’s getting exhausting” and then cue the cheesy awkward and dramatic fanfiction love admission trope.

also do u like, know how INSANE it would be to the rest of Tamriel if TWO Dragonborns of legend teamed up, let alone got married or something? They would probably be two of the most important and powerful people alive. Especially with all the forbidden knowledge Miraak had obtained over the few millennia he spent in Apocrypha. Like, I’m serious. If they defeated Alduin together and saved the world? They would probably be worshiped. They would almost be Talos level of worshiped, eventually.

also just like imagine if they took power over the Empire. Like, a Dragonborn emperor and Dragonborn (whatever your ldb idenitifes as, empress/emperor/sovereign/etc) and maybe secured a new ‘Dragonborn’ bloodline/heired family. And the LDB would have Odahviing and Parrturnax on their side. Just imagine the power they’d have.

I’ve been meaning to write a fic about that for a long time actually. I’ll get to it soon I swear.

#miraak #skyrim #dragonborn #long ass post #headcanons #tes #the elder scrolls #tesv #ldb #dovahkiin #alduin #paarthurnax #apocrypha #hermaeus mora

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 3 years ago

Text

I really liked this prompt by @nuttynutcycle and felt the need to write something with it. Soo, here it is! (NOTE: the story starts before the prompt, so it appears in the middle.)

Warning: none.

~~~~ Flying through the air, Hero held onto Villain's body so hard they swore they could feel their knuckles cracking. All their limbs had tightly wrapped around the other as soon as they jumped out of the burning building, the hero's face buried in the other's shoulder to not inhale the smoke, and also so they wouldn't have to see the destruction around them.

The entire city had fallen into ruin, and the villain's henchmen were everywhere. Hero wasn't aware they had so many people working for them, as their enemy only ever had a couple of men with them. But- But this? This was an army.

Was that all part of the plan? Was Villain sparely using their minions to trick the hero? To make them think they weren't capable of something like this?

To make them think they couldn't possibly take over the capital city? Take over the country?

...

As the villain's boots thumped against solid ground, they loosened their hold on Hero, letting them crumple to the floor and frantically scramble away until their wounds forced them to stop moving. Villain had flown them both over to a nearby rooftop, which building had yet to catch aflame.

From their spot on the ground, the hero shivered under their nemesis' silent stare. As a fire burned brightly in the distance behind the villain, their form became shrouded in shadows, adding to their terrifying aura.

The silence was unbearable, and Hero decided to be the first one to break it.

"Y-You saved me." - The hero trembled like a leaf in the wind, head still swimming from the intensity of the last few minutes. "W-Why?"

Villain, still quiet, slowly approached them, making them tense up in anticipation. Hero's breathing grew shaky as their enemy knelt beside them and gently cradled their face with one hand.

"I want you there when I win." - The villain brushed their cheek softly, a small smile on their face. "Whether it's by my side or at my feet is up to you."

"I- I-" - the hero struggled to answer, stuttering out nonsense as they looked into the other's dark eyes. Villain's smile fell at their hesitance, and they flinched in fright as the criminal let go of their face and stood back at full height, towering over them again.

Taking deep breaths in hopes of calming their racing heart, Hero observed as their nemesis walked to the nearby edge of the rooftop, just a few steps away from their shaking body. Villain looked out over the burning city, one arm neatly held behind their back and the other one resting on the parapet wall protecting them from falling off the building.

Not that it mattered if the villain fell off or not. With how many powers they had, Hero was, at this point, pretty convinced nothing could hurt them.

"That would be the correct assumption to make." - Villain calmly said, still admiring the view.

Confusion decorated Hero's face shortly before they realized what had happened. Telekinesis. You can add that to the endless list of their abilities.

Expression still neutral, the villain asked, "Hero, do you want to know how I managed to pull this off?"

Honestly, the hero just wanted this craziness to end, but they'd be lying if they said that their curiosity wasn't eating away at them. So, like the cat that put his nose where it didn't belong, they replied, "I- I do..."

Slightly turning their head to look at their nemesis, Villain quietly explained, "I became a god."

Worry instantly gripped Hero's chest at the other's answer. What- What was that supposed to mean? They- They were a human! A powerful one, true, but... b-but a god? H-How-

"How could y-you possibly achieve s-something like- like that?"

The villain smiled again, and the hero really wasn't liking the look on their face. It made them feel weak, like they were only prey waiting to get caught.

"You're not like the others, Hero... Surely you've noticed over the years how I became stronger and stronger?"

Hero... Hero had noticed it. The process was gradual, barely visible unless you've been there from the start like they had been. It went from Villain getting shot, going into hiding, and reappearing a few days later fully recovered to Villain conveniently surviving deadly explosions or poisons. Until, eventually, years later, they were straight-up getting their limbs blown off and regrowing them instantly right before the hero's very eyes.

Shakily exhaling, Hero's mind floated to a memory from a few weeks ago, back when this hell had first started. They still remembered the dread that filled them at the sight of their nemesis floating high up in the sky, their voice bellowing across the city as they commanded their army. The sheer amount of power that came off Villain at that moment made the hero's knees nearly give out under them. At that moment, Villain was truly above everyone else in every sense of the word.

"Exactly." - the villain's voice suddenly sounded in their ears, and Hero jumped back as their eyes refocused and recognized that their enemy was suddenly right in their face.

The hero's breath hitched as Villain held their face again, this time with both their hands, as they lowly continued. "I've made myself unkillable, indestructible, invincible."

As a glint of possessiveness shined in the criminal's eyes, Hero's eyebrows furrowed in concern, the villain bringing their faces closer. "And I could- No. I will make you the same, whether you want it or not."

Trembling in the other's grasp, the hero questioned, "B-B-But h-how?"

Resting their foreheads against one another, Villain answered, "The same way I've made myself so powerful... The same way I've made my henchmen so loyal and unbeatable..."

Voice barely above a whisper, they claimed, "I will share my powers with you."

Hero froze, only able to keep listening as the villain caressed their cheek again and continued talking. "Not all of them, of course, but know that... where the hierarchy is concerned... you could be my equal, my partner."

Removing themself from their nemesis yet again, Villain loomed over them ominously. "And this is where my question returns, dear Hero."

Standing tall, arms neatly held behind their back, their mere presence demanded that the hero answer them as their shadow fell over them.

"Do you stand by my side and rule together with me, or... do you go from being the government's dog to being my dog... for all eternity?"

With tears stinging at their eyes, Hero pleaded, "V-Villain, please, just- How?! How c-can you share your-?!"

"It's a power that I stole."

"Wh- What...?"

Eyes shining brighter than the fire, the villain explained once more, "My power... The power that I was born with... Is the ability to steal the powers of others."

As they ranted, they looked off into the distance, for a moment getting lost in the past. "And over the years... I've gathered every power that I'd need and more."

Turning back to the hero, they ignored the fear in the other's eyes. "With time, I've learned how to mutate them, how to combine them to make them even stronger, to make myself stronger."

Done explaining, they squared their shoulders. "Now, answer me." - Villain growled out, odd desperation in their voice. "Will you lay at my side or at my feet?"

Hero stared at them for a long while, battling internally before ultimately, their gaze turned away from them, making them sigh in frustration. Clearly, they had to go about this a different way.

"Hero, you can't deny that we're not so different."

That got the hero's attention again, so the villain continued, "We both want what's best for this country."

Now it was Hero's turn to get upset, their face twisted into an appalled snarl as they demanded, "What's best for the country...?! HOW IS THIS WHAT'S BEST FOR THE COUNTRY?!"

They pointed at the destruction around them, nostrils blaring, as they paid no heed to the pain in their lungs, and Villain had to take a deep breath due to the other's stubbornness. Why did they have to be so difficult?

"Changes needed to be made. The system was broken, and you know it."

"W-Well yes, but-" - Hero faltered, trying to argue back, but their enemy cut them off.

"But what? Have you bothered to make a change, hmm? Bothered to take action?"

Not awaiting a response, Villain answered for them. "No, you didn't. You just followed your little orders, thinking that things would magically turn better."

"How is this better...?" - Hero croaked out, losing hope of winning this argument.

Frustrated, the villain yelled, startling the other. "GAH! JUST TAKE A PROPER LOOK AROUND, HERO!"

The criminal grabbed their nemesis by the arm and effortlessly dragged them over to the edge, making them look at the city, this time not through the lens of fear but the lens of truth.

As they finally took a real look at what was happening, a look not misguided by being down there in the heat of the moment, Hero noticed the way Villain's henchmen weren't attacking the civilians, but rather... escorting them away from the danger...?

They finally saw how the people willingly went with them, how they didn't even look scared of them. No, they only grew frightened when... when the heroes showed up... and... started mindlessly firing in the henchmen's direction..., not caring about the people who would... who would get caught in the crossfire...

...

"Do you understand yet, Hero...?" - Villain softly whispered, watching as their henchmen dutifully followed their orders, knocking the heroes out and capturing them, protecting the civilians from the necessary chaos.

"I want peace... I want equality... I want things to be right just as much as you do..."

As the wind softly blew against them, Hero turned to face their... enemy...? and was surprised to see tears spilling from their eyes as they continued.

"...But I can't make things right unless I'm in charge..."

Shaking, Villain questioned, "So tell me, Hero. Are you going to stand in my way? In the way of progress?"

With their fists clenching at their sides, the villain whispered painfully, "I don't want to force you to your knees..., but I will do it if I have to."

The hero looked at them, an array of emotions on their face, their own tears having fallen down their cheeks long ago. They opened their mouth to reply but failed to utter even a word. With conflicted feelings, their face scrunched up in thought, their gaze returning to the city below.

Villain stood beside them silently, awaiting their answer. Their body was more tense than the day they had opened fire upon the city. They didn't want to hurt Hero. They didn't. But... But if they had no other choice...

"Villain..." - the hero's meek voice barely reached their ears, but they stiffened nonetheless. "You..."

Arms suddenly wrapped around the villain's waist as Hero held onto them, muttering into their shoulder with an unsteady voice.

"...You better not make me regret this..."

With hope twinkling in their eyes, Villain asked, "D-Does... Does that mean you...?"

"I'll join you. I'll be at your side."

Relief flooded Villain's entire being at the hero's decision. They returned the embrace, tightly holding onto the other as if they would disappear at any moment.

"Thank you, Hero... And..., I'm sorry..."

Sorry? About what-?

Pain suddenly erupted in Hero's chest, their first thought being betrayal as their entire body burned with agony. They screamed and thrashed, trying to get away, but Villain held onto them with an unyielding grip, their heart aching at the hero's frantic shouts and thoughts.

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasted about a minute, and Hero fell limp in the other's hold once it was over, breathing shakily, a few sobs escaping them from the unexpected pain and stress. As their heart rate began to slow back down and their mind had managed to calm down, they noticed that something was different and gasped quietly, as they felt something inside of themself.

Power.

So, so much power it made them shudder.

Was... Was this how Villain always...?

No, the villain didn't feel like this; they were stronger. Much stronger. Hero could feel it now, could feel the power thrumming inside their ex-nemesis. And as their mind focused, in the distance, all around them, they could sense Villain's henchmen, and even then, all the henchmens' and Hero's power combined was nothing compared to the villain's.

Villain was so much grander than all of them. They...

They really did become a god.

...

The feeling of a hand gently rubbing circles into their back brought the hero back to the present. Their eyes had closed at some point, so they fluttered them open again and lifted themself off the villain's shoulder.

Oh, when had they fallen to the ground? Both of them were on their knees, Hero's legs must've given out, and Villain probably lowered the two of them.

"I'm really sorry about that..." - the villain apologized again, a bit of concern on their face. "How... How do you feel?"

It was then that Hero noticed that they felt... good. Amazing even. They felt better than they ever had before. They were so full of energy, and their wounds had disappeared too.

"I-I'm good." - they eventually responded with a small smile. "And apology accepted."

With a smile of their own, Villain pulled themself to their feet, the hero moving with them. They stood there in silence for a few seconds, softly holding each other's hands. Both their gazes momentarily caught on one another's lips, but no. That could wait. After all, they had all the time in the world now and... some more pressing matters at hand.

Calling forth their power, the villain slowly lifted themself into the air, Hero following suit, listening intently as their partner instructed them on how to use their new powers. Together, they went off, conquering the country and at last making things right.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #writing #writeblr #prompt #writing prompt #short story #story #hero x villain community #writing community

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slowpoke-fics · 3 years ago

Text

Appreciated

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: softish!dom!Steve x Reader, former Natasha x Steve, former Thor x Reader

Summary: The team make a bet that you have to settle, sending Steve into a sexual frenzy.

Warnings: alcohol, sexual themes, pet names, Dom!Steve, slapping, rough sex, soft sex, overstimulation, pleasure Dom, use of traffic light safe words, fluff, smut, choking, crying but in an I love you way, still crying kink, subspace, little bit o’ cockwarming, I know I've missed some, so please read at your own risk 18+

A/N: I really enjoyed the lovey dovey vibes I got from this, I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it; 4.1k words

You’re surrounded by the team in the common room, all of you with a glass of Asgardian liquor in your hand. It’s a rare time that you all get to sit around and relax, just talk to each other like people. You’re all laughing because somehow you’ve gotten to Thor vs Steve, who was more worthy. Everyone is a little intoxicated, none more so than Sam, who is leaning against Bucky, poking the bear. “I would lay a hundred down to say Thor’s got it hung,” Sam hiccups, “I mean, the man radiates big dick energy.”

Natasha laughs, hiding her face under Clint’s arm for a moment before joining Sam, “You’re wrong big bird,” clicking her tongue at Steve, “our super soldier is swinging, uncomfortably so.” Thor shakes his head, glancing at you, then quickly noting you’re hiding behind Steve, sure of where this was going. Tony hisses at the conversation, “I’m offended I’m not even in the race.” That causes Bucky to break out into laughter, shaking his head, “Stark, you aren’t even on the leaderboard.” The group erupts into laughter, Tony shaking his head when Pepper whispers something in his ear, a blush rising to his cheeks as his shifts in his seat.

You smirk at Tony, but you are no longer able to ignore the bickering between Sam and Natasha. “I’ve had personal experience, you ever seen Thor, Sam?” Sam rolls his eyes, grinning with teeth, “The man’s massive, Nat, his weapon is a hammer, you ever understand innuendos?” Wanda and Peter can’t control their laughter anymore, and Steve’s hand grips your thigh roughly when you nip at his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell them?” Steve whispers in your ear, nipping just under your neck. You shake your head and blush moving your head away from him. He rubs your thigh gently turning back to the conversation. He wasn’t going to push, of course he wasn’t, he loves you and wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.

The rest of them though? Too drunk to care.

Wanda is the first one to speak up, after her heavy laughter stops, “Y/n,” your head is snapping up to hers, “you have personal experience with both of them, why don’t you enlighten us?” You laugh and shake your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying.

Thor hums in appreciation, reminiscing on the days when you two were bed buddies, “Ah yes, little lamb, why don’t you tell them how good I am?” You gasp, the outright disrespect Thor throws at Steve to call you a name reserved for only when you were under him and the insinuation that he knew how to please you better than Steve made your blood boil at his cockiness. The alcohol poisoning your liver made you laugh at the situation though, because nobody is ever going to compare to Steve. Unable to catch your breath for a minute, Nat and Sam boast out, “Oh yes, enlighten us on the most worthy member,” and “Y/n/n, Thor’s a god, I know you’re with Steve now, but be honest.”

You snap your head at Sam, squinting your eyes, a challenge. You turn to Natasha with an apologetic look, causing the circle to break out in little giggles, ooo’s and ahh’s. Steve’s smirking because he knows you, studies you in his spare time, knows this joke. “Oh, Nat, I’m sorry,” the group breaks out into laughter and you raise your voice with a 180, now dripping with pride instead of regret, “for the two hundred bucks Sam just lost!” Steve grips your thigh again as you rub your fingers together towards Sam, “Pay up, because my Stevie,” you learn forward as the circle drops to a pen drop silence, “he’s a god himself.”

The entire group hoops and hollers, Thor shaking his head with a sip on his drink, hoping you were just talking up your man for brownie points. Nat raises her arms and let’s put a happy scream, “Oh, suck on that, big bird!” Sam’s gaping at you, he huffs and pulls out his wallet, slamming a hundred in your hand then Nat’s outstretched one. You laugh, slamming back onto Steve, pressing your lips into his. He twists his hand to the side of your face, pressing you into him. Tony groans and kicks Steve’s leg, “Put it on ice, Capsicle.” Before you could back away from Steve, he growls in your ear, “Good girl.”

Steve’s throbbing, you can see it. See how hard he is through his pants, see his cock twitching. You know that when you get to your bedroom, you’re going to get exactly what you want. He’s so distracted by you, by the way you openly claimed him in front of everyone. You were his good girl, and he couldn’t wait to show you. So once Tony and Pepper announce their goodbyes, you and Steve are quick to follow, dismissing yourselves and stumbling off to the elevator.

You’re giggling and leaning on Steve, as soon as you’re out of eye line of the other members, he picks you up over his shoulder. You let out a small yelp and shake a little, “Stevie, let me go!” He laughs and playfully slaps your ass, “No, dove,” he whispers, “not in a million years.”

When you step onto the elevator, he unclips your left shoe, “You know what you do to me?” He slides it off, holding it by a strap on his pinky, “Blind me with your energy,” he unclips the right shoe as the elevator opens, “take my breath away with your touch,” he slides the shoe off to hang it next to it’s match. You’re rubbing his back with one hand, your other peaking through his waistband on his hip. You’re intoxicated by his praise more than you could ever be by alcohol.

He’s carrying you down the hall towards your room, curling the hand that’s holding your shoes around your ass, holding you and your dress in place. "Bring me back from the edge," his free hand grabs the zipper on the back of your dress and pulls roughly, opening your dress in one tug. He quickly opens the door to your bedroom and drops you to the bed after dropping the shoes.

You bounce when you hit the bed causing you to laugh, your head tilted back. Steve’s committing every movement you make to memory, his heart fluttering when your chest bounces with your giggles. He knocks the door shut with a kick as he unbuttons his shirt, tossing it to the floor. He crawls over your middle, smiling gently at you. "Gonna thank you for everything you do," his fingertips tickle your arms as he slides the straps off of you, you pull your arms through reaching up to trace his muscles. He lifts you easily and tosses you, your head landing gently on the pillows at the headboard.

He tosses your empty dress to the floor, unbuckling his belt with a heated glare toward your naked body, “My my, you are really something.” He rips the belt off, snapping it through the air, your eyes light up with a dare. “Gonna cherish you,” he crawls towards you, grabbing your wrists and putting them against the wooden poles. “You say I am a god,” he wraps your hands up, “then you honey,” he tugs on your secured wrist and slides down your body, “are my goddess.” He pulls your legs down, extending your arms and restricting your movement.

You moan at the roughness of his love, his praise soaking your thighs. His eyes are staring you down, he’s continuing to slither down the bed. He’s kissing and nibbling on your nipples. Your wrists pull hard when you arch and his hard gaze breaks, “Too tight?” You shake your head, but he slaps the outside of your thigh, “You know better dove.” You stretch out your legs, exposing your soaking cunt to him, “No, sir, it’s not too tight, please.” Steve traces the inside of your thigh, “Don’t worry dovey,” he clicks at you, “tonight’s all about you,” he presses his hands on your thighs, pushing you apart, “I know how good you are,” he slides his tongue on your wet thigh, “just wanna make sure you do.”

He hums as his tongue licks up your folds, collecting some of the juices, “You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever known.” You moan out, bucking your hips towards him, “Captain please, need you to make me feel good.” Steve wastes no time giving you want you want. He slides two fingers into you, drawing a pained gasp from you that quickly turns into a moan. “Oh, baby,” Steve sucks on your clit, licking tight circles before drawing back a little, your hands tugging the best they could, “who’s all this for?”

You’re heaving, Steve’s fingers curling inside of your willing hole, his lips are back on you. When you don’t give him an answer, he stops toying with your clit, causing the heat in you to die down, a whine erupting from you. He licks up your folds, his fingers never slowing, “Tell me, who’s it for.” You spread your fingers out, trying to twist your body but slid another finer in you roughly. You let out a pornographic moan, clenching on his fingers, “You, you Steve, you,” his hand slides back down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles, “always you, love of my life, always my Stevie.” Steve growls, “Cum, now.”

The coil in you snaps, your back arching off the bed as your pussy flutters around his relentless fingers. He removes his hand from your clit, pulling his pants and underwear down roughly, sliding them off and out of the way. You’re coming down from your high when he’s on top of you, fingers pumping hard and fast again. You’re on fire, eyes roaming his body and your arms twitch at the need to touch him.

You’re whining trying to back up, but his thrusts become temporarily rough, shooting pleasurable pain through you, “Don’t run, be a good girl.” You let a choked sob out, your cunt clenching tightly on his fingers. He knows you’re close, your legs tight, and shaking, your whines higher, “You’re beautiful cunt’s desperate isn’t it love?” You tighten at his words, so close to tipping over the edge. When you don’t answer he slows down, causing your eyes to snap open, he pulls your legs up to your chest, “Yes, yes, desperate for you, I’ll do anything, I promise, please!”

Steve removes his fingers from you roughly, grabbing your thighs, pushing them apart to display your cunt and slams himself into you. He’s buried balls deep, twitching against your cunt. He lets you rest a moment as he readjusts, one arm holding both your legs in place, his free right hand finding your clit, “You’re gonna cum like this.” He slams back into you, and as if commanded, you fall apart on him. You let out a silent scream, clenching his cock as hard as you can, your eyes rolling back in the back of your head, clit throbbing as he continues to rub circles.

“Your pussy is suffocating my cock baby,” he leans down to kiss you, swallowing your whines at the painful stretch in the back of your thighs. “Good girl, such a good girl,” your back arches toward him, coming down from your high, thankful that his ministrations on your clit have slowed, “You lost with my cock pounding into you? Are you with me sweet girl?”

You can’t answer, can’t hardly breathe, because he’s started pumping in and out of you with more of his weight pressing into you, taking your breath with almost every thrust. Your eyes are closed, your mouth barely open and it’s clear you’re unable to answer. Steve reaches his hand up, taking it off your clit, and smacks your face, gently but hard enough to snap you back to him. He squeezes your chin, roughly moving your face to the left and then right. “Color?” You take a deep breath, causing him to slowly stop ramming into you. He slides his thumb into your mouth, keeping eye contact with you. Your tongue licks up his thumb, your lips closing around it. He instantly softens, his dominating features fading away, “Come on, tell your Stevie how you’re doin’, what’s your color dovey?”

You release his thumb, smiling at him, “‘S green, Stevie, I jus’ needed a breather.” Steve pouts at you, grabbing your chin and shaking your head with a disappointed look, “Nuh uh. Say it right, pet.” You flutter around his cock, causing him to pulse inside you and let out a deep groan. “Green, sir, please, need your cock, fills me up so good,” you’re begging, arching your back off the bed. He straightens, hands on the back of your thighs bracing himself. He pulls out and rams into you at a brutal pace, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

You moan out, trying to twist away from him, but you can’t hardly move, stuck in his grasp, his huge cock filling you again and again. He knows you’re close, slapping your thigh a couple times, heavy smacks resonating through the room before he reminds you, “Look at me.” You follow his command, your eyes snapping to his. “You’re going to cum again,” he slaps your thigh, “quit trying to run away bunny.” You can’t control yourself, you gush all over his cock when his hand hits your thigh, flutter around him and moaning out, “Thank you sir, never felt so good, thank you.” Steve doesn’t slow down, he grips your thighs roughly and seems like he’s going harder, deeper.

“That’s right, nobody will ever make you feel as good as I do,” you whine loudly at his words, tears leaving the corners of your eyes. He grunts and you feel his rhythm stutter, “God yeah, made for me, isn’t anything better than you in my life,” his hand comes to your clit as he turns your body, bringing your leg over his shoulder. You’re overwhelmed by his love, even though he’s fucking you stupid, you can feel that he’s genuine in his words. This man loves you.

“God Stevie, I’m ruined, consumed by you, don’t want anyone else,” you tug on your restraints again, glancing up with tears in your eyes. He brings his other hand up to your face, letting your leg fall free, “Give me one more baby,” he ruts inside you, heat burning at your core, feeling you clench around him makes him let out a deep moan. He moves his hand to your nipple, rolling it between his fingers and pulling roughly on it. You let out a pained moan, Steve slapping your breast, “Yeah that’s it sweetheart. Gonna be my perfect little girl and take everything I give you.”

You can feel your heartbeat in your pussy, he’s pounding into you but you’re so fucked out and wet it’s easy for him to abuse your cunt. He’s addicted to the way your pussy sucks him back in, his resolve almost breaking and spilling into you. “I’ll take whatever my Captain is willing to give me,” you’re barely able to think about anything else, eyes open just barely enough to see Steve’s head roll back. He lets out a loud and shameless moan, he wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing roughly. “Be a good girl, be a good girl, cum, cum right now.”

Your walls throb and he lets go of your throat. Your vision goes white when you take your breath and you’re cumming around him. He sucks in a harsh breath, barely able to move in and out of you because of how frantic you’ve become. “You make it so hard to control myself around you,” he pulls completely out and you watch his cock twitch in the air, red and sore, the thick vein throbbing hard. You whine, but he swallows it when he presses his lips to yours. Reaching his hands up and releasing you from the belt, he bites your bottom lip, “Can you take more baby? What’s your color?” Your pull your hands from his, wrapping them around his neck, “I can’t take anymore, Captain, I can’t.” Steve’s glare is dangerous, his voice controlled by his primal need for you, “I’m gonna give you more, until I’m satisfied or you tap out. What’s your color?” You let a stray tear fall, “Yellow, I need a minute, pretty please, Captain.”

Steve hums in agreement, pressing his lips against yours. He backs just an inch or so away and rests his forehead against yours. Steve guides your legs down and lays you on the bed gently. He’s giving himself as much a break as he is you, he’s not sure that if he slid into your cunt he wouldn’t cum right then and there.

“You know how good your doin’ for me?” His nose nudges yours, “Really made for me,” he kisses your nose, “love making you feel good, am I making you feel good?” You bring your lips to his, initiating the contact this time, “Yes Stevie, I feel so good, ‘s like you set me on fire.”

Your gaze is still far away, barely able to hold your head up. You’re almost cockdrunk, and he’s going to get you all the way there. “Look at me angel,” he’s kneeling in between your legs, watching your every breath. Your head lifts to his, meeting his sly grin. “There she is,” he slides his hands under your thighs gently, lifting your hips for a better angle. “You ready baby?”

Your legs are putty in his hand and he pushes into you slowly, your mouth gapes at the sensation, letting out a small plea, “Oh, Captain, more, more, more.” He speeds up, leaning forward and planting kisses on your neck, whispering against it as he digs his fingers into your hips, “That’s right,” he punctuates with a rough thrust, “good girls beg for more.” He’s lost himself, roughly jerking your hips into him, sucking possessive marks into your neck and collarbone. “Good girls let their Captain decide when they’ve had enough.” Your hands are scratching at his back, a silent please for him to keep going.

“You’re so good to me,” he bites your neck roughly, hips stuttering against yours, his mounds hitting yours just right. “Love me so good,” he’s kissing your jawline, he’s close to coming, and he’s not going to stop this time. He plants a heavy kiss on your lips, “You’re gonna be my wife one day,” your lips find his again, a tear rolling down your cheek, “the mother of my children.” Your hands pull on his hair gently, “Please, cum in me, wanna be a mommy, cum with me.” When you pull on his hair he spills inside of you, pushing you over the edge with him.

Steve sees a piece in you snap, your eyes glaze over, the breath taken from your body. You’re numb, all you can feel is the thump in your chest and the painful stretch of your back, pushed too far past its limit. He’s crushing you with kisses, his hands moving to your hair while he gently thrusts inside you, “Breathe,” his voice calls out to you, “breathe baby.” You take a deep breath in, closing your eyes and finding any part of his skin to touch. You feel so vulnerable, so small, so overwhelmed and overstimulated.

When your high ends, he flips you over so you’re straddling him. You jerk away from him when his softened cock slides back into you, but he just pulls you to his chest, rubbing your back gently. “Good girl, I am so proud of you dove.” Your lip wobbles, shoulders starting to shake. Steve coos at you, “Oh baby, let it out, it’s okay, I’m so proud.” At his words the tears fall freely and your hand clenches around his bicep. “Did that feel so good? Hm? Did your Captain do this to you?” You nuzzle into his neck, hiccuping sobs, Steve’s voice dripping with honey, “Oh my sweet girl,” he starts patting your back, “that’s okay. You can’t think can you? So hard to come back down from your Captain breaking you.” You only let out a silent sob, squeezing his cock with your cunt unintentionally.

“This is what you needed isn’t it? Needed me to make you feel good, needed me to break you and put the pieces back together?” Steve’s rock hard in you again, pressing against your g-spot and slowly rolling his hips. “What’s your color?” You sniffle, Steve waits patiently for you, he’s going to be soft, wants you to have one more. “C-can,” you take a deep breath, “can it be just like this? I love the way you love me.” Steve kisses you softly, his fingers running through your hair, “Of course baby, what’s your color?” You lay your head on his shoulder, “Green, please take care of me.” He finds your clit with his right hand, his left grabbing the back of your neck, clenching to announce his presence, “That’s all I want to do for the rest of my life.”

You let out more tears when he says that, your hands clutching at his waist tightly. Steve’s thumb rubs fast but gentle circles on your clit, your hips involuntarily shaking. “Stevie,” you beg, he kisses your jawline, letting out a questionable hum, “I love you so much, you make me feel so good,” he pushes his hips deeper into you, a sign that he agrees with you. You dig your nails into his sides, indentations would be visible to anyone able to see, cunt letting out another wave of cum around his cock. “I mean it Stevie, you make me feel special,” you clench your eyes when he gets rougher on your clit. “There is nobody on this planet that I will ever want more than you,” you lean up and kiss his lips to seal your words. “I can’t live without you,” you kiss him again, returning the praise he’s given you all night.

Steve can’t control himself, he’s going to cum again, your compliments are tightening his balls, almost bursting. “Would be lost,” you let a loud moan out and move your hands back to his hair, “would be lost forever without you.” Steve starts thrusting harder, barely increasing in speed, still feeling your pussy respond to his treatment. He growls before kissing you, biting at your lips and commanding, “Cum, you can do it, cum for your Stevie.” You do, your lips meeting his and grinding against one another. Your hips are spasming against his hand, desperate for your high to last as long as it can. You feel him shoot his cum inside you for the second time and you flex your walls to milk his cock, his breath heavy as he presses into you.

He rests you back against his chest, a featherlight touch on your back. Both of you are breathing heavy, and your tears are silently falling. You love him so much, words couldn’t describe it. The way he makes you feel absolutely ethereal, like you’re floating amongst the stars. You're lost amount them right now, drifting about. He knows this, it’s why he lets you sit on his cock for as long as you want. The closest you could possibly get to him, laying on his chest, his gentle touch bringing you back down to earth.

After about fifteen minutes, your tears stop. Your mouth is dry, voice hoarse when you speak out, “I love you so much.” Steve kisses your head, “You don’t know the half of it. You’re perfect, there isn’t a damn thing about you that I don’t love.” Heat flushes to your cheeks, hiding your face as best you can, “Even though I cry during sex?” Steve lets out an irritated scoff, “You know how hard it makes me when I make you cry? To know that I’ve made you feel so much that you’re crying? And you’re still begging for me to give you more?” You trace your fingers up Steve’s arm, smiling contently, “I wish you could understand what it’s like.” He pulls you off his cock slowly, lifting you as he suggests, “Maybe you can explain it while we take a bath and clean up?” Your head turns and you kiss his cheek, “Of course. If you’re actually interested.”

He bends with you, holding you tightly with one hand, and you realize you’ve already made it to the bathroom. “I want to know everything about you,” he steps into the tub, bringing both of you into the quickly rising water. “So tell me,” he turns your body so your back is laying on his chest in the oversized tub, “When you fall? Where do you go?”

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